***
Hermione woke up feeling her sweaty trembling body curl itself up in protection. Panting, her nostrils were assaulted by a foreign heavy smell... The scent of arousal...
She scrunched up her nose and as soon as the trembling stopped enough for her to move, more or less... she threw her sheets off, got out of bed and strode to her bedroom window, throwing it open. Icy cold night-air hit her by surprise, but calmed her down in more ways then one...
Feeling uncomfortable in the panties she was wearing just now, she closed the window and the curtains, and going over her trunk she got out a fresh pair. After changing she finally let thoughts go through her brain again, and felt herself get angry with Harry. She tried valiantly to abolish the utter humiliation she felt of getting aroused by being tortured... Well at least there hadn't been whips or nipple-clamps... A shudder went through her with that thought, and it wasn't a good one, to her relief...
But tickling her when she was bound was still torture, and she'd gotten off on it... Forget that, she'd even experienced her first orgasm from it! Well she supposed that was an orgasm... The recollection of those feelings was kind of hazy, and wasn't an orgasm supposed to relief you from some of the 'frustration'? Anyway, she'd still gotten strong, not-bad feelings from that rather shameful encounter.
What did that say about her? Was she a freak? Was she losing her mind? What did the dreams mean anyway? Oh, if she ever found out who was behind it, she'd make sure that person would suffer...
***
Harry Potter was in a bad shape: his body seemed to have become the battlefield of several strong emotions… Shock was quickly replaced by deep guilt and shame. This all didn't take away the strong arousal he felt, though…
Unable to rap his mind around what was happening with Hermione and him, the only thought that kept him sane at that moment was the knowledge that it was just a dream... Well, maybe not just a dream... He'd bet his Gringotts vault the Hermione tied to the bed had been more then just a figment of his imagination... Just not really real either...
Horrified at the prospect of ever having to face his best friend again, Harry acted on instinct, took out his Invisibility Cloak and fled like a coward... Though he knew Hermione now was aware of his hiding place, he supposed it was still the safest place to be at, since it would be very unlikely of her to want to return there this evening...
On the walk there Harry's head was in turmoil. Yes, he did want Hermione even before those dreams, but did that justify them? Had he wanted her that bad and restricted himself that much in the real world that he was now forcing himself on her in the dream one? Or maybe she had wanted him, too? No, that couldn't be...
The dream Hermione was too much like he fantasized her to be... Well, he hadn't honestly fantasised about bondage games with her, but he had imagined her to be beautiful, and very shaggable... There he went again, perverting her like that... Concentrating on Hermione Granger, the model student and bossy best friend and not a wanton sex-goddess, he arrived at the room.
He easily slipped in the routine of pillow bashing... Taking his frustration out, he felt something tug at his heart.
She'd kissed him in the real world; had she just reacted on the emotions generated of sexually charged dreams? The tugging in his chest amplified... Did she just see him as a potential 'friend with benefits'? The logical part of his brain would've supplied him with answers as: Hermione would never do that to you. And: if she were looking for that, she could have gotten Ron... but then that part of him that had been born with and nurtured by the Dursleys whispered to his unsure heart: but getting Ron wouldn't be a challenge, Ron's not Harry bloody Potter!
Howling he flung a pillow to the other side of the room and he dramatically sagged to his knees. He felt so confused, so frustrated, and the shame and guilt were welcomed back... Hermione would never do something like this; and even though he didn't deserve her, she'd always been there for him, which is more then he had done for her actually...
Feeling utterly crushed and despicable, he sat down on the dirty floor and hugged his bent legs to his chest, rocking himself without really meaning to. He didn't know how long he'd been like that: staring off into the distance and clearing his mind of all thoughts...
But it couldn't have been that long when the door opened silently. Harry's memory provided his mind with simple facts: Hermione Granger was the only one who could get in here besides him, without having to try an abundance of counter-spells on the entrance. Hermione Granger was not someone to leave things be when confronted with an actual 'situation'. Harry Potter should've known better as to assume Hermione Granger wouldn't show up here at this moment...
Harry looked up, fully expecting to see an enraged Head girl. He hadn't seen the full wrath of Hermione yet, though he'd come close to witnessing the fury inside her taking over... He shuddered to think what hexes she would throw his way for what he'd done to her. But as always when one dreads the outcome, it never quite lives up to the expectations (or it exceeds them, but, no matter)...
Hermione's kind brown eyes didn't flash with anger when he met them with his gaze, no steam was coming out of her ears... Her hair was terrifyingly wild and frizzled, though: a sure sign she was annoyed beyond belief, or so he gathered from experience...
Hermione spoke softly: "Why are you crying?"
It was only then that Harry realised his cheeks were wet. Bemused he looked at the smeared tears on his fingers after he'd brought a hand to his face. Now he understood the bafflement on Hermione's face.
Gathering all his Gryffindor bravery, he looked at her pleadingly. Not really knowing the answer to her question himself, he spoke "Because I'm scared of losing you..." And in that instant he knew it was true; he couldn't handle losing Hermione...
He'd never seen Hermione look so clueless in all the time he'd known her.
"Lose me? Why would you lose me? Are you still on about Voldemort? Because..."
Harry shook his head. Hermione faltered and tried again, this time much less confident:
"It's about the dreams, isn't it? Look... Don't worry... I - I'll research it first thing tomorrow... I'm sure there will be something to be done about them... You - you'll be free in no time! No time at all!"
Hermione smiled nervously. Harry was almost stupified at her maintained aloofness, mentioning the dreams...
He whispered: "I don't want to be free"
Himself unsure of what he meant by that statement, but somehow knowing this was the truth, he saw Hermione looking at him with something akin to fright. Mentally kicking his own ass royally, he looked at her with fear in his heart. Hermione sputtered:
"Wh-What do you mean, Potter..." gaining some confidence, she spat at him, "You don't want to lose your little plaything, is that what you mean?"
***
Up in the Head Girl's room, Hermione didn't really know what to think. She'd just heard Harry leave, and had instantly known where he'd be. After a long mental conversation with common sense, she'd went up to his room, hoping he'd at least left his Marauder Map. Of course she would never find it the traditional way, with all the mess lying around, so taking out her wand she cast a spell that made the object you were looking for hum.
Sure enough something in a corner of his trunk reacted, and pushing some smelly socks out of the way, she grabbed the Map and muttered the ridiculous password...
Sneaking her way through Hogwarts, she found herself face to face with Harry sooner then she was really ready for... but she wasn't ready for the side of Harry she came to witness. She'd seen Harry laugh, she'd known him to be shouting out his anger, she'd seen so many emotions on his face... but never in her short life had she seen him weep.
Not sure if he was too embarrassed for her to stay there she watched him looking at her nonplussed. It suddenly occurred to her he didn't realise he was crying! Asking him, she saw him reach for his cheeks in confusion.
His answer, though, threw her off. Her mind refused to go in any other mode then the concerned best friend one... But when he shook his head to her inquiry if this was about Voldemort, her resolve to not mention the unmentionable crumbled. Trying to be brave about it, she promised to free him of the 'inconvenience'.
That's when he said something that made her heart stop. For several milliseconds she dared hope that he was referring, maybe... that he was trying to say... well...
This train of thought only served to make her angry with herself... Yeah, right, because the only reason why he didn't want to be free of the erotic dreams which enabled him to dominate her was because his love was so pure and innocent... Letting her frustration get the better of her, she threw it in his face.... Immediately regretting it the moment she saw his face...
Oh, Goddess, how could she be so heartless? Her heart felt extremely constricted within her chest. Harry looked like she'd just slapped him in the face. Guilt and shame was evidently all he was feeling in that moment. Regret was noticeably absent, though... To Hermione's surprise, she felt relieved at that.
Deciding that Harry had always been a bit challenged in the matters of showing affection, she went up to him carefully. It was as if he was a wounded animal to be treated with caution. She knew what emotional scars he carried around, and damn her if she wouldn't do anything to take away at least some of the pain...
Harry was watching her every move suspiciously, looking out for sudden movements. She reached out to cup his still damp cheek, and held his gaze pleadingly. She tried to convey all of her love for him through 'the mirrors of her soul'. Realising those troubled green eyes held so much doubt in them, she knelt before him.
Gathering all of her courage, dismissing the little voice that called her stupid, rather than brave, she brushed her lips gently over his. The contact made her shiver, and her eyelids closed momentarily of their own volition, enabling her to savour this historical event. This was so different from their first kiss; it had been so frantic and desperate and hurried... Afraid the perfect moment could shatter anytime, she looked at Harry, finding him staring at her...
Another expression she couldn't quite place... It looked a lot like hope... a rare emotion indeed if you were called Harry Potter...
This time she didn't know who closed the distance between their lips, but she was damn sure that this was reality and that he didn't seem to want to push her away anytime soon... Harry was still sitting with his arms tense around his legs. Hermione backed away a little and placed her hands gently on his arms, urging him to relax his limbs.
When he finally did, she sat herself onto his lap, placing her knees on either side of his thighs and cupping his cheek once more.
His eyes were wide with surprise, anticipation, and a little bit of fear. Hermione leaned forward and whispered into his ear.
"Harry? Do you trust me?"
An hesitant nod from him would have to do... for now. Hermione leaned forward again and kissed him tenderly. Pulling back again slowly, she travelled back to his ear-shell:
"I trust you with my life, you know. You have to know, I..." Hermione's hands were fisting in his hair, when she struggled to keep a reign over her emotions: "Harry, you mean so much to me. I can't lose you..."
Not waiting for him to react verbally on that, not wanting to know, either, she kissed him again, a little more urgent this time...
***
Harry could've sworn he'd died and gone on to the 'next great adventure'... These few previous moments the feelings going through him had been changing as per heartbeat. But when Hermione kissed him for the third time (technically, fourth, but he wanted to forget about the little fiasco being the reaction on that first kiss), he decided to not care anymore about the reasons not to do this...
Her actions felt as healing potions on his very soul... No longer able to keep his hands impassive, they wound their way up into her hair with a groan escaping his throat. He kissed her back fiercely, enjoying the sounds that elicited from her, far more then should be legally allowed.
Harry's tongue seemed unstoppable in discovering the depths of her mouth, his lips unrelenting in savouring her taste. Hermione gave back as good as she got, though. While their mouths were battling to prove who wanted the other more, she pressed her body closer to Harry's, which he couldn't object to, even if he'd wanted to.
In an act of desperation and rashness, Harry's hands left her hair and travelled down her back unthinkingly. Gripping her hips, he pushed her even closer, making him react like every other warm-blooded wizard would react to such a situation with a witch they were attracted to...
Hermione's gasp brought him back, however, and he was about to apologize for his body's reaction... But anything that could've come out of his mouth was effectively cut off by an instinctive groan caused by a hip-movement orchestrated by the witch on his lap.
Before his brain could melt wholly, he used his hands to firmly prevent her from any other surprise-moves... Their gaze locked again, and for a moment his lungs forgot to work; her eyes were so warm and inviting. Her knowing look, the understanding and wisdom behind them couldn't erase the adolescent uncertainty, making her that more intriguing...
Her cheeks were slightly flushed, cute; her lips were a red never seen before, alluring. Her hair was frizzing every which way, making her look wild, someone to be tamed, but at the same time promising never to be... tamed that is... Unbeknownst to him, Hermione had taken advantage of his focus on her beautiful face to resume her earlier intent.
When her shy movements were becoming more deliberate, Harry's resulted condition of arousal commanded him to help her press their sensitive parts closer together. Loving the little gasps coming from the HeadGirl, he kissed those wet lips. His hands left her hips briefly to slide down her thighs, find the hem of her night shirt under her outer-robes and slide back up again, this time on bare skin, until he found her underwear-clad rear...
Harry thought he heard Hermione yelp at that moment, but even if she did, the moaning sighs coming from her right then reassured him nothing serious was wrong... Well, except for the fact that he was actually molesting his best friend. Hermione... Warmth beyond anything he'd felt before flooded him as he realised this wasn't a dream, that the object of his outmost desire was willingly kissing him, being close to him, holding him, letting him touch her...
Harry's instinct refused to be satisfied with this happiness though, and he retreated in shock when he felt Hermione's hands leave their rightful place in his messy hair and travel to his front, grazing her nails over the thin fabric covering his chest. Shuddering he grabbed her wrists, and broke the kiss.
"Hermione? ..."
Harry barely recognised his own voice, it sounded so... rough? Though he was fairly sure his body was going to regret this royally, he spoke his mind:
"Shouldn't we wait? I mean, isn't this going a bit fast?" Shaking his head he tried to formulate what he really was scared for: "Are you sure this isn't because of the dreams?"
***
Hermione sat on Harry's lap feeling a bit foolish. He'd just proved to be the voice of reason, here! She was almost certain she would've gone all the way if he hadn't brought up this very valid point.
Bringing her hand towards his face again, she caressed the side of his face.
"You're right, we shouldn't rush into this... We should try and find out first what the deal is with the dreams at least..."
Lightly kissing him again, she ignored the screams of her bodily needs and lifted herself up from his lap. Smirking to herself she noticed he was very reluctant to let her go from his embrace.
"We do have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and we should try and get some more sleep," Hermione stated, knowing very well that sleep wasn't going to be easy this night.
She walked towards the door of the secret room and turned around, looking at the lost Head Boy on the floor, fumbling with his robes. She caught his eye and smiled, trying to convey all the love and tenderness she felt for him in her gaze, her smile, her stance, her voice...
"But Harry? If you think for a minute that these dreams have changed anything about my feelings for you... You're sadly mistaken: I've loved you for a while now"
Winking for good measure she left him there on the floor, even when every nerve in her body screamed at her to go back and finish what they'd started. She hadn't really meant to confess that yet, but if he was feeling even the slightest amount of frustration like she was feeling right now, it was enough... Though she was satisfied that she'd for once taken a little bit control, and wasn't totally submissive like in the dreams, she planned on having revenge one time in the future and make him submit to her...
***
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