Mangoes: Special Extended Edition

For all the Wonks. Cheers to the Wonks!

Hermione enjoys her food.

I must make this clear. This is the Special Extended Edition. (Yes, much like the LOTR ones) It is not a sequel. This is an NC-17 version of my PG-13 Mangoes Ficlet. They are different, yet they are the same.

You don’t need to have read the other one to understand this; it is just a matter of preference. I didn’t plan for there to be two versions, it just happened that way. Enjoy.

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.

His hands reached up for the straps of her top, running his fingers along them for a few moments before sliding them down her arms and pushing the front of her top down, finally exposing Hermione’s own mangoes. He lingered on her neck for a little longer before pulling away to admire them. Then Harry moved in for a taste.

As Harry enjoyed her breasts in much the same way she had enjoyed those mango pieces, Hermione just looked at him, her mouth slightly open. Her expression so dazed and dream-like that as her eyes closed and her head fell back, Harry’s body reacted strongly to the knowledge that he could do that to her.

Sod giggling. I want to make her moan, writhe, shiver, all of it. I want her to say -- no -- scream my name while she looks at me like that.

Harry wanted a lot of things. Harry had a lot of work to do.

Harry soon learned that Hermione didn’t really moan much. She hummed. Perhaps she was just trying to be quiet, given their location, but she hummed. Her eyes would close, her head would be thrown back, exposing her wonderful neck, her lips would press together, her tongue would snake out occasionally to moisten them; and she would hum. There was an occasional hiss through her teeth when he surprised her. Melodious.

That mango nectar may have tasted wonderful, but Harry’s mind, or what was left of it at this point, was entirely focused on Hermione’s nectar. Harry wanted her, badly. No, Harry needed her badly.

His hands reached down and slid underneath her pants to stroke her skin, pushing down on the material which was increasingly getting in his way.

‘Harry?’

‘Off. I want it off,’ was all Harry said.

Hermione grabbed his hands and pushed them away. Harry, thinking maybe he’d gone too far, became very anxious and was about roll out a thousand apologies and beg forgiveness, but she pressed a finger to his lips. She said nothing, but shook her head at him.

Harry stared as Hermione stood up, legs on either side of him, reached down for his hands again and placed his them on her hips, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of not only the pants, but her underwear and pushing them down, and eventually stepping out of the cumbersome garments.

Harry was no longer staring. His eyes scanned everything that was now in sight. Absorbed every minute detail, every line, hair and curve.

‘I thought we’d agreed that you’d done enough staring?’ Hermione interrupted his careful analysis.

‘I thought I was getting a show,’ he replied.

‘You’re a participant Harry, not a spectator,’ she shook her head at him, and slowly straddled him once again, his arms automatically encircling her.

Hermione then engaged him in a deep kiss, which Harry returned with equal zeal. Who was he to refuse an interactive experience with Hermione?

While one arm tightened its grip around her, his free hand wasted no time smoothing its way across her back, down her side, then down her front, before disappearing behind her curls. This earned Harry a yelp into his mouth from Hermione, followed by her already familiar hum. Splendid.

Harry’s fingers explored and stroked, spreading around her moisture, just teasing and listening. He pulled away from her to trail kisses along her shoulder. Her hums were becoming a little shaky. Was there a noise she made that he didn’t like? At that moment, Harry wished he had a Pensieve. He did not want to forget a single noise Hermione made. Harry thought he could listen to them all day.

Suddenly, Harry gasped. Exactly when had Hermione unzipped his pants? Ohhh … right now Harry didn’t fucking care. He broke away from the kiss, leaned against the back of the couch, pulling her against him, and groaned into her neck.

Unthinkingly, Harry slipped a finger inside her, thrusting in and out. Hermione let out an ‘Oh!’ of surprise and her hand reflexively gripped tighter around him, causing Harry to buck underneath her and let out an ‘Oh!’ of his own. He inserted a second finger and delighted in the sight before him, and the effects of Hermione’s hand on him.

Even if Harry had wanted his hand back, it was trapped. Hermione had clamped tightly around his fingers, and was thrusting herself onto his hand, which had the effect of doing wonderful things to her breasts, even better; her breasts were doing wonderful things at lip level. So with a growl, Harry latched on to one for dear life.

Her muscles were gripping his hand so tightly it was aching, but he didn’t stop and he didn’t beg her for mercy. Harry continued stroking and tickling her insides while holding her to him and worshipping her breasts. Harry still didn’t stop when Hermione impossibly tightened around his fingers further, and convulsed around him, her humming frantic and punctuated by her hisses before finally letting go. Her back arched, pushing her breast further into his mouth.

Hermione was a sight to behold. His fingers slowed down to stop inside her but he detached himself from her breast to delight in her afterglow. Her hair had come loose and was trailing down behind her, and she was biting down on her lip while gasping for air. Not to mention the feel of her, the way she shuddered against him as he held her to him, the way she pulsed around his fingers, and the way she finally let her head fall forward on his shoulder as she came down. Oh, she was too much and not enough all at once.

His free hand slid up her back and ran his fingers through her hair as Hermione relaxed.

‘I think you broke my hand. Not that I mind in the slightest,’ he told her.

Hermione smiled into his shoulder yet said nothing; however she answered his question from earlier. No, she would never stop surprising him. Still smiling, she lifted her head and pulled his hand away from her. Then took one of his fingers into her mouth, licking and sucking it clean of her own juices at a painfully leisurely pace before moving on to the next one.

Harry didn’t know how he was able to speak at the sight of that, but he managed to muster a sentence.

‘You stole my idea …’ he breathed as certain other parts of him were beginning to miss the sensation of Hermione’s hands on them. Or perhaps not her hands …

Her eyes locked with his. They were taking on a glint which told Harry she was planning something. Before he could ponder this Hermione shifted and was rocking on top of him, rubbing her moistness over him.

A growl escaped from Harry as he reclaimed his fingers from her mouth and pulled her to him in a frenzied kiss. He felt hands sneak under the hem of his shirt. Funny, during all this he hadn’t noticed that he was still fully clothed while Hermione was completely naked on top of him. Well, not completely. Her top was bunched around her waist. Perfect, just perfect. Harry shivered under her fingers as he helped her remove the shirt; it was sticking to him anyway. Hermione immediately reached for his lips again, this time pressing up against him, eliciting a moan from both of them.

Harry was fast becoming addicted to Hermione and her noises. He needed to hear more of them. His frustration was growing; he didn’t know frustration could feel so exhilarating. Harry hoped to be frustrated by Hermione more often.

But all good things must come to an end.

He reached for her hips and shifted them slightly before plunging his fingers inside her again. This time, Harry was preparing. Hermione let out a cry and once again wonderfully began crushing his hand. She was already positioned. He placed one hand on her hip and continued stroking. Without warning, she roughly shoved his hand away.

And then he heard it.

A scream.

His name.

Screamed out loud.

By Hermione.

Followed by another word.

Now.

Thrust.

This was, this was, oh … something that cannot possibly be narrated. Not in a way that would do it justice anyway. All coherent thought is gone. All Harry knew was slamming, rocking, and Hermione’s noises. He supposed he made his fair share of noise too, he couldn’t really tell at the moment. That’s all there was until suddenly everything tightened and pulsed, there were several explosions, he was fairly certain there was screaming, and then everything suddenly became loose again and he blissfully collapsed. Then Hermione followed suit on top of him, burying her face into his shoulder again.

Harry and Hermione took in many gulps of air to refuel their brains up to some level of functionality. His arms tightened around her, and he felt her turn her head and press her lips against his neck.

‘Mmmm …’ she was the first to speak.

Harry chuckled.

‘I think that just about covers it, yeah.’

‘Anybody could have walked in on us you know,’ sensible Hermione was kicking in again.

‘If they had I would’ve Stunned them until we were finished. You can’t honestly tell me you could have stopped during all that could you?’

‘Yes, I could’ve stopped --’

Harry scoffed.

‘-- if I’d wanted to. I just didn’t want to,’ she finished.

‘Oh really? I see. Then I have a mission ahead of me.’

‘And what is that?’

He leaned back to look at her, her expression was challenging him. He smiled. One of his hands snaked down and slipped between her folds yet again, stroking slowly. Hermione let out what Harry was already learning was a rare moan.

‘To render you unstoppable,’ he answered. His smile became a grin before his lips reached for her neck again.

Much humming later, Hermione spoke again.

‘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.