I do not own Harry Potter…I'm just taking him on a test drive. Really though…if I did I'd be in Scotland right now…in my own castle. Thanks to ImmortalWog, JaxieTonks, and my NESSness.
The first time was an accident. That's what they'd called it. Though he still doubted you could call what happened between them an accident. A mistake, they'd agreed, for sure; unplanned, most definitely, but could sex ever really be an accident?
He'd been so very very angry after his destructive conversation with Dumbledore about what had happened in the Ministry, about who'd been…lost. Too angry for a loud and boisterous dinner in the Great Hall, too angry for the quiet of the library, way too angry for the chill and tranquility of the black lake. So he'd thumped up to the Gryffindor common room, then thumped up to his shared bedroom, hoping to grab his Firebolt and maybe burn off the anger with a hard and fast ride over the grounds.
What he found was Hermione.
One of the last people he wanted to see. One of the most important, the most harmed by his little "Hero" stunt at the Ministry. He'd dragged them all there, hadn't made her stay in the castle. Hadn't forced her to keep safe, and his anger burned ever brighter for her presence in front of him, one hand in a pocket, the other holding onto the post of his bed she was leaning against.
"What are you doing here, Hermione?" It whipped out of him, his anger at his inability to protect her bubbling at the surface. She didn't flinch, just stood straight, sliding that other hand into a pocket.
"Waiting for you. I'd think that would be obvious." Her tone slapped back at him and all he could think was, yes, good, she wants to have a row. Oh, how he just needed to yell and scream and force this burning red bile out of him, he felt he'd burst if he didn't vent out the haze of anger in his brain.
"How would that be obvious, Hermione?" He snapped, hoping the anger would force back the sudden image in his mind of the purple spell colliding with her chest, throwing her backwards and out of his sight. "There are five beds in here, I'm assuming you grasp that there are four other bodies that belong to those beds, four others you could be waiting here for, Ron being my first guess." She barked out a harsh laugh and stepped toward him, invading his space. He hadn't expected it, and it pushed away his anger back and flashed that night in the Ministry into his head, flashed his fear for her into his heart.
"Hey! There's no call to be angry with me. I didn't do anything!" She stepped even closer and poked him in the chest before slapping him on the shoulder. He couldn't move past her last phrase…I didn't do anything...
"And that's the problem, Hermione!" He stepped toward her this time, invaded her space. She backed up and that was the wrong move for him, he just saw her falling back and away from him, saw her deathly pale face. "You did nothing! Nothing to protect yourself!" He moved forward again, pushing her back until she bumped against the side of his bed. "You let that Death Eater almost kill you! Where was your shield? Not as good as you thought, eh, Hermione?!" Suddenly her back straightened and she poked him again, hard.
"Protect my-I was focused on the other couple Death Eaters in the room, I'm so sorry I don't have another set of eyes, another pair of hands with wands to better block crazy spells from insane sociopaths!" She shoved at his chest, but Harry was focused in his anger and didn't budge.
"You could have died because of your lack of focus!" He was practically yelling now, fighting to keep back the image of a lifeless Hermione that kept trying to superimpose itself over the very alive Hermione in front of him. What would he do without her? How would he survive if she was lost to him?
"What happened to all our training? How could you fail that way? You!" She was flushed and her eyes were bright with her outrage and she'd never looked so beautiful or alive to Harry.
"Fail?! FAIL?!! A Death Eater almost kills me and it's MY fault? How dare you-" Suddenly Harry's mouth was on hers, cutting her off mid screech. It was too much for him, the anger-at Dumbledore, at Voldemort, at the Death Eaters for almost taking her from him, at her for almost leaving him-and the idea that he'd never get to see her again, there was just too much going on in his head, his body. He did the only thing he could think of to shut them both up. The fact that it was something he was sure had been floating around in his mind for awhile was a concept he didn't want to think about. At the moment the only thing occupying his mind was how hot and strong she was under his hands. Hands that had somehow, without his direction, wrapped around her, pressing her close, has somehow buried themselves in her hair, were gripping her hip.
Then his mind blurred and emptied of all his anger and rage when her hand brushed along the back of his neck before her fingernails scraped his scalp and her other hand skimmed down the side of his body. Her hips tilted as she pressed even closer and they both let out a low moan. Quickly, unwilling to allow the anger or rage back in when his mind was so blissfully full of the smell and taste of Hermione, he gripped her hips and boosted her back onto the bed before following as fast as possible.
Harry felt her kicking off her shoes and followed suit, waving a hand at the door and muttering a quick locking spell before she could wipe his mind clean again. He was barely able to get the second shoe off before her hands were in his hair, pulling his shirt off, unsnapping his jeans, pressing him closer to her. Somehow he managed to help her get her clothes off even as he locked his mouth on her neck, the slope of her shoulders, the dip where her collarbones met.
Soon enough they were all hands and naked skin, lips and teeth and tongue exploring; Harry was sure that if her tiny hands stopped touching, pressing, grabbing at him, the anger would resurface. He was positive that if his hands weren't skimming along her thigh, cupping a breast, buried in the thatch of curls between her legs-drawn to the heat there and the sounds she made when he moved his fingers just right-if he didn't bring those low pleasure-filled sounds from deep inside her chest, if she stopped restlessly moving against him he would drown in that anger, lose himself forever in his rage.
Instead she was there, warm and flushed, soft and inviting below him, her body calling to his, her hands moving his hips ever closer and he was finally, oh finally, sliding hard and ready into her wet heat. They both let out matching low groans at that first connection and his forehead dropped to hers. This was peace, this was calm and serenity. He opened his eyes to find hers half-lidded and blurred with their passion.
"Shhh," she cupped his cheek and brought him into a deep kiss; his hips began to move on their own, slowly at first but soon enough hers were moving with him, faster than his, the sounds she made were low and urgent, her hands encouraging him to move a bit faster, to drive her up that steep incline they could feel building between them.
As the heat built it changed and pushed them both toward fast and edgy, her fingernails dug into his back as he moved in and out of her faster and harder, her legs tightening and releasing around him, her moans quick and fast. Rapidly it became a battle of sorts, hands moving faster and faster, hips pumping, skin sliding slickly as they drove each other closer and closer to orgasm, her fingers digging into his back as her inner muscles clenched hard around him, his thumb finding that small sensitive part of her to push and rub and caress as he dropped his hot mouth to encircle her hardened nipple. He was so close, too close, she was driving him crazy, he had to push her over that edge before he could let go. He clutched at the pillow under her head even as he moved just a bit faster inside her, pressed just a bit harder right on that spot above their joined bodies and grazed his teeth across a nipple and, yes, yes, there she clenched hard around him as her head flew back, a loud and distinctive moan ripped from her throat. Harry shuddered above her as her orgasm brought on his own and he felt the bliss and euphoria of ecstasy settle over him, clearing his mind of his anger and rage and sorrow.
His elbow trembled and he slowly lowered himself to her side, conscious of the possibility of there being some discomfort for her. He'd known it'd been her first time, as it had been his, but the guilt wasn't there. He rejoiced in that and burying his face-if only for one more moment-in her hair he nuzzled her neck, delighting in and memorizing the warmth and the delicious scent of a sated and content Hermione. He knew this was a mistake, knew even as the afterglow was still coming from them both, even as her scent was permanently seared into his memory. Selfishly Harry refused to speak first, refused to break the little bubble of peace and happiness they'd erected around them with their first foray into sex.
Next to him Hermione shifted a bit closer, entangled her legs with his and sighed low and long.
"Well…that was…nice." She surprised a chuckle out of him, as he was sure she meant to.
"Oh, how easily you wound, Hermione. You know men can be sensitive." He pinched her side before dragging his arm back from across her middle.
"Yeah, yeah, you were great, best I've ever had, blah blah blah…" Harry laughed right out loud at that, so desperately grateful she was his best friend. That with her this wouldn't be awkward or horrible. He rolled onto his back, comfortable next to her, even in his nakedness.
"Best you've only had you mean!" He grunted at the elbow she jammed into his side.
"Yeah, yeah, shut up." She grumbled. She shifted and he managed to catch the pants she threw at him before they could hit him square in the face. He sat up and watched as she put herself back together. Suddenly guilt welled up in him; had he taken something from her? Something important she meant for someone else? For Ron? She couldn't have wanted her first time to be…to be…like that. Unceremonious and quick and not at all special. Sad that it wasn't the perfection for her that it, inexplicably, was for him, he quickly pulled his pants up and his shirt on before he moved around to her side of the bed. He almost fumbled, unsure of what to do with his hands, but then she looked up at him with a smile and she was Hermione again, his best friend and confidant, and he knew it would be alright. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
"Hermione. Are you- Is it- Was this- Erm, Save me?" He managed, awkward in his attempts, but she simply smiled and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead.
"I'm fine. It was so much more than "nice." It's very okay that it was you this first time." She smiled up at the relief he knew was on his face. "There, saved." Another laugh bubbled up in his chest and he marveled at his new reality. He'd been so sure just a few hours ago that he'd never laugh again.
"If you wanted something…more…meaningful, I am so-" She cut him off with a quick, full kiss on the lips.
"Harry, I know that…we may not have seen this coming, or that we didn't plan for the losing of our virginity to happen together," she smiled at his cringe, "but this was almost too…perfect for me." He searched her face, disbelief warring with an uncomfortable happiness and pride in his chest. "Was it not…good for you?" He shook himself, knowing the disbelief she had to see on his face had thrown her.
"I'm just so surprised, Hermione." He hugged her, quick before turning to find their shoes and socks. "I didn't plan on this either, but I was positive you'd be angry with me…that you'd have wanted to…with Ron."
"Harry, there's nothing going on with Ron and I." She paused at the incredulous look he shot her over her shoulder. "Yet! You didn't let me finish! There's nothing going on yet, I'm not even sure if either of us want there to be something going on or not." She paused again at the same look, this time thrown over his other shoulder as he reached for the trainer under his bed. "Really." She laughed as he handed her socks and shoes and threw her another disbelieving look. "I know how I feel about you," Harry's heart flipped a bit in his chest, not knowing why, he chose to pretend it didn't happen, Hermione was a friend and therefore unable to flutter his heart. "You're my best friend, and I trust you implicitly," Harry smiled brightly before bending to tie his shoes, "and I care about you deeply." This time there was no denying it. His heart did more than just flutter; try drop to his stomach before lodging securely in his throat. She didn't mean what his heart seemed to think she meant. He was sure, she just cared for him as a friend. Plus, the amount that statement affected him was making him uncomfortable. "That's why this was so wonderful." He saw her shoes move toward him and stood to face her, hoping his apprehension about his reactions to her wasn't on his face.
"Wonderful, eh?" Harry leered at her, hoping to joke himself away from such serious and conflicted emotions. This time she chuckled and slapped his shoulder. Then took his hand in hers.
"Wonderful because you mean something to me, and therefore, this was special, regardless of whether we saw it coming or if it was our original choice." He gave her a quick, tight hug.
"It was wonderful for me as well, Hermione. I'm glad it was with you," he pulled back to look at her, knowing this was going to be the harder part. "But you know that it was a-"
"Mistake, yes. Well, not a mistake, an… accident." He laughed and pulled her to sit by him on his rumpled bed. For just a moment the scent of her, of what they did wafted by his nose and he felt his cock twitch in his pants. Viciously he tamped down on that, surprised that he could be ready for another go already and slightly wary because he was sure it was Hermione's scent that had gotten him ready for another go.
"An accident. I like that. I'm not sorry it happened, I may have been at first, when I thought you would be unhappy about it, but not if you're alright. But it can't happen again, we have to act like it didn't happen or pretend it never did, go back to being close friends that've never seen each other starkers."
"I know, Harry. This would be so very hard to explain. To Ron, to Cho, to…everyone. I suppose you understand that it's not that I wouldn't want to do that again," there was that twitch again and Harry thought of Snape which effectively drove off any kind of swelling downstairs, before finishing Hermione's thought.
"It's that we're friends and that's perfect." She smiled brightly before jumping up quickly. Harry was pretty sure that, friends or no, he'd end up watching Hermione move in a whole different way from now on.
"Exactly. So. This never happened, we've had a nice chat and you're feeling better, yes?"
"Nothing untoward happened, and," Harry paused, surprised, "I actually am feeling much better. Thanks, Hermione."
"My pleasure, Harry, what're friends for?" She flashed him a secret and provocative smile, Snape, think of Snape, before heading toward the door. Suddenly something occurred to Harry.
"Oi, Hermione?" She paused, her hand on the doorknob. "What'll you tell R-whoever when they ask about your first time?" She smirked and he knew she knew he was about to say Ron. "I'll probably use it to my advantage and tell 'them' it was Krum." With that she spun out of the room, her hair flying after her down the stairs. It took Harry a full five minutes to stop laughing enough to follow her down.