Chapter 7: Friday
*Warning* This chapter contains graphic sexual content which justifies the otherwise curious R-rating I have given it. Do not read ahead if such explicit acts of love offend you.
Warm. Warmth. Softeness. A thrilling hint of moisture. Harry stood, after the quick chill strike of adrenaline deep in his sides, after his brain went numb, with his arms wound around the sweet thinness of Hermione's back. Their lips were pressed together for what seemed a timeless moment of existence. Her fingers traced gently up his neck and through his unruly black hair, sending shocks through his shoulders. As the numbness faded slowly from Harry's mind, he found that his hands were automatically stroking Hermione's shoulders . . . and the kiss lingered. Her lips were so small and soft yet they covered his mouth perfectly, and with each tiny movement of those two petals against his, a deep and strengthening longing was forming were the electricity of their touch traveled through his core and nestled below his navel. Harry had kissed a girl once before-or rather was kissed-and though pleasant, he realized that this kiss had brought with it something more, a feeling new yet ancient that held the promise of secret knowledge and fulfilling desire.
A part of that secret knowledge was forming into a tight ball in his lower stomach and arousing Harry so thoroughly that embarrassment clouded his mind for a moment as he concentrated with worry on their hips-an erection was blooming uncontrollably and threatening obvious discovery. Harry pulled away, the subtle stickiness of their lips as they parted exciting him even more. Their arms unraveled around from each other mechanically and he only now realized his eyes were closed-never did a sensation make the common darkness found behind his eyelids seem so bright with color. Hermione too had just opened her eyes, slowly, and with her lips just slightly parted. Her cheeks were flushed and she sighed deeply as full awareness struck her face.
"Harry…"
"I'm sorry…" Harry said, flushing both with excitement and humiliation.
"What?" Hermione replied, looking suddenly perplexed.
Harry fumbled with his pants. His hands shot into his jean pockets and he tried to be as quick and nonchalant as possible as he rearranged his aching hardness to look less conspicuous. He was thankful that his shirt was at least untucked and acting as a visual blocker.
Hermione looked down without a word, curious as to the source of Harry's frustration, then looked back up into his face, the ghost of a smile borne on her soft lips. She stood for a moment, considering, thinking, as Harry stopped messing with his pants. Then with a look of cool determination and control, a look Harry had seen countless times, Hermione walked around Harry toward her CD player, picked up a music CD Harry didn't recognize and placed it in her player. When she pressed play, soothing yet sensual music alive with violins and chantings resounded through her room. She adjusted the volume to a somewhat low, comfortable level and walked over to the edge of her bed where she sat down. She was smiling to herself.
Hermione looked up at Harry, still smiling. With a determined look she said, "Harry, I want you to give me a massage."
"What?" said Harry, feeling suddenly disoriented.
"I want you to give me a massage," she repeated resolutely.
"What…what just happened?"
"Come on, it's not hard." Hermione turned slightly and patted the spot of the comforter next to her. With her left eyebrow raise, she said "I'm sure you're very good."
Harry sat down, suddenly trembling as his nerves gave out. What happened to the confidence that held him so securely only a few minutes before? They were kissing and tickling; now suddenly he felt very insecure. Hermione pulled the brown mass of her hair around to her front, exposing her thin shoulders clothed partially by her shirt. Harry sighed deeply, wondering what happened to himself and began rubbing along the gentle slope of Hermione's shoulders. His fingers slid down her back and rubbed in slow circles around her shoulder blades.
Did she get embarrassed too? No, she seemed so calm and assured. She put on music.
Hermione gave sudden moans of approval as Harry's hands worked and the pulsing in his pants grew more frantic.
"A little softer," she said.
"S-sorry."
"It's okay. It feels really good," her sentence faded into a purr.
Every now and then Harry would accidentally fumble with her shirt collar, pulling it down too much or bunching it up at the neck. His cheeks grew red with frustration whenever this happened, but Hermione never acted concerned. In fact, that constant smile of hers grew more pronounced as time passed and Harry's fingers faltered.
Finally, Hermione spoke up. "Here," she said as she reached for the hem of her shirt and quickly, deftly, brought her top over her head and off her body. "This may make things easier."
Harry paused. Now he was facing her otherwise naked back covered by the sharp white contrast of her bra strap.
"What's wrong," Hermione said, laughter playing at the back of her throat.
"Um . . . nothing," Harry said, exhilaration and fear building in his muscles.
"You've seen me in my bikini. This isn't any different, right?"
"Right," Harry said curtly and placed his palms back on her shoulders. But it was different. Though Hermione was still technically more clothed now in a bra and jeans, it somehow felt more intimate and private. Maybe the fact that they were on her bed was part of the reason, or that bras held a special taboo, being an undergarment and all. Harry didn't care to speculate on it much, he was too enraptured in the smooth touch of Hermione's back. The perfect symmetry of her figure made him ache as he pressed and squeezed at her muscles and shoulders. With every sound she emitted he found his lips straining to trace down the back of her neck. He controlled himself, but after a while he resorted to tracing invisible shapes lightly over her neck and back with his fingertips, and she grew all the more complimentary for that. Harry closed his eyes, focusing on the wonderful feel of her skin. On their own volition his fingers wound their way beneath her shoulder straps.
"They're in the way aren't they?" Hermione suddenly said clearly.
"What?" Harry opened his eyes, jarred from the touch and the sensual music flowing over him.
My bra?" She replied, a vague tremble in her voice.
"What?" His mind went blank. What . . . ?
"Here . . ." Hermione reached her hands around to her back, and with the deftness of someone accustomed to this action daily, she released the taught clip of her bra with a flick of her wrist. Harry watched transfixed, excited, afraid as she brought her arms forward and the straps floated down her arms, the bra soon off and discarded on the floor by her bed. He now starred at her bare back, completely aware of the equal bareness of her chest hiding just out of eyesight.
Hermione turned her head to peer at Harry out of the corner of her eye, and said, "There. Now there's nothing to fumble with." Her voice trembled slightly stronger now. "No clothes anyway."
"Hermione . . ." Harry could hardly even say her name. His chest was so tight with want he felt that he would burst.
"Actually," now she was whispering. "I think I've had enough massaging."
Hermione turned around and faced Harry. Her cheeks and neck were flushed and her brow furled in worry. Harry looked her in the eyes, struggling desperately to keep from looking down, though he could still see the small red blurs of her nipples just on the edge of his peripheral vision. He was sweating now and his desire boiled in his belly. Hermione drew a deep breath and leaned forward, kissing Harry rough on the mouth, her jaw slightly shaking. Harry's brain went numb once more as his arms groped around Hermione's back to hold her. She was shaking, he needed to comfort her, hold her, keep her. Perhaps she was as scared as he?
They kissed more passionately now, their lips widening and their breath mingling. Each press of her lips renewed the ache in his belly and sent shivers blazing down his spine and through his limbs. For a moment Harry thought he felt the fleeting wetness of her tongue graze against his, but that thought was lost when she swiftly brought her hand back to grab his wrist and placed his palm over her right breast. Both of them jolted where they sat. The shiver that had settled in Harry's back flared up again and he widened his eyes staring into Hermione's own.
He broke away, breath growing ragged, and said "Hermione . . ."
"It's okay . . ." she said, her own breath shortening.
Their mouths closed around each other again, Harry's hand still cupping Hermione's breast. Harry's mind, far from numb now, was overactive. He was wholly focused on their maddening kissing, and feeling the knot in his chest pulling at the knot in his groin. Yet his hand was concentrating on the infinite softness of Hermione's breast. Her breast filled his hand wonderfully, not too big but enough to feel slightly weighty. A small squeeze and the skin gave so wonderfully beneath his fingers. His palm rubbed slowly over her thrilling slope while his fingers chanced to touch at her nipple, hardened and pebble-sized. He gave a gentle pinch and Hermione moaned, a deeper moan than when he massaged her. And the kissing continued, this time their tongues touched, exploring each other, and Harry was entranced by her exquisite, secret taste.
Feeling a rush of boldness, Harry allowed his lips to creep from Hermione's mouth and down her chin. Showing that she was willing, Hermione tipped her head up, exposing her neck as he trailed along her throat. He felt the rumble of her moans beneath his lips and teasingly traced his tongue tip down over her collar. Almost imperceptibly, Hermione arched her back and leaned back farther, Harry moving with her until she was lying down on her bed and he was poised over her, his mouth still wandering down her chest. When he reached the plumpness of her breasts, he gave subtle suckles here and there, making a ring around her left nipple, not yet daring to touch its pink center.
While his lips moved, Harry's hands massaged along Hermione's shoulders and down her arms, tickling at her sides and stroking her flat, jittering belly. When his lips closed in on her nipple and gently suckled, Hermione arched her back and squirmed, breathing heavily as her fingers wound their way through Harry's hair. As he kissed at her left breast his hand found her other and began massaging. Writhing and moaning, Hermione pulled at Harry's shirt, and with surprising force she tugged it up over his back and he lifted his head so she could strip it from him.
The room was slightly cool, but his skin was hot and so was hers. Arms shifted and wandered, lips explored along necks and chests, kisses fluttered and wavered between them as they moved and shuffled on Hermione's bed. With a great shock, Hermione's hand pressed onto Harry's pants, cupping where he throbbed. They stopped. Hermione looked up into Harry's face, her hand still on him; both of them were panting and red. Harry stopped thinking. That ancient knowledge returned-something older than magic or science. Everything was new to him but he knew how to move, and so did Hermione. His awareness flitted in and out, as both of their jeans were suddenly on the floor, the comforter ruffled half off the bed.
Harry was struck by Hermione's sheer beauty. Her figure lay in front of him, almost bare, and something greater than lust erupted within him. He could spend forever looking at her. Her body was perfect, she was perfect. He touched her again with his lips, this time on her knee, kissing slowly up her thigh, while his hand massaged along her other leg. Her hands pawed and scratched at his back and she continued to purr under his kisses and teasing licks. He loved the way she tasted, slightly salty with a deep and unknown spice. His erection still fighting against his boxers, Harry caressed her body with his own, and they moved closer to each other, the space between their hips closing.
Their bodies pressed tightly together, Harry felt the heat of their waists. Their underwear acted as a thin veil keeping them from truly touching, but they could feel each other nonetheless. Hermione pressed him closer, her hands on his lower back, and began to slide. Jolt after jolt hit Harry's brain and he wrapped his arms under her as he began to rock. He began to lose himself in the feeling, the music still floating around them. He felt time waver, then she stopped. They looked into each other's eyes wordlessly. This wasn't stopping. This wasn't making out, or heavy petting, or fondling. Her fingertips rose to play with the hem of his boxers. She traced around to his belly and the tip of her finger passed over the head of his penis, making him jump. Still blushing, she smiled, and began to pull the last vestige of Harry's clothing down. Soon enough they both sat naked in front of each other, eyes furtively glancing at each other's body. Harry and Hermione both tried subtly to cover themselves, embarrassment written on their features. Feeling the inevitable, though, they lay open the mystery curled or nestled between their legs and gazed curiously and longingly at each other's body.
Finally, it was Hermione who acted. She reached forward, placing her hand timidly, testingly, on Harry's hardness, clasping it gently. Harry gasped at the sheer bareness of her touch, foreign flesh on his most intimate of places. He felt himself throb again her warm palm and she looked at him, her bottom lip held under her teeth, promise brightening on her face. She tugged, just a little, pulling at him, beckoning him towards her.
He stopped.
"Wait . . ." Harry said.
"Shhh," she lisped.
"B-but . . . what if you get . . ."
"It's okay," she whisper, her mouth now near his ear. "I've prepared for that."
"What . . . ?" Puzzlement only surfaced for a moment in Harry's mind, as Hermione was still pulling him toward her, the ache and yearn strengthening as her legs rose around his. He lowered himself heedlessly over her and their lips met once more. His hands traveled thoughtlessly along her body, and as their hips came closer together his fingers grazed through the small, tight dark down of brown nestled over the mound waiting where her thighs met. And the lightening continued striking through Harry's body unabated.
Amid the heated kissing and lip tugging, he felt the tip of his penis trace over her inner thigh, and finding the deep warm moistness there, he felt something ignite. She guided him lower, her thighs clasping him higher on his waist. When she placed him against a hot spot of giving flesh, she held his cheek in her other hand, looking into his eyes. Harry could lose himself in the black ocean of her pupils if he did not feel her pushing him still closer to her. He felt something hot, and then the point where they touched gave and he slide slowly, slowly, into a boiling tightness, surrounding the very point of his pleasure. Hermione's eyes were half-closed and her brow furrowed. Her lips parted and she gave a barely audible yelp-whether of pleasure or pain, Harry couldn't tell. Though the pace was maddening, he did not want to hurt her, so he focused on the burning sensation of such secret skin touch, sliding. Her fingers squeezed and scratched at his shoulders and her eyes widened as he continued to enter her.
Then they locked, and the fire burst out. Everything stopped. They were as close as humanly possible and he felt the deepest part of her, a heat so burning it amazed Harry that it didn't hurt. She tightened her legs around him and he strengthened his hold around her back. Then they kissed. Harry could no longer tell where he ended and she began, for this moment they were one. Never had a sensation been so colorful and loud. They held on tightly to each other, trembling with a pleasure ready to consume them both.
He pulled out slightly, feeling the wetness against him, the fire spreading as they both gasped. He wanted to ask her if she were okay, but her response was answer enough. She pulled him back to her with her arms still clinging to his shoulders, nails still digging into his back. And the source of the fire burst forth again, the knot wrenching in his groin as he thrust into her again, this time slightly faster. Harry felt himself contract, his being was shrinking into the sensation at their core and he was growing numb to the tightened muscles and movements of his arms and legs.
Hermione moaned more frequently now, her pitch becoming higher, her breathing more fevered. With that ancient knowledge, Harry pulled and thrust again, sending an explosion coursing through them with each push. They were melting together, their ecstasy rising like steam from their moving bodies and their lips pressed firmly together, their bodies connecting fully. Moving, shaking, riding together, their hips gyrating together, they kissed and licked and longed and forgot the world. Fire blazed through their necks, wracking their brains with pleasure, losing themselves in it, becoming part of it. A tide of feeling and awe and rising, rising, and falling, they moved and thrust and ached, ached they pushed into each other. Harry kissed Hermione's neck and exquisite pleasure rose from her mouth in sound and steam as he pushed into her faster, faster, picking up speed, bucking and jumping, their hips crashing, ebbing and flowing like the tide, the feeling breaking onto the shores of their selves, eroding more and more the barriers that separate them.
Fevered, feverish thrusting, pumping, losing, gaining, gaining greater speed, moaning, yelling, screaming out into the forgotten world, into the unseen void, their boiling, rising greatness. Hearts pounding, bodies pounding into themselves, the racking pulsing beat of their love, lovemaking unbelievable sensation of themselves, giving, giving of themselves. Reaching, reaching for it, building, falling, falling away, almost there. Grinding, pushing pulling legs arms jumbled into hot, wet flesh, hair flinging sweaty, mouths clinging tongues churning, yes. Oh, yes, almost there. Screaming, screaming, taste of a neck, scent of their heat, yes. Lost in it all, consuming, burning, hot, hot, yes. There, almost, there, feeling muscles contract, squeezing, licking flames, rise rise, rise!
"Oh . . . Oh God! . . . OHH!" Hermione screamed out. Her pleasure reaching crescendo as it reverberated off her bedroom walls. Wave after wave struck, relentless striking. Her back arching, trembling, legs shaking. A blast of blazing hot ecstasy thrashing through her belly, her neck, wracking her mind. The feeling of it. Oh, the feeling of it so overwhelming, so good, so good. Oh God. It's coming. It's coming!
Harry felt, he felt her, felt her mind wrapped in pleasure, felt her inner body bucking wildly, he felt them. Then a ball of lava starting at his neck rolled down his shoulders, turned toward his stomach, built up greatly low in his groin and all his muscles contracted as tendrils of feeling pulled into him. He pushed forward with one great leap and felt her tighten around him over and over, her body jumping and throbbing with orgasm after bright orgasm. The lava pumped through him and he felt an amazing push as he released his boiling liquid into her, their hips crushed together.
The world melted. They melted. Lost from everything. Lost. . .
. . . . . . . . . . who . . . where are they? They? Hair. Hair in the face. Breathing. Panting. The bedroom light. Soft music. Oh . . . my . . . God.
They were still for a long time, their bodies trembling. Then Harry began to become aware again. He was back in Hermione's room, they always were. The overhead lamp light had always been on, the CD playing its sensual music, the night still existed outside her bedroom window. Harry was Harry, he remembered himself once more. And he suddenly felt completely solid inside his body and self. His muscles ached with exhaustion, his abs burned, though no longer out of pleasure. His skin was coated with sticky sweat and his hair felt greasy. He was still panting wildly, as was Hermione who also felt wet all over, the brown tresses of her hair were darker now from their mingled sweat. And she was cooing.
"H-hermione," Harry finally said through wheezing breath. "Are you . . . okay . . . ?"
She didn't speak for a while, she was still rasping. ". . . yes. Harry, yes." She opened her eyes.
He pulled himself upward, peeling his skin from hers. Their hard breathing was slowing now. He could still feel the formless heat resting where their hips were melded. Its power had receded.
"That . . . w-was amazing," Harry said.
"Beyond . . . amazing," Hermione corrected, a giggle escaping her throat.
Calling their lovemaking a miracle would not have been justified-it was stronger than that-though looking around now Harry realized that the CD player was on its back, the books that were so ordered and properly stacked along the edge of the carpet had toppled back against the wall, a disheveled pile, and her closet doors had swung open. Her room looked like something powerful had blast out at it. When did this happen?
Though Harry didn't care. Looking back at Hermione, he was enraptured by her. A fire still burned deep in his chest, one that, far from diminishing, had burst forth brighter. He would do anything for her, do anything to keep her safe.
"Hermione . . ." he began.
"We better get cleaned up," she spoke suddenly, laughing, her voice sounding normal now. "These sheets will need to be washed, and so will we."
Harry pulled out unceremoniously, feeling the slickness that had been burning heat moments before. They unclenched their legs from each other and, naked and sweaty, hair going in all directions, they stood up off the bed on their weak, wobbly legs. Acting surprisingly normal, Hermione pulled the sheets and comforter, wet from their lovemaking, off her bed. When they walked out into the hall, Hermione pointed Harry to the master bedroom.
"Wait there," she said, then walked down to put the sheets in the laundry. He missed her presence for that intermittence. He always felt like laughing in her company now. When she came back, she guided them into the large walk-in shower at the other end of the master bedroom. Under the soon hot water, they washed each other, growing familiar and comfortable with their nakedness with each passing moment. The steaming water cascaded through their messed hair and over their bodies, cleansing them of their exertion. They rub and caressed, soaped and lathered, massaged and teased, shoulders, breasts, bellies, legs, their most tender parts.
When Hermione reached again for Harry's sex he found himself growing hard once more. She stroked him, and the well-known thrill returned, the flame ignited. Harry wanted her again, against the wall of the shower, but he stopped.
"Wait . . ." he said. "Why aren't you worried? What if you get pregnant?"
Hermione smiled and giggled. "Silly, aren't I always prepared? I have my books and potion supplies with me here. I can simply create a 'morning-after potion.' It will keep me from getting pregnant."
Harry was stunned by her resourcefulness. She never ceased to impress him. "How long have you been considering this?" Harry asked, mirth bubbling in his throat.
"On and off over the past few days. When I heard that my grandfather would be alright, that made me all the happier and I wanted to focus strictly on us. I wanted us to escape from the stress in both our lives."
Harry smirked. "I think you succeeded."
He nuzzled her neck with his nose as the spray of the shower warmed their bodies, and they pressed together once more, aroused and consumed with love and lust intermingled. She straddled him, her back against the cool tile of the shower wall, and when Harry entered her this second time, that blast of fire struck comfortably between. She rode and he thrust, and the steam of the shower was soon lost among the steam from their bodies. Her moans and yells echoed off the corners of the shower, sounding louder, rising higher. Harry felt the intense pleasure plateau, felt like he could go much longer, having spent his initial desire earlier. Harry felt, though, as if Hermione was rising to crescendo quicker, still excited by their first encounter, the jagged sparks of pleasure seized her stomach and her legs, making her toes curl.
The shower water was cold by the time their pleasure was spent, but they didn't care, their bodies kept them supremely warm and pulsing. They exited the shower and dried off with the same big russet-colored towel. Kissing, stroking, Harry couldn't keep his hands off her body, he never felt so alive, he never wanted to stop touching her. And he suspected with a sense of surprise that he penetrated her mind whenever he penetrated her body, experiencing her pleasure with her. He discovered this truth more and more as they made love on Hermione's bed again, fondled and licked, exploring each other in the living room next, the dining room, the kitchen. The world was lost to their swooning pleasures and spontaneous orgasms. They experimented inside the pool and on the pool deck, cushioned by several swimming towels.
By the time their desires were completely sated, the sun had already risen and their exhausted bodies now ached for sleep. They stumbled panting into Hermione's room, pulled up the disheveled covers, and cuddled together amid the shapeless sea of sheets. Holding her tightly, closely, smelling her sweet-scented hair and feeling her warmth cascade along his body, Harry thought over and over again how much he loved her. He whispered this truth sleepily into her ear and felt her smile against his chest.
"I love you too, Harry," Hermione said, before the pleasant oblivion of sleep found him, filling his contented mind with beautiful images of her, of them, together. There was nothing else but them. Concerns with Hogwarts, with Ron, with Voldemort were countless years away. It was all just . . . them.
Author's Note: It seems that I am beyond reproach for the excessive amount of time I have keep you readers waiting in updating my story. I do apologize for this, truly I do. Unfortunately, I began this story in the midst of academic strife, which continues unabated and has strengthened. The first four months of the year were consumed by my final semester of college; classes mixed with preparing for graduation and applying to Graduate school allowed for very little free time. Once I graduated in May, I had to start packing up my apartment while preparing to move temporarily to Virginia. I am currently at the University of Virginia struggling through an intense two-month Tibetan Language program before I began working towards a Master's Degree in Tibetan and Buddhist Studies. However, these are not real excuses; I should have at least informed viewers of my situation and I apologize for keeping everyone in the dark for so many months. I must confess that a hectic half-year was not the only deterrent to my writing; I lacked the muse as well. However, a three-day weekend has found me, and freshly inspired I have finally completed this seventh chapter. The arrival of "The Order of the Phoenix" has inspired the muse once more and I have this to prove it. We'll see how next weekend fairs for my possibly writing the eight and final chapter. I can only hope to make up for my long hiatus by making this chapter slightly longer than average. As you have no doubt discovered, everything that has taken place in the previous chapters culminates in this one. I am partially concerned as to how graphic this piece is. I'm not certain that fanfiction.net will allow this chapter to be posted since it borders on NC-17, but I'll attempt it. If anything I have other venues that I can post to and inform readers of. We'll see how things go over the next few days. Again, I apologize for my irresponsibility and I thank those of you for your immense patience and those of you for expressing your dismay and concern. With any luck I'll have this story completed soon, and I may very well start on another one-though I'll strive to be more punctual with it. Thank you all again for your interest and support.
P.S. To respond to one reviewer's query, I can no longer remember if I made this explicit in an earlier chapter, but the events of this story take place the summer before Harry and Hermione's seventh year at Hogwarts, they are seventeen years old.