One Pair

By: Amanda, aka, Rosie

This was started ages ago, and I found it again when my laptop crashed. While rereading it, ideas just started to flow! So, I finished it :)

Disclaimer: Yeah, I'm J.K. Rowling. Hahaha!

Okay, on my other H/Hr stories that had this kind of context, I had thousands of hits per storie and only dozens of reviews each. So, please, people, any feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Questions, comments, criticism, stories, anything and everything you guys have to say, I'd love to hear about it. I heart feedback :)

Rating: NC-17

Partially inspired by a piece of Draco/Ginny fanart entitled "Sharing Pajamas" created by Cupid12203 on Portkey and DeviantArt.

I can't paste the link here, but find her page on DeviantArt or Portkey (same username on both) and seriously check it out. It's a fantastic piece of art, an unbelievably realistic drawing. I loved it. The only way I thought it could be better was if it were a Harry/Hermione ;)

"I told you we should've stopped for petrol at that last town," Hermione grumbled as the car sputtered to a stop in the middle of nowhere.

"And I told you, the gauge said there was half a tank," Harry responded angrily. "That should have gotten us to the next town."

"If you didn't drive like a maniac with all the speeding and braking that used up all the gas, we would have," she chastised, getting out of the passenger side and slamming the door.

Harry followed suit, yelling, "Well, maybe you should drive next time we decided to take a bloody QUAINT country drive, Miss Perfect!"

"Maybe I WILL!" she hollered in return. "THEN we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"That's settled, then! In the meantime, what are we going to do?" he asked, shouted really, and absentmindedly hitting the power lock and slamming his door.

What had started as a nice, little, day long road trip to visit Ron at his Quidditch camp had now turned to this. One giant argument since they began driving home. And even now, with her angry, seething even, at him, Harry still thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world. Even now, when she looked as though she was about to set him afire with her eyes, Harry still loved her, his Hermione, more than anything.

But she wasn't his Hermione; she belonged to another. And a muggle at that, one she couldn't even tell about her abilities. It ate him alive at any mention of it, at any hint of it. At the mere thought, his heart was in his throat, choking him as nausea swept over him. At every subtle display of affection he had to witness, his heart was clenched in an iron fist, slowly killing him. Yet he put on a brave face. For her, for his Hermione. If she was happy, without him, with someone else, then he was happy, he told himself.

But was she happy?

"Harry!" Hermione screamed. "Did you lock the door? Do you have the keys?"

"Of course I do, Hermione," he said as though it were obvious. "They're right he-" he patted his jacket pocket to hear no sound of jingling keys. "Oh."

"In the ignition!" she finished outraged. "Wouldn't it make sense to CHECK and make SURE before locking the car, Harry?"

"I'm SORRY, Hermione!" he yelled. "I make mistakes! I'm not perfect like SOME people!"

"Is that a pointed comment, Potter?" she growled.

Harry stood silent, glaring at her, controlling his anger.

"Why don't you just apparate in and unlock the door so I can get my jacket and get the keys," Hermione told him in a voice he knew she was trying to keep steady.

"For some reason I can't concentrate. You do it."

"I'm too cold, because YOU locked my jacket in the CAR!"

"So what are we going to do then?" Harry asked, throwing out the question.

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Maybe we can summon them out. Who cares if we break the sodding window, we can reparo it later," she thought aloud. "My wand is in my jacket, try with yours."

Harry, believing it was to not aggravate her further, did as she said. But as he reached in his back pocket for his wand, it wasn't there. Looking through the window, he was it lying in the driver's seat.

"Just bloody PERFECT!" Hermione said, following his gaze.

"Now what?" Harry inquired, sounding defeated. He hated not being on Hermione's good side. Her bad side was usually reserved for Ron, but it seemed to solely belong to him at the moment.

She sighed, gazing at their surroundings as if trying to memorize them. "Let's just start walking toward the nearest town. The walk will either calm us enough to apparate back into the car or take us to a phone where we can call Ron and get some food."

"Sounds like a plan." Harry gestured for her to lead the way. He followed her, his eyes wandering up and down her body as she moved in front of him, focusing on the sway of her hips frequently.

He suddenly felt irritated with her while staring at her arse. How dare she look so damn sexy and delectable when he couldn't have her, teasing him with that walk, that perfect rear and those luscious breasts?

The shiver he saw pass through her body caused all his annoyance to evaporate instantly. If she was that cold, why didn't she ask for my jacket? he wondered, though he knew the answer. She was too proud. It was one of the things he loved about her. But she wasn't so stupid to not take help when she needed it, just too proud to ask for it when she didn't necessarily need it.

"Want my jacket?" he offered, starting to pull it off.

She shook her head. "I'm fine," she told him softly.

Stubborn woman, he thought.

"Take it," he insisted, putting it on her shoulders. "There, already all nice and warm for you," he smiled as she reluctantly took it.

"I could stand to shiver off a few pounds," she replied.

"Hermione," Harry replied matter-of-factly, "if you lose any weight, I'll be forced to commit you to a clinic specializing in eating disorders."

"Oh, please, Harry. I'm massive," she said in an impatient voice.

"If you're massive, 'Mione, I wouldn't be able to wrap my arms around you so easily." To prove his point, he demonstrated encircling his arms around her waist from behind and holding her snugly to him. Harry didn't realize how much being this close to her would affect him. He swallowed, looking down at her. "See?" he choked out in what he hoped was a normal voice.

She stared up at him over her shoulder, her face flushed for some reason. Probably the cold, Harry thought. "Yeah, you can," she said in a whisper.

Neither of them made a move to change their position. They were so close, he could kiss her. He licked his lips at the thought. She'd hex him, with or without a wand, if he tried. She'd never forgive him, either, and he couldn't stand that.

Harry swallowed again and removed his arms. He thought he heard her sigh when he did. "We should probably keep walking," he suggested. "Don't want to get caught out after dark."

"No, we wouldn't want that," she agreed and continued moving in the direction of the nearest town.

They had gone no more than a mile when it started to rain. Not a gentle sprinkling, but an instant downpour.

"Damn sudden thunderstorms," Harry grumbled as he tried to get more shelter from the rain under the trees. He glanced at Hermione through water spotted lenses; she had pulled the jacket up to cover her head, but she was already soaked to the skin and shivering. Her tight shirt now clinging to every soft contour of her breasts and stomach, back and arms. Sodding storm, getting my Hermione wet and cold.

But she looks good wet…

Stop that, you bloody pervert!

"W-What now, Harr-ry?" she asked through chattering teeth.

He frowned, looking around as he continued to walk. He didn't notice for a few moments that he was holding her hand to lead her. As soon as he realized he would have dropped it, but it had grown surprisingly dark and the last thing they needed was to get separated.

If she gets sick from this, I'll curse this entire bloody forest, Harry thought, knowing he was being unreasonable. There's got to be something out here that can be used as shelter.

"What's that?" Hermione pointed, squinting in the faint light.

Harry followed her arm and dim outline of a small cabin. "Come on," he said, leading her in that direction.

"What if someone's there?" she asked uneasily.

"Let's hope they take pity on two soaked strangers."

They ran to the cabin to find it dark. It wasn't so late that people would have gone to bed. Knocking and pounding on the door brought no response and Harry decided to try the door handle. To his surprise, it turned in his hand and the door swung open.

"No harm in using it if it's empty," Harry commented stepping into the one room cabin. There was a table to the left of the door and a small twin bed against the right wall. A counter ran along the wall behind the table and cupboards lined the wall above. A small dresser was placed at the back wall just past the bed near a door that looked to lead to a small bathroom. The entire cabin couldn't have been more than twenty square feet.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed. "This is breaking and entering!"

"We didn't break anything," Harry replied, "just entered. I'm sure they won't mind. And what else are we going to do? Stay out in the rain?" he reasoned. "Come on, 'Mione, we'll leave the cabin in perfect condition."

He could tell she was battling with her morals, but her body gave another involuntary shiver and guilt about using the cabin went out the door. "Oh, alright," she conceded. "Why is it that whenever I'm with you or Ron I end up breaking some rule or law?" she added with a glare, but Harry could see her lips twitching in a smile.

Harry grinned. "Because we're such a good influence on you."

She snorted at his remark. "So what now, my positive role model?"

"Well, we need to get warm and dry off, then some food would be nice," he added as his stomach gave a loud rumble. Blushing, he suggested, "Let's look around for anything useful."

"Okay, hungry man."

The two began rummaging through drawers and cupboards, piling anything that might be of some help to them on the table in the room.

"Here's a gaudy pair of pajamas," Hermione announced from the dresser.

"Just one pair?" Harry asked from the counter drawers. "Here's some matches; I'll work on a fire while you keep looking, okay?"

"Okay. Yeah, just one pair," she reported after searching the other dresser drawers.

He frowned. One pair between the two of us… How will that work? "I'm going to see if I can find any dry wood," he said aloud, heading toward the door. "Will you keep your eye out for something to use as kindling?"

Harry stopped at the door, looking Hermione. She did look pretty, beautiful even, with her wet hair hanging in dark brown waves down her back, her clothes hugging to her figure showing her curves. He saw her nod, watched her a moment longer, then walked out the door.

When she heard the door close behind Harry, Hermione leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and sighed to regain her composure. That boy has no idea what he does to me, she thought. He looked so adorably sexy drenched from the rain, with his wet hair hanging in his eyes, the falling drops sticking to his glasses, his t-shirt clinging his torso hinting at his firm chest and defined abs, his strong arms peeking out from under his sleeves that gripped to his biceps, triceps and deltoids.

She couldn't help but want him when he looked like that. She couldn't help but want him in general. She couldn't help but love him for the man he was.

But he didn't want her, in any way except friendship, so she'd settled for another. Another who couldn't compete with the man Harry was, the gentleman he was to her. Her boyfriend was a nice guy and treated her right, he just wasn't Harry, wasn't her Harry.

Harry came back into the cabin, shaking the water from his hair and glasses and carrying an impossibly large load of split logs. "Got lucky," he told her, "There's a lean-to thing out back keeping a huge stack of wood dry."

Hermione nodded. "There is plenty of canned food, and I'm sure we can figure out a way to cook it, but the only clothes are the one pair of pajamas."

Harry paused in stacking the wood in the fire place. One pair for two people... That means…

"Here, Harry." Hermione was handing him some napkins and old newspaper.

"Thank you, 'Mione," he said taking the kindling material. It should work. He patted the floor next him. "Sit with me?"

Folding her legs gracefully underneath her, Hermione took a seat beside him.

"I'm sorry I yelled, 'Mione," Harry told her sincerely. He hated when the two of them weren't on their usual best friend terms. "I was upset. I should have just calmed down and I'm sorry. Forgive me?" he asked with a hopeful smile he knew Hermione thought was adorable.

Hermione smiled and hugged his arm. "Of course I forgive you, Harry." She smiled at him again. "You really should start listening to me all the time, though."

Harry blinked. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"That's okay, Harry. Now you know better."

He could almost feel her patting his head like a child. Or a dog.

"I was not driving fast," Harry muttered irritably more or less under his breath, trying to strike a match successfully.

"Oh, Harry, seriously now. You were driving over 130 kilometers an hour. The speed limit was 90!"

"I was not driving that fast," he countered.

"And you should have stopped for petroleum at the last town when I told you if you were going to drive that fast," Hermione finished as though Harry hadn't said anything.

For some reason, one he would never know - no matter how long he spent pondering the events of this night - Harry snapped.

Shooting to his feet, he shouted, "You know what, Hermione, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm NOT bloody perfect like every sodding witch and wizards thinks I should be! I'm sorry I'm not the perfect carefree bachelor all the women want!" Everything Harry had been bottling inside for years seemed to be exploding to the surface. Hermione sat staring at him, her mouth open in a gasp. "I'm sorry I'm not the perfect wizard! I'm sorry I wasn't perfect at Hogwarts! I'm sorry I got in trouble! I'm sorry I didn't ALWAYS listen to you when it came to Voldemort! I'm sorry people died!" The fire place erupted into flame startling Hermione but not fazing Harry a bit. "I'm sorry I got people killed. I'm so fucking sorry I wasn't the bloody PERFECT Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived!"

Harry stopped, breathless and panting. He took in the scene around him; Hermione staring at him shocked, the fire blazing on her hearth, the matches crushed in his fist. Exhausted and now remembering what he said, Harry sank to knees. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his head hanging. "I just… I'm sorry."

"Hey, Harry." Hermione's voice was gentle, like her fingers as they brushed the hair back from Harry's eyes. She tilted his chin to look her in the eyes. "I know you're not perfect. Nobody's perfect, sweetie." Her soft hand cupped his cheek. Harry felt his face warm where their skin touched. "I don't expect you to be perfect. And in some ways I'm happy you didn't always listen to me and got in trouble as school. It made us all who we are today." She rose on her knees and hugged his head to her chest. Harry could feel her heart beating; the sound made his heart pound. "You didn't kill anybody, Harry. You didn't get anyone killed. It was all Voldemort, Harry. It was his fault, not yours."

Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist and held her close to her. "I know, 'Mione, I know," he whispered. "What you said was just the straw the broke the camel's back, I suppose."

"It's okay, Harry," she told him smoothing his hair and sending shivers down his spine. "And we have a fire now, without bothering with those matches. You and your random wandless magic." Harry could hear the smile in her voice. "I probably shouldn't have said what I did, too."

Harry pulled his head back and looked at her, eyebrow raised.

"Okay," Hermione conceded, "I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, Harry. Will you forgive me?"

Harry returned his head to Hermione's bosom. It was such a nice bosom, not too big, not too small, and seemed perfect for his head to rest on. After making sweet, passionate love and… Stop that! "Of course I do, 'Mione."

They stayed in that position for a moment before Hermione said, "Harry, don't you think we should eat?"

"Hmm… In a minute," he responded with a smile. "I'm quite comfortable here."

"Harry!" Hermione stood up, moving the kitchen. She sounded annoyed, but Harry saw her smiling. He also saw her shiver.

"I think we should get ourselves and our clothes dry first," Harry mentioned. "I suppose you'll want the pajama top." His voice did not crack.

Hermione stiffened, and Harry saw a distinct blush in her cheeks.

"I mean, we don't want to get sick…" His voice sounded lame to his own ears.

She nodded, took the shirt from the table where it had been set and headed straight for the small bathroom, all without a glance at Harry.

Puzzled, Harry commenced the task of untying his wet shoelaces with a frown on his face. Hermione was certainly acting strange. Why was something Harry could not guess. Men were most definitely clueless.

"Oh, dear." Hermione's muffled voice came from the bathroom.

"Are you okay, 'Mione?" Harry questioned, immediately concerned.

"Oh, yeah." She didn't sound convincing. "My shirt's just stuck to my..." her voice trailed off into murmurs and grunts.

Harry gave a small smile at the mental picture of Hermione struggling with a shirt suctioned to her body. Then he felt the blood rush to his loins.

Still, he thought he should be the gentleman. "Do you need some help?"

"Um… Well, I suppose. I can't seem to…"

The door opened a crack and Harry stepped in a little hesitantly. This would be the most intimate situation he and Hermione had ever been in, as innocent as this is. Stepping into the room, Harry saw Hermione with her arms crossed, hands on the hem of her shirt, twisting to pull her shirt. She stopped, very much like a deer in the headlights, when she saw him standing in the doorway.

She grinned sheepishly. "I'm stuck."

"That I can see," he said, softly with a small smile. "Turn around and I'll help you."

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as she dropped her hands and turned her back to Harry. She could see him in the bathroom mirror as he stepped up behind her. To her eyes, who knew him better than anyone else, he looked nervous. His hands seemed to be shaking when they reached for her shirt hem.

His finger brushed her skin as he gathered the shirt and a shiver entirely not from the cold ran through her body.

"You're getting colder," Harry said, his voice husky. "You need to get out of these wet clothes."

Hermione could only nod, lost in the sensation caused by the simple contact between her and Harry, but her mind screaming, Yes, Harry, take me out of my clothes, take my body, make love to me. Her skin felt hot now where his fingers touched. She raised her arms as the shirt was lifted over her head, peeling from her wet skin.

The wet shirt hung from Harry's left hand and his right delicately brushed the strands for hair from her shoulder. He stared at her shoulder, his hand resting lightly on it. Harry's eyes met Hermione's in the mirror and she turned to face him. They were both panting lightly as they stared into each other's eyes.

Hermione stood before Harry in her bra and she could feel her nipples contract more at the vulnerability of her position. She ached for his hand to cup her breast, his fingers to toy with her nipples, his lips to descend on them…

She didn't know if she should be annoyed that he wasn't even looking at her breasts or impressed.

Hermione brought her hand to Harry's cheek. "Harry…" she said softly. His hand moved to the back of her head, tangling in her hair, and he shuffled a step closer. Hermione chin tilted up, lips parted, inviting him to kiss her. Harry lifted his left hand to her face, her shirt falling to the floor.

The sound of wet fabric smacking to the floor broke the trance between Harry and Hermione. They both looked down at the crumpled clothing.

Clearing his throat, Harry's hand dropped to his side and he stepped back. "Be sure to dry off as best you can," he told her in a hoarse voice.

Hermione nodded. "There are some towels in the cupboard." She grabbed one quickly from the cabinet near the sink and handed him one. "I'll stay in here, until you're done changing," she told him. She smirked suddenly. "You don't need help with your shirt, do you? Or your pants, perhaps?" Hermione winked at him. She winked at him!

Instead of responding with a witty comment of some sort, Harry stammered, "Uh, no, I'll manage," and left.

That witch drove him crazy. Absolutely crazy with that amazingly perfect body of hers. Her hair had felt so soft, even wet; he wanted to run his fingers through her hair for hours. His hands had wanted to caress their way to her stomach before cupping her breast, wanted to play with her pert nipples, wanted to make her arch into him.

But Hermione wouldn't want that. Not from him at least. She had her little boyfriend.

Harry clenched his teeth and growled while practically ripping off his shirt. What does that muggle have that I don't. eh?

Well, Hermione, for one.

Shut up.

You asked. Probably gets to bed her, too.

"Stupid voice, what do you know," he muttered aloud.

"What was that, Harry?" Hermione called from the bathroom.

"Nothing, I'm just done changing," he replied. Talking out loud to yourself, real smooth, genius. Make her think you're crazy, Potter, he thought as he hung up his wet clothes on the fire place screen.

Hermione came out caring her bundle of wet clothes in the large pajama shirt. It was long enough to cover her hips for the most part, but a great expanse of long, slender, silky looking leg was showing. Harry gulped. In the matching pajama pants, an erection would be much more visible.

Padding across the floor, Hermione moved to kneel next to Harry on the hearth. "Oh, I'll hang them up, Hermione, you can go rest on the bed. Your bare knees won't agree with this floor much," he smiled.

She returned his smile. "Ever the gentleman, Harry." She set her clothes beside him and, as she leaned over, Harry saw the curve of her breast beneath the shirt. She kissed his cheek before moving to the bed.

Harry gulped again.

He was stretching her clothes out to dry next to and on top of his one when he found himself holding her bra, and then her panties. Realization came that she was completely naked beneath that red flannel button up top.

Harry gulped a third time.

Hermione sat on the bed watching Harry's back. It was a nice back, strong and defined and flexible. She imagined running her hands down it, digging her nails into his shoulder blades in the throes of lovemaking…

Hermione drew in a shaky breath. She really needed stop letting her mind wander to that subject.

Maybe she could seduce Harry a bit… Or give him openings to take "advantage" of her…

It was something to ponder.

Harry finished arranging the clothes on the screen and stood up. They would have to rotate and flip them after a while to get all sides dry, but nothing was close enough to catch fire. He hoped.

Knowing Hermione was naked under all her clothes is one thing, but knowing she was naked under ONLY one shirt, is entirely different. And much more erotic.

Was I always such a pervert? Harry asked himself.

"Are you hungry, Harry?"

That wasn't his brain.

"What? Oh, yes, hungry, yes. For food, only food, I only want…food." Now he was babbling. Just great.

"I'll see if I can fix up some of the cans," Hermione told him. Then she crossed the open floor to the kitchen, but she didn't walk. No, what she did was far from walking. She…swayed, her hips moving slowly from side to side. Yet it looked completely natural, as though it was how she was meant to move for him.

"We'll need some plates or bowls," she mused aloud to herself. She was opening cupboards, and Harry forced his eyes up from her long, sensuous legs to the back of her head. But then she was stretching up, standing on tip toe, to see the top shelf, hiking the already indecently short shirt higher.

Harry's gaze drifted downward again. He could almost see her bum. Hermione had a nice bum when in jeans, round and firm. He wondered what running his hands over the bare skin would feel like.

Harry bit his lip as she stretched to look into another cabinet. The fabric of the pajama pants began to feel snugger. He could take her, just turn her to face him and start kissing and fondling her. She's probably a fantastic kisser. He could press into her oh so easily, just slide in and bury himself completely. Might hurt her, the pestering voice said. Had she been with anyone before? Had he? Harry couldn't remember. They didn't matter if they weren't Hermione. Nothing mattered next to Hermione.

"Oh, there's some," Hermione said. Harry thought she said something.

She stretched again, hopped a little and stretched some more, pulling down plates. All Harry saw was her long legs, her shapely calf, toned thighs. How he wanted to kiss his way up them.

Then Hermione was kneeling on the floor, stretching to look in a cabinet. Harry's eyes almost popped out of his head. He vaguely remembered something about a pot, or pan, but what did that matter? All Harry saw was her bum, her round, perfect bum, facing him. She was in the perfect position; he could enter her so easily. Just kneel behind her and glide inside her, wrap his arms around her slim waist, slip his hands under that enormous shirt and fondle her pert breasts.

Harry was moving before he realized. One minute he's staring at Hermione's arse from across the room, the next he's at the table.

Hermione stood, just as Harry came to his senses. "Oh." She seems surprised that he was so close. "Would you like to help me?"

Help you climax repeatedly as you scream my name over and over in high octaves? Why yes, don't mind if I do.

"Sure," Harry answered, perhaps too loudly. He moved closer to the table to hide his erection; damn pajamas did nothing but emphasize it. And felt surprisingly good against his penis. He would have to remember that. For now, though, to rid himself of the erection, he thought of Ron in a Speedo. He shuddered.

"Are you still cold, Harry?" Hermione's eyes held deep concern for him. Merlin, how he loved her.

"Just fine, Hermione." And my boner for you is gone, too. Ron works wonders! "Are you cold at all?"

"A little, because my hair's still wet." She'd found a can opener somewhere. When?

I can warm you up. "Some…some warm food might help," Harry offered. "We can heat this over the fire."

She smiled at him. "It might. Maybe sharing a blanket will, too, body warmth and all."

Harry looked at her curiously. Any other girl he would think they're seducing him. Was Hermione seducing him? No, Hermione? No…

Was she?

"Here," he said, reaching for the cans and can opener, "I'll do that."

Hermione watched him make quick work of the hand-powered can opener. "Strong man," she teased.

"Hey, it takes a lot of exercise on a lot of machines to get this," he retorted. He flexed his bicep for emphasis. "See? Look at that muscle," he grinned at her.

"All so you can use a can opener the muggle way," she smiled.

"I can do a lot more than open a can opener," Harry assured her.

"Oh?" Hermione said innocently. She moved closer to him, so close they were almost touching and he had to look practically straight down to see her. "Like what?" Blasted witch even looked innocent with her cinnamon eyes all wide. "What can you do with these big, strong muscles?" She ran a hand from his shoulder, down his arm and across his chest.

Make love to you in any position imaginable. "I, um, I can do…" he trailed off, forgetting what Hermione had asked him. He could see down the top. Did she undo another button? Blood flowed south.

"Here, Harry." She was handing him the pot with the muggle Ravioli in it. "Hold this over the fire. That should put some of that shoulder muscle to use." She squeezed his deltoid, or did she caress it? This witch was confusing him.

Holding that pot over the fire long enough to heat proved to be more taxing that Harry initially thought. His arms actually hurt afterward. He had found a new workout for the gym. It didn't help either that Hermione kept leaning over to check it and stir it and sitting practically pressed against him.

After the food had heated and been eaten (not that that wasn't an ordeal; who knew eating Ravioli could be so arousing?), Hermione pulled some blankets from somewhere and asked Harry to "cuddle" with her. For the practical purposes of keeping warm, he was sure. Yeah, right.

Evil witch.

There's only so much a man can take before he needs private time in the bathroom.

Harry could never deny anything to Hermione. She was just too cute.

Things did work to his advantage, however. While flinging out the blanket to cover them, he gave a small grunt of pain. "Blasted pot," he mumbled.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry," Hermione cooed. "Sit up and let me massage your arms."

How could Harry refuse? He actually doubted he could if he wanted to, Hermione seemed that determined.

Her small hands began to work on his shoulders and deltoids, kneading into and smoothing the knots in his muscles. Harry could feel Hermione's warm breath on his neck as she massaged him. It was arousing beyond belief, and more so as his mind imagined her panting against his neck as he thrust into her.

"That feels really good, 'Mione," Harry groaned, and he could sense the grin on her face.

Hermione moved to his side and began rubbing into his arm and chest muscles more. Looking over, Harry could see the swell of her breasts again, rising and falling as she moved her arms. He envisioned rubbing his hands against her chest. Then Hermione massaging her own chest as she rode him, crying his name in ecstasy.

Harry was hard, harder than he'd been all night.

It was then, in that moment of blood-loss thought, Harry decided to take initiative.

"Now your turn," Harry told Hermione, his voice sounding husky. He reached around her back, her arms still on him, and began making small circles along her spine. She gasped in pleasure and fell against him.

It took all of Harry's self control and willpower to not take Hermione right then. Oh, he wanted her, and he had a feeling he would have her tonight, but to seduce her first as she seemed to be seducing him would make it all the sweeter.

He was as evil as her.

"Feels good?" he murmured in her ear, sure his voice would sound like a low rumble to her. Some women liked that, he supposed.

"Oh, yes, Harry," Hermione said breathlessly. Exactly how he imagined she would sound in the throes of passion.

He worked up and down her back, her shoulders and neck. Then she was putty in his hands.

Her little gasps, sighs and moans had been driving Harry to the edge of his restraint. He pulled Hermione to straddle his lap, effortlessly lifting and setting her flush against him. Her eyes opened wide when she felt his arousal for her. Harry kissed her before she could utter a word.

He kissed her better and more thoroughly than he had ever kissed any another woman before, wanting to get as much as he could before she came to her senses and hexed his arse across the world, wand or no wand. Surprisingly, though, the back of his mind registered that, after a moment shock, Hermione's arms tightened around his neck and she returned his kiss with as much passion as he gave. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, massaging his as completely as her hands had his back. One of his hands ran down her back to cup her bum and the other tangled in her hair.

Harry squeezed her bum and pressed her more firmly against him; Hermione moaned in his mouth and squirmed in his lap. Her lips broke from his in a panting gasp and he kissed down her slender neck.

"I want you," he murmured against her skin.

"Harry," she groaned, her fingers running through his hair.

"I need you."

"Oh, Harry," she gasped as he bit gently.

"I love you," he said, suddenly stopping his attentions on her neck and looking her straight in the eyes. His heart was pounding, from the proclamation of his love, the adrenaline from their actions and the nerves of waiting for her reaction. Harry had to tell her, he couldn't have made love to her without first telling his true feelings for her. He would have screamed it as he climaxed if he didn't get it out now.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said again. This had a different tone. It was…soft, and affectionate. Not patronizing like he was expecting, gentle, like…like she reciprocated…

One of her hands cupped his cheek, and Hermione kissed him. Not with passion as before, but this tender love. This kiss, this gentle kiss, more than anything else that night, made him and Hermione together feel real.

"I love you, too," she whispered. Hermione's hands left his body and, with a small smile on her face, went to the buttons on her shirt, her only article of clothing. Slowly, one by one, each button came undone, revealing slightly more skin of a pale strip of stomach.

The last button unfastened, Harry pushed the shirt of her shoulders, helping Hermione remove it, and he finally saw all of the woman he loved. Hermione was more beautiful than Harry could have ever imagined. She was gorgeous, from her bushy chestnut hair to rosy nipples to the feet at the end of those luscious legs and everything in between.

Harry stared at her, awestruck, desperately attempting to remember every detail of this moment, of Hermione straddling his lap looking absolutely wanton in nothing but her skin. Oh, how he ached for her now.

His hands slid up her thighs, touching with only fingertips and bringing out goose bumps, up her hips to her slim waist and rib cage. Pulling Hermione to him, Harry gently touched his lips to hers. "You're beautiful," he told her honestly, hoarsely. He kissed her again, her mouth opening under his. They shared sensual kisses, savoring this moment before their first time together.

Hermione pulled back from the kiss and slid off the bed to kneel on the floor. Harry was dumbfounded to what she was doing until she grabbed his length through his pants. He gasped in surprise and then she was tugging the pants down to his ankles.

Her eyes widened when she saw his free manhood. "Oh, Harry..." Her hand stroked him softly, circled her thumb around the head of his penis, and he gave a little moan, a sound she smiled at. "It's so… big."

Before Harry could reply to Hermione's compliment of his penis, her mouth enveloped it and Harry lost coherent thought for the moment. Her lips gripped his length as she bobbed up and down, her tongue swirled around the head and Harry resisted the urge to thrust.

As aroused as Harry had been all effing night, he could feel his climax coming, could feel Hermione being him closer and closer with her bobbing and stroking and sucking and swirling and - sweet Merlin where did she learn this?

"Her-Hermione," he panted, "I'm close…"

If anything, she went into overdrive. With renewed vigor her mouth worked magic on his penis, her tongue dancing along the length as her lips and hand stroked him. One hand clung almost painfully to his thigh as he tensed himself.

He was on edge, so close to finishing Filch parading over the bed in a Speedo might not have stopped the inevitable climax of Harry Potter by Hermione Granger's lovely mouth. And then Hermione did something that ensured his climax: she deep throated him.

Harry would graciously admit he had an above average sized penis, over eight inches long and about six inches around, and knew this because he had measured it (what male hadn't measured his package) and "Googled" it. He was quite proud of his manhood.

This fact noted, when Hermione's nose was touching his stomach, it was a remarkable feat of controlled gag reflex that made Harry's eyes cross as he came hard.

And she swallowed. That was hot.

He was still grunting as Hermione licked him clean, something she seemed to be enjoying all too much. She looked up at Harry from between his legs, smiled and kissed the tip of his still erect penis.

Harry found this entirely erotic and flipped Hermione on the bed without hesitation to have his way with her. "My turn," he nearly growled in her ear before kissing his way down her throat. He paused to suckle at her pulse point, quite sure she would have a hickey and grinned at the thought.

Hermione's hands were running through his hair. "By all means, Harry," she moaned, and he could feel the smile in her voice, "have your way with me."

Oh, how he intended to.

Her breasts that had been taunting Harry every day since he noticed Hermione had breasts were so prefect. Perfect, pert, full handfuls of Hermione breast for Harry to play with. He loved it. He loved the noises she made as he licked and sucked and nipped at her nipples, as he massaged and caressed her bosom.

Hermione was rubbing her hips against Harry, eager for contact, for stimulation there. There where Harry would thoroughly visit next. Harry could feel the moisture of Hermione's arousal on his stomach. It made him feel aroused, turned on, horny, stirred, desperate to thrust madly into her, all of the above.

Hermione Granger made Harry Potter feel like a sex god.

He kissed down her stomach, loving the taut, soft feel of it, loving the muscles contracting under his ministrations, loving her.

Harry slid off the bed to his knees, between Hermione's legs, her wonderful, beautiful legs. He ran his hands along her thighs; they were so smooth, like the rest of her. Harry knew then he was addicted to Hermione, now and forever. And they hadn't even made love yet.

He took his glasses off and tossed them aside somewhere; they might hurt his precious Hermione. Kissing her inside thigh, Harry inhaled the smell of Hermione before tasting her there for the first time, the first of many if Harry had his way. She was exotic, simply exotic.

The smell, the taste, the sounds, the entire experience of going down on Hermione was so intoxicating Harry thought he might be drunk or high or both. Harry dove his tongue deep inside her and felt Hermione arch and contract and tense and make oh so lovely noises. He touched her clit with his tongue and was rewarded with a gasp. He alternated between teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves and dipping his tongue into Hermione. She was damn near quivering.

Harry kissed her thigh again, wrapped an arm around her leg and held her to him. With his other hand, he slipped two fingers inside Hermione's slick, wet warmth and saw her arch off the bed again. His penis would thrive there.

His tongue went back to Hermione's clit as his fingers continued to move in her. She rocked and moaned and arched and drove Harry mad with lust. His tongue was working furiously on her and her breath began coming in shorter gasps, her fingers in his hair tightened, and she literally quivered.

"Har-r-ry…" her voice wavered. Then her orgasm hit her. Harry felt her climax, felt her inner muscles tighten around his fingers and yearned for his penis to feel that sensation. He heard and felt Hermione scream his name.

Hearing his name escape her lips in orgasmic bliss drove Harry to a near frenzy. Before she could come down from her high, while she was still reeling in the pleasure of her climax, while she was still climaxing, Harry thrust himself deep in her. Hermione gave a gasp of surprise and pleasure and arousal and, to Harry's great delight, her eyes rolled in her head.

His eyes nearly rolled, too. Hermione was so warm and soft and moist and tight. Not too tight that he would cause her pain, but pleasurably tight, to elicit enjoyment and satisfaction from both of them.

Hermione opened her eyes and met Harry's. She smiled at him, a smile he returned, touched his cheek affectionately with her hand and their lips met in a kiss. Their mouths opened and tongues touched. Hermione tasting herself on him was erotic. Tasting himself on her, not so much, but Harry could overlook that detail.

Harry dropped to his elbows over Hermione and started to move, to pull out slightly then thrust back in, in a slow gentle rhythm. A nice, steady rhythm to remember their first time together. Her legs wrapped around Harry's waist, her legs that were so long and slender and tone and strong, judging by how hard she contracted them around his waist. He wanted to stay tangled with her forever.

The steady pace Harry set on Hermione's still tender sex brought her to a second climax sooner than he realized was possible. Her back arched and her arms tightened around Harry, bringing him down to her. Her hard nipples brushed against his chest as he rocked against her. She gasped his name again, and bit down on his shoulder while her nails dug into his back. The walls of Hermione's glorious passage tightened around his length and it felt beyond belief to Harry. As incredible the sensation was, Harry held out and didn't climax with her.

Harry rolled over onto his back, his legs bending at the knee to support Hermione above him, her hair swaying just hiding her nipples. The sight was erotic. His hands were on her slender hips aiding her, hers on his firm chest as she lifted herself up and lowered herself on his stiff length. Hermione closed her eyes and gasped and moaned with the pleasure of riding him. Harry moaned with her, from the pleasure of gliding into her and the pleasure of watching. He began to gently thrust in time with her fall to add to both their enjoyment. He slid his hands up her waist to her marvelous breasts and cupped and massaged them, Hermione arching into his hands.

Harry lost track of the time as Hermione rode him, as he rocked into her, as he played with her breasts, as he teased her nipples. Her body was really quite exquisite and her heart, mind and soul were far beyond that. Why Hermione loved him of all people she would never know, but he was so grateful. His own heart swelled with his love and devotion for her, Harry placed a hand tenderly to her cheek.

Hermione opened her eyes lazily as they continued their motions together and smiled affectionately at Harry. She bent down and kissed him, her tongue immediately seeking his and caressing it, her hands tangling in his hair. Harry's arms wrapped around her body and he began plunging faster and more forcefully into here. She was driving him mad; he wanted to hear her scream his name again.

His thrusts were long and powerful and Hermione gave off half gasps half squeals of pure bliss in Harry's ear while he kissed and sucked her neck. He knew she was getting close again, could tell be the pitch of her cries. "Oh, oh, Harry," she repeated over and over with her incoherent sounds, and it thrilled Harry to hear his name from her mouth in that tone.

And then she shrieked and clamped down on Harry's shoulder again. Harry slowed his thrusts to not climax with Hermione this time, either.

He grinned at her as she regained some focus. Her hair was more disarrayed than usual, her face flushed from exertion and orgasm. She looked beautiful. "Ready for another round?" he questioned wickedly.

"What?" Poor girl was disoriented. She had that effect on him, too.

Harry flipped Hermione over onto her hands and knees, still managing to stay inside her somehow. Her leaned over her shoulder and rumbled in her ear, "You were purposefully teasing me earlier, Miss Granger."

"Was I now?" Her voice sounded breathy and distracted. Harry could only imagine how it felt for her to have his penis this deep in her. He was scarcely coherent.

"Do you have any idea what this arse of yours does to me?" Harry asked, running his fingers along the smooth, round, soft skin of her bum. It was as firm as it looked in her too-tight jeans.

"Show me," she whispered over her shoulder, a smile, almost a smirk, lighting up her face with her blush.

Slowly, Harry began to pull his length out and drive it back in. It felt incredible. He was so deep within her he thought his head would spin. He had intended to go at an insanely slow pace, but the feel of Hermione's womanhood holding his penis, how far he could penetrate within her drove that plan far from his mind.

His hands roamed Hermione's body, her back, her breasts, her shoulders, her arms, her legs, her arse, her thighs… They were all so smooth and perfect Harry couldn't help but touch every inch of her.

The speed of his thrusts increased with Hermione shrieking in time with them, occasionally calling out a lucid word, like "Harry!" "Yes, more!" or "Sweet, leaping Merlin!" If Harry remembered, he would definitely tease her.

Soon, Harry was plunging into Hermione like a madman, his body eager to finally climax again after all the humping and thrusting and caressing. He was going to bring Hermione off one more time before he came, though.

She was close again. Positively quivering and shuddering with the pleasure of this position, the pleasure of his long penis hitting that special spot inside her that made her scream and shake. Harry's left hand had been massaging Hermione's breast, his right was tangled in her hair while she moaned and wailed. He wet two fingers from his right hand with his tongue and, leaning his body over Hermione's and never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting, he touched his fingers to Hermione's clit.

She gave a loud, short cry and he said huskily in her ear while thrusting and caressing, "Come for me, baby. Scream my name again." His lips found her neck and he bit and sucked and kissed until there was sure to be a hickey and Hermione climaxed again, screaming, as Harry had asked, his name.

Hermione clenching around his hard penis one more time after what seemed like hours of sex pulled Harry over with her and he emptied himself in her, sheer ecstasy coursing through his body, calling a hoarse, "Hermione" in her ear and giving a few more shallow thrusts.

Then Harry collapsed on the bed, Hermione at his side. He rolled on his side and spooned against her, dragging the blankets over them both. Sex is exhausting if you do it right, Harry thought as his body loosen and he felt Hermione relax against him. And a total body workout.

His last thought before he drifted to sleep was this is how he wanted to end every day, with Hermione in his arms.

The next morning, Harry woke feeling utterly calm and relaxed and refreshed and thinking he'd had the best, most realistic wet dream of his life.

Then he felt the warm naked body next to him. Squinting at it, he saw it was Hermione's warm naked body. Hermione's naked body. If he hadn't already had morning wood, he would have been hard in an instant.

Hermione woke then, stretching languidly, the blankets sliding away to expose her bosom. She saw Harry staring and blushed slightly. "Good morning," she said.

Harry kissed her, good and thoroughly. "It's a wonderful morning," he told her, resting his forehead on hers. He decided in that instant that the only bad morning Harry would ever have for the rest of his life would be one in which he didn't wake up next to Hermione. "Did you sleep well, sweetie?"

She grinned and nodded, nuzzling into Harry's arms and chest. "After all that exercise, I was exhausted."

"Not too sore, I hope," he inquired casually.

His tone must have been deceptive. Hermione opened an eye and quirked her eyebrow at him. "What do you have in mind?" she asked, but Harry could see her smile.

In answer, he pulled her leg over his and slid his member slowly into her. Hermione gasped and smiled. He would never tire of those noises or those smiles. "I love you," he said sincerely, brushing the hair back and cupping her face.

"I love you," she said, her voice catching and tears welling in her eyes.

Harry kissed her tenderly and they made love again, rocking gently against each other and holding one another, their climaxes soft like this morning's love.

What seemed like hours later, Harry and Hermione untangled themselves and pulled on their dry stiff clothes. It was a long process with much teasing and touching and kissing involved. When finally decently dressed and the small cabin looking as if they had never been but for one scrap of paper on the table under a vase, Hermione hugged Harry to her. "Let's go home," she told him. Her deep brown eyes held in them all that she felt and Harry was sure his were green mirrors.

"Home," he repeated with a smile, kissing her. And they apparated away.

The note on the table…

Thanks for bringing us together.

Harry & Hermione


I was writing this and I realized there was a "Who's the Boss" kind of like this. Tony and Angela had to share a pair of pajamas and a cabin. Minus the sex, tho, lol. Yeah, anyway, I'm old and remember old-school shows like that.

Surprisingly, writing in Harry's perspective is fun!

Thanks to my wonderful beta, Libby, Natali, who made me laugh to no end while reading her comments.