A/N: Well.. I never intended to write more of this story. It was strictly a one-shot. But what do you know, there's no holding back inspiration when it decides to strike. Hope you guys like this. Also, to those who've read and liked my story "Safe in Harbor", I've written a one-shot outtake that I hope to put up in the next few days. Not sure if that will be before or after Christmas, but definitely before the New Year. So keep an eye out. Happy Holidays!
II
Her eyes filled up and overflowed before she could stop them. Now was not the time for weeping. Her tears might remind
him of his own and why he had been shedding them in the first place.
But how could she help it? The most glorious thing, the one thing that she had been wanting for almost four years now, that her conscious mind had deemed impossible, had happened. The impossible had been made possible. Were Muggle farmers somewhere currently gaping in shock as their slopping hogs flew through the air like overstuffed bees? Was the devil handing out frozen popsicles to Hitler and Mussolini?
Because Harry Potter loved her and that should have been impossible. How could he love her - little bushy-haired, bossy, boring Hermione Granger? She was just his know-it-all best friend, his go-to guy (or rather girl) for obscure facts and dusty books.
But his eyes had told her. And they were still telling her as he slowly brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away her tears.
Maybe- maybe, she was just seeing what she wanted to see. He hadn't told her that, verbally, with words so maybe it wasn't really valid. It was not official, so she-
"I love you," he said, as if reading her mind. "I've loved you for so long, for years, but was too afraid to bring it up."
Well, take that Sir Doubting Thomas! Or is it Dame Thomasina? Madam Thomasetha? Lady Thom- oh shut up.
Harry loves me!
She wanted to hug herself in delight but instead threw her arms around him and laughed into his neck, rapturously. He hugged her back, rubbing her head slowly and she pulled away and looked into his face again. There was something in his eyes that seemed vaguely familiar. What could it possibly- oh yes. Lust. The deep, forest-green of lust. She had seen it a short while ago when she had-
Memories flooded her brain and she blushed crimson. Oh the gods, had she really done that?! Had she- oh shit! What could she possibly have been thinking?! Oh no, did that qualify as rape? He hadn't asked her to do that. He hadn't- well, he hadn't protested either. For all intents and purposes, he had liked it. Wasn't that his taste in her mouth, strangely pleasant just because it was his? If it were any other person's, she was sure she would be retching at the thought, but it was Harry's. And that made it better than even ice-cream to her. Ok, maybe not ice-cream. Maybe-
"That was amazing, what you did," he said softly, jolting her from her thoughts. "Why did you do it, though?"
She bit her lips nervously. "Um, I just wanted to. I wanted to cheer you up."
He grinned. "Well, let me see if there's a blue ribbon around here somewhere because you definitely earned one!"
She blushed again. Well, score one for Miss Bookworm, Cocksucker Extraordinaire! Ugh, that sounded so vulgar.
He touched her face gently and she looked up from trying to think up a more elegant moniker for what she had just done. "It's my turn now, though," he whispered.
What? His turn what? Her brow furrowed then cleared as her eyes widened. She shook her head quickly. "Oh, you don't have to do that. I didn't do it just because I wanted you to.. um.. to return the favor."
"You don't want me to?"
The waning moonlight gleamed off their badges and she stared into his eyes, feeling her heart start to pound. This could not possibly be happening! How many nights had she laid in her bed in the Girls' dormitory, touching herself, her mind skillfully transforming her fingers into his? How many times had her back arched in release as she bit her lips to hold back the cries of his name that wanted so badly to be set free? And now he was right here, gazing at her in longing, wanting to do that for her?
Please, if this is a dream, a wonderful, erotic dream, please, may I never wake up!
He was still looking at her, awaiting her answer and dropping her eyes shyly, she whispered "Oh Merlin, how I want you to!"
And suddenly his lips were on hers and she was on the verge of swooning with happiness as he kissed her expertly, his lips so soft, so sweet. His tongue slipped into her mouth, rubbing against hers and she couldn't have held back the moan if she tried.
The sound seemed to galvanize him into action and he hugged her to him fiercely, kissing her harder and she gripped his hair and surrendered.
Yes, Harry. Yes.
**********
He was kissing her. He, Harry Potter, was kissing her, Hermione Granger. God, he had wanted to do that for so long! How had he ever survived up to this point without knowing how warm and tender her lips were? She tasted like him and as he thought of what she had just done, how she had come to be tasting like him, the blood gushed to his dick, making him surge almost painfully against his trousers.
But it was his turn to make her cry out, to bring her to that high. Never in his wildest dreams (and oh boy, had he dreamed!) had he imagined that she would do what she had done tonight!
The shock of hearing of Hagrid's death, killed at the hand of Lucius Malfoy, had driven him away. He wanted to hide, needed to get away from all the sympathetic, yet ultimately useless, glances of his housemates and the only place he could think of was the Room of Requirement. It didn't even occur to him to be surprised by the bed that stood smack in the middle of the room when he opened the door. God knew, he wanted to curl up into a ball and scream in agony and a bed was as good a place as any to do that, he guessed.
And he had let it all out, had screamed until his throat felt raw, scratching at his arms. His fucking, murderous arms, because if he had not used them to hex that bastard Malfoy so thoroughly he had gone running to his daddy, Hagrid would probably still be alive. Hagrid had been killed in petty retaliation for Harry's hexing, or so he was convinced. Even though that twinkle-toed Commie bastard had deserved every one of the two dozen or so curses that Harry had fired at him in rapid succession. If he had only kept his temper in check! If he had only ignored that washed-out, silver-eyed asshole, Hagrid would still be alive.
It was all his fault and he had lain there and wallowed in the grief and self-loathing until Hermione had come and blown his mind.
He had always known her loyalty and solidarity. But it was only tonight that he had consciously discovered her love. It was only tonight that he had realized that she would do anything for him, and yes, that meant anything. And right now, she needed to know that the same held true for him.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for her.
*******
His lips wandered to her neck as he suckled at her erratic pulsepoint, his arms reaching up to push her robes off her shoulders. She shrugged out of them impatiently, needing him in her arms, and the robes were getting in the way, dammit.
Harry grinned slightly as he pulled her grey school jumper over her head. Hermione's eyes were bright with hunger and her lips were red and swollen. Merlin, she was breathtaking!
He captured her lips again as his hands wandered to cup her breasts through her shirt and bra. He squeezed gently, marvelling at the soft, yielding mass and she leaned forward into his hands. Her nipples were like hard pebbles against his palms and he squeezed them. Hermione moaned softly and he repeated the action harder, squeezing and twisting.
Oh, what he was doing to her! Every movement of his fingers, of his lips sent shockwaves through her body. He was squeezing her nipples so hard, it should be hurting but instead tendrils of electricity snaked through her veins with every tug, culminating in that place between her legs that ached with wanting.
"Harry," she sobbed, gripping his arms and he began to frantically unbutton her shirt. He ripped it off her, undid the clasp of her bra with practiced ease and tossed that aside too. But, of course. It was common knowledge at Hogwarts that Harry Potter was quite the ladies' man when he wanted to be. Rumor was he had bedded more than half the girls in their year and basically all of the previous year, beginning with Cho Chang.
His lips descended on her left breast as he suckled the firm pink nipple into his mouth and all thoughts of his conquests fled her mind as the sensations swept over her. He pushed her back onto the bed, shifting his attention to the other breast and she buried her hands in his hair, writhing beneath him.
His hand crept up her thigh, pushing her skirt up as he went and she jerked as his fingers found the damp crotch of her knickers. He rubbed her gently through the thin cotton and surprisingly, she felt the tide rising within her, and oh God, she was going to-
He moved his fingers and she whimpered in frustration. His lips left her nipple to capture her lips again and she kissed him back hungrily, grinding her crotch against his hardness. Oh, she was so close. He had barely touched her, she was still wearing her knickers, for Circe's sake! but she was so close. Never, in all her young life had she ever been so aroused!
She tore her lips from his. "Oh, please, Harry. Oh, please."
He growled as he slid down her body, bunching her skirt up around her waist and slid her knickers roughly off her. Hermione panted in anticipation and nearly passed out when he suckled her swollen clit.
"Harry! Oh, Harry!" she cried, arching into his mouth and his tongue snaked out to lick her entire length, lingering on her bump. Her thighs quaked as he slipped a finger inside her, moving it in time with his mouth and as his tongue swept over her throbbing flesh again, she screamed as a white-hot tsunami crashed into her. The pleasure radiated from her every pore as her fingers grasped frantically at the blankets and her body shuddered uncontrollably.
She was going to die. She was surely going to perish into the vast puddle of juices that Harry was still greedily lapping up. She couldn't breathe, she was deaf, she was blind, she was blissfully caught up in the tumultuous ecstasy that was going to kill her wonderfully dead.
*********
Harry licked her until she fell back against the bed, trembling weakly. He was shaking too, from the sheer effort of
holding back his own orgasm. Watching Hermione come was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, and that was saying
something because some of the Hogwarts rumors about him were true. Suffice it to say, he had never been rendered so
close to losing it by the mere sight of a woman in climax. But then again, he had never before been with the only girl
he had ever loved.
What a sight she made! Her whole body was flushed, her hair a tangled mass of disarray. Her eyes were bright and glazed and her mouth was slightly open as she panted, trying to catch her breath. She was naked except for her socks and shoes and the hopelessly wrinkled skirt bunched around her waist. Her legs were wide open and Harry fought the urge to tear his clothes off and bury himself inside her-
He gulped. What a wanton picture. Had anybody ever thought to associate Hermione Granger with "wanton"? Doubtful.
She sighed and stretched luxuriously and he watched the way her still-hard nipples jutted against the air. He couldn't resist reaching out and squeezing one and she turned her head to smile at him.
"You alright?" he asked softly.
She laughed. "I have never been better." Her eyes caressed his and she sat up suddenly. "Oh, Harry. That was... that was..." She shook her head, unable to find a word to adequately describe what it was.
'Good,' he thought. 'Cause there's no way I could find one to describe how it was, either.'
"I know," he said, cupping her cheek. "I know, baby."
She gave a small sob and flung her arms around him and he hugged her to him fiercely, his hands lightly stroking her bare back.
He had her now. The love, the love of his life.
********
Well, please review. And let me know: should I write more? Or not? Thanks!