A/N: Wow, what a response! Thanks to everybody who reviewed. My little one-shot has obviously
swelled :) Per all your requests, pleadings and downright demands, here is part three. The last part. I mean it, for
real this time. This is the end. Enjoy and don't forget to review! Thanks mucho in advance.
III
They lay on the lone, canopied bed in the otherwise empty Room of Requirement, holding each other tenderly. The only
sound was the soft whooshing of their breathing and the dull thud of his heart, though she was the only one who could
hear the latter, of course, since her head was pillowed against his chest. Harry, who was still fully clothed, was
slowly stroking her bare back, seemingly lost in thought and she frowned.
She knew him, knew that if they were quiet long enough, his thoughts would shift back to shoveling self-blame and guilt onto his own shoulders. Why did he insist on carting around so much liability? Did he fancy himself to be fucking Atlas, bearing the burden of the wizarding world?
It was NOT his fault. How many times had she told him that? It was all the fault of that demented, snake-eyed murderer of a man - was he even worthy of being called a man anymore - obsessed with his own hatred and hunger for world domination.
She shifted in his arms, leaning her head back to peer into his eyes.
Yep, there it was. The trademark Harry Potter look of self-loathing.
Ok, she loved this guy, she loved him more than life itself but sometimes she wanted to grab him by his untidy black mop and bitch-slap some sense into him! Either that or shag him senseless. Actually, that would be two different sides of the Sickle, in retrospect. One would be putting sense into him, the other would be taking sense away.
Hmm.. which to choose, which to choose?
She suppressed a scoff. As if there was any debate. If the boy could use his pecker as well as he used his tongue (and if the rumors were to be believed, boy howdy!) Not that she was in this solely for the sex, of course.
They hadn't technically had sex, had they?
Circe, this was all so surreal! One minute she was holding him while he cried and the next she was lying naked with him in bed, having just had the most exhilarating orgasm of her entire existence! Oh, and that was after she had gone down on him. Bloody hell.
But that wasn't the matter at hand.
"It's not your fault, Harry," she said quietly and he jerked.
This was.
His self-assured, water-off-the-duck's-back mask slipped into place with practiced ease so if you didn't know what to look for, you'd have missed it. Of course she didn't miss it. She knew him like the back of her hand, maybe better, and she would be damned if she'd let him keep doing this.
She sat up abruptly. "Listen to me, Harry Potter, I am sick and tired of you always absorbing the blame for everything! What happened to- oh for God's sake!" as she realized that she was still naked and Harry's eyes were glued to her chest. She swatted him before grabbing her shirt and quickly pulling it on.
He grinned at her, that boyish, lopsided grin that had first set her heart a-pounding back in third year when he had snuck into Hogsmeade without permission. That grin right now made her want to tear the shirt back off and jump his bones.
Do not turn into a nympho, Hermione Granger! Why the hell not? Just shut up.
Instead, she smoothed out her wrinkled skirt and crossed her arms. "Harry."
Now he was avoiding her eyes, looking everywhere but at her and she fought the urge to grab his head and force him to look. Well, short of stuffing his fingers in them, he couldn't shut off his ears. "I know what you're thinking. You're trying to come up with some way of making Hagrid's death your fault and it's not. It's not your fault, Harry. You had nothing to do with it."
"That's what you think," he said so softly that she had to strain to hear him.
What could he possibly be talking about?
"Harry," she said again and this time he looked up and her face softened as she saw the tears shining behind his glasses.
"I know what you're trying to do, Hermione. And I appreciate it. I really do." He closed his eyes and swallowed visibly. "But this time it really is my fault."
Wait a minute. Was he trying to say that he had personally been the one to Avada Kedavra Hagrid? Because that would mean either there were two Harry Potters running around (ye gods!) or he had made use of a time turner. Because as far as she knew, Hagrid had been killed early yesterday afternoon and they had been in Herbology at the time.
Her face must have betrayed her confusion because he sighed. "Hagrid was killed by Lucius Malfoy, right?"
She nodded. Professor Dumbledore had told her, Harry and Ron since they were the three students closest to the Care of Magical Creatures teacher.
"But what Dumbledore didn't tell us was why Malfoy killed Hagrid. That was my fault."
"Wha-what?"
He looked up at her, the anguish deeply etched in his features once more. "Remember last week when I hexed Malfoy?"
She nodded again. How could she forget? She had never seen Harry look quite so scary as he had in those moments, his green eyes flashing almost malevolently. The closest she could compare with anyone was Dumbledore in one of the few times she had seen him angry. Power had seemed to emanate off Harry in waves and although he was obviously seething, his voice had never gone above a cold whisper as he had fired hex after hex onto the screaming Malfoy. Even now, she had no idea what Malfoy could possibly have said or done to piss Harry off so completely. He wouldn't tell either her or Ron when they had asked him.
" -but Malfoy swore that he would tell his father and his father would make me pay."
She stared at him in bewilderment and Harry jumped up off the bed, stalked to the other end of the room and spun around. "Don't you see?!" he yelled. "I hexed Malfoy. Malfoy told his dad and his dad killed Hagrid. To punish me. So it's my fault. If I hadn't hexed that albino piece of shit... if I hadn't-" his voice broke and he tore his glasses off and covered his eyes with a shaking hand.
Albino piece of shit? If the situation were not so grave, she'd have laughed out loud.
Oh, Harry.
Was that why he was taking it so hard? She knew why Hagrid had been killed, and it really had nothing to do with Harry. She'd overheard Professors McGonagall and Flitwick tearfully talking but hadn't had a chance to tell him.
Her eyes prickled as she walked over and slipped her arms around him. He clung to her and she held him as he sobbed messily into her neck for the second time that night. Oh, why did he have to have it so hard? Couldn't he even get one whole month untarnished by some kind of misery? Why the fuck was life so unfair?
Harry stopped sobbing and she pulled away and took his hand. She led him back to the bed, he once again avoiding her eyes. "Harry, Hagrid's death wasn't your fault, and I'm not just saying that."
He looked up at her then, a speck of desperate hope gleaming in the emerald orbs clouded by despair and her heart ached for him. "What d'you mean?" he croaked.
"I mean, I heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick talking. Apparently, Voldemort found out about Hagrid's brother, you know, Grawp. And he wanted to have another giant on his side, I guess, that has a connection with Hogwarts."
Harry was gazing at her in perplexion. "What does that have to do with this?" he asked irritably.
She sighed. Zeus, he could be dense. "Harry, Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to get Grawp. Of course Hagrid wasn't just going to let them take him without a fight and they killed him before help could get there."
He stood up slowly, his brow furrowed. "What?"
"Dumbledore didn't tell the school the whole story, because obviously none of the students are supposed to know about Grawp."
"But why didn't he tell us? You know, you, me and Ron. We obviously know about Grawp."
She shrugged. Some people said the Headmaster was going senile; she couldn't possibly dream of assuming she knew why he did the things he did. "I don't know. I'm sure he has his reasons." She reached out a hand. "But Harry, you see. It had nothing at all to do with you. Hagrid's death was in no way your fault."
He stared at her outstretched hand for a long moment, seeming scarcely able to believe what she had just told him. "It wasn't my fault?" he asked, sounding like a tiny child.
Oh Harry. "It wasn't your fault," she sobbed and he rushed to her and she enveloped him again. He was muttering something but he was also crying again and it was a while before she figured out what he was saying.
"Oh, God, Hermione. Oh, God, Hermione..."
And she held him tighter, her heart swelling with love for this man. How was it possible to love somebody so much? How was it possible to have your existence so wrapped up in another person's and still call your life your own? Because she was sure she would waste away and die if he were ever to cease being a part of her existence.
What did they call this in Muggle Science class? Symbiosis. That was it.
Finally, he pulled away and wiped his eyes shakily. She reached up and brushed his hair off his sweaty forehead. "I love you so much," she whispered and he looked up at her and smiled adorably.
"I love you too."
She sighed as his lips met hers and for a long moment, they kissed softly and slowly before he broke the kiss. "Hermione, thank you. Thank- you have no idea what that means. What it means to know.." he trailed off, shaking his head.
"Harry." He looked into her eyes again, the look of love and longing so profound that she wanted to weep. She was about to say something to him that she had never said to anyone before. "Make love to me."
Holding onto her virginity had been bittersweet, at best, because she had been doing it out of the secret hope that one day she could give it to Harry, and what were the chances that she would ever get to do that? Right up there with the Mussolini frozen popsicles. Yet, she had prevailed. Both of her past boyfriends had broken up with her because she had been unwilling to cross that line, and everything she and Harry had done tonight was further than she had ever gone with any of those guys.
Which was why she was so surprised by her own wantonness earlier. She had never done any of those things before, with anyone (except herself, thank you very much) but barely a twinge of self-consciousness reared its head. Was it normal to be that comfortable with another person, to trust someone so completely? Probably not, but if anybody looked up the definition of "abnormal", there'd probably be a picture of either herself or Harry there.
"Are you sure?" he asked, shaking her out of her thoughts and she leaned forward and kissed him softly.
"Yes, I'm sure." Oh Lord, was she sure.
In response, he pulled her closer and kissed her deeply and Hermione melted into his embrace, already tingling all over in anticipation of what was to come.
**********
Harry kissed her fiercely, his mind whirling with ebullient thought. It wasn't his fault! Hagrid's death had nothing to do with him. Oh the gods. Did that make him a horrible person for being happy that, for once, someone's death wasn't in any way connected with him? Because right now, even though he still grieved for Hagrid, a part of him was more elated than the proverbial pig in shit.
When he had thought himself responsible, it had been such a crushing, suffocating balloon of wretchedness bearing down on his head. There was a connection he shared with Hagrid that he didn't have with anyone else. Because Hagrid was the one who had told him who he really was. Hagrid was the one who had introduced him to this strange new world of witches, wizards, magic and fairies.
Real fairies, not that slang his Uncle Vernon nastily threw out in reference to gay people when he didn't want to offend his guests by saying 'poofs'.
And with the acceptance of responsibility for Hagrid's demise, he felt like he had killed the best part of himself. If he had, even inadvertantly, killed Hagrid, the bringer of magic to him, didn't that mean he had killed the magic? Who was he without magic? Nobody but a skinny, knock-kneed little twerp getting his ass kicked by Dudley and his gang.
But once again, his salvation had been swift and unblinkingly consistent. Who had once again pulled him firmly back from the mossy green teeth of despair? Who had just now offered him the most precious part of herself?
Her name echoed through his brain like ricocheting sherbet balls as he planted little kisses all over her face.
"I love you, I love you," he whispered with every kiss and she clutched him, pressing as much of herself against him as she could. His lips devoured hers again, their hands all over and he surrendered, losing himself so thoroughly in their kisses that he was surprised when he realized that they had somehow shed all their clothes.
Which was just as well. He wanted her so badly, it was beyond sinful.
Her skin was almost hot to the touch, her sweet nipples firm and beckoning and he happily heeded their siren call and suckled while she writhed and gasped. His fingers found their way to the junction of her thighs and he eagerly delved into her folds, stroking her firmly and she cried out and bucked against his hand, her wild head of hair thrown back.
Merlin, look at her! What a sensual goddess she would make! How could anyone call her an Ice Queen? They didn't know - and so help him, they never would know. He wanted to be the only one to ever see her like this, to see the way her eyelids fluttered as he slipped a finger into her moistness. He wanted to be the only one to ever marvel at how wet she could become.
Both she and Ron had asked him why he had hexed Malfoy so badly. What could Malfoy had said to so completely push him over the edge? Harry hadn't told either of them, or anyone for that matter, because Hermione would most likely have scolded him for losing his temper in the first place and Ron would surely have gone into an even more murderous rage than the one Harry had been in. Thank Merlin neither of them had been close enough to hear! Malfoy seemed to have been going for Harry alone.
Even in the blissful state he was currently in, he recognized the familiar surge of anger that flared as he remembered what Malfoy had said about Hermione. If Malfoy had stopped at the overused and desensitized "Mudblood", maybe, just maybe Harry could have walked away. But no. He just had to go on and sprout- God, Harry couldn't even stand to think about it! That fucker.
And the proverbial shit had hit the proverbial fan.
Bombarded it, more like. It had required one of Dumbledore's own powerful charms to make Harry stop his assault. The red haze of rage had been so all-consuming, he had been surprised that he hadn't Avada Kedavra-ed the jumped-up little Ferret in the heat of the moment. Malfoy had been barely recognizable by the end, though he still had had enough presence of mind to gasp out his threat.
And had had, at least, the effect of making Harry beat himself up unnecessarily tonight. As if the death of Hagrid were not reason enough to make him pay because, so help him, Malfoy would pay. Both Malfoys. Voldemort would pay. Every single one of those fucking, black-hearted bastards would pay.
But what had happened tonight between him and Hermione proved, among other things, that Malfoy was wrong. Voldemort was wrong. Love did fulfill itself. Love did prove itself and, right now, he was going to show her how much he loved her. He was going to make love to her until he was imprinted in every one of her cells, until no doubt would ever surface in her mind again.
Not where his love for her was concerned.
***********
She was on fire. His lips, his fingers, his tongue were causing her to burn up, causing her to smolder with an all-consuming hunger. Again and again, he brought her to the brink of ecstasy, only to pull away, leaving her sobbing with need.
He leaned back and grabbed his wand and she was dimly aware of him muttering a contraceptive spell on both of them before he kissed her again and they were sweet and drugging kisses, damaging kisses, firing up the emotions within her as she writhed under his hands dancing all over her body. Who knew that the backs of her knees were so erogenous? Her earlobes? Her moans and cries echoed through the room as Harry skillfully played with her body like a classically trained virtuoso with his trusty instrument.
He was trying to murder her, she was sure of it.
Maybe if she gave him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe- her fingers danced lightly over his back and down to his gorgeous backside. Quickly, she slipped her hand around and grasped his hard length. He hissed in surprise and she couldn't resist a small smirk of triumph. Holding him firmly with both hands, she stroked him slowly, reaching down to fondle his balls and he groaned and jerked before swiftly flipping them over so she was on top.
He pulled her head down to kiss her as his fingers found her again, this time stretching her deliciously as he slipped two fingers inside her. His thumb gently stroked her clit and the inferno flared within her again.
"Please," she panted. "Harry, I need-"
He slipped his hand away and she stroked his hardness again, registering his strangled groan. Oh, she wanted him, she wanted him! He moved her hips into position and feeling the smooth head of his member brush against her wetness, feeling frantic - Oh Merlin, I need.. - before she could change her mind, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and swiftly impaled herself on him.
They both cried out - him from the mind-boggling sensation of being finally deep inside her delicious heat and her from the sharp sting that stabbed through her body, making her squeeze her eyes shut against the tears.
Fucking hell, that hurt! That- that- fucking hell!
She fought the urge to squirm in discomfort and held herself still, her eyes tightly closed, letting her body get used to the rich fullness of him buried inside her. Slowly, the sting faded into an ambiguous throb as if it couldn't decide if it wanted to be pleasure or pain.
Be pleasure, be pleasure, be- oh God!
Her eyes snapped open to see Harry staring up at her, his green eyes heavy with emotion. "I love you," he said, as his fingers worked their magic at the place where they were joined and as the pleasure intensified, she instinctively began to move, raising herself slowly up and down on his hard length, and oh, she knew now why sex was such a big deal and if she never had to stop doing this, if she never had to unlock from him-
"I love you, Harry. I love you so much!"
Tears ran down her cheeks but they were of happiness, of wonder. They were of joy. She dipped her head to watch as he disappeared, reemerged, disappeared, reemerged as she moved on him faster and suddenly she was on her back, getting lost in his eyes as he stared down at her, his body pistoning into and out of hers.
Their lips met again in a searing kiss and the blood was pounding in her ears, her nails digging into his shoulders. He flipped them over again but this time she was lying flat on top of him, moving back and forth now and he braced his feet against the mattress and met her halfway every time she moved back. Her nipples brushed his sweaty chest tantalizingly with each movement as she supported her weight on her elbows and he raised his head to capture her lips again.
Every nerve, every muscle, every sinew of her body was screaming for release and still the fire flared, still the coil of white-hot wire in her stomach stretched taut with tension, still their bodies moved desperately, hungrily, frantically.
He managed to get his fingers between them again even as he began suckling her neck in time with their movements.
"Oh God, oh God," she whimpered as she felt the waves begin to loom over her head, poised on the brink, needing just one more thrust, just one more swirl of his fingers, just one more, oh please, Harry-
He bit her neck and strangely that was the thing that burst open the gates. The dam was let loose, the fire Incendio-ed and she was screaming helplessly, incoherently as her nails gripped his broad shoulders and the pleasure lambasted her ruthlessly. Her whole body quaked and throbbed like one big, overstimulated nerve ending and the stars danced behind her tightly clenched eyelids.
Vaguely, she was aware of Harry thrusting up hard into her so that she knew she would be sore the next day from those few thrusts alone and heard, as if from a great distance, him cry out as a warm wetness flooded her and he thrashed spasmodically beneath her.
"Hermione! Hermione!" he cried and oh, what a beautiful sound! For one long moment, time seemed suspended as their voices mingled in the dark room, rendered insignificant by the sheer beauty of them truly becoming one.
She surrendered to the ecstasy rumbling relentlessly through her body and they clung together for what seemed like eons, riding the wonderful wave and shuddering with numerous aftershocks before collapsing against each other in rapturous fatique.
**********
The fatique was, of course, short-lived and after deciding that it was much too late to bother going back to their rooms, they spent the rest of the night right there in the Room of Requirement. They had awoken in the middle of the night to make love again, slowly and tenderly in the murky darkness and the thought of getting up and leaving his warm embrace was practically blasphemous.
Besides, they were the Head Boy and Girl so they could be out as late as they wanted, as long as they weren't up to mischief.
She suppressed a giggle, as she glanced about the room lit by the pale light of the early morning. Had they been up to mischief? Because lordie, if that was mischief, then she sure as heck intended to be very mischievous from now on.
Oh, she felt so alive, so blessedly satisfied! She ached in places she hadn't known existed before, but that really wasn't anything unique, was it? Heretofore undiscovered muscles were certainly not the only things she had discovered about herself last night.
I am woman. Hear me roar!
"What're you thinking about?" he asked and she looked up into the vivid green eyes of the man she loved, gazing down at her lovingly as he ran his hand slowly up and down her arm.
Feeling suddenly carefree, she laughed aloud and held out her arms to him. Harry grinned and sank gladly into them and she held him, kissing his hairline, his scar and for a long moment they were silent, just holding each other close.
Finally, he rolled off her and propped himself up on one elbow, gazing into her eyes. "Are you sore? Do you hurt?"
Oh, he was such a sweetheart! And even though she was sore, she shook her head. "I'm ok." No reason to make him worry. Nothing a quick pain reliever charm couldn't cure, anyway.
He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her cheek. "I'm sorry. I should have been gentler. It's just.. I just.. I got carried away."
Carried away, indeed. She sat up and kissed him tenderly. "You're supposed to get carried away, silly. Besides, I like knowing I can make the good, great Harry Potter lose control like that."
He arched his eyebrows. "Oh really?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Well, in that case.." he leaned over and kissed her and she sighed contentedly against his lips, melting in his embrace.
They were embarking on a brand-new journey, one that promised to be exciting and tumultuous. From best friends to red-hot lovers, literally overnight - it would not be easy. Voldemort was still out there, psychotically salivating for Harry's blood. There were Death Eater arses to be kicked, Hagrid's death to be avenged. There was Ron to inform about this new twist in the dynamics of the Trio - Merlin, she certainly wasn't looking forward to that particular conversation. It was bound to be awkward, to put it mildly.
There was the wizarding world and all its associated shit that was relevant simply because Harry Potter was Harry Potter.
But they were together now, and they were stronger for it. There was nothing either wouldn't do for the other and together, they would get through whatever was guaranteed to be thrown their way. Together, they would survive. Because Hermione Granger was bound and determined that they would; Harry needed it.
And there was nothing she wouldn't do for him.