"Who's the boy you brought to the party, Hermione?" Hermione's mother asked. "A boyfriend?" she added hopefully, glancing at the boy who'd spent most of the party at Hermione's side.
Hermione laughed, "Just a friend, mum. Remember me telling you about Neville?"
Neville frowned inwardly at being called "just a friend" so carelessly. 'Only two weeks ago we were much more than friendly,' he thought to himself, recalling images of Hermione writhing beneath him purring his name. She'd been insatiable and they'd spent the night together enthusiastically playing out every fantasy either could dream up.
He had wanted her since their third year and when she'd left his flat the next morning he half hoped he'd gotten her out of his system. But the weeks of erotic dreams of her coupled with the inability to satisfy himself fully let him know that wasn't the case. Instead of weakening his desire for her, his having her left a dark stain of desire within him. And the feeling only increased when he picked her up for the party that night.
He'd been longing to touch her all night, to peel off her little red dress, and put his hands, tongue, and mouth all over her. He wanted to claim her as his and he wanted to do to her all the things he'd been dreaming of doing for the past two weeks.
The party raged on around them as everyone celebrated Voldemort's demise. Neville watched and waited, always close to her, for his moment to pull her away from the other party-goers. Finally, he caught her alone and pulled her into a darkened room. He pushed her into the closed door, rubbing against her, whispering to her as he kissed her neck, "I want you."
"Neville!" she admonished, though it came out on a sigh. "We're at a party!"
"I don't care. I want you," he groaned, hands moving over her hips, bunching her skirt.
She laughed, brushing her hand lightly over his erection making him groan in frustration. She moved her hips against him teasingly, swatting his hands away when he tried to touch her. She kissed his neck as she unfastened his trousers, and slid her hand in to stroke him in light, feathery touches that made him feel like he'd lose his mind. He tried to move harder into her hand but she seemed to know when he was going to and kept her touches light.
He finally lost his control and pushed her hands over her head, pinning them against the door with one of his own. His mouth crashed down on hers and he kissed her bruisingly, trying to torment her the way she tormented him. He rocked his hips into hers and kneaded her breasts roughly, not stopping until she was panting and writhing against him, moaning his name softly into the darkness.
"Tell me you want me," Neville demanded, needing to hear it before going further. He ached with wanting her and wanted to know she needed him just as badly.
"Neville… please…" she whimpered, moving against him. "I want you."
He kissed her hard and hungrily, his hand moving up her thigh, pushing her skirt out of the way and moving inwards to find her knickers. He moaned softly when he got there and realized she wasn't wearing any. She whimpered and pushed against his hand, needing to feel him.
"I thought you'd appreciate that," she whispered huskily, lifting her leg on his hip and pulling him closer.
Neville moaned loudly as he slid into her, pushing her harder against the door. He moved lowly and steadily into her, smiling at her moan of protest as she tried to move faster.
"I don't want to be 'just a friend,' Hermione," he whispered to her. "I'm i not /i just a friend." He emphasized the statement by pushing hard into her, making her gasp.
"No," she gasped out. "You're not."
"I want…" he murmured as he sped up, losing his breath a bit, "more than… a quick shag."
Hermione continued to move frantically against him, clawing at him, and moaning his name, and Neville let the subject drop for the time being. They continued to move against one another, their panting and moaning filling the dark room, until they both collapsed against the other finally sated.
A short while passed before Neville adjusted her skirt back to a modest position and tucked his shirt back into his trousers and brushed off some dust clinging to them. He kissed her gently as he led her out of the room.
"We'll talk about this later," he promised.