Chapter 3 -- Vulnerability
Author's note: Many thanks to Nancy for her assistance with Hermione's conversation with Ginny in this chapter. And again, thanks to everyone who has left a review so far.
When she reached her own room, Hermione closed the door and sat down on her bed, still in her silk robe, lace bra and knickers. Rational thought, usually her strong suit, seemed hard to come by as she reflected on what she'd just done. Now she was insanely turned on and there was only one thing for it. The half-hour until Lavender arrived would be more than enough time to do what she needed to do and then take a shower.
Letting her silk robe slip from her shoulders, she picked up her wand from her nightstand. She muttered first the locking charm then Silencio and leaned back on her bed. Then her right hand slipped inside her knickers and found the spot that had ached all day. As her hand moved more feverishly, a low moan escaped her mouth and her skin burned at her touch. The faster her hand moved, the more excitedly the Snitch flittered. Soon the aching, longing need between her legs found its release. As the Snitch's flapping slowed, Hermione tumbled into an ocean of bliss murmuring his name… HARRY…
She only wished it had been his hand that had made her feel this way - the same way she'd made him feel. But even though she'd seen him with a raging erection, taken him in her own hand and brought him to a climax that seemed to thrill him to his core, she found herself fretting about what had happened. Perhaps he didn't really enjoy it. Perhaps he only let her do it because he was already hard and needed to get off. He'd probably be offended if she suggested doing anything more - or ever again. After all, she wasn't his girlfriend; they'd never dated. She was just his best friend - who had now wanked him in his own bathroom. Who was she to think he'd even want to do anything more with her? After all, he's a handsome young man and could have his pick of the young witches. Honestly, a girl would have to mad to turn him down.
Her mind raced at the thought of other women coming anywhere near him; the very idea (which had only annoyed her previously) now filled her with a blind panic. Bugger, she huffed while the warm shower loosened the tension in her body, when did things get so complicated between us?
Probably when you wrapped your hand around his willy, her brain snickered.
Her brain was right.
Showered and rejuvenated, Hermione dressed in a little tee shirt and a pair of trim jeans. She went downstairs and clipped up her still-wet hair as she walked briskly into the lounge room. Lavender sat on the couch, nibbling the toppings off a piece of pizza, while Ron sat nearby watching her. Harry sat in a chair in one corner of the room, strangely silent. Perhaps he had a lot on his mind.
"Hey Lav," Hermione said, then bent over the couch and gave Lavender a hug. Oddly, a tiny whimper seemed to emanate from Harry's corner.
Hermione sat down next to Lavender on the couch and quickly fell into chatting with her friend. She noticed that both Harry and Ron were strangely quiet, but she was having too much fun talking with Lav to worry about it. Ron was probably just drowning in essence of Lavender (she seemed to have that effect on him), while Harry - well, he might have been thinking about what she'd done to him less than an hour before. Or maybe not.
"So…have a good day?" Lavender asked, a challenging twinkle in her eyes.
"Not too bad once I got past that bloody hangover from last night," Hermione said, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Blimey, I hope I don't get that pissed again for another five years."
Lavender's laugh filled the room. "Oh honey, everyone needs to get pissed like that once in a while. And we got ourselves some nice 'jewelry' in the bargain, didn't we?" She gazed knowingly at her friend's belly.
"Speaking of jewelry," Hermione tried changing the subject, "I got a cute ear cuff last week" -- she pulled her hair up and pointed to her right ear -- "and I was thinking about getting a toe-ring. I saw a little gold one with a tiny moonstone on it at Gladrags Wizard Wear and I might buy it next time I'm there."
"Oooh, a toe-ring, that would be very adventurous for you, Hermione," Lavender smiled. "Of course you'd have to wear sandals or flip-flops to make it worthwhile. I mean, you might as well have a tattoo where no one can see it," she winked.
The joke wasn't lost on Hermione, who made a mental note of what a tease Lavender still was. Ron continued to regard Lavender with a dreamy look on his face. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be avoiding the conversation. Hermione really couldn't blame him much; after what had just happened, he was probably mortified and possibly even scared of being in the same room with her.
As Hermione and Lavender chatted on about body jewelry for a few minutes, both Harry and Ron continued to seem oblivious to them. Lavender showed off her new nail polish, which sparkled with fairy dust; Hermione oohed and ahhed over it but reckoned that Lavender was really more interested in the tattoo on Hermione's belly. Still, Hermione steadfastly avoided the topic, flittering away from it anytime Lavender seemed to approach it too closely. Bad enough the tattoo was still there; she wouldn't give Lav the satisfaction of knowing what the bugger did whenever she got…excited.
Eventually Lavender got up and, as she left the room, gave Hermione a knowing wink. A few minutes later Ron got up too and started moving the dirty dishes to the kitchen. Finally, Harry dragged his eyes off the carpet and looked at Hermione sitting alone on the couch.
"Did Lavender leave?" Harry asked.
"No," said Ron. "She's just in the other room."
The other room, of course, meant Ron's bedroom. Hermione stretched out on the couch, arms up behind her head. Her tee shirt rode up so that her stomach showed, but she didn't give this a second thought, being very comfortable around her best friends with varying amounts of skin showing. At least she had been comfortable until now.
Soon Ron finished up in the kitchen and walked off without so much as a good night. Hermione assumed she wouldn't see either Ron or Lavender again until morning. Now it was just she and Harry, alone in the lounge room. For the first time in eleven years, she felt a bit faint at the prospect of being alone with him.
Hermione brought one arm down and laid it across her chest with a tired sigh. She gazed at her bare feet, deep in thought, occasionally twiddling her toes. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Harry finally looking at her.
"You think I'd look silly wearing a toe-ring?" she asked.
She glanced over to him. He seemed to be having some difficulty speaking.
"No," came his strangled reply. He paused for a few moments. "W-why do you ask?"
"Harry - I was talking about body jewelry not a minute ago with Lavender. Weren't you paying attention?"
He glared at her indignantly.
"Firstly, I wasn't aware that you were that concerned with jewelry of any type," he huffed. "Secondly, I fail to see how a discussion about jewelry is supposed to hold my attention. Maybe you confused me with Colin Creevey or something."
The corner of Hermione's mouth went up along with one brow. Apparently she'd struck a nerve.
"You're annoyed with me."
"I'm not."
"Oh?" Her eyebrow arched again.
Obviously he was annoyed, even if he wouldn't admit it. She let out a long sigh. Harry could be terribly stubborn, especially when he didn't want to admit something - or refused to see the obvious. She sat up on the couch and propped her legs up on the coffee table with her feet gripping the edge. Legs spread slightly apart, she leaned her elbows on her knees and gazed across the coffee table at Harry. She needed to know how he felt about what happened, if he hated her for doing what she'd done. She hoped her heart didn't leap out of her throat as she finally spoke.
"Did I upset you?" she asked quietly.
He shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes.
Relief mingled with fear as she struggled to find the truth.
"Did you not like it? Or - or me doing it to you?" Her words hung in the air as she waited for his reply.
He licked his lips, looking suddenly like a guilty little boy.
"I liked it."
They sat together quietly for a moment. As Harry knotted his fingers together, gazing at his hands, Hermione watched him and thought about those three words. I liked it. He'd really said that. I liked it. I liked it. I liked it. I liked it. I liked it. Those three words echoed in her mind, sending a wave of pleasure through her whole body. He liked it. He liked what I did to him. Apparently she liked knowing that he liked it, because the Snitch sprung to life on her belly again, its flapping sending delicious wiggles through her. She felt her blood rising through her body, and the aching need roared back to exactly where she'd released it less than an hour ago.
It was amazing how three little words could set her aquiver.
"Harry..."
As he looked up, her right hand was resting gently upon her clothed crotch, fingers stroking the seam of the seat of her jeans. The movement of her fingers was neither idle nor unconscious; that damn itch had returned, and her fingers did their best to scratch it as subtly as possible. She leaned on her other hand, weighing her next words.
"When I walked in on you..."
She paused, and he nodded for her to continue.
"... were you thinking about me?"
Harry took so long to answer that Hermione began to think he was going to tell her, "No, you twit, why would I do that?" Finally, a single low, strangled syllable forced its way out of him.
"Yes…"
She didn't think she'd ever seen him look this terrified, not even in his final encounter with Voldemort. She pondered what it had taken for him to admit that thinking about her had given him a raging erection. Once a Gryffindor, always a Gryffindor, she thought. Yes. That single word made a hint of a smile flicker on her lips. He liked it and he had been thinking about me. That was definitely…
"Good," she smiled. Good, good, good. Better than good. Effing bloody fantastic. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest at the thought. She stood up and stretched then bent and cradled Harry's cheek.
"I have to go to bed. I've got an early meeting tomorrow and a stack of papers to finish up. But I'll talk to you tomorrow night, all right?"
Harry nodded, disappointment flickering on his face. She hoped he was disappointed about her leaving rather than about her reaction to his admission. Then she did something she'd never done before.
Leaning down to his face, Hermione kissed him on the lips. It was a soft, gentle kiss, her lips clinging to his just
long enough to make her point. There's more of this if you want it…
She straightened up and smiled warmly at him. "Goodnight, Harry."
She went to her room and read through her stack of papers for work. Then she went to bed and dreamed the same dream over and over: Harry was naked and aroused as she stroked him until he cried her name.
~~~*~~~*~~~
As she'd planned, Hermione rose early, ate a quick breakfast then apparated to the Ministry for a 7:30 meeting with Remus Lupin and two other section chiefs who wanted to discuss her report on unicorn poaching. They all seemed quite excited by what she'd written and spent a long time grilling her about various details. She answered their questions as carefully as she could but had difficulty remaining focused on the discussion, since a very distracting problem kept popping up. Every time her attention drifted, or she closed her eyes for even a few seconds, her mind's eye imagined Harry standing in his bathroom, naked and hard. Then those few moments when he let her touch him would replay in her mind and that delicious squirming sensation would roar back into her body and make her wish she wasn't in a public place with her boss and two of his colleagues.
"Erm, Granger, are you all right?" Lupin asked, apparently noticing her discomfort as their meeting drew to a close.
"Wha--? Oh, sorry, Chief," she gulped. "It's a bit warm in here and I guess I lost my train of thought." A blush rose in her cheeks and she found herself squirming, but not in the delicious way that happened when she thought of Harry's naked body. Bugger, now I've got that image stuck in my brain, she sighed. Not that there was anything wrong with that image; in fact it was the most delectable thing she'd seen in a very long time. Unfortunately it was much too delectable for the workplace.
She signed again. It really was going to be a very long day.
Hermione spent the rest of the morning in the Ministry archives where she continued to research the unicorn-poaching racket. She felt quite proud that it was her own research that led her superiors to realize that the poaching really was an organized activity and not just random lawbreaking. After lunch she spent a few hours visiting various Wizard apothecaries that had experienced break-ins during the past few months. Based on the number and locations of the break-ins and the items stolen, Hermione believed that a remnant faction of Death Eaters was responsible for most of the recent break-ins in the Greater London area. Shortly after five p.m. she spoke to Lupin by Floo and got permission to apparate directly home instead of returning to the Ministry.
When she arrived at the flat, she found Ron's and Lavender's cloaks hanging together on a peg in the foyer. Neither of her friends was out and about in the flat, but she could hear both their voices coming from his room, mostly in fitful giggles. Wellllll, she thought, I'm glad someone here is having fun. She wandered through the flat and discovered that her other best friend had not yet returned home. She'd tried so hard not to think about him all day, and yet the harder she tried, the more - and the harder - he kept popping up in her mind. Not thinking about him, about it, was a hopeless cause. And realizing how hopeless it was just made the Snitch flutter again on her belly. She wanted Harry to know what he was doing to her, so she found a marker and left a note for him on the whiteboard on the fridge:
"Harry Potter,
Snitch still at large.
Love from
Hermione."
She found some leftover beef stew (courtesy of Molly Weasley, who was constantly sending pots of food for Ron to share with his flat mates) and heated up a plate of it with a warming charm. Then she brought her plate of stew and a glass of milk up to her room, where she planned to spend some time reading a few files she was working on. She'd also bought a new Muggle mystery novel and wanted to get started on that too. Or at least that's what she told herself. Mostly she didn't want to be alone in her room, unoccupied. She hoped to spend some time with Harry but wasn't sure he would want to spend time with her. Almost a day after kissing him for the first time, she could still taste his lips on her, still taste that tiny tender kiss she'd given him and that he'd almost, but not quite, reciprocated. She'd let him know, without words, that she wanted to go further. But she'd not seen him at all since last night, and those three words he'd said continued to ring loud in her heart. I liked it.
So she sat at her desk, reading files by the light of a Muggle desk lamp. Seven years of flickering lamps and poor lighting at Hogwarts had reminded her of the joys of "eckletricity", and when she, Harry and Ron had decided to share a flat after they left school, it was she who insisted on finding a Muggle flat with adequate electric wiring. About half an hour after she'd settled into her reading, she recognized the sound of Harry trudging wearily into his room. She waited a few minutes to let him get settled and then decided to say hello and ask about his day.
She opened his door without knocking. That might or might not have been a mistake.
"Well..." she said softly, her voice hitching slightly when she realized what she was seeing. Harry lay on his bed, naked except for his shirt hanging loose and open around him, his hand gripped firmly around his penis.
"... I keep running into you like this," she finished, amazed that she was able to speak.
His voice gurgled in his throat, and he grabbed for his sheet.
"Don't," she implored.
He looked over to her, his brows knit in a questioning expression.
"Please," she added softly.
"Why?"
She leaned against the door of his bedroom and thought long and hard before answering him. How could she explain what he'd awoken in her when she caught him in the bathroom yesterday? They'd been through so much together, but despite the intimacy of their friendship none of it had demanded the level of trust implicit in seeing so much of each other's bodies.
She pushed herself away from the door, then walked across the room and sat on the edge of his bed. She forced herself not to look at his nakedness or at his hand wrapped around his erection. Instead, she gazed in his eyes with as gentle a look as she could muster.
"I like to see it."
His frown deepened.
"I like to see you."
He propped himself up on his elbow and eyed her warily. "Why?"
She eyed him right back. "Because it's you."
Because it's you, Harry, she thought, desperately wishing she could communicate with him telepathically so she wouldn't have to keep explaining. Because it's you. You, you, you. I don't want to watch anyone else play with himself - I only want to watch you.
He sighed and fell back onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. As he closed his eyes, his hands wrapped around his penis, ready to return to action. She found herself entranced by his hands and what they were about to do. She wanted to do that again, this time with him rather than for him.
She removed the clip from her hair and, leaning on the edge of his bed, gently wrapped her hands around his. Her hair fell across his chest as she coaxed his hands to begin their rhythm again. She shifted along the bed, one hand still on him, and leaned over his face, her cheek touching his, feeling his breath so close to her face.
"What are you thinking about, Harry?"
He let out a shuddering breath, the slightest whimper in his voice. "You."
She smiled, her reaction coming out as a breathy puff of a laugh. "Good." He's thinking about me while he works himself. The Snitch on her belly flapped wildly yet again, attuned to the wave of pleasure his words sent through her.
"What do you want to do to me, Harry?"
"I want to make you feel like this," he said, turning his head and gazing at her. "I want you to feel what I'm feeling."
She sucked in a breath and a wicked smile curled on her face as she sensed that the tension building in his body was verging on release. "Soon."
That single word sent him over the edge, his body shaking and shuddering about him. She sighed, her hands still top of his, and as his release came her sighs turned to tiny moans that barely concealed her pleasure at this turn of events. He lay there breathing unsteadily, staring at the ceiling, face flushed with exhausted pleasure.
Hermione lingered on the edge of the bed a moment more, still awed by what had just happened. The Snitch on her belly had settled down as soon as Harry climaxed, and her heart felt like it would burst from all the strange and wonderful feelings she'd never felt toward him before.
Her hair fell over him as she kissed him softly yet again.
"You're beautiful, Harry," she said. "Thank you for letting me see you."
She kissed him again, lingering a second. Then she left his room and went to her own to ponder the wondrous thing that was growing between them, step by baby step.
~~~*~~~*~~~
The next workday seemed very much like the previous one to Hermione. She rose early and left the flat before anyone else had come down to breakfast, then went to the Ministry archives to find a few final pieces of information about the unicorn poaching racket. As she attempted to work, memories of the previous evening flooded her mind, interrupting her at almost every turn. The feel of Harry's hands moving underneath her own, his sweaty face and hair, his ragged breath in her ear, all conspired to ruin her concentration. Trying to clear her mind, she forced herself to think of the least sexual thing she could imagine just to stop the insane flittering of the Snitch on her abdomen. The winning image was Neville Longbottom's boggart from third year - Professor Snape in a dress.
Relieved, Hermione unfurled the parchment containing her draft report then spent the rest of the morning writing up her conclusions. Her writing done, she set her parchment aside to dry, put away her quill and grabbed her cloak to go out for lunch. But before she could clasp it around her, a head full of red curls poked around the edge of her cubicle.
"Got any time for a poor wayfaring stranger?" the redhead grinned.
"Ginny!" Hermione cried gleefully, pulling her into a hug. Ginny Weasley had been gone only a few days, but Hermione had missed her friend greatly. "Do you have time to join me for lunch? How was your trip?"
"Yes, and you know I can't really talk about it, Hermione," Ginny clucked. "I wouldn't be a very good employee of the Department of Mysteries if I went around blabbing about my little missions, would I?"
"Since when did you start caring so much about following rules?" Hermione joked.
"Since I had to swear an oath that I wouldn't divulge anything I discover without permission," Ginny shot back in a no-nonsense tone. Chastened, Hermione nodded and the two young women walked to a nearby Muggle restaurant so they could have lunch privately, without worrying about anyone from the wizard media approaching them. They found a booth near the back and settled in for a round of catching up.
Hermione ordered a salad with grilled chicken while Ginny, who apparently still had a hollow leg, ordered the ploughman's lunch and a vodka gimlet. Hermione marveled at her friend's ability to eat and drink anything she wanted and never gain a pound or get pissed.
"That vodka won't be a problem for you?" Hermione wondered. "I can't drink before five p.m.; I'd get too giggly and I'd never get my afternoon work done."
"No problem at all," Ginny smirked. "I'm off the clock now; I've turned in my report on my Super Secret Mission so now I'm just waiting for my next assignment. Plus, may I remind you, I have the famous Weasley constitution; no matter how much or how vile, there is no food or drink that phases a Weasley." At that Hermione had to laugh, as Ginny reminded her of a female version of Ron, whose appetite was still the stuff of legends at Hogwarts.
"Speaking of the Weasley constitution, how's that brother of mine?" Ginny continued, chomping on her bread and cheese.
"All things considered, I'd say just wonderful. The Cannons lost their playoff game Sunday but in the process, Ron seems to have gained a girlfriend." Ginny looked puzzled until Hermione filled her in. "Lavender Brown met us at the party after the game, and she and Ron have been thick as thieves ever since. One might even say 'bosom buddies'," Hermione tittered.
"I'll bet it's Lav's bosom that Ron is buddies with!" Ginny roared.
"Funny you should mention that - he dropped the team Snitch down her blouse during the party and you should have seen the look on her face. At first she was madder than a hornet, but by the time he managed to pop it out from between her boobs, I thought she might jump him right there! Of course I'm surprised I even remember this, as I was three sheets to the wind at the time." Hermione was drinking only water, but sitting and laughing with Ginny was almost as much fun as getting pissed and a lot easier on her head and body.
Ginny, too, laughed hard. Wiping tears from her eyes, she asked, "So what's up with Harry?"
Hermione almost froze. "What's up with Harry??" she snapped back, aware that the Snitch had reacted to the very mention of his name.
Ginny cocked an eyebrow, undaunted. "I just asked what about Harry. How is he?"
At that moment Hermione wanted nothing to do with talking about Harry Potter. Bad enough she could barely keep him and his very manly manhood out of her mind, she really couldn't handle sitting there and talking about him too, not even with Ginny. "Who cares about Harry? Why are we talking about Harry?" she replied, her voice starting to rise in agitation.
A smile started at Ginny's lips and went up to her eyes. "We're talking about him…because you seem to flinch every time I mention his name."
Oh bugger, I'm busted, was all Hermione could think. Shoulders sagging, she propped an elbow on the table and rested her face in her hand. "It's that obvious?" she sighed.
"Yes, sweetheart, it is. Now why don't you tell me about it?"
So for the next five minutes, Hermione filled Ginny in on what had happened since that blasted party after the Chudley Cannons' game. She described how she'd discovered the Snitch on her belly the morning after getting so insanely drunk, how the Snitch was attuned to her moods (especially when she felt randy), and how she'd accidentally popped in on Harry when he was unclothed in the bathroom. But in deference to Harry's privacy - and because she wasn't sure Ginny, or anyone, could really understand what was happening between them -- she left out a lot of details. She left out the parts about his erection in the bathroom, how he was thinking about her when he got that erection, as well as the parts about her wanking him and helping him wank himself. Nor did she mention that she'd told him - twice-that it was good that he'd gotten hard thinking about her.
Bugger, that's a lot to leave out, Hermione thought. But discretion is still the better part of valour, and saying any more really would be terribly indiscreet. So there she stopped.
Ginny sat quietly for a few minutes, apparently digesting what Hermione had just told her. Then a wicked glint came into her eyes. "Well. Is he as talented as rumour would have us believe?"
Hermione's eyes went wide with shock. Rumour? What rumour? There were rumours about Harry's sexual activities? ""I wouldn't know... we haven't actually…done anything like that," she said, her cheeks burning. Well, that was true up to a point. They hadn't done anything together yet, not unless you counted last night's wank session. And she couldn't possibly tell Ginny anything about that. Bad enough she'd admitted that she'd seen Harry naked. There was no way on earth she would tell anyone, not even Ginny, that she'd seen Harry naked and hard and gotten him off not once but twice.
"Uhmmm… right," Ginny raised a brow, seeming to reach for words. "You wouldn't know. But you did see him naked. Which means you've seen his penis." Hermione shrank at the word. She tried her best not to listen to the content of Ginny's words, but nodded along pleasantly.
"Well, penises are funny, " Ginny continued brightly. "Quite different when they're erect. Probably the case with Harry."
"Hmmm?" Hermione said distractedly, still intent on not listening. "Yes, well, I agree, it certainly is," she blubbered, waving a hand as if trying to dismiss the topic entirely.
"Yes?! It's true? I KNEW IT!" Ginny chortled, licking her lips. Only then did Hermione realize what she'd actually agreed about. Face burning even brighter, she buried her head in her arms.
"Arrrrggh!! I am so embarrassed!!" she wailed. "You have to forget I ever said anything, forget I ever saw anything. I wish I could forget I ever saw anything…." Looking up, she saw Ginny smile at her with a glimmer of something - compassion? - in her eyes.
"Why do you wish you could forget?" Ginny asked her quietly. "You and Harry have been friends such a long time…you should be able to laugh this off, shouldn't you? Or is the problem that you can't laugh it off…" Ginny licked her lips and twirled a strand of her red hair, a knowing look on her freckled face.
Hermione sighed heavily and pushed her hair off her face. "You're right," she replied, her voice almost a whisper. "I can't laugh it off. When I saw him naked that Snitch tattoo went absolutely nutters, and honestly, I don't think it would've done that if I'd happened on Ron in the loo -"
"Errrgh!" Ginny grimaced. "Please, I'm trying to forget seeing Ron naked when we were kids. But I can appreciate what you're saying…which seems to be…"
"Which seems to be that the Snitch got excited because I got excited - and I got excited because it was Harry. And now everything seems different, especially since I kissed him."
The double-take Ginny did would've given whiplash to most mortals. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! You didn't say you'd kissed him. And this would be bad because…?"
"It's not bad, not to me anyway. It was just a sweet little kiss on the lips. But it was meant as an… invitation…to let him know I'm interested, without coming out and saying so." Hermione sighed heavily. "I just don't know how he feels about it. It's all very… complicated."
Ginny's expression was full of kindness. "Hermione, I've known you and Harry for eleven years and you two have been best friends over ten years. It's been obvious to most everyone that you've been the most important woman in his life for at least six of those years -- ever since that battle inside the Department of Mysteries." Hermione looked up at her quizzically. "Oh, honey, he worships you. He'd do anything for you. He probably knows you better than anyone on the planet. And you've shared so much with him already. About the only thing you haven't shared with him is sex."
Her cheeks reddening again, Hermione found herself unable to look in Ginny's eyes. "Errm, right….so if I am interested in, um, sharing that with him, how do I let him know? And what if he isn't interested in return?"
They both sat quietly for a few moments, Ginny apparently lost in thought, Hermione waiting anxiously for her friend's advice. "Perhaps these little kisses aren't enough to grab his attention," Ginny continued, taking her hand. "You know Harry, he can be kind of clueless sometimes. Maybe you need to do something bold, something he wouldn't expect you to do, something that shows him how much you trust him. Let yourself be vulnerable with him, Hermione. What have you got to lose?"
Eyes moist, Hermione squeezed Ginny's hand. "Nothing, I suppose. Or else everything. I couldn't bear losing him as my best friend." She sniffled then wiped her eyes with her hand. "But I won't know unless I try. Thank you so much, Ginny, for everything. You're a terrific friend."
"Don't thank me yet; you can do that after you two actually get together." As the two women stood up to leave, Ginny leaned over and hugged Hermione hard. "You know, I've always thought of you as the sister I never had, and I sort of hoped you'd end up with Ron, so we could really be sisters. But since that's not going to happen, I'd be tickled if you got together with Harry. You've been so good for each other, dating would be such a natural progression. I really do hope this works out for you."
"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione hugged back. "I feel the same about you. I'll think about what you suggested. I do trust Harry, with my life and beyond. I hope I can show him that I trust him with my heart."
Leaving the restaurant, Ginny turned into an alley so she could apparate back to her own home. Hermione turned the other direction and walked back to work, enjoying the beautiful day and pondering what she could do to show Harry her trust.
~~~*~~~*~~~
The afternoon seemed to drag on forever.
First Hermione had to turn in her final report on the unicorn-poaching racket. She rolled up the parchment and carried it down the hall toward Lupin's office, then knocked on the door and, hearing no answer, pushed the door in and left the parchment on Lupin's cluttered desk. As she left the room and headed back to her own cubicle, she saw her boss huddled with another employee about twenty metres away. When she caught Lupin's eye, however, he gave her an odd smile that seemed to last a bit too long; if she didn't know better she'd think he was leering at her. No, Lupin wouldn't do that.. unless… She found herself blushing again at the possibility that her boss and former professor might have discovered something she would rather he hadn't. Did Harry confide in Lupin? Hermione knew that Harry considered Lupin to be his surrogate godfather and sometimes sought his advice. But Hermione refused to contemplate the idea of Harry discussing the current situation with anyone - even though she had just discussed it with Ginny. No. She would concentrate on her work this afternoon, get things done and then go home.
She sat down at her desk and thumbed through several stacks of files. She tried so hard to concentrate on the piles of parchment in front of her, but it was no use. The image of Harry naked and hard - either in the bathroom or on his bed - kept flitting through her brain. Her right palm itched, and she knew it wasn't because (according to the Muggle folk belief) she was going to get a financial windfall soon. It was because she wanted to take Harry in her hand again and stroke him until his eyes rolled back and his voice dropped an octave and he breathed hot and heavy on her neck while crying out her name. The knowledge that she had made him feel like that made her shiver with lust, and suddenly the skin on her belly started quaking again - the Snitch had come back to life.
Bugger, this is ridiculous, she thought, and remembering some of the Occlumency she had learned from Harry in seventh year, she pushed the thought of him out of her mind for two solid hours while she shuffled papers. Finally she gave up on what she was doing and apparated home. Ron and Lavender were lazing on the couch, snogging occasionally as they shared the morning's Daily Prophet.
"Hello Ron, hello Lav," she said mechanically as she hung her cloak in the foyer. "I see you're occupied so I'll go up to my room and soak my head…Just kidding, I'm going to work on some files."
"Mmmrhrrmmph," came the muffled acknowledgment from a breathless, giggly female voice. "We'll call you for dinner--oooh, Ronnie, that's mmmhrphrphmm"
Hermione carried her briefcase up the stairs with her and set it on the desk in her bedroom. Then she stripped out of the jeans and jumper she'd worn to work, wrapped herself in her silk robe and went downstairs to take a shower. Not wishing any more surprises, she knocked gingerly on the bathroom door and went in only when she was sure it was unoccupied. Doffing the robe she climbed into the shower and let the warm water pound the knots out of her aching muscles. Damn, she had to get up and around more at work; she spent more time at her desk at work than she ever did seated at a desk at Hogwarts. At least there she got out and about on adventures fairly often, thanks to Harry and Ron. Now, at the Ministry, she spent most of her time hunched over a desk, writing reports in the terrible light of her Ministry cubicle…
Which was what she was going to do tonight, but with at least she wouldn't have to put up with bad lighting. Clipping her hair up, Hermione put on a pair of hipster knickers, wrapped her silk robe around herself and went back to her room. She turned on the Muggle desk lamp she'd brought from her parents' home in Kent, sat down at her desk and settled in to spend some time reading and writing in her files.
Suddenly there was a grunt at her door, then a tentative knock. "Hermione?"
It was Harry. Trying not to freeze, she took a deep breath. She would let things unfold however they would.
"Come in."
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He looked shy and tentative, a boyish blush burnishing his cheeks as he looked down at his feet rather than at her.
Hermione finished her sentence with a flourish of her quill, then sat up. She put the quill down on her desk and smiled at him, but her smile disappeared when she looked at him closely.
"Harry! You look awful! What happened to you?!"
She got up and hurried over to him. He'd been injured - probably during his stakeout with Tonks earlier that day - and he had a bruise on his head and a cut on his foot. She felt the bruise then slowly looked him over, lightly brushing her hands over his body as she checked him for additional injuries. He was wearing a pair of dark green tracksuit pants and a black tee shirt and smelled as if he'd just showered. She must have been so wrapped up in her work that she'd not heard him come home. This fact annoyed her almost as much as the sight of his injuries.
"I'll kill Tonks if she's not looked after you," Hermione growled. "Your foot!"
His foot had several scratches on it, all covered with the magical salve favored by the Ministry mediwitches. Harry looked at his bare foot and blushed.
"Hermione, relax. A set of stairs collapsed under me, that's all."
"Harry!" she gasped. She was angered that he'd been injured but so very relieved his injuries weren't much worse. Knowing he was safe sent a wave of warmth and happiness through her. Wrapping her arms around his middle, she hugged him tightly, her head leaned against his chest. She could hear his heart thumping, sounding a bit panicky, as if he were suddenly afraid of her hugging him.
"I'm all right,' he insisted, patting her shoulder as if to reassure her
"Why does this sort of thing always happen to you?" she muttered. Her mind raced with memories of dozens of injuries, from trivial to life threatening, that Harry had sustained at school. Feeling for a moment like the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, she bit off the lecture that wanted to leap from her tongue.
Harry frowned and pulled himself away from her, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"It could have happened to anyone," he said. "I've had enough lectures from Moody, thank you. I feel like quite the idiot already, nearly getting myself killed thanks to unstable architecture."
"I'm sorry," she said, her breathing trying to return to normal. "You scared me."
He nodded quietly and sighed. Returning the sigh, she curled an arm around his and leaned her head against his shoulder. The sight of him slightly injured but safe had stirred something powerful inside her, powerful enough to set the Snitch twittering again. As the winged ball flapped on her stomach, a warm, aching need surged through her, a need that couldn't be denied. A bolt of realization smacked her brain. She'd seen him in more than one moment of aching need; she wanted to return the favor. Turnabout is fair play. Time to let myself be vulnerable to him.
"Harry..." she began cautiously.
He didn't look at her, only stared over her shoulder with a dreamy-eyed look. "Yes..."
"Do you trust me?"
He gazed down at her, a look of complete puzzlement on his face, as if that were the strangest question he'd ever heard.
She gulped before going further. "Do you... trust my intentions?"
He licked his lips, apparently having to think about his answer.
"I... I don't know."
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and looked up at him, hoping that her eyes could convey the swirl of emotions she was feeling. She couldn't bear the thought of him fearing her or what might happen.
"It's me here, Harry."
"I know," he answered with a hesitant nod.
After all these years the two of them were finally moving, inch by inch, toward a closeness neither of them could have imagined on that first train ride long ago. She had to make him know that she would always be there for him no matter what did or didn't happen in her bedroom or his. As her hand caressed his cheek, she tilted her head toward his, hoping that what she said would be what he needed to hear.
"I won't leave you."
Those four little words broke through to him, and suddenly Harry was hugging her with all his might. His hands were broad and strong and warm on her back, and his body curved up against hers in all the right places, adding to the tingly feeling that seized her body. He clung to her for what seemed like ages, and when she finally wriggled away from him she knew what she needed to do.
She guided his hands from behind her to her belly, where the knot of her robe was.
"It's all right," she breathed, helping him untie the knot.
The belt dropped down and her robe hung open, revealing a broad strip of bare skin from the valley of her breasts down to the top of her silk knickers. As he stared at her naked skin, the Snitch on her belly flittered wildly.
Taking his hands in her own, she stepped backwards towards her bed. Be vulnerable, she urged herself. Take this one step at a time.
"Hermione-" he coughed. "Are you- I mean- should we-"
"Baby steps, Harry," she said softly and pulled him down to sit next to her on the edge of her bed.
She pulled her robe open and rolled her shoulders, shrugging off the dark-pink silk. Now she stood in front of him mostly naked, wearing only her low-cut knickers. Harry sat there quietly, perhaps in shock, apparently unable to say anything. His eyes drifted down her body, starting at her shoulders, lingering on her breasts, then moving down to her waist, then her belly, and finally stopping at the thrashing, shuddering Snitch. He opened his mouth as if to speak but instead shook his head and gasped.
She looked down at herself and shrugged. She wished her body was sexier, more attractive, but it was what it was. Harry leaned forward, took her hand and gazed into her eyes. She gazed back at him, squeezing his hand.
"Thank you," he breathed.
She rolled her eyes and sat down next to him.
"You are beautiful," he said firmly.
Other men had told her that, but she hadn't believed them, and none of them had been Harry. The nearness and dearness of him made her head spin. He was close, so very close to her, and the heat of his masculinity overtook her as he suddenly leaned forward and kissed her in a way that one friend ought never kiss another. Her lips pressed back against his and parted slightly, her tongue stroking his lips gently in search of the warm, safe harbor of his mouth.
The kiss emboldened her even as it made her swoon, and she decided to show him something she'd never shown another man. Embarrassed by her thoughts, she pulled away from him suddenly.
"Will you watch me?" she whispered.
"Huh-uh... Watch you?"
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. "Watch me..." As she dipped her hands down between her legs, a blush roared into her cheeks.
"Yes -" Harry nodded with a gasp. He looked a bit faint and, eyes wide, he gripped the edge of the bed.
Hermione scooted back on the bed, her eyes locked on Harry, and settled herself in a comfortable spot amid the pillows. Then she lifted her hips and pushed her knickers down below her knees. Harry gulped and pinched himself. She felt like pinching herself too as she pondered that she was about to pleasure herself in front of him.
"You can come closer," she said. In for a penny, in for a pound. If she was going to do this, he was damn well going to be able to see everything she was doing. Harry was sitting on the edge at the far end of Hermione's bed. He shifted back and raked his eyes over her body, his decidedly unplatonic gaze sending a shiver of delight through her. If he was going to look at her like that, she'd have to give him something to look at. So she parted her legs.
He opened his mouth to say something then stopped and just stared between her legs. She opened her legs wider and wider until she thought he had a clear view, then slid her fingers down and stroked her curls. A whimper escaped Harry's throat as her hand grazed over the Snitch, which quivered and shuddered while its wings fluttered like a hummingbird's.
He was still too far away.
"Closer, Harry," she said, and patted her knee to let him know how close she wanted him. He leaned closer, close enough to get a good look at everything she planned to touch. His face was still pale, but the look of shock had given way to a goofy, lopsided, blissful grin. He looked so utterly adorable with his head cocked just above her knees, waiting patiently to see what she would do. If he wants a show, I'll give him one, she smiled, then dipped her fingers down into her curls. She stroked them slowly and teasingly, aware of Harry's eyes bolted to her private parts, then slipped her hand down to her lips and spread them so he could see exactly what was happening.
His eyes danced around, following every flickering movement of her fingers, and suddenly he gasped then leaned on her knee, apparently to keep from falling over. She found that watching him watch her was an aphrodisiac; the more he looked, the harder she stroked herself. As her middle finger slid up and down between her lips and over and around her clitoris, and then inside her, she thought about how much she wished her finger was Harry's finger, and the delicious squirming sensation set her blood on fire and made the Snitch twitter more frantically than ever. She could only imagine how Harry was feeling, but she knew that she'd rarely been more aroused than she was now. She could hear her own breath now, hot and feathery, as she flickered her fingers upward and stroked her swollen clit. She was so very close to losing herself in front of him, but she was determined to ride out her arousal as slowly as she could. Harry can enjoy watching me all he wants, she thought, but I'll stay in control.
That's what she expected to happen. Then Harry did something totally unexpected -- he gripped the thigh he had leant his head on and sighed dreamily.
Hermione moaned as if he'd touched her clit.
Continuing to stroke herself, Hermione licked her lips and focused on how her actions were affecting Harry. His breathing became faster and shallower and his hand drifted down across the bulge in the front of his track pants. Good. Good, good, good. Watching her was getting him very hot and bothered. Of course there was only one thing for that.
"You can touch yourself too, Harry," she mumbled, tilting her head back some. "Please, please touch yourself." Let's watch each other. I want to watch you too.
He quickly pushed his pants down and, edging forward on the bed, took his penis in his hand. His lovely, beautiful penis that she ached to touch, but this time she'd let him just touch himself. No reason why she should be the only one having this much fun.
"Like that?"
Oh yes. Yes. Let me watch you while you do that.
Smiling, she looked directly at what he was doing. "Yes, yes."
The sight of his hand sliding up and down his shaft kicked her own motions into a higher gear. As her fingers began to move almost as fast as the Snitch fluttered on her belly, her body quivered and her breathing changed to ragged gasps. Despite the distracting sensations flooding her body, she kept her eyes trained on Harry. As his hand slid faster up and down his shaft, feral groans rumbled from his throat.
"Oh God," she mumbled. "I like seeing you like this, I do..." You have no idea how much I like seeing you do that to yourself, she thought. Almost as much as I liked doing it to you…
Harry grinned, and for the first time she saw a wicked, sexual gleam in his eye. "I should have known you'd be a talker."
As a spasm of pleasure hit her, Hermione's eyes drifted shut briefly and she grinned back at him. If not for needing to resolve her arousal, she could have gone on like this forever, touching herself, watching him touch himself, taking another baby step away from their old platonic relationship. Lost in thought, she let herself drift on the familiar sensations of hand on skin.
But the next thing she felt left her completely astonished. Harry was kissing and suckling her inner thigh hungrily and she heard herself gasp with pleasure and shock.
"Harry!"
This was wonderful and amazing, but now he was going well beyond what she had hoped for or expected. As if he could read her mind, he went even further, bending his head down and kissing her inner thigh yet again, his tongue tracing lacy patterns on her skin. As his tongue continued to work its magic her thighs trembled under his mouth. She felt him shiver as his own arousal heightened and she gasped, her gasps turning to little moans as she mumbled his name over and over.
"Let me," he said, scooting forward, eyes locked upon the lips of her sex. "... Please."
Let him? Let him do what? Oh God, could he possibly want to do that?? Things were moving much faster than she'd anticipated, but in her current state she didn't much care. If that was what he wanted to do, she wouldn't deny him. All she could do was whimper and nod then close her eyes and let her head hang back on the pillow, eyes on the ceiling, hoping he was really going to do what had crossed her mind.
She pulled her fingers back, opening up her folds for him. In an instant his left hand wrapped around her right leg and his head descended. Then his mouth sealed over her folds and his tongue was swirling around her labia, lavishing attention on her clit, his lips and tongue touching and licking and suckling every bit of her arousal. She had no idea where he'd learned to do this and she didn't care. Perhaps he was a natural at it, the way he'd been a natural at flying in first year.
He moaned into her as his own pleasure mounted, and she bucked underneath him, gasping in with equal pleasure.
"Bloody hell!" she whimpered. "Do that again, ohhh please..."
So he did, and she squirmed as she neared her climax.
"Ohh God, Harry, OH God..."
He continued suckling her, his tongue flickering quickly, reaching every part of her most sensitive anatomy. Her pleasure began to reach a crescendo and she shuddered under his mouth as a cry leapt from her throat.
"Oh HARRY!"
She bucked and dug her fingers into his hair. Pushing his head down more firmly onto her, she wriggled and writhed and gasped as he went about his business. As a final wave of ecstasy washed over her she cried his name again. Soon more feral groans escaped him as he shuddered with his own release.
Harry continued to nuzzle her, licking her gently as she lay there with her heart pounding, eyes wide and gazing at the ceiling, her mouth hanging open, her breasts rising and falling in deep, collecting gasps. He seemed reluctant to remove his lips from her body. Hermione, meanwhile, lay there for some time, legs open, hands twitching at her sides, the scene just finished replaying over and over in her mind, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that Harry Potter had taken the initiative to make her come.
When he finally pulled his head away she could barely contemplate what had just happened. Her rational mind, which was almost always in charge, had wanted to explore this uncharted territory between herself and Harry in a slow and orderly way. But her irrational, limbic brain had let her be carried away by the heat of the moment, doing things she never really thought she might do with him. As her mind and her heart waged war on each other, another wave of panic set in and she suddenly sat up and brought her legs together. Pulling on her robe, she found her hands trembling as she attempted to tie the knot. Harry sat watching her quietly, apparently waiting for her to speak.
She glanced at him with a shy smile that belied the way her heart was pounding against her ribs. "Well, I have so very much to do tonight and..."
He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to leave?"
She turned and looked to him. "No."
A sudden rap at the door interrupted them….
"Harry, Hermione... Dinner!"
It was Lavender.
Harry leaped to his feet, stuffing his penis back into his pants, and raced over to open the door. There stood Lavender with a very smug look on her face.
"How did you know I was in here?" he asked.
Hermione blanched when she saw Lavender roll her eyes. "Let's just call it a nagging suspicion," Lav smiled. Hermione could swear there was a smirk in her eyes.
"I'm just talking to Hermione," Harry lied.
"I'm sure you are!" Lavender said, lifting her hands and trying to look innocent. "I have to go set the table! Don't be too long."
Harry sighed and closed the door. Hermione pulled on her jeans and was putting on a shirt when he turned back to her. Then he walked over to her, looked down at her belly and hesitantly put his hand forward.
"May I?"
She nodded, tenderness toward him welling up in her.
He stretched out his long fingers toward her belly. Flattening them over the Snitch, he stroked it gently.
"It is very beautiful," he said, looking up into her eyes.
She forced a tiny smile. Did everything between them the past few days come back to the Snitch? She wondered whether he was interested in more than that damn magical tattoo on her belly. If not, what was the point of all they'd just done? Hoping against hope, she stepped forward and kissed him tenderly.
"You'll see it again, Harry," she said. "You will."
He arched a brow. "Really?"
She nodded. "Yes. But not tonight." So much work to do, so very much to think about, and they needed to go down to dinner before Ron and Lavender started getting ideas. As she buttoned up her shirt, her brows knitted with confusion, her mind still spinning from the events of the past half-hour.
"I just need to process it all, Harry," she said. "I'm just - I need to get used to this idea."
"Of you and I - well -" he muttered.
She nodded, pleased that he wasn't angry. "Exactly."
He nodded. "I understand."
She felt a load lift from her heart. He understood. He wouldn't push her. Perhaps they could go back to taking baby steps. She smiled and turned to him, hugging him tightly. "Oh, Harry, I'm so glad you do!"
He pulled away and held the door for her. As they walked down the stairs, Harry a few steps behind her, Hermione didn't think she could watch him lick his lips the same way ever again.
^*^*^*^*^*^