A/N: So, here is a short story that was bugging me and I just had to write. Please see the note at the end of the story regarding a possible sequel.

FAIR WARNING: Neither character may be portrayed as some Harry Potter fans seem fit. This story takes place after Hogwarts; therefore we really don't know how the characters would act in their 'adult' life. No, I'm not taking into consideration the epilogue of Deathly Hallows; for the mere fact that H/Hr didn't happen and consequently we don't really know how their personalities may change had they been together. (Thank you, JKR, for screwing that one up!)

Enjoy this piece of mindless fluff! – Rated NC-17 for language and sexual innuendo.

Let Me Enlighten You

Harry Potter is perfect.

Didn't you get the memo?

No?

Let me enlighten you.

I'm sitting at his kitchen table, the effects of some superb alcohol clouding my brain a bit, and it suddenly becomes clear. Harry-fucking-Potter is perfect!

How I never realized it before is beyond me. Quite possibly, I subconsciously knew it but didn't allow myself the luxury of recognition. After all, we had been quite busy during the previous several years. While trying to destroy a Dark Lord and his minions, it's easy to overlook attractions to the opposite sex...or same sex, whichever sends your wand into a tizzy.

During our last year at Hogwarts, we weren't at Hogwarts. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? No, while most seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds are left to worry about graduation and dates, we were hiking around to various places, camping out in a tent, and trying to not die. As you can tell, we succeeded!

Following the triumph of passing our N.E.W.T. exams about a year ago, Ron decided to try his hand at professional Quidditch. If you want my honest opinion, which I know you do, I think his main choice for this profession was fan girls. As a matter of fact, I can almost guarantee the number of girls he's slept with amounts to a great number than my I.Q., and that's pretty high. The sad thing is I can nearly guarantee this due to the fact of near confirmation in an OWL that Harry received from him. I wasn't snooping. Honestly, if Harry deemed it personal, he wouldn't have put it in his desk drawer. I mean, really, he has to know I look in there. I have no problems with this knowledge, mind you; except for the fact that I truly hope he remembers to cast the contraception charm each and every time. The last thing this world needs is numerous offspring of Ronald Weasley birthed by various women. Scary thought, that is.

Unfortunately (but also fortunately) Harry and I have been left reeling from the whole experience of the war. We've worked past the whole 'angst, depression' period. Right now, we're both currently in the stage of not letting outsiders in. So, it's become almost a nightly routine of sitting at his kitchen table with a couple of drinks, or watching a movie on his sofa; which is good, but presently bad.

Why, oh why, am I suddenly finding him attractive? I've known him for eight years and not once has he shown a hint of sexiness! Where does he get off doing this now? He has no damn right! Okay, I need to calm down and evaluate what exactly it is that I find sexy about him. After that has been hashed out, I can confront him on this and make him stop. Good idea, huh?

Sexy attribute one; his hair is constantly in a state of bed head. Now, I've seen Ron with bed head and all I want to do is force a comb into his hand in order to remedy the problem. The unruly look is definitely not becoming on him. But, on Harry, it absolutely bloody works!

Sexy attribute two consists of two words; Biceps and chest. Good god, Quidditch did that man wonders! Currently, he's wearing a white undershirt and it totally allows a chance for my eyes to feast upon the outline of his muscles. I must see if I can find him some thicker shirts.

Sexy attribute three deals with his lower region. No, not that! Harry has a gorgeous bum. True, I have only seen that bum clad in jeans and dress pants, but it's cute nonetheless. Right now, I'd love to stand him up, just for the purpose of pinching those cheeks. Maybe I should cut back a little on the alcohol.

Sexy attribute four is his smile; one that makes you long to drop your panties and beg for release.

Ack, he's doing it right now! Focus on the friendship, Granger, focus.

Sweet Merlin, he's licking his lips!

I guess I would have to add his tongue to sexy attribute four. Mmm…I wonder what marvelous skills that tongue possesses.

Seriously, need to get a grip before I wet myself.

Sexy attribute five would have to be his eyes. I swear, those doors to his soul are like two emeralds. Never in my life did I think one pair of eyes could hold so much emotion. What's bad is that, not only do they hold emotion; they can see the hidden emotions of those he knows well. Unfortunately, that includes me…which means I can't hide a damn thing from him.

Stupid prat.

Stupid sexy prat.

Stupid, sexy, muscular prat.

Hey, wait. What's he doing going through my bag? "What are you doing?"

He looks up and smirks. Hell, he can go through anything of mine. "Well, you were sitting there not saying much, so I thought I would amuse myself."

"And you do this by going through my personal belongings?"

He simply nodded, still smirking.

Stupid, sexy, muscular, nosey prat.

"Oh my god," he was chuckling. Er, did I have some tampons in there that I forgot about? "You actually read Witch Weekly?"

"Hey, they have some good articles!" Seriously, they do!

He brought it over to the table with him, but before he could open it I snatched it from his grasp. Ooohhh, maybe I should have been a Seeker! If they ever invent a non-flying form of Quidditch, I'll be sure to try out. Hmm…a non-flying form of Quidditch. Can that even be done?

"Hey, I was going to read that and tease you more." There was that fucking smile again!

"I'm sure you were," I soothed sarcastically. Flipping through the magazine carelessly, I happened upon a quiz I had been taking just that afternoon. An evil thought overtook my mind and a shot of boldness zoomed through my body. I had to smirk at my wicked, witchy ways. "I've got something to help the boredom," I snickered.

To my shock, he didn't look the least bit uneasy. "Sure, go for it." Ugh, he just winked at me! I cannot let him get the upper hand here.

"It's a sex quiz," I announced evenly as he took a drink of his beer. He coughed mid-swallow. Score 1 for me! "Still game?" I totally meant for my tone to be as teasing as it was!

"Sure, it's not like I've got any other pressing plans." Damn it! Damn it all to hell with that bloody smile!

I just had to keep my cool and maintain the upper hand. "First question; ideally, how often would you like to have sex? Option one is at least once a day, every day. Option two is 3 to 5 times a week. Option three is 1 to 2 times a week. Option four is less than once a week."

He looked truly thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I guess it would all depend on the relationship. If we're speaking in terms of my future wife, my answer would be once a day, every day."

My insides caught on fire at his words. Good god, once a day would not be enough of that body! "Okay," I replied and checked off the answer. My voice was a bit shaky, but my writing hand didn't let me down. "Second question; when is the best time to have sex? Option one is just about any time. Option two is in the morning. Option three is in the afternoon. Option four is early evening. Option five is just before going to sleep."

Again, a thoughtful expression graced his facial features. "Just about any time, I guess."

I nodded and closed my eyes once I was looking down. Expelling the breath I was holding, I marked down his answer and hoped I would make it through the entire quiz. "Question three; during sex, what position do you prefer? Option one is on top. Option two is on bottom. Option three is in various positions. Option four is no preference." I heard him softly chuckle and looked up. He was smiling sheepishly, a hint of nervousness hidden in the depth of his emerald eyes. "What's so funny?"

"Well, I've only done it once," he began to blush a bit, "and it didn't last very long, so I really can't say a preference since I've only experienced one position."

A part of me was utterly shocked that he shared that bit of information with me. Another part of me felt sympathy for his admitting that he hadn't lasted long during his first and only sexual expedition. The biggest part of me wanted to find the girl and hex her for sharing something that intimate with him. Stop that! He's not your property!

"I guess I'd like to experience being on the bottom. That'd be hot."

My god, he was talking to me like I was Ron! I don't know if I should be flattered or appalled. Then again, maybe I should join in. "Having the girl on top is fun."

Again, he coughed on the beer he was trying to swallow. He really needs to stop doing that. It's not one of his sexy attributes. "Hermione Jane Granger," he was smirking wildly, "is there something you've failed to tell me?"

I can play this game! "Nothing more than what you failed to tell me," I cooed. Wait, did I actually coo? Good god, I really need to stop drinking.

"Who was it with?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, you're trying to divert the attention off of the matter at hand."

"Fine," he relented, "but you will tell me." The devilish glint in his eyes couldn't be missed.

"Um…yeah…so, um…question four; would you have sex in a public place? Option one is absolutely. Option two is only if you were certain that you were alone. Option three is maybe if you had a few drinks. Option four is now way."

A smirk appeared on his face and his cheeks flushed. "I always had this fantasy about doing it…at a Quidditch game. You know, sitting in the stands in a far off area." He gazed forward, seemingly lost in the fantasy he had just admitted to.

I continued to stare at him, my imagination running wild. I pictured him and me in the stands at said Quidditch match, the nearest people maybe 15 feet from us. I move to his lap, straddling him. Clothing difficulties aside (who really needs to be concerned with technicalities in a fantasy), my mind's eye sees us rocking back and forth in a synchronized rhythm, but not too much lest we give ourselves away. Our lips are locked, muffling the small cries and moans that escape from the both of us. As my imagination delves further, I can almost feel him buried in me; moving at an agonizingly slow rate. He simply seems like the type that would want to draw out the pleasure for the woman's sake. I concentrate on the thought of riding him, having sexual control of him. A small moan escaping through my lips without reservation, I'm totally lost in my own world and had completely forgotten where I was and who I was with.

"Hermione, did you hear me?"

The haze of desire lifts from my eyes, only to find him staring at me intently. "Hmm?" It's the only think I can think of to say. I don't trust myself to speak actual syllables at that second.

"I said I would pick option one; absolutely."

I felt utterly humiliated as he continued to look at me. His expression made it seem as though he was the cat that just swallowed the canary. I'll deny anything and everything if he corners me. He can't make me admit to anything…yet. "Okay, question five; what is your first choice of perfect foreplay? Option one is touching, hugging, stroking, kissing. Option two is your partner initiating sex. Option three is your partner suggesting a quickie with no foreplay. Option four is your partner coming to bed naked." I looked up and his eyes seemed to burn into mine. Was I imagining this? Was it possible that Harry Potter, my best friend in the whole world, was looking at me with…desire in his eyes? Then again, that was the preferred effect I was aiming for.

"The touching…hugging…stroke…option one," he blurted out.

I lower my head, pen in hand, and ready to mark down his answer, when out of the corner of my eye I see his hands working at peeling the label off his beer bottle. Did Harry always have such long fingers? Long fingers can be useful for a myriad of reasons, plenty of which are sexual. Stop!

"Question six; what would you prefer to do after sex? Option one is kiss and cuddle. Option two is smoke. Option three is roll over and go to sleep. Option four is take a shower. Option five is talk. Option six is eat and drink. Option seven is watch television. Option eight is something else."

"I'll pick the safe and most enjoyable one; kissing and cuddling." His response was quick, but I could tell it was genuine. It made me wonder if he had done this after sex act subsequent to his first and only time.

"Question seven; have you thought about sex yet today? Option one is it hasn't left my mind since I work up. Option two is yes, a few times. Option three is yes, once. Option four is no, not yet."

"Option two; a few times," he confessed quietly, seeming almost embarrassed in the admission.

I pushed all thoughts down, knowing that I only had one question left. Just one more question, and I could run into the guestroom and scratch the itch that had been a nuisance since shortly after our drinking began. I could allow my hands to roam my body, imagining that they were his hands. There was just one more question left and I would be able to fully discover what I was already slowly realizing. "Question eight, the last one; how important is a great sex life for your over-all happiness? Option one is it's absolutely necessary. Option two is it's important but not absolutely necessary. Option three is it's a nice bonus, but you can be happy without a great sex life. Option four is you honestly don't care much about sex."

Before giving his final response, he allowed himself to contemplate. I had never noticed it before, but he looked totally endearing when he was concentrating on his thoughts. Maybe that could be sexy attribute six. "You're going to think I'm a pig."

My eyes widened as I backed away a little. Why would I think he was a pig? I've heard how much guys love sex, so it wouldn't surprise me in the least if he chose option one. "No, I promise I won't think such a thing."

He appeared apprehensive, but continued forward. "While I don't think it is absolutely necessary, I do think it's important. I choose option two." I tried my damndest to hide my smile. I couldn't believe it, yet I could. Here it was in front of me, the black and white proclaiming the obvious. "So, what do my answers mean? Am I a sex addict in the making?" he chuckled lightly.

I shook my head and continued to look down, not allowing my eyes to show their true emotions. After a several seconds, I felt okay to return my gaze to his. "No, actually it means you're the perfect man." With that said, there was no hiding my smile.

"Did you take it?" he quickly inquired.

"Y-yes," I stammered. "I took it earlier today." Where was my sensual confidence going? It seemed to be deflating under this newfound information.

"Well?" I looked back and forth at the combined answers, trying to show a look of slight shock when I handed him both results. I watched as his eyes scanned the two sets of results, both pools of green lighting up with slight disbelief. "We gave the same answers." I gently nodded my head, somehow knowing he was just as affected by this revelation.

A/N: I do think I will write a sequel "one-shot" to this short story, but only if readers wish for me to. I have a slight idea of what I would want to do, so don't keep your thoughts to yourself! See that review button below? Use it! This was just an idea I had floating in my mind and I had to release it before continuing with the next chapter of Unsuspecting Sunday Afternoon.