She felt as if the anticipation would kill her and couldn't concentrate on anything then his hands and where she wanted them...
Abruptly her surroundings changed. Panting heavily she noticed she was lying down, in a bed with a real mattress, with sheets tangled between her legs, her bed... She sat up so quickly that she groaned and flopped over on her bed again with her eyes tightly closed. Her breasts were highly sensitive and with every movement she made, her nightclothes would cause jolts in them. The place between her thighs was now aching so badly, that she made a fist and placed it against her damp knickers harshly to ease the throbbing.
She curled in a ball and waited for her body to relax and the sensations brought by her dream to subside. For a moment she wanted to call back the dream so she could finish what she started, but she fought down that impulse. Her brain was still debating if she was disappointed or relieved that it had only been a dream. Exhausted she decided to think about it in the morning. After picking up her wand, Accio'ing the offending parchments, setting fire to them once and for all, and magically hiding the novels that started all this, she fell back in a dreamless sleep.
***
Harry jolted awake; he was hot, in more ways then one, and he kicked his sheets off. He was so painfully aroused that he didn't see himself walking to the bathroom for a cold shower. As quickly as possible, he 'took care' of his problem. Guiltily he grabbed his wand and cleaned up the mess he made, while his mind went over the dream he just had. It had felt so real, and the fact that he not only got aroused by the idea of *being* with his best friend, but also nearly dominating her made him... Well he wanted to say sick, but that wasn't really the case, now was it? Exhausted, he turned over in his bed, determined to think about it later and catch a little bit of sleep.
The following morning he was reminded of his dream when he saw his uniform necktie lying around. How was he going to act around Hermione now? He glanced at the clock; it was almost 10 am. He'd have to hurry up for breakfast; Sundays you were allowed to lie in, but they didn't serve breakfast all through the day. The one good thing was that Hermione most likely already went, and was currently in the library, or, if the weather was all right, reading somewhere on the grounds.
Sure enough she was nowhere to be found. He met Ron who was in a heated conversation with the rest of their Quidditch teammates. With Ron as captain, since he wasn't prefect anymore and Harry being Head Boy (Harry was captain in sixth year), the trainings had intensified even more. Ron wasn't satisfied with just winning the Cup, he wanted to slaughter the rest of the teams and go down in Hogwarts History as one of the best Gryffindor Quidditch teams. He dragged them all to the field after Harry barely ate four pieces of toasts.
After a gruelling exercise time, which only ended when the Slytherins came down to make fun of them (but really were trying to catch the new tactics Ron constantly came up with), Harry took a nice warm bath. Luckily Dobby had brought some food on the Pitch, because Ron didn't let them go at 1pm to get something to eat. Harry used to wonder if there was anything that would stand between food and a hungry Ron Weasley; he wondered no more. When Harry came out of his bathroom (he found it more relaxing to go in the private one, instead of the showers in the changing rooms) it was already 4 pm, and he'd succesfully avoided Hermione all day.
He finished some late schoolwork and met up with Ron again in the Gryffindor Common Room. They lost track of time and instead of going to the great hall for dinner, they went down into the kitchens. Harry because he wanted to avoid Hermione some more, Ron because he bought Harry's excuse that they should thank Dobby, and he was starving and didn't want to hear Hermione criticizing his table manners.
Sunday's he had to do the rounds, and he ended up going to 'his room' afterwards. He could do with clearing his mind, before he possibly stumbled across Hermione again on the way to his room. When he mumbled his passwords, the door sprang open to reveal...
***
Hermione knew Ron and Harry would hardly miss her on a Sunday so close to a Gryffindor match. And she certainly didn't feel patient enough to sit through all the Quidditch talk. So she retreated, as usual, to the library. She knew she promised herself to think about her dream, but found herself trying to forget about it. Studying all morning and afternoon, having missed lunch, she gave up and walked to the Great Hall for dinner, bracing herself to see Harry. He hadn't been there. Knowing he would do his rounds, she didn't expect to see him soon in their common room.
That's when something else occurred to her. In the dream, they had been in some room here at Hogwarts; what if it was real? 'Dream Harry' had said something about it being a sort of refuge. Ignoring the fact for a moment that she was going bonkers if she thought what was said in her dream, could be real; it explained where he disappeared to... Unable to squash the need to check, she 'borrowed' Harry's Invisibility Cloak and set off on a wild goose chase. After she'd wandered almost anywhere she could come up with, she found herself in the corridor where she'd heard Harry use the Voldemort password in her dream. She berated herself for having her heart behaving quite erratic.
She didn't know how long she'd stood in front of that door; she'd tried everything to open it, except the way her dream told her to. Finally, with no little amount of dread, she imitated 'dream Harry', and the door sprang open. It was exactly like her dream! What was going on here? Had she been pulled, somehow, in Harry's dream? No, that couldn't be it, he'd never dream of her like that, would he? But how come she had seen this real thing in her dreams? Or maybe it hadn't been? Maybe it really happened last night? But that couldn't be it either.
Before she had any time to ponder over this, the door swung open again to reveal the man of the hour. Shocked, with just enough presence of mind to see equal shock written on the other's face, she stood speechless. This was the first time she saw him since that dream, and her body's as well as her heart's reactions were off the chart. He walked inside and let the door fall closed behind him. Trying to regain some composure Hermione wanted to ask him a question, but couldn't decide which one she'd voice first. Harry seemed to be in the same dilemma, but decided on the most obvious, and then again most awkward to answer:
"What are you doing here, and how did you get in?"
Hermione, not yet ready to answer this truthfully, fired back: "What are you doing here?"
His answer contained most of the information she got from him in her dream, and she began to feel very unsettled. When Harry concluded with a repeat of his first questions, she couldn't look him in the eye, but couldn't lie to him either. She squeaked out: "Dream"
His reaction was almost imperceptible, only a quick tensing of his body, though she wasn't looking at his face, so there might have been more to read there. So he *had* been in her dream?
She barely heard his: "When?" but answered with "Last night" nevertheless.
She looked up at him when she heard him take in a sharp gulp of breath. She knew the shock, and disbelieve in his gaze was mirrored in her own. Through her embarrassment, thoughts raced through her mind... Was it wishful thinking or was there hope in between all those mixed emotions, too? She almost jumped when he asked: "What... what happened in your dream?"
Blushing madly she managed: "What happened in yours?" which resulted in making him blush quite satisfactory in return.
With bravery she hadn't expected she was capable of, she went up to him, placed her hands on his chest, and was about to stand on her toes to reach his lips with hers, but he'd already beaten her to it. His mouth came down with a gentle urgency that made her toes curl. After a few blissful moments, she didn't care about whose dream it had been, or whether or not she should be angry at Harry. One hand was holding the nape of her head, the other rested on the small of her back.
The kiss quickly grew much more passionate, making them both pant for air, yet unwilling to leave each others' lips for more then a few seconds time. Hermione almost unconsciously pressed her chest into Harry's; he groaned and she felt 'something' grow against the underside of her belly. When she rocked her hips Harry gasped and suddenly pulled away, making her groan in protest...
***
Harry couldn't believe it. He had the woman of his dreams pressed against him, ravaging his mouth, and ... Great Merlin, she just pressed her hips closer! His eyes crossed behind his closed eyelids, before a thought struck him. The woman of his dreams... Reality... hearing the desperate groan from the girl he just let go, Harry tried to sort out the emotions that were ruling his judgement...
"No, this isn't real..." Harry stumbled back into the direction of the door. Without giving the panting Hermione time to get her composure back, he fumbled with the door, and got out of the room as quick as possible.
"It was only a figment of your imagination, Harry. No need to panic and act like a ninny..."
Harry continued to mumble that all the way to his dormitory as if to convince himself. But he wasn't a complete fool. Even when the dream had been real enough, it hadn't been anything as it had been now... He could still *taste* her on his lips, he recalled her smell vividly, and he definitely remembered distinctly how her hands on his clothed body had made him feel.
As the realisation that his anger at the unreality of all this had probably hurt Hermione downed on him, he almost ran back to the secret room. Almost... He remembered also, that those dreams had been, to say the least, even weirder then he'd first anticipated...
Was Hermione able to see into his dreams? Or was he able to see hers? Was this some juvenile practical joke? Had they been cursed? Who would do something so... embarrassing to him and Hermione? How did Hermione really feel about all this? Was she just reacting because of those dreams, or did she really want to kiss him just now?
Damnit! He really didn't need all of this, he had enough on his mind as it was without some stupid hormonal dreams coming between him and one of the people he trusted most... Barricading himself in his bedroom he changed for the night and planned to have a conversation with Hermione before the end of the next day, so that the air was cleared for Monday next, when they would need to work again, side by side... While staring at the ceiling he heard the portrait hole to the Head-common room slam closed. Wincing Harry started doubting he'd be able to talk rationally to Hermione about what happened before. He only hoped she'd cool down during the night. Listening to her footsteps stomping up to her bedroom door, he cringed when she let that door also slam loudly after her.
***
'The nerve!'
To say Hermione was hot and bothered was an understatement... One moment she was making her dreams into reality, and the next everything shattered!
She was angry with herself for acting on impulse and kissing Harry like that, and for not saying anything when he pushed her away. But most of all she was angry with Harry. She understood that he wasn't as experienced, but neither was she. She knew he was clueless as how to deal with what he and Ron called 'female emotions', but really, Harry couldn't be that thick. Most of all she understood he was confused, but then again so was she; that was no excuse to treat her the way he did.
There was also no reason to leave her unsatisfied…She squelched that thought quickly; Hermione Granger didn't think like that...
To cool her temper she stomped the whole way back to their dormitory and with a satisfying bang she let the portrait slam shut behind her. She made as much noise as she could thumping up the stairs to her room, to make it very clear to the culprit, if he was there, that she was not happy with him, not happy at all.
Furiously she put on her nightclothes, and prayed not to be plagued with those dreams again...
***
Harry tried not falling a sleep, he really did. But soon he found himself back in the room. He felt Hermione's presence in the room and turned around.
Harry nearly died of shock... Unlike him, who was fully clothed, Hermione hadn't a stitch on her, besides her knickers. But that wasn't what made his heart stop, well, it was only part of it... Hermione was bound to the bed. Gryffindor scarves were tying her hands and feet to the four corners of that one bed, and the tie, oh that tie..., was covering her eyes.
Dried tears could be seen on her cheeks, but Hermione looked to be asleep for now. The sight was a beautiful creamy coloured X on the filthy grey sheet. Harry couldn't take his eyes off of her... Unable to move he watched her. She really was beautiful, so real, so close...
Shaking his head, Harry frowned, it wasn't real, and this time he was sure of it. Then why didn't he move away, and leave this like he mistakenly did in the real world?
Harry didn't have the opportunity to answer his own question, since Hermione'd chosen to move. Seeing her breasts bob when she was fighting of the hold sleep had on her Harry's brain pretty much abolished the thought of leaving.
He saw her frown even if the blindfold didn't really permit him to see her furrow her eyebrows...
"What the..."
The realisation she was bound and blindfolded made Hermione squirm and fight the restraints, much to Harry's wicked entertainment... She really was a sight: she first tried to struggle out of the bounds holding her wrists, while shaking her head, trying to shrug of the tie obscuring her vision. This caused her breasts to jiggle this way and that, and her hair to form a circle around her head.
Her legs were hold firmly spread, and when she tried to bend her knees, her arms were stretched to the maximum, so that her skin was stretching her breasts up. Seeing her bent her spread legs like that made reason the farthest thing from Harry's mind...
Watching transfixed Harry saw her panting and giving up on the intense fight.
***
Hermione was struggling against the bounds that held her until a sudden thought occurred to her: they didn't hurt... Investigating this epiphany further she realised that she must be in one of those dreams again: everything fit! There was no sound, besides the one she was making herself, whatsoever. Noises were always there in the old castle, which told you it was alive and lived in; even at night there could be heard the draft whispering secrets. There wasn't any sense of smell, which was weird, and she hadn't even noticed before she'd kissed Harry in the real world... There wasn't any feeling apart from excitement and fear...
"So we're back in the dream, I wonder... Potter! Are you there yet?"
Hermione couldn't help but feel excitement course through her when she thought about the possibility that Harry had been there all along... She felt goose bumps forming and her nipples harden, and she blushed at the thought that Harry, even if it was dream Harry, could see her like this, bound, blindfolded, and helpless to prevent whatever wicked things he had in mind for her body...
Damnit! She shouldn't think like that! She felt her knickers get wet at her earlier thought, and cold from the fact that her legs were apart... Shite! She couldn't even rub her thighs together!
Pulling on her restraints, she tried to occupy her mind on getting out of the bounds, but the only thing she could think about was Harry watching her, and getting off on it... both of them...
Suddenly she heard a rustle of cloths... then the bed sagged a bit on her left side...
"Harry?"
Her heart was pounding loudly, and the possibility that maybe this wasn't Harry suddenly occurred to her. A moist whisper next to her ear confirmed her that indeed it was her best friend... His low, dangerously sexy voice told her:
"You didn't think you could get rid of me this easily, did you?"
Again Hermione wanted to retort hotly, that it was the other way around, but she was rendered speechless under the power of his husky voice. She prayed to the gods, that if they ever got to do something like this outside their dreams, that she wouldn't be conquered so easily...
Suddenly his warmth left her side... She gasped when she felt his hands touch her feet gently. From what she could make out from sounds and from the way he could tickle both sets of toes, Hermione'd say he was standing at the end of the bed. Being extremely ticklish, especially there, Hermione tried to move her feet away violently, making her whole body spasm.
She couldn't relax even when he stopped assaulting her toes. Her stomach was in tumult, and her chest was heaving as controlled as possible so that her panting wouldn't distract her too much from trying to hear where he was. She felt his fingers suddenly caressing the inside of her right elbow so lightly it tickled in the most sensual way. Hermione decided to try and relax as much as possible and enjoy the feeling.
Harry must have understood what she was doing because he stopped abruptly. Not knowing what to expect next, she waited patiently her heart hammering nonetheless. There was a short, rather sharp pain on her left nipple.
Had he just pinched her? Before she could think about it the shot of pain transfigured itself into a burning that sent signals right to her loins... Moaning she arched her back, as if to ask for more. However Harry was running a finger gently and very slowly on her right armpit, before she could properly flinch from the tickling that caused, she felt him lightly tickling her side causing her stomach muscles to contract irregularly.
His assault didn't stop there, his hands were everywhere, tickling and pinching, short and never at the same place twice. Hermione couldn't feel anything but the unexpected, and was sweating by the time Harry retreated again.
Trembling she waited for his next move, and started cursing mentally when he was tickling her feet again, not stopping even when tears started seeping from the blindfold. Flinching and trying to get away from his torture, she was nearly choking on her sobs, trying to contain a reasonable amount of oxygen in her system.
Finally he squeezed her feet lightly letting her know this attack was over. She felt the bed sag again, this time between her bound feet. This brought back the thoughts on how she must look to him. Not only merely bound and blindfolded anymore, but sweating and panting, wriggling and wet for him. There could be no way he could miss that growing patch of cold wetness on her panties. Wait, this is Harry Potter they we're speaking of, of course he could be able to miss it!
***
Harry had been surprised at his own resourcefulness. When he had no experience to boast about in this area, and only had the texts he'd read from Hermione as a guideline to suspect what a woman's body would need, he'd been surprisingly confident in this dreamworld.
The minute Hermione had shouted out, demanding if he had been in the room, too, his first reaction had been to panic. But that was until he saw the effects Hermione's suspicion he was in the room did to her body. His own body had responded accordingly, changing his attitude back into that cold teasing bastard persona, Hermione had somehow created deep inside him... or maybe the cause of his birth had been the dreams...
Better not dwell on that, he had a sweet witch to torture. She really was so sensitive, and very responsive. Granted, it was probably prejudice to say she was perfect, but really, what did he care? She was perfect.
He felt very wicked when he tickled her feet again; it was obvious she couldn't stand it. But her body flinching, while she was biting her lower lip, and tears seeping from her covered eyes... it was too much of a turn-on to consider to stop...
Finally he let her go, and went to his knees between her spread ones. Slightly caressing the inside of her knee, she flinched again, just when he thought she couldn't bring up the energy anymore to do so... Her thighs quivered when he took an eternity to slide his fingertips softly back and forth on the inside of her thighs, minutely moving upwards...
She was breathing hard now, and her wetness was harder to ignore, but he liked seeing her like this: uptight Hermione Granger, bossy like hell, rendered panting and defenceless... Harry knew he shouldn't be doing this, let alone like this, but really, it was just a dream, wasn't it? And she wasn't exactly asking him to stop either, was she?
***
Hermione couldn't have stopped herself from moaning, anymore then she could have stopped herself from breathing, when Harry's fingers on her thighs came dangerously close to her panties. Reason completely left her brain, when she felt him trace the skin next to her knickers, only inches from where he should be. She moved her hips frantically as much as to get away from his torturous fingers, as to make him increase the friction on her sensitive wet part. When she heard herself whine and thought again at how much of a whore she must look like thrashing in front of her best friend, she felt a light caress on the wet cloth tracing her covered slit.
She suddenly stiffened, falling completely still. Feeling something explode inside her, she had no control whatsoever when trashing around and moaning, bucking her hips helplessly, arching her back from the sheet and trying but still failing to struggle free from her restraints...
***
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