Harry Potter and the Infernal Plan Part VII
by Jori
REVISED July 2003
e-mail: Jori@netroenterprises.com
Set during and after their sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione asks something of Harry that will change their lives forever.
NC-17
Spoilers for all five books. Most of this was originally written well before Order of the Phoenix came out but I decided to go back and do some edits. Some were very necessary while others were more cosmetic.
H/Hr story
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
***********
From across the kitchen, Harry watched Hermione toss ingredients into the saute pan on the stove. She looked much like she did in potions class, carefully measuring out everything before adding it, leveling it all perfectly and stirring well. She dropped in another ingredient and flinched when something in the pan splattered her.
"Damn," she said, looking at the small burn on her arm.
"Are you okay?" he asked and she jumped at the sound of his voice.
"I'm fine. I'm not very good at this," she said, sounding a little frustrated. "And you aren't supposed to be watching me. You said you were going to take a nap."
"I couldn't sleep and I'd rather be in here with you," he said, walking towards her. "It looks like you're doing great."
"I want everything to be perfect," Hermione said, looking at the recipe one more time.
"You've been brewing potions for years now. How different could this be?" he asked, leaning over her shoulder and glancing at the recipe.
"People have to eat this," she said, reaching for the salt and adding a quick dash.
"I've swallowed a few of your potions over the years . . ."
"And they have to enjoy it," Hermione said, stopping him before he could remind her that he had indeed ingested some of the more unsavory concoctions she had made in the past.
"You really are doing fine. Here, let me help. I've had to cook many meals at the Dursleys," he said, putting his arms around her. He placed his hand over hers, guiding as she stirred.
"You shouldn't have to do this. I don't want you to think you have to," she said, both of them staring down into the pan, watching it as if they were going to be graded when it was done.
"Why are you so insistent on cooking then? You don't have to do this, either," he said, as they slowly stirred, moving against each other. She pushed back slightly, her body fitting perfectly against his.
"Where's my dad?" she asked nervously.
"When I checked, he was sleeping in the garden with your copy of the Daily Prophet," Harry answered. They didn't have to worry about Mrs. Granger for she was delayed at the office with a difficult patient.
"Good. If he saw us cooking like this, I'm certain he'd gather we were more than just friends."
"You didn't answer me. Why do you think you have to do this?" he asked. Hermione's head drooped forwards as if she were embarrassed by the answer. "Hermione?"
"I want to be good at this," she said.
"You're good at most everything you do," Harry said. There were very few things Hermione didn't excel at. It was true that there wasn't much chance she'd ever predict someone's future but that didn't really matter. Harry already had enough of that. He leaned in close enough to whisper in her ear. "And there are some things you're great at."
Even without seeing her face, he knew she was blushing. "I can barely handle a broom. That's something I can't do well," Hermione said with a shrug.
"I'll teach you. When we get back to Hogwarts, I'll take you out on the Quidditch pitch," Harry said and Hermione snorted. "What?"
"You'll never let me on your broom and you know it," she said.
"Ron has used it before so I don't see why not. You can ride my broom anytime . . . what?" he asked when she continued to make funny noises.
"Viktor once volunteered to show me some moves," Hermione said and Harry stopped stirring.
"I have better moves than Viktor," Harry said, not intending to sound as jealous as he just did over some guy Hermione hadn't seen in a long while.
"Of course you do," she said but he couldn't tell if she meant it or not. Harry took his hand from over top of hers and wrapped his arms around her waist. She sighed once before finally answering his question. "This is important to me because it's for you. That's the biggest reason. And because we'll be out of school in a year and I didn't want you to think all I was capable of doing was mixing up potions and Arithmancy."
"Why would you worry about me thinking that?" he asked.
"What are your plans for when we get out of school?" Hermione asked.
"I haven't really figured that out. I thought you'd go on with your studies and I'll do something. I'm not sure I can be an Auror. My exam marks weren't that good," he said. He had no clear idea about what he was supposed to do after his schooling ended but he always assumed that if he survived his last year at Hogwarts, it would have something to do with the Order trying to bring down Voldemort. Unless he was already gone by then. Harry had put off thinking about the prophesy for so long and he certainly didn't want to start thinking about it now that he was alone with Hermione.
"Will we . . . do you think we'll be together?" she asked and it was starting to dawn on him where all this was headed.
"I can't predict the future any better than you can," he said, rocking her in his arms now.
They both stood in silence and Harry knew that the past year had been fluke. Something had to have gotten in the way of anything Voldemort planned for him and it often scared him that the one big change in his life was his present relationship with Hermione. He couldn't even begin to fathom how that could be why they didn't come after him in the past year but it had to be it. And that scared him.
"If we're together, someone will have to do the cooking," she said and Harry laughed. "Why is that so funny?"
"Because I can't picture you living a life like Mrs. Weasley. I can't picture us as the Weasleys at all with a bunch of kids and you keeping your wand tucked in the pocket of your apron," Harry said but Hermione didn't see much humor in it.
"Sometimes I think you can't picture us living a life together at all," Hermione said and he let go of her. Dropping the spoon, she turned around, looking up at him. He didn't know what to say. "Sometimes I think you're sure you won't be alive to even try."
He pulled her back into a tight embrace, neither of them caring about dinner right at that moment. "I'd like to consider it . . . I think we could . . . we'll have to see but I'd like that," he finally said and she sighed.
"I'd like that, too."
"And don't worry. I can cook. Even without magic," he said and she laughed a little.
It was then that they heard the door slam and they jumped apart. Hermione turned around to face the stove and Harry stepped back further from her. Mr. Granger came into the kitchen, tossing the Daily Prophet onto the table. Walking over towards his daughter, he smiled brightly. Looking over Hermione's shoulder in the exact same place Harry was standing just a minute ago, he looked at the recipe.
"That smells wonderful! Much better than your toast. I think it might even smell better than most of the meals your mother cooks," Mr. Granger said. Harry couldn't help but feel a slight tug at his heart as Hermione beamed with pride over the compliment from her father.
*********
Harry was busy unwrapping his last few gifts. Ron's had just arrived a few minutes ago by owl all the way from Romania. He sent him a collection of pictures from Romania along with his gift and in one photo, Ron had his arm around his new girlfriend and they kept kissing each other.
In his letter, he went on and on about her and how she was visiting Romania from Italy with her parents while they studied dragons with Charlie. Her name was Tullia and she had long, dark curls and Harry could make out silver rings on all her fingers. They matched all the hoops hanging from her ears. She was quite different than most of the girls he had ever met before (or any that Ron had ever found attractive) and that didn't pass Hermione's notice.
"She's . . . she's very . . . here, would you like to open your next present?" Hermione asked, handing him another box and moving off the topic of Ron entirely.
"Thank you!" Harry said after he opened it. She had been giving him gifts all day but this was his favorite. It was the picture that had first given them away -- the one that Colin had taken and handed over to Ron months ago -- and Hermione had it framed.
"Whatever you do, don't let my parents see it," Hermione said, looking at the photo Harry held in his hands. The image of Hermione was leaning over and kissing his image quite intently at the moment and Harry wished that the real Hermione sitting next to him would do the same thing. Unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Granger were in the next room watching the telly.
"You're going to have to tell them eventually," Harry said and Hermione frowned.
"What exactly do you want me to tell them? I'm not sure where to start," Hermione said. In the other room, her father laughed boisterously at something and they both looked in that direction as if they were pondering the question.
"There are aspects of it I would leave out for now but I think . . .when you're ready . . . you'll have to tell them I'm a little more than a friend now."
"I don't want to tell them. They'll . . . ask questions," she said, wrinkling her nose up at the thought.
"It's not as if they don't like me, Hermione. Your mum even went and bought me more presents than the Dursleys ever have. Between her and Mrs. Weasley's birthday gifts, I have enough sweaters and socks to make it through this year of school without looking like a complete slouch. Somehow, though, I think you had something to do with this one," Harry said, looking down at the shirt he had changed into before dinner. It had been in a package he opened earlier in the day and it made his eyes appear a more vivid green than ever.
"That's a good color on you," Hermione mumbled.
Harry caught the slight sound of embarrassment in her voice. It was such a 'girlfriend' thing to do, picking out clothes for him. Just like cooking dinner. Hermione Granger, topnotch student and extraordinary witch, was embarrassed that she had a tiny domesticated side to her. It wasn't that many years ago when she used to 'mother' Ron and Harry and remind them off all the rules but this was different.
"We can tell them together. Or we can just let them see this," Harry said, holding up the picture once more. "It worked with Ron."
"No, I'll tell them but not tonight. I have plans for tonight," Hermione said, a sly smile creeping onto her face. Just the thought of what those plans might be made Harry's heart pound with anticipation and he found it growing rather warm in the room. Both her parents laughed at something this time and Hermione sighed. "But first we have to wait for them to go to bed. And I have to finish in the kitchen and wash some of the dinner dishes."
"I'll help you. If you wash, I'll dry," Harry said, carefully wrapping the picture back up and putting it into its box so no one could see it.
"Oh, Harry, it's your birthday. You don't have to do that," Hermione said.
"I don't mind . . ."
"Harry . . ."
"See, if I help you do the dishes, I can stand right next to you without them ever suspecting a thing," Harry said, his voice low so the Grangers couldn't hear him in the next room.
"Hmm. That rather sounds like something I'd think up," Hermione said, smiling.
"I've been studying up on this whole planning thing of yours. Besides, if we're going to be together for a long time, I better get used to doing the dishes unless you've changed your mind about house elves and we can get one," Harry, feigning pain when Hermione punched his arm playfully.
"I'm sure there are plenty of other magical ways to do the dishes. I'll have to look into it once we return to Hogwarts," Hermione said as he followed her into the kitchen. Harry let out a heavy sigh as he looked around at all the pots and pans she used to make dinner. The kitchen was now quite the disaster area and Harry tried to remember how Mrs. Weasley dealt with all the dishes after making meals for her large family. It was so much easier with magic.
"You better do that," he said as they both surveyed the room together, trying to decide where to start. "But first, can you look up those things you talked about last night? That sounds far more interesting than any magical pot scrubbers."
*************
It was definitely moving. He wanted to reach out and touch it, to see how it could possibly be sparkling like that but something made him keep his hands down. One hand was wrapped around his wand. He was safe with his wand. He was in control with his wand.
Someone stepped in closer behind him, a familiar form, telling him to take another look. He was in the Granger's house, staring at a painting he had seen at school. It had been hanging in the room he and Hermione had once escaped to . . . how did it get here?
"Move in closer," the voice said but Harry couldn't move. He didn't want to move. His heart was racing and he was scared but he wasn't sure why. The voice demanded for him to touch it.
He had no more control over his hands then. He stepped closer and his wand clattered to the floor and he didn't bother to pick it up. Everything was sparkling now . . .
The sound of his door locking woke Harry from his dream and he sat up, startled, fumbling around for his glasses. Hermione's hand found his before he could put them on and she whispered, "Don't. You're okay. It's only me."
"What time is it?" he asked, trying to see the slightly blurry numbers on the clock.
"It's a little after eleven so it's still your birthday," she said, putting his glasses back on the bedside table.
"I'm so sorry I fell asleep. I was tired and I was having this odd dream," he said as she climbed under the covers with him, her one leg immediately wrapping around his own.
"An odd dream . . . how?" she asked, sounding rather concerned.
"Not like that. It was just strange," he answered.
"Probably from having to dry all those pots and pans," she said, resting the palm of her hand over his heart. It was still beating wildly from his dream
"That's not the only thing only thing making me tired. You do realize that after tonight, this will be the most times you and I have been together in a row . . . if my first night here counts. Does it count?" he asked and she propped herself up to look at him, her hand now moving over his chest.
"Of course it counts. Oh, I could do this every night. It's going to be so wonderful when we're older and free to do what we want to do. We can have sex constantly," Hermione said. Harry didn't even get a chance to say that sounded great before she kissed him. Her tongue parted his lips almost immediately, both of them hungry for the other. She moved on top of him and his dream and all the dishes from earlier were forgotten as he felt her body slide against his.
Pulling away from the kiss, Hermione sat up, straddling his hips. In the darkness and without his glasses, he could barely make out her face but he could tell she was smiling down at him.
"What?" he asked, reaching up to touch her cheek and to run his fingertips over her lips.
"What would you like for your birthday?" she asked and he was a little confused.
"You gave me presents all day, Hermione. What more could there be?" he asked and she shook her head.
"Don't be daft. I meant . . . what would you like in bed?" she asked, leaning forwards so that her long hair tickled him. "Anything from the book you'd like to try?"
His mind ran through the pages and pages of sexual positions and things to do to one's lover he had read about but with her body moving against his like it was, he couldn't make a decision. The only thing he knew is that he wanted to be inside of her soon.
"You had said, that with the condom and all, that you would like for me to . . . make things less dry down there?" Harry asked and Hermione let out a tiny laugh.
"Do you talk that proper when you're with just the boys?" she asked, her body still moving slowly against his. "What do you they call it when you're all standing around the changing room in your Quidditch robes looking all manly?"
"First of all, there are more girls on the team than boys so if anyone is doing any talking, it's usually them and let me tell you . . . wow. I've learned a thing or two. Besides that, I don't talk about what we've done to anyone . . .boys or girls. As for my roommates, Ron would probably have some sort of seizure if I told him more than he already knows . . . Neville, too, I imagine . . . and there isn't anyone else really. Professor Lupin knows we're better friends than we were before but I haven't told him quite how far it has progressed. So you're the only one I ever discuss any of this with which is probably for the best since you're the one I'm shagging," Harry said, grabbing her and quickly flipping her over. She nearly let out a little yelp but managed to stifle it in time.
"Yes, I am. The only one," she said, wriggling her nightgown up to her waist.
"Yes, the only one," he said even though she already knew that.
"Where are the condoms?" she asked, her voice full of dread.
"On the table but don't worry about that yet," he said, moving slowly down her body. She pulled her gown the rest of the way off as soon as she could and tossed it aside. She was naked underneath him and his first stop on his way to his final destination was her breasts. He placed little kisses across each one before pulling a nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling and feeling it grow harder. Her fingers tangled into his hair, holding him there as she softly moaned in pleasure.
Moving further down, he ignored her protests as he pulled away from her breasts. His mouth moved down her stomach and over her belly button, leaving behind little kisses wherever he went. Finally, he slid between her parted thighs, hearing her gasp as his tongue touched just the right spot. She hadn't pulled her hands free from his hair and with them, she pushed him closer, her body thrusting up against his mouth.
His tongue flicked quickly against her clitoris and like he did the other night, he slipped his fingers inside of her, feeling how tight and hot she was. There were things he had read about . . . other things he could do to her . . . but judging from Hermione's moans, he was doing the right thing now. It was then, quite by accident, he pressed up with his fingers and her hands flew from his hair to clutch the bedsheets.
"Yes . . . don't stop . . . " she said, nearly purring the words, and he didn't stop but instead did everything a little faster and a little harder. Now she was grinding against him, continuing to beg for more. She was wet against his face and he knew it wouldn't be like last night. They rushed into that. This would be so much better.
He sucked and gently bit at her until it was enough for her to come, which she did harder then he ever remembered her doing before. Waves of pleasure danced over her body for a long time and he pulled back to watch. Slowly, he crawled back up her body, leaving tons of kisses along the way.
After he settled between her thighs, she pushed his pajama bottoms down as far as she could and he kicked them the rest of the way off, losing them in the sheets. Before he could even fathom what was happening, her hand moved between their bodies, guiding him to her sex.
"Hermione . . ."
"I've counted and calculated and have it all worked out. It will be okay if you pull out in time," she said and as he eased into her. Her eyes closed and she sighed and there was nothing more that he wanted than to believe her.
As Hermione wrapped her legs high around his waist, allowing him to sink in impossibly deep, Harry did some more calculations of his own. Nine months and they'd still be in school. They'd nearly be finished with their final year but not quite. Not quite but close enough. Yes, close enough.
Besides, he still had plenty of money in the bank and just because he usually had no clue as to what he was going to do after school, there were plenty of things that he could do. Things like professional Quidditch where he'd have plenty of money. Teams already wanted him and if need be, that's what he would do . . .
None of that really mattered anyway. He had enough control and could stop in time. From under him, Hermione was matching him thrust for thrust and when she opened her eyes to stare up at him, his heart started to pound. She had never before looked at him with so much . . . need . . . trust . . . longing. He wasn't sure how to describe it but he knew was he didn't want her to ever not need him.
Her fingers clutched his arms, her nails digging into his skin causing one more sensation to swirl around his brain. She let go, her hands now traveling slowly down his back, drawing little circles as they moved downwards. The room was hot, their bodies sticking together whenever he pulled away even with the sheets and blankets now kicked off the bed. His hair was damp and kept falling into his eyes and he wished she'd push it out of the way.
Hermione was so responsive as compared to the night before and that combined with the sound she made every time he pushed into her was . . . it was way too much. Too much. Too soon. He couldn't stop it. He tried to pull out but wasn't sure if he made it in time. Gasping for air, he felt all his muscles spasm as he came hard, not able to move any further away from her. It wasn't long before all the cobwebs began to clear from his brain and he realized that Hermione was completely still underneath him.
He moved away, knowing it was too late to do anything about it. Rolling over on his back, he let out a heavy sigh, covering his eyes with his arm so he wouldn't have to face her.
"We shouldn't have done that."
"No, we shouldn't have but it will be okay," she said again, not sounding as sure as she did before. She moved away from him long enough to cover them both up with the blankets. "You pulled out in time, right? Right, Harry?"
"Even if I didn't . . . it will be okay. We'll be okay. I've got enough money to take care of us and if I play Quidditch, you can continue on with school and . . . oh, bloody hell! Why am I worrying already?" he asked and she let out a short laugh.
"Maybe because deep down inside, it's something we both want," she said and he pulled his arm away to look at her. "You want the family you never had and I want . . . you."
"If nothing happens, I think that it would be best if we wait until we're out of school before we make such major decisions, don't you?" he asked and she nodded. Hermione snuggled in close as he wrapped her up in his arms. "You have years of education ahead of you, Hermione, and I don't know what's ahead of me. I don't want to ruin your life."
"You're right . . . it was a foolish thing to do. But you could never ruin my life, Harry, because everything we have done, we've done together. Besides, I'm not worried," she said more confidently. He wouldn't be worried either except things always happened to him.
"If something does happen, at least it will be a birthday to remember," Harry said with a sigh.
"Please don't let this ruin the rest of our time together," she said, sliding one of her hands up and placing it on his cheek. "It's short enough as it is. One more day and then I have to wait a month to see you. I'm not sure I'll be able to stand it."
"How do you think I feel? I have to go back to the Dursleys. You don't know how much it means to me that your parents let me stay here even for a few days. You can't even begin to imagine how bad it is there. I see your life and how you got to grow up and it makes me hate them even more," Harry said sadly.
"You won't have to go back again after this. School will be over next year and you won't have to ever spend another summer there," Hermione said and the thought made Harry smile. They both stayed wrapped up like that for quite a while until finally Hermione slipped out of his arms and pulled her nightgown back on.
"I wish you could stay here in bed with me tonight," he said, knowing that wasn't anymore possible tonight than it was any other night.
"We have a lot to do tomorrow so you need to get some rest," said Hermione, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"What do we have to do tomorrow?"
"You and I are going to the library in town so I can do research for my one paper. I need to find out about Muggles and their . . ." she said and Harry couldn't help smiling. "What?"
"Hermione, one of these days I'm going to figure out why you of all people have to leave your Muggle home to go to the Muggle library to find out anything about Muggles," he said and she crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the same look she had given him for years whenever he made a comment about her schoolwork.
"Because I want it to be perfect. Besides, this way you can work on your assignments without worrying about your uncle catching you," she said, leaning in to kiss him goodnight. He grabbed one of her hands and held it tight.
"I love you," he whispered when she moved away.
"We'll see if you still feel that way after I make you finish your charms homework," she said, slowing getting up from the bed, her hand slipping from his.
"I will," he said. He missed her touch already.
"Happy birthday," she said for the hundredth time that day. "I hope it was great."
Hermione slipped out the door, pulling it shut behind her. He grabbed the pillow she had been resting on and hugged it tight, breathing in the scent of her that still lingered on it.
"Oh, it was great," he mumbled to himself as he struggled to fall back to sleep.
******************
Hours passed by slowly and he couldn't stop tossing and turning in his bed. He was trying not to worry about things he couldn't change. There were too many of those things in his life already without worrying about what happened between Hermione and him tonight.
He was more concerned about was why either of them had let it happen. They weren't ready for such things. Hermione had too much to do with her life that wouldn't necessarily involve him. She was so clever and good at what she did and he didn't want to tie her down to something she thought she wanted during a momentary lapse of good judgment. That's all it was. A momentary lapse. Just the two of them being stupid teenagers. No one should have to pay forever for that, right?
Harry wondered when his parents knew they were going to be together for the rest of their lives, however long that might be? How did they decide that they were ready to get married and have a baby? They looked so young in the pictures. He needed to ask Remus Lupin when he got the chance. With all he had learned about his parents in the last few years, there was still so much he wished he knew. He also decided it was time to tell his godfather more about his relationship with Hermione if only to protect her. If something happened, at least someone would have a clue as to why.
He loved Hermione and there was no denying that but could this last forever? Did she even really want it to or did she get caught up with him being here and playing house for a few days? He thought he knew how she felt but everything could change so quickly.
Pulling a pillow over his head, he counted the many ways their relationship could come to an abrupt end. Her parents could find out and ban them from ever seeing each other again -- or worse. Or the Dursleys could find out he was having sex with anyone and lock him up in the cupboard. Professor McGonagall would certainly feel that he was ruining Hermione's chances at a brilliant career and probably expel him the first chance she got.
Then there was the big one -- he could quite possibly get killed any day now and never see it coming. That would definitely slow down the relationship. Harry wasn't even sure it would necessarily be Voldemort bringing about his demise. Drew Rowntree would probably like to see him dead, too.
He tossed around more, throwing the covers off and then pulling them back on again. Hedwig hooted softly from the corner and Harry lifted his head to look at his owl who was focusing in on him with her big, bright eyes. He had completely forgotten she was there earlier when they were having sex. How embarrassing. He should have sent her off for the night but Hermione coming to his room wasn't really in the plans. A lot of things weren't in his plans.
His owl looked restlessly towards the window and Harry sat up, turning on the light at the side of the bed. "Would you like some exercise?" he asked, digging his pajama bottoms from out of the blankets and tugging them back on. "I really should write Professor Lupin and let him know where I am and what I've been doing."
Hedwig hooted again, this time with indignation.
"No . . . I don't think I should tell him about that in a letter. You weren't supposed to see that and I apologize. It won't happen again," said Harry, getting up to dig through his bag, looking for his writing supplies. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began his letter to Professor Lupin. Since Sirius died, he had grown a little closer to Lupin but it still wasn't the same. Most of the effort was put forth by Lupin and not Harry and sometimes he got tired of him trying so hard to replace someone he could not.
Dear Professor Lupin -
I wanted to let you know that I have been away at the Granger's house (Hermione's parents) over my birthday. It was nice to get away from the Dursleys and I can't wait until next summer when I no longer will have to return there. I would like to ask you a few things concerning my parents once I get back to Hogwarts. Nothing too important -- just a few questions I've been thinking about. Also, I've had a few unusual dreams lately but since my scar has remained pain free, I'm certain it's nothing to worry about. I think Hermione's Muggle ex-boyfriend is a bigger threat than anyone else. I'm positive he hates me. If you hear about some boy named Andrew Rowntree on the run from the law, you'll know why.
Hope you are well,
Harry
He sealed up the letter in an envelope and gave it to Hedwig who looked all too happy to get out of this room. He opened up the window, reminded her that he was returning to the Dursleys soon and then watched his owl take flight, heading off to wherever Professor Lupin might be this time. Hedwig never had trouble finding him no matter where he might be.
After putting away his supplies, he climbed back into his bed, hoping that he would eventually drift off to sleep.
******************
Hearing the latch on the door click shut, Harry wiped the water out of his eyes and pulled back the shower curtain to see what was going on. He found Hermione standing there, a coy look on her face. He had been enjoying his showers at the Granger's immensely since all they had at the Dursley's was some old tub that Aunt Petunia demanded she must have. It was small and he often wondered how Dudley, or Uncle Vernon for that matter, fit into it at all but that image flitting around his head just hurt too much to focus on for long.
"I did lock that, didn't I?" Harry asked, pushing his wet hair off of his face and away from his eyes. He was very tired this morning so there was a good chance he didn't remember to lock it at all.
"Yes."
"You didn't . . . you didn't use magic to open it, did you?" he asked, squinting and looking around for her wand. She made a clucking noise with her tongue and dropped her bathrobe to the floor.
"Do you see my wand anywhere?" she asked, stepping into the shower spray with him.
"No . . . er . . . "
"Is it possible that I know how to pick the locks in my own house?" she asked.
"Quite possible . . . what are you doing?" he asked.
"Taking a shower," she answered as if it should have been quite obvious what she was doing which he guessed it was.
"I meant . . . where are your parents?" he asked, a lump rising to his throat as she took the bar of soap and began lathering him up.
"Mum has been at work since early this morning and Dad just got called in for an emergency. He shouldn't be home for hours," Hermione answered, turning them around so she was now standing under the water. He looked down at a soapy hand wrapped around his growing erection and at what she was doing to him. It didn't take long until he was completely hard under her slick touch and she put the bar of soap away without stopping.
"I've thought about it a lot and we can't do it again like last night . . . once was bad enough. I mean, it was good but . . . ohh . . ." he said with a sigh, determined to stick with that decision no matter what. If her parents were gone, they could go to his room and get a condom. They could do whatever they wanted.
"Don't worry . . . I've been thinking, too . . ."
"Hermione . . ."
"I said don't worry. I have other plans for you."
With that, she stepped to the side and the water rinsed the soap from his body. She gave him a little push backwards out of the direct spray of the water and before he could say a word, she sunk down to her knees. She looked up at him one last time, little droplets of water hanging from her eyelashes, before taking him into her mouth.
His hands flew out to the slippery tile wall behind him to hold himself up and he moaned loudly as she wrapped her lips around him. Her tongue flicking against the tip and it was such an amazing feeling that he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. When he was sure his legs wouldn't give out, he moved a hand away from the wall and tangled his fingers into her wet hair.
"That really is amazing," he said and she continued to slide her mouth over him, her tongue continually moving, her hand holding tightly to the base. He closed his eyes and let the sensation of her mouth and the hot water and the steam folding in around them wash over him. It didn't take long and his legs began to buckle underneath him and he had to hold onto the wall again. She began to move faster and he forced his eyes open to watch her. He could feel everything tighten inside of him and he knew that it wouldn't take much more . . .
Right then, Hermione turned her eyes up towards him and that, as always, was enough. He tried to pull completely away at the last second but just like last night, he couldn't. He started to come and she moved away, spitting out what was already in her mouth. The rest ended up on her face and in his hands as he tried to cover himself.
"Sorry . . ."
"Sorry . . ."
They said it at the same time and ended up laughing. He helped her up and she rinsed out her mouth with the shower water. He rinsed off, too, and they stood there under the water, both with a silly grins.
"Want me to wash your hair?" Harry asked and Hermione gave him a look of doubt that he could do it right.
"You won't get too much soap in my eyes, will you?" she asked and that brought back horrible memories of when he was small and Aunt Petunia used to carelessly bathe him, dumping water over his head without concern over where the soap might end up. He used to cry and scream and that just made her more impatient about the whole thing. She never did that to Dudley. Aunt Petunia always had Dudley hold a washcloth over his eyes as she gently poured the water over his soapy hair, all the while telling him how much he looked like a baby angel.
"No, I won't let that happen," he said, reaching for the washcloth hanging behind her. "Hold this over your eyes. Now tip your head back . . ."
He moved around her, figured out which one was her shampoo (he knew the scent of it quite well) and made a nice lather. She moaned softly, sounding quite content as he massaged her scalp and ran his fingers carefully through her long hair, untangling it as he went.
He moved her further into the water, tilting her head just right so the water would rinse out the soap without getting any in her eyes. When it was done, she pulled the washcloth away and turned to him.
"How was that?" he asked, wiping a tiny bit of soap off of her cheek with the edge of his thumb.
"That was very nice. You're going to make an incredible father someday. You'll be in charge of bath time," she said, her hand going up to ruffle his unruly wet hair. She must have noticed the look on his face because she quickly added, "But we won't have to worry about that for a very long time."
"Or some time next April," he said. She didn't say anything about that but instead wiggled around him and turned off the water. It was beginning to grow cold anyway.
She handed him a towel and then grabbed her own, drying off before stepping out of the shower and pulling on her robe. Harry wrapped the towel around his waist and just stood there, watching her eyes slowly travel over him. "We really should get to the library."
"We really should. How long until your parents get home?" he asked, feeling a twinge in his groin just from her stare. It was one of those times he was quite thankful he was so young.
"A couple of hours, I hope. How long until you can . . . you know?" she asked, motioning towards his towel.
"Not long," he said, glancing down. No, judging from the way things looked now, she wouldn't have to wait long at all.
"Good," she said, opening the door and checking the hallway. The only thing out there was Crookshanks, who meowed at her and looked at Harry with narrowed, unhappy cat eyes. Hermione turned around, grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him towards her bedroom. He barely had time to grab his glasses and shove them on his nose.
"What about protection? Everything is hidden in my room," he said rather breathlessly as she pushed him into her room with a gentle shove.
"I'm way ahead of you. I already got them so this time, we have nothing to worry about. Nothing at all," Hermione said, closing her door and locking it before she dropped her robe to the floor. Harry watched her walk across the room and climb into her bed, holding the blankets up for him.
"Are you waiting for a proper invitation?" she asked.
"No . . .er . . . I was just looking at you. You're so pretty," he said, cocking his head to the side as his eyes wandered over her body. Hermione blushed and put the blankets back down.
"You're not so bad yourself. Now please come over here before my parents get home and we have to somehow explain this," she said. He did as he was told, dropping his towel on her floor along the way. Allowing him under the blankets, she slid over, giving him room.
"Is that --" but before he could get his sentence out, she was kissing him. Her tongue moved past his lips and darted around his mouth. He returned the kiss, his hands exploring her body, slowly moving towards her breasts.
"I haven't kissed you yet today," she said, pulling away for air.
"No, not in a traditional way," he said and she blushed.
"Did you like it?" she asked.
"Which part? The part where you broke into the bath or the part where you went --"
"All of it," she said.
"You have to ask?" With that, he took her hand in his and moved it down to where he was growing terribly hard again already. She cocked an eyebrow before she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him until he had to pull away. "Be careful. I'm not sure if I can do this three times in an hour."
"Someday, we'll have to find out," Hermione said, rolling over to get the box of condoms from her table. She took one out and was ready to tear it open when Harry stopped her.
"I'll do it," he said, taking it from her hand and opening it. He kicked the blankets away so he could see what he was doing and she watched.
"When did you figure that out?" Hermione asked as he unrolled the condom down over his erection properly.
"Last night . . . alone in my room before you came in. I wanted to be ready and know how," he said, blushing a little about the fact that he had to use one to figure it out while all she had to do was read the box.
They turned to face each other and she put her leg over his hip. Her hand went between them as she guided him and he pushed in slowly, watching her face to see if he was hurting her at all.
"This isn't so bad," she said as he pushed all the way in. "Just takes a little getting used to. That's all. I was afraid maybe I was allergic to the things."
"It's not bad at all," he somehow managed to say even though his words sounded slightly strangled. Everything slowed down around him as his brain got lost in the sensation of Hermione beside him and around him. He had to remind himself that he needed to touch her and make it feel just as good for her as it did for him. She sucked in a quick breath of air when he touched her and released it as a long sigh.
Harry didn't know if it was because this was the first time they had ever truly been alone (without even the possibility of a ghost catching them) since they first had done this, but this time Hermione was louder than she had ever been before. She moaned in pleasure as he moved inside of her and cried out his name when he shifted them so he was on his knees with her legs pressed towards her. Her fingers were digging into the sheets, clutching at them.
"Do you like it like this?" he asked and she answered with a moan. He was slamming into her so hard now that her headboard was hitting the wall. She put a hand up to still it but before she could, he grabbed her hand and pulled it down. She fell silent for just a moment and then touched herself like he wanted her to. It wasn't long before she was crying out all sorts of nonsense punctuated occasionally with his name.
They had only done it this rough once before, back at school, but they had been angry at each other that time. This was so much better now.
"Close . . . I'm so close. Oh . . . yeah, Harry . . . move faster," she said and he complied willingly. Her fingers were moving faster, too, and it wasn't long before she was writhing in pleasure and the sounds she made . . . they were almost enough . . . they would have been enough if she didn't do that to him in the shower. He watched as she stopped moving and smiled up at him.
"Was that good?" he managed to ask but she didn't answer his question.
"Are you close?" she asked instead as he kept up his pace, hoping he wasn't hurting her at all. He must not have been, because she moved her legs around until they were over his shoulders and he was in deeper than he could have imagined. He thrust into her a few more times before she clutched all her inner muscles tightly around him and it was more than enough. He was more than close. He was there.
She pulled her legs down and he fell against her, unable to catch his breath. She held him tight and he willed his racing heart to slow down because at this rate, it felt like it might burst. Soon, they both were breathing somewhat normally and he pushed up to look at Hermione.
They had still been wet from the shower when they got into bed but now they were both covered with sweat and his bangs kept falling into his eyes and her hair was a tangled mess.
"We need another bath," she said, shoving the hair out of his eyes.
"I'm afraid if we do that together, we'll just end up here again," he said and she raised an eyebrow at him.
"I thought you said you weren't up to three times?" she asked, smirking at him.
"No, not right at this moment," he said, reaching between them and holding onto the condom as he pulled out. He really didn't want any more 'accidents' to happen during this visit. "But I promise you by tonight, I'll be ready."
She turned her head towards the window and sighed. "I can't believe you have to leave soon."
He reached out and touched her cheek and she turned back to look at him. "We'll be back at school in just a few weeks. With this time together, I think I'll be able to bear life a little longer at the Dursleys. You've given me plenty to, um, think about."
"And I can start planning for when we see each other again. That will give me something to do," Hermione said, pulling him down for a long, lingering kiss. When they parted she gave him a gentle push and he rolled off of her. "But now, we have to get to the library. I really do have to study, Harry."
She rose from the bed and began to find her clothes, stopping for a moment to gasp at the sight of her hair in the mirror. Harry didn't care. He thought she looked wonderful and wished they were done with the library already so they could be back here together in her bed.
**************
The Muggle library wasn't much more exciting than the one at Hogwarts. Hermione sat across the table, a stack of books piled up on either side of her. She occasionally looked up and smiled at Harry but most of her time was spent scribbling notes about what she discovered in the books.
Harry was still mystified at how she could possibly need a book to explain Muggles or even why, since she dropped Muggle studies years ago, but he knew Hermione well enough to let her do it her own way. She shut a book on air travel and put it aside as she picked one up on electricity.
"Why don't you work on your homework?" she whispered and Harry shrugged.
"I'd rather watch you," he said and she blushed, placing the large book in front of her face. "What? You're suddenly embarrassed to have me watch you? You didn't seem to mind me watching you earlier . . . ouch! What did you have to go and do that for!"
She kicked his leg under the table before he could go further. He moved his chair back and pretended to go about attending to his wounded shin.
"Study something," she said from behind her book. "The sooner you stop bothering me, the sooner I can finish and we can get out of here."
Harry doubted that she would really be done anytime soon. He picked up one of the textbooks Hermione had lent him, opened it and hid the cover from anyone's prying eyes. No need to let the whole town know that he was studying charms. Or at least pretending to study charms.
He couldn't focus on the words before him and Hermione was beginning to look quite irritated at all the shuffling around he was doing. Closing the book, he stood up and pushed in his chair.
"Where are you going?" Hermione asked and Harry looked around the small library.
"I don't know. I just want get up and stretch a bit. Maybe take a look around . . ."
"And avoid your homework?"
"Yes, and avoid my homework. I'll be back in a few minutes and I promise I'll work on it then," he said and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
Harry left her reading her books (and looking quite happy to be doing so) as he began to wander around the stacks. It wasn't a very big library and most of the people sitting about reading books were rather elderly. A group of people about his age were huddled around a table, the girls giggling about something while the boys were trying hard to look cool. They all turned to look at him and Harry quickly brushed his bangs over his scar before he remembered he didn't have to. They would have no clue who he was. They might know Hermione but he doubted it. They didn't look like they spent the entire summer with their noses pressed in books.
He walked past them toward a small room at the back of the library and the girls all whispered something and started giggling again. Harry slipped out of their view and went about looking around the room. Books were haphazardly stacked everywhere, most of them so old their bindings were falling off. Obviously, they didn't have Madam Pince working here, making sure everything was repaired and in good order. Of course, they also didn't have magic to help repair them.
Harry also noticed that this seemed to be the room for discarded artwork. It reminded him of the one room at Hogwarts where he and Hermione would meet secretly except none of the people in these paintings ever moved and the statues weren't of old men dressed in robes with pointy hats. Instead, they were some sort of abstract thing probably done by some local artist years and years ago. Perhaps that's why they were relegated to the back room.
One painting did capture his attention. It seemed so familiar and he walked towards it, wondering where he might have seen it before. There was so much art at Hogwarts but none of those paintings would ever be hanging in a Muggle library. But still . . . he was sure he had seen it or at least something like it before. Stepping closer, he was quite sure he saw something on the canvas flutter. Or maybe spark. That couldn't be possible because even the ones at Hogwarts stopped moving before the end of the term and no one had figured out how to fix them.
"Isn't it nice?" someone asked from behind him and he turned around quickly to find Drew standing at the door.
"Oh, it's you," Harry said before turning around to face the painting again. He would rather look at that than at Hermione's ex-boyfriend.
"My mum painted just a few years ago and donated it to the library recently. They obviously don't like it much," Drew just said and Harry nodded. He wasn't sure what to say. The painting wasn't exactly something one would compliment. It was a sea of browns and golds and had no real . . . point.
"It's . . . it's interesting," Harry managed to stammer, hoping that Drew wouldn't want to discuss if further and would just go away. A few seconds passed and Harry realized he wasn't going anywhere.
"She painted a few others. They're all around town and some are even in other parts of the country. I think the Grangers even have one of her paintings in their house . . . since Hermione wouldn't accept it as a gift when I sent it to her . . . she tried to send it back right away but her mum decided to keep it instead. Unfortunately, Hermione never did invite me in while you were there. Most aren't stuck in some back room like this one. Of course, having it here makes it easier since you and I are technically alone," Drew said and now Harry was quite puzzled.
"Easier to do what?" he asked.
"It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did," Drew said instead of answering Harry's question. "You got in the way of all the plans."
"What plans?" Harry asked, not sure exactly what was going on. He did get in the way of Drew and Hermione being together but that wasn't his fault. It just happened.
"I was supposed to meet Hermione. I was to make her to like me early last summer but it took her the whole summer to even notice me considering she always was reading a book or scribbling out notes. I was to talk her into meeting you last summer. We were supposed to become friends a long time before now. . . "
"I wouldn't say we're friends now . . ." Harry interrupted but Drew kept going on.
"Instead, the two of you somehow ended up together and all the plans had to be delayed. Delayed until today, that is. I have never felt luckier than I did watching the two of you come into the library together," Drew said, coming closer. Harry was certain that he was right behind him. He could feel anger rolling off of him and he knew Drew was trying hard to fight it.
"And what was supposed to happen then? What's supposed to happen now?" Harry asked, taking a step forward and away from Drew. He was now so close to the painting that he could see the small and careful brush strokes that went into making it. He also noticed that it wasn't quite the same shade of brown and gold that it was when he first looked at it. It was looking more like the painting in the empty room at Hogwarts. They were nearly identical now.
"It was the least I could do, considering I turned out to be a Squib and not a world famous wizard like yourself," Drew said and Harry froze.
How could Drew know about what he was? And he was a Squib . . . making Drew's parents wizards? He didn't meet Hermione by accident? What was the least he could do? So many questions were flying around Harry's brain and he didn't know what was happening.
"Drew, I don't know what you know about me or how you found out but I didn't mean to come between you and Hermione. . ."
"This really has nothing to do with that," Drew said from so close behind him that Harry could feel his breath close to his ear. "She was just a way to get to you."
"I'm here now. What do you want from me?" Harry asked. Something inside him was whispering that he should turn around and run out of here but he needed to know more. He had to find out if any of this involved Hermione and if she was in danger.
"Move closer," Drew said and Harry instinctively reached for his wand. It wasn't with him or at least not on him. It was in his book bag that was sitting at Hermione's table. He thought that would be close enough if something happened. He had no plans of wandering into Hermione's ex-boyfriend or of having him turn out to be anything more than that. Drew noticed Harry patting down his jacket and smiled. "You don't have it with you? This will be easier than I thought."
"I'm not moving any closer to that thing until you tell me what's going on," Harry demanded.
"My mum is not only a brilliant artist but also an amazing witch. She spent much of her time at Hogwarts studying their extensive art collection and what exactly made them tick," Drew said, stepping even closer to Harry, forcing him to move closer to the painting.
Harry tried to remember if that if in all his years at Hogwarts he had ever heard of the name Rowntree before but he was drawing a blank. Perhaps his father went somewhere else. He didn't know of all of the schools of witchcraft and wizardry there were in the world so it was quite possible he could have gone anywhere.
"So, she's the one responsible for what happened to the paintings at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.
"Not entirely," Drew said. Harry was trying to listen and devise a way to get past Drew and back to Hermione. Every direction he moved in, Drew was right there with him. He knew he was capable of doing things without his wand but he didn't have that much control over it and there was that whole underage . . . wait. He was no longer underage. No one could ever get him on that again.
If it came right down to it, he'd just scream. This place was so small that everyone would come running.
"Then who is?" Harry would keep asking questions so he could think of something or until Hermione would come looking for him. Damn her and her studies. It could be hours before she would even notice he was gone.
"My father was always fascinated with the dark arts. Having lived in Australia, he was always disappointed that he was so far away from the rise of the Dark Lord all those years ago but he's here for his return to greatness. The only thing he was ever more disappointed in . . . was me," said Drew solemnly. Harry struggled to remember every word he ever heard Hermione mention about Drew when he was her boyfriend but most of those conversations were only shared with Ginny. After a certain point, he didn't want to hear them.
"I'm sure that's not true," Harry said, trying to say anything.
"Do you know what it's like to have people hate what you are? Hate you for something you can't fix or that you have no control over?" Drew asked.
"Yes," Harry answered truthfully.
"Do you know what it's like when it's your own father? Of course not. Your parents loved you so much they were willing to die for you."
"Drew, listen, I'm really sorry that you feel . . . "
"But now I have the chance to redeem myself in his eyes. It has taken me a year and my day has finally come. I'm going to be the one to ensnare Harry Potter. My mother and I have spent so long devising this plan in the hopes of making it work just right. Over this past year, we've had a few problems but I think they're solved now. We just had to silence all those other people running around the portraits before any of them could open their gobs," Drew said.
"You turned off the portraits? How?" Harry asked, coming up with more questions. Drew was like most of them that aspired to be evil. They liked to talk about it instead of just do it and keep quiet.
"Haven't you been listening? I can't do a thing. All I could do is get you in the right place at the right time and I've done that."
"I think you're making a big mistake. I do know what it's like to have people hate you for what you are. I know it very well and I think . . . er . . . well, Hermione has always spoken well of you and she really likes you. She's a powerful and clever witch, Drew, and you don't want to cross paths with her," Harry said, saying Hermione's name louder than the rest of his words. Too bad his clever witch of a girlfriend couldn't get her nose out of a book long enough to come in here. "Hermione would be very angry . . ."
"That's enough of that!" Drew said, an quick flash of rage crossing his face. "Soon, everyone will know my name, not yours. My father will be rewarded by the Dark Lord for finally ridding the world of you and he will be pleased with me. All you have to do is move closer . . ."
Harry didn't get a chance to step back willingly. As soon as he opened his mouth to cry out for Hermione, Drew shoved him into the painting behind him. Drew had a pained look on his face and his hand crackled with an unnatural green energy that Harry knew the Squib boy couldn't have produced himself. It had to have come from him but it didn't matter. It was too late.
There was a strange tug, and it wasn't unlike using a portkey. He thought at first that was perhaps what the picture was and he panicked, knowing what happened the last time he had been sent somewhere against his will by a portkey. He had just finished calling out Hermione's name when he realized that it wasn't a portkey at all. No, he had nothing in his hands when he hit the ground. It took him a moment to adjust as he tried to stand up but he kept falling down. Whatever was under him was soft and he wasn't sure what was going on.
All he was certain of was that he was alone now and surrounded by blinding white light.
*************
To Be Continued . . .