Mangoes

This was inspired by talk amongst all the Wonks. Cheers to the Wonks!

Hermione enjoys her food.

She was torturing him. There was no other explanation for it.

It had all begun innocently enough. Harry had been admiring her walking down the stairs into the common room, wondering how Hermione was able to make bare feet, pyjamas pants and a singlet top look so exquisite. He believed Hermione was one of the very few women who could make pyjamas look so alluring. Not that he’d ever tell her that, of course. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t admire the view, providing he wasn’t caught. So he hadn’t noticed what she was carrying with her.

Harry was about to learn a valuable lesson: There are consequences for failing to notice anything about Hermione Granger.

Hermione sat cross-legged on the floor beside him near the fireplace, set a plate on her lap, and held a knife in one hand, while she placed a perfectly ripe mango in the centre of the plate. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, but hung down her back. Perfect for running your fingers through, while still having full access to her face and neck. Practical, yet delightfully feminine. Hermione.

‘Hi Harry, it’s really ripe isn’t it? It’s almost too perfect to eat, but if I leave it another day it’ll spoil,’ Hermione spoke in her typical hurried manner, as if there was so much to tell and there simply wasn’t enough time in the world to say everything she needed to say.

So Harry wasn’t worried when she sliced the top half off of the mango and said ‘The only problem with mangoes is that to really savour it there is no way it can be eaten neatly,’ she said in a very non-Hermione manner. Completely unhurried. In fact, deliberately slowly and her voice had lowered. At this time, Harry still wasn’t worried.

Idiot.

Hermione held the section she had just sliced away in one hand and placed the remainder on the plate. This ripe mango seemed to be slightly runny; some of the juice had started trickling down the inside of her forearm.

‘Oops!’ she said.

Harry’s eyes widened and watched, mesmerised, as Hermione lifted her arm up to her mouth and stopped the juice flow with her tongue, following it up her arm to her wrist, careful not to miss anything. Harry let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

She’s just eating a mango. She’s eating it, and she’s enjoying it. Get a hold of yourself.

Harry hoped she’d eat it quickly or he’d be admonishing himself all day.

No such luck. Hermione had finished catching the runaway juice, and had taken up the knife again to slowly slice a grid into the piece of mango she was still holding. OK, no problems there.

Hermione slipped her fingers underneath the piece of fruit and pushed up from underneath, making the bounty inside pop up out of the mango skin in several bite-sized squares. Naturally, Hermione couldn’t just dive in. Hermione had to eat the squares one at a time. Harry was watching her so closely he saw that she would not bite them off with her teeth; she was actually sucking on them for a moment, and then licking each square away. This was frequently followed by soft pleasurable moans from Hermione. Hermione, sucking, licking and moaning.

Oh God.

Hermione was not merciful. When she had finished molesting this mango piece, she placed the left over skin on the plate, picked up the remaining piece of mango, sliced off the other side, and repeated her earlier actions. Harry’s pleasurable discomfort was growing, and he knew he should find some ostensible reason to leave. But he was torn by the need for relief, and the need to watch Hermione.

Meanwhile, all this time, Hermione appeared to be oblivious to his staring. Her attention was completely consumed by her meal. Harry was thankful for this small miracle.

As she was devouring her second piece, the juices were running languidly along her forearms, right up to her elbows. Harry could not tear his eyes away as she again licked away the juice, catching it with her tongue and tracing the juice up her arm. It was positively cat-like, it had that sleek, velvety content yet indifferent manner to it; he wondered if people learned to behave like their pets over time. The effects of all this promised to be devastating to Harry’s sanity and resolve.

Harry was sure there was a more efficient way of doing it, but when Hermione was left with only the pulp of the mango, she chose to remove the remaining skin and then squeeze and stroke the pulp of the mango through her fingers. This way, the remaining nectar of the mango spilled out and ran down her hands, only to be caught by Hermione’s tongue before the juices could run any further. Hermione had developed a careful process. Squeeze, stroke, lick, and swallow. Repeat as needed.

Oh God.

‘Harry?’

He jumped. ‘What? Er, sorry?’

‘You said, “Oh God”. Is something wrong?’

He’d been watching her lips, which had paused in wrenching the life out of the mango pulp. Some of the mango juice had trickled down her chin; his eyes had followed its trail down her throat, and had kept following it until the trail eventually slipped down between her … erm, mangoes.

Wait a minute … I said that out loud?

‘Yes Harry, you did. Why?’

He was still staring at where that last drop of juice has last been sighted. Damn.

‘Harry, are you –’

Harry supposed he had spoken out loud again just before he had slid down from the couch onto his knees and pulled Hermione to him, he dimly heard a yelp before finally getting his own taste of that blasted mango via her lips.

Hmm. Hermione and mango. Not a combination he’d have thought of on his own. It tasted divine, actually. Yet positively sinful.

In some far off place he heard her drop the pulp, it landed on the plate, the pulp making a dull thud while landing on the knife, making it clatter. He felt her juice-sticky hands in his hair, one of them lowering slightly and grabbing the back of his neck as if to keep him in place.

Rather than deepening the kiss, he decided to give chase to the last juice trail he had sighted. Harry bent down and his own tongue caught the juice between her breasts and slowly retraced its path back up to her lips. Hermione threw her head back to accommodate him.

‘Harry,’ Hermione breathed, ‘you’re going to get mango juice all over you.’

Harry looked at her. His eyes widened. This was the moment he finally realised. Hermione Granger always knew exactly what she was doing. There was a neater and far less tempting way to eat that fruit and if anyone knew that Hermione did. She’d been teasing him on purpose. Hermione Granger, seductress. Harry grinned.

‘Well then, I suppose we’re going to have a bit of cleaning to do later, won’t we?’ he answered rather boldly, before capturing her lips again, this time deepening the kiss. As he felt arms wrap around his neck, his hands reached underneath her and lifted her so that she straddled him. One hand then reached up to press into her back, pushing her into him, while the other began to stroke her thigh. Lips never parted as they took in each other’s moans.

Hermione pulled back at the need for oxygen, Harry smiled at her, he reached for her hand and took one of her fingers in his mouth, licking and sucking away the taste of mango until there was only the taste of Hermione. He raised his eyebrows at her and their eyes locked.

To Harry’s astonishment, Hermione giggled. Hermione giggled. Harry thought that he could count on one hand all the times he’s ever heard her giggle, and not one of those was caused by him. Sure he had made her laugh, but Hermione just wasn’t one to giggle. So what if he was good at Quidditch? So what if he could conjure a fully corporeal Patronus? So what if Harry could fight off the Imperius curse? So what if he had faced Voldemort several times and survived? Harry Potter could make Hermione Granger giggle and that was the most incredible feeling in the world.

‘What are you staring at?’

Harry blinked. This was not a time to get lost in thought. He surrendered her finger to answer.

‘You, of course,’ his fingers playing with hers.

‘I think you’ve done enough staring for today,’ she told him.

‘Oh, you think so? I happen to like staring at you. It’s become a habit of mine recently.’

Hermione blushed. After what she had been doing earlier, she was blushing now? Did this woman ever stop surprising him?

‘Surely you’d like to do more than just stare?’

‘Well then, if you’ve had enough of staring …’ Harry leaned into her neck, nibbling, moistening, suckling, and overall worshipping her skin. He derived great pleasure from the effect this had on Hermione’s pulse, which he could feel under his lips.

‘Harry … do you know what’s even better than mangoes?’

He raised his head to look at her.

‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me,’ was his reply.

‘Mangoes with ice-cream,’ she answered, smiling the most dangerous and tempting smile she had ever worn in front of him.

Harry just grinned at her.

‘Next time, Hermione. I’m not in any rush, are you?’ and Harry lips returned to where he had left off.

From the noise she made, Hermione didn’t seem to be in any rush to answer him right away.

Look out for Mangoes: Special Extended Edition! Coming soon to a website near you! *grin*