So, this was written for Dracoslittlewhorecrux, my buddy on tumblr. She loves Harry and Hermione, and to make a long story short, this is a little something for her because she is so lovely. This fic takes place during their sixth year. I hope I did this pairing justice, as it was fun to write! Thank you and please enjoy. Unbeta'd so all errors are my own.
"Hermione, what are you doing up here?"
Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy book and into the curious face of her best friend, his dark hair sticking up and more mussed than usual. He was still clad in his Quidditch uniform and had his broomstick in one hand.
"Waiting for you...I guess," she replied with a small smile, her eyes falling on the upright broomstick. "Did you fly up here?"
Harry continued staring at Hermione, a knowing look in his green eyes. "Waiting for me?" he echoed, ignoring her second question.
"Oh, all right," she grumbled. "I was hiding from Won-won and Lavender. It's Friday afternoon; shouldn't she be off painting her face or grooming something? Instead she follows me around, whinging and bemoaning about me trying to steal her boyfriend."
Harry clearly looked uncomfortable at the turn in their conversation, his posture growing tense.
"I'm not," Hermione assured, noticing the change in her friend's stance. "Lavender can kiss Ronald until he turns blue; I just wish she would leave me alone!"
Harry chuckled at Hermione's outburst, now visibly relaxed as he took a seat next to her, moving his broomstick between his splayed knees. "So did you really just come to the Quidditch pitch to study? You could have done that in the library." He nudged Hermione with an elbow, pulling a grin from her.
"Maybe I wanted to see my best friend flying around and giving me heart palpitations when I thought he was going to fall."
"And when have you ever seen Ron fall off his broomstick?"
Hermione hissed in annoyance, slapping Harry on the arm. "I'm not talking about Ron, and you know it. Let me rephrase that-I wanted to see the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain. Got it?"
"The Captain, interesting. And what if someone else had been in my place, then what?"
"You really are thick-headed," Hermione complained, swatting his arm again only for her hand to meet the brown leather arm guard. "I wanted to see you, you prat. Satisfied now?"
Harry chuckled, obviously teasing Hermione and enjoying her floundering to get out the right words. "Don't strain yourself, Hermione," he continued, gesturing to the broomstick. "Do you want to go back down with me?"
"On that?" she asked, warily eyeing the length of wood as if she expected it to explode.
"I know you don't expect me to walk down all of those steps in this uniform," Harry pointedly told her. "And besides, you know I won't let you fall, so stop frowning."
"Hmm, well..." Hermione dubiously trailed off, although she stood up and shoved her textbook back into her rucksack. "I reckon we shouldn't let Ginny or Romilda see me with you on your broomstick."
Harry had just stood up and mounted his broomstick, waiting for Hermione to join him when he paused and intently looked at her. "Romilda frightens me, to be honest. She's sort of like Moaning Myrtle in the flesh, but I've told you this already. And as for Ginny, she is quite happy with Dean last time I checked."
"You actually asked her how much she fancied Dean?" Hermione mused aloud, trying to keep the flare of jealousy from coloring her voice.
"Must you be so literal all the time?" Harry griped, stretching out one hand to take Hermione's rucksack. "I just...observed. And if you try to twist my words into anything else, I'm going to fly away from this Quidditch pitch with you on this broomstick and circle around Hogsmeade until you come to your senses."
"No!" she yelped, terrified at the thought of being on a moving broomstick for more than a few minutes, but secretly thrilled with the idea of being in close proximity with Harry, blessedly alone and away from prying, inquisitive eyes.
"Well, come on then," Harry urged with a crooked grin, Hermione's rucksack slung over one broad shoulder. "I only came up because I saw you sitting here. I'm melting in all this gear and I'm dying for a shower."
"Fine! I hope you shave, too. Whenever you get all bristly, I get scratched when we hug," Hermione snapped, moving behind Harry and awkwardly straddling the broomstick. The rucksack was in her way, and Hermione moved it off his shoulder and onto hers. She slipped her arms around his neck, tense and nervous as she waited for him to kick off.
"You know you become a scared, little kitten when it comes to flying. Hold onto my waist unless you want to choke me whilst we're midair."
"Oh, shut up," she grumbled, flushing red as she moved both arms from Harry's shoulders to his waist. Her slender fingers had a firm grip on his burgundy Quidditch robes, holding on with every intention of not slipping off the back of the broomstick.
"Ready?" Harry asked, and Hermione was sure that he was grinning broadly.
"Yes!" she squeaked, closing her eyes and burying her face into his back, jumping nervously when she felt Harry kick off and lift them up into the air. The wind blew through her messily plaited curls, the ends flailing slightly in the breeze.
Hermione had to admit that Harry was an excellent flier; she could feel the tense and flex of his muscles beneath her hands whenever he moved, each turn smooth and barely jostling her. Still, she was unable to bring herself to open her eyes, knowing that if she saw them hovering high up on the pitch, she would surely panic.
"Hmm?" she mumbled, head still buried in Harry's robes.
"You can open your eyes now."
Hermione lifted her head but refused to open her eyes. "Where are we?"
"If you open your eyes, you'll see," Harry chuckled.
Prying one eye open, and then the next, Hermione found that they were hovering a few inches off the ground, Harry looking over his shoulder at her, his green eyes lit up with laughter. "I told you I wouldn't let you fall." Slowly touching down, he waited for Hermione to unclench her hands from his front and they both dismounted the broomstick.
"I know," Hermione replied, following Harry as he started towards the changing rooms. She paused when they reached the door, eyes focused on the 'boys' sign. "I can't go in there."
"Yeah, you can," Harry told her, pushing the door open and waiting for Hermione to walk through. "It's just you and I, and it isn't as if we're about to shower together."
Hermione nearly tripped over her own feet when she heard the phrase 'shower together'. "What if someone comes in?" she asked worriedly. "I don't want you to get into trouble..."
"Relax." Harry dug into his grass-stained trousers and withdrew a decrepit looking skeleton key. "The key to the changing room-Captain's privilege. And the only ones that can get past the wards are Hooch, Filch, and Dumbledore. A mere Alohomora won't get this door open."
Harry pulled the heavy door behind them, locking it and turning back to Hermione, tugging on her wrist when she lingered near the locked entrance.
"Hermione, all I want to do is get out of these dirty robes and change. I promise it won't take me longer than ten, fifteen minutes at the most."
"All right," she conceded, dutifully trailing behind Harry as they walked further into the small space. Harry hastily went off in aims of his shower, leaving Hermione to look around. There was a large open space, to her left what she surmised was the showers, and to her right, an area with separate cubbyholes, each block neatly labeled with every player's name, along with their equipment. To the far end of the room was another area, partially curtained off to reveal two small beds, most likely for players that became injured.
Satisfied with her appraisal, Hermione took a seat on a long bench pushed against the wall, retrieving her Arithmancy book from her rucksack and opening back to where she'd left off. Chagrined when she was unable to focus on the printed words, Hermione found herself greatly distracted as she continued musing over her and Harry's shared broom ride.
His body was firmer than she'd anticipated, not that she had previously given it much thought. The back of his neck had been damp with sweat, yet he still smelled clean, along with a scent that solely belonged to Harry. Hermione's thoughts strayed to the idea of her touching Harry in other places besides his thickly clothed waist when he strode out in front of her, his face smooth and clean-shaven, his black hair damp and still sticking up, and a white towel around his hips.
"Harry!" Hermione yelped, trying to avert her eyes from his wet and nearly nude body. "Did you really need to come out here in just a towel?"
"If you're that shy, then just look the other way!" he supplied with a cheeky grin. "I keep my clothes out here-we all do."
Harry continued laughing at Hermione, who had one hand partially shielding her eyes, her body turned sideways on the bench and away from him. He made his way over to his cubby, making short work of toweling the excess moisture from his chest and legs and changing into clean clothes.
"Why do I feel as if I'm going to spend my entire day telling you to open your eyes?" Harry asked good-naturedly, now sitting next to Hermione on the bench. She swiveled around, cautiously lowering her hand from in front of her face.
"Well, third time's a charm, but as long as I don't have to see the Quidditch pitch from fifty feet in the air, I'm fine," she replied.
The two sat in awkward silence, Hermione with one leg folded beneath her, and Harry leaning forward with both arms on his knees.
"I hope the others aren't looking for us," she bantered nervously, trying to fill the quiet void.
"I thought you were trying to hide from everyone," Harry pointed out, reaching out to tug on the end of Hermione's messy plait. "Didn't you say we were bothering you?"
"You never bother me," she laughed, "but you know that already. I guess you just want to hear me say it out loud." Turning her head when his hand traveled from her hair up to the back of her neck, Hermione saw that Harry's green eyes were boring into hers, a lopsided grin on his face.
Hermione didn't know where her sudden fit of shyness came from, unable to meet Harry's eyes yet acquiescing when he pulled her to lean against his side. The two sat together in that very position so often that it was habit for Hermione to lace her fingers into Harry's, his head coming down to rest on top of hers.
Harry idly rubbed his thumb across the back of Hermione's hand, her unruly curls beneath his chin and trapped between them. He knew that he'd been almost openly flirting with his best friend, too nervous to come right out and say what he was truly thinking. Thoughts of his other best friend somewhat lingered, although Ron had been adamant that he had no intentions of expanding his and Hermione's friendship. Harry would never tell Hermione, but he knew that Ron and Lavender often skulked off to little hidey-holes throughout Hogwarts, snogging and most likely doing more than he cared to think about.
On the other hand, Harry had been worried that Hermione still harbored feelings for Ron, and the last thing he wanted to be was the third wheel in their indecisive relationship. He'd been relieved to find that neither had any designs on the other, which left him free to hopefully get closer to Hermione.
Harry was surprised yet somewhat pleased to find that Hermione had displayed jealousy when she mentioned Ginny. What the others didn't know was that the summer right before their school term started, Harry and Ginny had both come to a mutual decision to remain friends. When they boarded the train to Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione had given Harry sympathetic looks when Ginny went off to sit with Dean, but Harry ignored them. He didn't think it was necessary to discuss it with his best friends, one of whom he had latent feelings for.
Hermione felt her breath hitch when Harry's calloused fingertips crept up her hand, sliding beneath the sleeve of her jacket and stroking the inside of her wrist. She had never given much thought to that particular part of her body, but her skin felt highly sensitized now that the Harry was using the pads of his fingers to trace endless circles around the area.
Without thinking, Hermione reached for Harry's right hand and pulled it across his lap. "It's disgusting that you have to live with this," she said, leaning over and running her own fingers across the scars that he'd gotten from Umbridge's blood-letting detention.
"Sometimes I forget about that being there," Harry replied, looking down at the thin, pale lines that remained.
"Well, I haven't forgotten about it," Hermione continued. "That woman was pure evil. She deserves whatever happens to her." Still fuming, she sat back up, her bushy hair somehow catching onto Harry's glasses and pulling them right off his face. "I'm sorry!" she said, her anger forgotten as she frantically tried to get them loose from the tangles of her curls. "I don't think I could do that again if you asked me to."
Harry was amused by the freak accident, and pushed Hermione's fingers away from her head and attempted to rescue his ensnared frames. "Your hair has a mind of its own. Apparently it wants to keep my glasses, but I'm nearly blind without them."
"Yeah, no kidding-ouch! Let go, Harry, I'll get them out," Hermione fussed, her scalp smarting when he accidentally tugged too roughly on her strands. "Here you go," she said, beckoning Harry to come closer and slipping his glasses back onto his face for him. "Is that better?"
"Now that I can see you clearly again? Yes," he laughed.
"Well, it isn't as if you were about to take me for another ride on your broomstick..." Hermione began, trailing off when she realized her words sounded like an innuendo. "Don't laugh at me, you know what I meant, Harry!" she yelped, blushing up the roots of her hair and burying her face in both hands. Harry was quietly shaking with laughter, Hermione unable to contain her ebullience. She actually snorted a couple of times, and that set the two off into another round of hysterical cackles.
"Sorry for wanting to be able to see you, but I didn't think that you would appreciate me banging into your nose if I moved closer."
"Why would you move closer?"
"To do this," Harry replied, swiftly closing the space between them and planting a kiss right on Hermione's mouth. Her giggles turned into a buzz of surprise, but she soon melted against him, slightly opening her mouth and tracing the tip of Harry's tongue with hers.
"Sorry," he muttered after they'd broken apart. "But I knew you wouldn't do it first and I figured we'd be sitting here till sundown unless I worked up the nerve to kiss you."
"How do you know I wouldn't have kissed you first?" Hermione demanded, although she was unable to wipe away the wide grin on her face.
Harry shot Hermione a knowing look, turning around on the bench so he could face her properly. "I will admit to being relieved that you didn't pull your wand out."
"Why would I do that?" Hermione asked, also facing Harry with both hands palm side down on the bench.
"I seem to remember you complaining about a certain Bulgarian Quidditch player shoving his tongue down your throat, and then one of our very own groping at you."
"Ugh, McClaggen," Hermione spat, uttering his name like a swear word. "I used a Sticking Charm on his fingers another time. To use Ron's words, he's nothing but a slick git; waited till I passed him in the corridor and pulled me against him, trying to stick his hand beneath my robes. He's lucky I didn't permanently render him sterile."
"And you're telling me this now?"
"Oh, shut up and kiss me again."
Harry smiled impishly as he brought both hands up to gently cup Hermione's face, chastely pressing his lips against hers. What started out as a soft, sweet set of kisses, soon turned into more fervent ones, with Harry and Hermione both firmly pressed against one another on the bench. Hermione was clutching onto Harry's waist, and his fingers were buried in her hair, and neither would have been able to stop if their lives depended on it.
"Why did we wait so long to do this?" Hermione asked, sounding a bit breathless. Harry was busy tracing his lips over her cheek, his hands still stroking her hair.
"Because we were blind? In denial?" he suggested, moving in for another kiss.
Hermione was practically melting beneath his touch. If there was something to be said for first-time kisses, it was that they were often awkward, yet sweet. Kissing Harry was somewhat awkward because the two hadn't gone past being just friends, in clear denial of their deeper feelings for one another. Yet the shared embrace was sweet, and not just because he wasn't mauling her like the rough lip lock she'd been coerced into by Viktor Krum.
There was already a mutual love between the two friends, and Hermione completely trusted Harry and felt at ease with getting close to him. Truth be told, Hermione felt almost too comfortable, considering the way she was now almost in his lap.
Harry obviously had no issues with their closeness, as his strong arms were firmly encircled around Hermione's jacket covered waist, intent on keeping her against him. His fingers were insinuated beneath the edge of her jumper, stroking the soft patch of skin above her trousers.
"Is that all right?" Harry asked, as the same time his lips finding their way to the side of Hermione's neck.
Hermione moaned at the soft but intense contact, in disbelief at the pleasure now coursing throughout her body. "Harry Potter, you know bloody well that's more than just all right," she uttered, tilting her head to the side and involuntarily shuddering when Harry's tongue swiped against her pulse.
Sighing when his hands were completely beneath her jumper and bolding stroking her waist, Hermione wrapped both arms around Harry's neck, trying to steady herself. "Why do your hands feel so incredible?"
"Why is your skin so incredibly soft?" he shot back. Harry wasn't exaggerating; Hermione's skin felt like smooth, warm velvet beneath his hands, and guilt nagged at him, knowing the havoc his calloused palms were most likely wreaking on her body.
"I don't know..." she murmured, pressing a kiss down into his messy black hair. "Harry...what are we doing?"
That question gave Harry pause, and his hands halted their movement on her hips. "What, do you want to stop?"
"No..." Hermione trailed off again, settling her weight back on the bench, peering into Harry's face. "I mean, right now...what are we doing? It's not as if I'm all that worldly when it comes to this sort of thing..."
"What would you like to do?" Harry asked quietly, tense as he waited for Hermione's answer.
It was Hermione's turn to be brought up short, but she finally worked up the nerve to reply. "Anything...everything. If you want to."
Harry's eyebrows shot all the way up on his forehead, becoming lost in his black fringe. "Are you serious?"
"Yes," Hermione answered, sounding as if she was hesitant to fully elaborate on her wishes.
"Okay, well, can we move from this damnably hard bench? I think my leg fell asleep."
Hermione laughed but stood up, waiting for Harry to do the same. He groused when the blood began rushing back throughout his limbs, complaining that his arse and leg had indeed gone numb. "We all hate that damned bench, but I suspect Hooch only keeps it there so that we don't remain seated for long."
Laughing nervously, Hermione stood in front of Harry and slipped her arms around his waist. "Where are we going?" she asked, closing her eyes when he dropped a kiss to her forehead.
"Here...if that's all right," he replied, taking Hermione by the hand and leading her to the small enclosure that held the two beds. "Your Transfiguration work is better than mine. Would you?" Harry asked, gesturing to the tiny beds.
Hermione withdrew her wand from her inner coat pocket, easily Transfiguring one bed into a generous size. With one last swish towards the curtains that were held back and letting light into the area, the fabric fell from their enclosure and left the room just dim enough.
Taking her jacket off and setting it down on the other bed, Hermione crossed back over to Harry, sitting down next to him with her wand still in hand. All of a sudden she felt nervous, not quite sure what her next move was supposed to be.
If Harry was also feeling nervous, he didn't show it, and reached over to pluck the wand out of Hermione's grasp and replace it with his hand. "All right?"
"Yes," she replied, nodding her head.
"If you're having second thoughts, remember that I'm perfectly fine with just going back to the Common Room. It's not as if we need to do anything right this minute," he assured.
"Thank you," Hermione said. "And as noble as that sounds, believe me, the last thing I want to do right now is go back to the Common Room. For one thing, I'd barely be able to focus on anything except for what happened a few minutes ago...your hands really did feel amazing."
"Then by all means," Harry commented, his hand venturing to Hermione's lower back again, although it remained on top of her jumper. Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder, becoming relaxed at the sensation of his hand slowly moving over her back. Somewhere along the way their lips met again, and Hermione soon found herself lying flat on the bed, Harry on top of her and pressing her into the firm mattress. Their fingers were tangled in each other's hair, their lips barely straying from the other's.
"Harry, take your glasses off," Hermione urged when they slipped down his nose for the third time and landed on her face.
"Sorry," he mumbled, shifting his weight to one elbow to remove his glasses and place them safely out of reach. "You had me distracted," Harry added with a chuckle.
Hermione smiled up at him, her hands now resting on his shoulders. She was amazed that they were able to share a laugh even in the midst of an intense snogging session, the entire time everything feeling completely natural.
Harry was more than compliant when Hermione's little hands slid down to his shirt, tugging on his collar in a silent request to be kissed again. Eagerly acquiescing, Harry was soon enthralled with the feel of Hermione's warm body beneath his, smalls gasps escaping from her mouth whenever his lips momentarily moved away from hers.
They were most likely breaking at least dozen rules, snogging and petting each other in the locked Quidditch changing rooms. Despite the utter chaos that Harry was going through day after day, or the challenges he knew he would inevitably face, none of it mattered at the moment. The only thing that was important to Harry at that time was being in that darkened, little room with Hermione, her body temptingly pressed against his.
Harry didn't realize that his hand had traveled to the front of Hermione's jumper until it was cupped around a stripey cotton-covered breast, his fingers slowly searching for a nipple through the material. Hermione bit down on her lip, arching her back when Harry found the stiffened nub, although the contact wasn't enough to satisfy.
"Do you want me to...?" she trailed off, leaving the question unspoken.
"Yeah, if you want to."
The two moved out of their awkward tangle of limbs, Hermione's hands sliding to the edge of her jumper, pulling it and her camisole up and over her head. At the same time Harry was removing his own shirt, dropping it to the side of the bed.
Becoming giddy with anticipation, Hermione's hands began shaking, making it difficult to undo the clasp on her bra.
"Unfasten this for me?" she said, leaning forward against Harry's bare chest, her cheek resting on his shoulder. Harry's arms came around her back, Hermione's cloud of hair tickling his nose as he used both hands to work the sturdy cotton's clasp free.
"Hermione, do you have this thing locked?" Harry asked after his third failed attempt. Hermione's soft laughter rang out, the sound almost muffled as her lips were still pressed against his skin.
"Push the ends together and then pull them apart," she directed, tightly holding onto his shoulders as if he was the only thing keeping her sitting upright. Harry finally got Hermione's bra unfastened, and beckoned her forward, sliding the straps down and off her arms. "Harry...have you done this before?" Hermione suddenly asked in a low voice.
Harry pulled back from Hermione, just enough for her to see the sheepish look on his face. "Yeah, sort of," he hesitantly answered. "Does that bother you?"
"That depends," Hermione admitted. "Was it someone from here? Someone I know?"
"Do you really want to have this conversation right now?" Harry asked, sounding as if their exchange was paining him. Hermione merely became huffy, glaring at him and waiting for an answer. "No, Hermione, it wasn't anyone from here. And before you ask for details, it was a Muggle girl from back home-the Dursleys'-and the last I heard she'd gone off to Uni, and even if she hadn't, it wouldn't matter because I'm with you now. Alright?"
Hermione nodded her head, feeling a bit silly for her outburst yet appeased nonetheless. She was ready to resume their activities when Harry asked, "Have you?"
"Now that's a laughable idea at best," she declared, the shock on her face visible through the faint lighting. "And just who would I be sleeping with?"
"I don't know!" Harry said defensively. "I don't like to assume anything."
"Well, assume, please," Hermione continued. "You saw how long it took for Ron to notice that I'm a girl, and no doubt everyone else still just sees a pile of books and messy hair."
"I'd noticed," Harry quietly told her. "I would have told you so back in fourth year, but you stormed off and refused to speak to us. In any event, I reckon that you know I see more than just a pile of books and hair."
"I know," Hermione smiled. "And to answer your previous question-no. I barely trusted those other idiots enough to let them kiss me, and there definitely hasn't been anyone else that I'd considered getting this close with."
Harry now felt a bit daunted. His best friend-he guessed at that point that they now were more than just best friends-was openly stating that although she was a virgin, she had no apprehension about sleeping with him. Her bookish nature and reserved manner didn't put him off; if it was one thing Harry had learned, was that things somehow seemed one way, but turned out to be completely different in another light.
As if proving his silent point, Hermione pulled Harry closer again, tilting her head up towards his face. Without her bra in the way, Harry was able to freely run his hands over Hermione's torso, the light caresses over her breasts soon growing more direct. Encouraged by her little gasps and sighs, Harry straddled Hermione's hips and pushed her to lie on a pillow, her thick curls strewn about against the stark white material.
Harry was slightly taken aback by the sight of Hermione half-naked and lying beneath him, her limbs trembling slightly as his hands continued mapping over the soft contours of her body. He had just lowered his head, kissing and licking the space where Hermione's neck and shoulder met when she grabbed a handful of his black hair, and steered him towards her chest.
Hermione let out an indistinguishable noise when Harry's tongue brushed against her left nipple. His touch was tentative at first, his warm mouth soon greedily latched onto the entire thing while his fingers toyed with the right.
Merlin! she screamed inwardly, amazed at the delicious sensation of Harry's tongue moving over her bare torso. His thick, messy hair brushed against her whenever he moved, almost feeling as if it was tickling her, yet serving to further arouse her. Audibly moaning when Harry's mouth moved from left to right across her chest, it seemed as if he was refusing to make up his mind on which breast he wanted to taste.
Hermione was shocked that Harry was lavishing a great amount of attention upon her upper body, but was in no position to complain. From the other hushed whispers that took place in corners of the Common Room or in independent study when they were supposed to be keeping quiet, Hermione learned that most of her peers' sexual experiences were limited to quick trysts, most of the time the girl ending up sore and disappointment.
She had wanted to laugh when she heard one seventh year Slytherin girl discussing in great detail to her friends about how her boyfriend had first rubbed her nipples raw, and then nearly bit one off when he became overzealous and used his teeth.
Another older Gryffindor girl that Hermione had seen around but never held a conversation with had been telling her best friend about her old boyfriend back home. The young woman sounded completely disgruntled as she complained about her beau wanted to do nothing more than just 'stick it in and bang away', as she so aptly described, without any forethought to kissing or foreplay.
Hermione had been intently listening, taking a large swig of pumpkin juice and nearly choked in horror as the witch continue to explain about her first time, telling her friend that her boyfriend didn't even undress her; he merely flipped her dress up with a promise that he'd finish quickly, shoved her knickers down, fumbled around between her legs for a minute or two, before shoving inside of her without any preliminaries.
To say that Hermione was astonished was an understatement. She knew that it was common knowledge that first times were never great, but the older Gryffindor witch's anecdote left her feeling uneasy. Especially considering how the witch explained that all she was left with afterwards was blood in her knickers and a headache from her boyfriend grabbing onto her hair when he came.
Hermione had been pleasuring herself, long before overhearing the less than stellar tales. Yet after gaining her newfound wisdom, she aimed to stick with masturbation for as long as needed, refusing to become another piece of skirt for a randy bloke that wouldn't even make the effort to see to her pleasure properly. Viktor's sloppy kiss and McClaggen's clumsy hands only served to make Hermione stick more resolutely to her decision. Both times felt wrong and completely awkward, and all Hermione wanted to do afterwards was take a shower and scrub her skin until it was raw.
That summer after meeting Viktor, Hermione had been telling her mum about him when she asked if he kissed her. When Hermione said yes, and that it made her skin crawl, her mum had laughed until tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. After she'd finally calmed down, she took a sip of her tea and told her daughter that when she found the right one to kiss, her skin wouldn't feel that way.
For a brief moment, Hermione realized that her Mum had been right. Harry's kisses felt perfect, and when his lips moved over other parts of her body, it made her want to scream. He was taking a leisurely amount of time, his calloused hands thoroughly appraising her form, eager to learn what made Hermione tremble and what made her moan.
Harry was genuinely enjoying the fact that he wasn't being rushed, as his hands and mouth continued lingering over Hermione's soft skin. What he'd omitted about his previous sexual experience was that each occurrence had been hasty, as the older girl basically wanted straight-forward shagging, no kissing or foreplay required. She had taken charge each time, and although Harry hadn't complained, a part of him would've still liked to have been able to touch her body a bit more.
He had been enthralled by the girl's ample curves, although he barely touched more than her hips whenever she was riding him to completion. She had told Harry that she didn't like her breasts being touched, and he never questioned the idiosyncrasy, so long as he was able to do what they both came together for.
Her name was Gretchen, and she'd made Harry's summer at Privet Drive somewhat bearable whenever he was able to see her. Gretchen didn't know about the whole 'Boy Who Lived' bit, and never asked about the scar on his forehead. On her last week at home, she told Harry that she was off to Uni, giving him little more than a 'see you around' hug, and he hadn't been disappointed to find out that he wouldn't hear from her again. It wasn't as if he had been expecting something serious to come out of their trysts, and Harry decided to keep the entire ordeal to himself. Even Ron didn't know about Gretchen, and he usually told Ron everything.
Harry was grateful that Hermione wasn't scornful of his past, but then again, when it came to him she took just about everything in stride. Whatever her logic was, Harry was happy for the result, as it ended with a nearly nude and writhing Hermione in his arms, his name occasionally pouring from her lips in a soft whimper.
His tongue traced from the underside of Hermione's breast down to her navel, earning a shriek and then a giggle as she explained that he was tickling her. Laughing as he pressed a short kiss to her lips, Harry asked if he could take off Hermione's trousers.
"Only if you take yours off as well," she replied, propping herself up on both elbows. Harry made quick work of undoing the button and zipper, his fingers also catching onto the waistband of her knickers as he moved to pull the trousers down. "You might as well," Hermione told him, lifting her hips and allowing Harry to pull both garments down her legs. "Now, you next."
Remaining half-reclined on both arms, Hermione intently watched as Harry knelt upright on the bed, unfastening the placket on his trousers and sliding those and his boxers down to his thighs. He had to move around on the bed to get them completely off, and shoved all of their clothing to the floor.
Her mouth went dry as she took in the view of Harry's bare-skinned, sinewy form. Gone was the lankiness from his youth, replaced with a slim yet muscular build that was honed by hours of Quidditch. "When did you become so...fit?" she blurted out, instantly wishing that she could take back her words, when Harry gave her a shy smile.
"Somewhere between fighting evil wizards and flying around on a broomstick until I felt dead on my feet," he jested, moving back to lie alongside Hermione. "Nice of you to notice, though. Thank you."
"Oh, simmer down, Harry," Hermione laughed, poking him in the side. "Just because my head is always buried in a book, doesn't mean that I don't notice things." She then rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers sliding along the side of Harry's ribcage.
Hermione was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that they were both lying together, completely naked, the evidence of Harry's arousal pressing into her navel. There was a light mat of hair covering his legs and chest, yet it felt just right brushing against her delicate skin.
The two fell silent again as Hermione began kissing the underside of Harry's jaw, a low groan erupting in his chest when her tongue began tracing along the tendons in his neck. Although they were laying side by side, Hermione took her time to explore Harry's body, much like the way he'd done for her.
Harry enjoyed the feel of Hermione's hands roving over his chest, her fingertips softly digging into his pectorals, her thumbs brushing against each flat male nipple. Hermione rubbed her face against his chest before flicking her tongue out, savoring the scent of the soap he'd used to shower with, along with his personal essence.
He released another moan when her mouth moved over his stomach, stopping right below his navel. Hermione reached out to steady herself, the tip of his erection grazing her wrist. When Harry didn't stop her, Hermione boldly reached out to grab him, her fingers encircling around the warm length.
Harry wasn't overly vocal, but the way his hips moved when Hermione began fisting him gave little doubt as to whether he was enjoying her caresses. "Like this?" she asked, dragging her hand from base to tip.
"A bit harder," he advised, "and squeeze when you get to the head."
Hermione followed Harry's instructions, and soon his hips were moving in tandem with her hand. She was aroused by the fact that she was able to evoke such a reaction from Harry, and was curious to see what else she could make him do. Remembering something else she'd heard about, Hermione lowered her head to her fist, firmly planting her open mouth over half of his shaft.
"Fuck!" Harry hissed, sharply jerking at the contact. Despite Hermione's inexperience, she knew enough to not use her teeth, and opted for swirling her tongue around the head of his cock while still stroking his shaft with her fist.
Hermione continued licking and sucking, between her legs tingling at the sound of Harry's groans becoming louder. He had one hand buried in her hair, not pushing on her head, merely letting his fingers rest against her scalp as she bobbed up and down. His muscular thighs were trembling against her, and without any warning, he gently pried her head away from his lap, seconds later erupting all over Hermione's breasts, the rest landing on her hand.
Harry was breathing heavily as he slowly came down, his body relaxing and falling back onto the pillow. Hermione was still holding onto his deflating penis, reaching for her wand to clean his spilled release from their skin. "Wow," he panted. "Sorry if that sounds stupid, but I really don't know what else to say."
"Then that says it all," Hermione said, scooting back up to lay next to him. Harry immediately drew Hermione closer, one strong hand insinuated against her lower back. He gave her a deep kiss before ending it with a chaste one, pushing himself upright and moving between her legs.
"It's your turn," he commented, placing both hands on Hermione's knees and prying her thighs apart. Hermione felt somewhat self-conscious with her legs completely splayed before Harry, all of her bits exposed. Harry didn't seem to mind, and immediately ran his fingers through the curls at the top of her mound, his thumb brushing against her clit.
"Oh!" she purred when his nimble fingers began separating the folds of her pussy. Hermione was inclined to look down for a second, and saw that Harry's green eyes were intently focused on her most intimate area. She could nearly feel his gaze burning into her flesh, at the same time his index finger dragging down her dampened seam, sliding it back up and catching the hood of her clit.
Becoming enthralled with the little bud, Harry traced circles around it, hoping to make Hermione's hips rise again. "Like this," she breathlessly told him, grabbing his hand and pressing it flush against the area. Their positioning was awkward, and Harry had to move to Hermione's side to properly use his hand on her.
Now that he was using two fingers to rub small circles over the swollen nub, Hermione's body alternated between quivering and becoming tight as a bowstring. Slippery fluid was beginning to collect at her entrance, the majority of it spreading over the puffy lips the more Hermione thrashed about.
Judging by the way Hermione's head was tossing back and forth on the pillow, Harry was positive that she was nearly at the brink of climax. Before he could give her room to protest, Harry scooted down between Hermione's thighs to rest on his stomach, pulling her legs over his shoulders and pressing his tongue against her core.
A feral scream tore from her lips as Harry's hot mouth closed over her clit, his slow, tentative licks a perfect cadence. It was nearly too perfect-Hermione felt as if she was going to be burnt alive, right out of her skin. A few times he became a bit too enthusiastic, and Hermione gently steered Harry back to how she wanted to be touch. It didn't take long for her to go firmly over the edge, and Hermione cried out and incoherently babbled as her legs wrapped around his head, her pelvis thrashing up and against his face.
When she became too sensitive for Harry's touch, Hermione pushed his head away, her stomach and thighs still trembling from the aftershocks of her release. The blood was still pounding in her ears, and Hermione was unable to speak for several long minutes. She dimly heard Harry ask if she was all right, and nodded her head without opening her eyes.
Harry was still somewhat stunned by the fact that he'd made Hermione lose control, even if his ears had gotten boxed in by her thighs. Curious to see what other sounds she could make, Harry moved a hand back between her legs, easing a finger halfway into her still pulsating heat.
Hermione became stilled at the contact, waiting to see what Harry was going to do. Just then, something else dawned on her. "Wait, Harry, where's your wand?"
"In my trouser pocket," he answered. "Should I get it?" Reaching down to the floor when Hermione told him yes, she told him the words to an unfamiliar spell and told him to cast it upon her.
"I wasn't expecting to be here, else I would have prepared a potion..." she trailed off, watching as Harry set his wand back down in the pile of his clothing.
"I sort of figured," Harry replied, coming up to cover Hermione's body with his. He rested his forearms on either side of Hermione's head, kissing her again when her arms came around to his back. His arousal was once again pressed against her stomach, sticky fluid already seeping from the tip.
Harry lifted his head just enough to wordlessly ask Hermione if it was all right for him to go on, and she nodded before taking a deep breath. Once Harry had finally aligned himself with her entrance, his hand came back up to the side of Hermione's head.
They both shared a chuckle when Harry began to move forward, only for the tip of his cock to slide out of place. That time Hermione reached down to remedy the situation, leaving him firmly between the snug, slippery walls. He'd moved forward a few inches when he heard Hermione gasp, her fingertips pressed sharply into his lower back.
Another push, another sharp inhale that made Harry pause to look down and see Hermione gnawing on her bottom lip as if to keep from crying outright.
"I'm okay, Harry, it just-stings a bit," she told him in a tight voice.
That was the part Harry had been dreading. Outside of Hermione's slick, tight walls gripping the head of his cock, he couldn't really feel anything else, but the look on her face clearly showed discomfort.
"You can keep going," she urged when he stopped moving.
"Really? Because you don't look as if you mean that."
"Wait a minute," Hermione said, repositioning her legs until her feet were flat on the bed, her knees almost pressing into Harry's side. "Try it this way," she continued, tilting her hips up. Harry also shifted his weight, holding himself up on his elbows and partially hovering over Hermione.
Hermione had been going purely on instinct when she told Harry to move, and she honestly didn't know if it would make any difference. The difference, in fact, was negligible when Harry's hips moved forward again, and Hermione found that it still hurt. He stopped when Hermione pushed against his chest, never once complaining about her short nails digging into his skin.
Panting and whimpering slightly when Harry's last thrust left him firmly planted deep inside of her body, Hermione clutched onto his waist, clamoring for him to remain still for a moment. When the uncomfortable sensation of being stretched dulled to a slight ache, Hermione wriggled her hips against his, ready for him to move.
The first few thrusts were a bit uneven, and Hermione was still getting used to the feel of being penetrated. It was Harry's more solid ingress into her body that caused a flicker of pleasure to uncurl in the pit of her stomach.
Spurred on by Hermione's agreeable reaction, Harry repeated the movement, earning another cry of pleasure from the witch. He'd been trying to keep from slamming into her, but when Hermione's legs suddenly came around his waist, yanking Harry down until their chests were touching, he took the chance and went faster, knowing that Hermione would voice her displeasure if needed.
Instead he was rewarded with a lusty cry, the heels of her feet digging into his backside, her fingers clutching onto his neck. "Harder," she breathlessly ordered, her lips a few inches away from Harry's.
The sounds of mingled moans and damp flesh filled the room. The bed was slowly becoming disheveled, and somehow the pillow from beneath Hermione's head had been thrown to the foot of the bed. Neither paid any of which any mind. Hermione was clinging to Harry with arms and legs as if he was her lifeline. Harry had finally found a paced that suited them both, if Hermione's increasingly loud cries were any indication.
What had started out as awkward and somewhat unpleasant quickly turned into the opposite for Hermione. Harry's tongue lapping at her clit until she climaxed was incredible, but the feel of him moving within her, his cock probing and pressing into sensitive spots that she'd been ignorant to was nothing short of amazing. Her heart felt as if it was trying to hammer its way out of her chest, and between her legs prickled and throbbed, leaving her aching for more.
Hermione in fact needed more, and reached down to grab onto Harry's behind, firmly pressing him against her. Arching her hips up and writhing against him until she felt her clit mashed against his pubic bone, Hermione kept rocking against Harry until he caught the desired rhythm.
The sensation of her clitoris being stimulated along with Harry's thrusts coalesced and heightened, and Hermione was caught unawares as a strong orgasm ripped through her body. Hermione wasn't the only one that felt completely detached from her body. When she clamped down on Harry, inarticulately screaming out his name, it had been too much for him as well. Harry felt his limbs buckle from beneath him as he spilled furiously into Hermione's pulsating sheath, her name coming out in a strangled, choking noise and getting lost in her ruffled hair.
The two were completely covered in sweat, remaining in a tangle of dampened limbs on the torn apart bed. Harry didn't care that his face was growing hot and itchy from it being buried into Hermione's hair, the puffs of air escaping his nose creating a hot cloud that lingered.
When Hermione finally stopped trembling beneath him, her arms and legs loosened their hold yet remained around him. She felt completely boneless, but wondered if she was supposed to say something. Exactly what, she was unsure of, not knowing what one should say to the person they'd been in love with since childhood, only for said person to later make her lose every one of her senses and scream their name to the rafters.
Harry didn't seem to be concerned with conversation. He merely shifted to Hermione's side and pulled her against him, keeping one arm around her waist. The cool air grazed against their sweat dampened bodies, and Hermione shivered, pressing further into Harry's warmth.
"Are you cold?"
"Yes," she murmured drowsily, feeling the need for a nap taking hold. Harry moved from her embrace to bring the misplaced pillow back to their end of the bed, then laying next to Hermione with the sheets in his hand.
"Better?" he asked after pulling them up to her neck.
"Yes, thank you," Hermione answered, snuggling back against Harry. No longer able to keep her eyes open, she let her slumber take over.
Hermione woke to the feel of Harry's lips on her forehead. Groggily opening her eyes, she slowly registered that they were in the little area of the Quidditch changing room, laying on a Transfigured bed. "How long have I been asleep?" she yawned, stretching out beneath the sheets.
"For about an hour," Harry replied, pushing Hermione's hair from out of her face. "I suppose we'd better get out of here, before everyone actually comes searching for us."
"Damn," Hermione muttered under her breath. "I suppose you're right. But we need to fix the bed before Hooch wonders what the hell happened in here."
The two laughed at the idea of the spiky grey-haired witch losing her composure had she seen her changing room in shambles. Using their wands to put everything back in its proper place, Harry suggested that they shower before going back up to the school.
By then Hermione had no qualms with sharing a shower with Harry, as he'd already seen her in her most vulnerable state. They were soon standing beneath the stream of hot water, scrubbing the scent of their afternoon tryst from their bodies. Somehow Hermione had begun regaling stories of sex gone bad that she'd overheard from her peers, and Harry laughed uproariously. In turn, he volunteered in telling Hermione about Gretchen, although he left out the racier bits of their time spent together.
Hermione had known about the hard time Harry had at the Dursleys', and only said that she was glad he'd had someone to take his mind off of things, and left it at that.
"Umm, what are we going to tell the others?" she asked after they'd gotten dressed, and were walking hand in hand back to the school.
"Nothing, if you don't want to," Harry placidly answered. "It's not as if we owe anyone explanations, especially since they all do what they want anyway."
"I guess you have a point," Hermione mused, furrowing her brow. Harry was still pleased to notice that her hand tightened around his.
The Fat Lady clucked in approval when she saw the two young adults approaching her portrait, winking at Harry when he gallantly allowed Hermione to climb through the portrait hole ahead of him. There were a few students lingering about in the Common Room, and Harry and Hermione shared the small sofa before the hearth.
They were still laughing, talking, and holding hands when Ron and Ginny finally came into the Common Room. Ginny smirked at the sight of the two holding hands, murmuring "about bloody time" under her breath before going up to the dormitory. Ron, who was the pinnacle of obliviousness, squeezed onto the other end of the sofa, cheerfully greeting his friends.
"Hey, Hermione. Harry, mate, I looked for you after practice but it was like you'd bloody disappeared," he said, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "You too, Hermione, I haven't seen you all afternoon."
"Do you mean that you'd actually stopped snogging Lavender long enough to notice that we weren't around?" Harry asked.
"All right, I admit, I looked for a few minutes, and then I had to meet Lavender."
"And your lips are still attached to your face," Hermione interjected, biting back a laugh. "I'm shocked."
"Well, if you came out of the library for an hour or two," Ron supplied in a teasing tone. Hermione let go of Harry's hand and reached across him to swat Ron on the shoulder, smirking when he laughed at her weak attempt.
"I'm just as capable of snogging someone as you are, Ronald Weasley," she vehemently told him.
"Is that right?" he challenged, one ginger eyebrow raised high and his lips turned up into a crooked grin.
Harry was caught between their banter, yet did nothing to intervene. He knew that Hermione was capable of handling herself, but the last thing he expected was for her to lean over and kiss him flush on the lips when Ron asked if she had been off snogging someone that afternoon.
"Does that answer your question?" she smugly asked, Harry's green eyes gone wide as they both watched the grin falling from Ron's face.
"DAMN!" he suddenly roared, jumping up from the sofa.
"What?!" Hermione asked, sounding completely annoyed. She hadn't anticipated on things going sour, after all, Ron had been spending most of his time with Lavender. Apparently, she wasn't as irritating as she used to be, and he preferred her company.
"Ginny wins our bet, that's what!" Ron continued to fume.
Harry had just opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione beat him to the punch. "Bet, what the hell bet are you talking about? You and Ginny bet on me and Harry?!"
"Of course we did!" he replied unrepentantly. "She said that before the school year was over, you two would stop dancing around one another. I told her no way, that both of you were too shy to even stare each other in the eye for more than a minute. Apparently, my little sister knows better than me, and I owe her five Galleons."
"Would it be better if I gave Ginny the five Galleons?" Harry asked, desperately trying to not laugh at his best friend.
"Hell no!" Ron shot back. "You forget, I still have to live with her, the smug little wretch. It won't matter what we're doing, we'll be at dinner and I'll look across the table, seeing nothing but her smirking, freckled face as she hands me a bowl of peas."
"Ronald!" Hermione giggled. "Stop talking about your sister like that!"
"All right," he conceded. "But just so you know-the bet was Fred and George's idea. " Ron then walked off, leaving behind a sputtering Hermione and a chortling Harry.
"Did you hear that!?" she snapped, glaring at Harry as if the bet was his idea.
"Yes, Hermione, I heard," he replied, figuring that his best option was to stay still and keep his hands away from her snapping jaw.
"Those two idiots! I'm going to skin Fred and George alive! What do they mean by the idea of-hmm!"
Hermione was soundly cut off when Harry leaned over and kissed her, effectively ending her rant. Sighing against his mouth, Hermione became at ease again, and clutched onto the front of Harry's jumper.
"I guess five Galleons is a small price to pay for something that I've always wanted," she said after they had broken apart and rejoined hands, settling back onto the sofa.