Unofficial Portkey Archive

Chapter 4 - Faith

Well, here it is - the big smutty part. I hope it was worth waiting for. And of course, the biggest thanks go to Nancy for orchestrating all the sex in this chapter and the preceding ones. Thanks to everyone who has read this far. Only 2 more chapters to go.

The dinner that followed was brief and tense. Molly Weasley had sent a home-cooked dinner by owl, the sort of meal Hermione would have enjoyed immensely under more normal circumstances. But the circumstances were ineffably strange. Lavender had a bawdy twinkle in her eyes, and Ron sat there with reddened checks and a smirk that suggested he could barely keep himself from laughing. It was almost as if they really did have some inkling of what had gone on in Hermione's room. To make matters worse, Harry kept opening his mouth as if to speak but never actually said anything, and every time he did this Hermione felt her stomach flip-flop and her knees turn to jelly, which made her very glad she was seated.

The meal looked and smelled wonderful but, all things considered, she'd lost most of her appetite. So she ate as quickly and quietly as she could then jumped up and left the table. As she hurried out of the dining room she caught a glimpse of Harry, his lips parted as if to ask where she was going in such a hurry. She didn't wait for his question but retreated upstairs to her room as quickly as possible. For the first time in ages, she really hoped he wouldn't stop by her room to say goodnight. She had so very much to do, so many files to read and another report to work on, she really didn't have time for small talk.

At least that's what she told herself as she began puttering at her desk, poring over documents and sifting through reports. After two hours of trying (and failing) to keep him out of her mind she allowed herself to admit the obvious - that she was anxious about being alone in the same room with him. She wasn't afraid of him; he'd been a perfect gentleman so far, as much as one could be in sexual matters like this, and he'd done nothing without being invited or asking politely. His "let me… please" still rang in her heart, and the vision of him lowering his head and then suckling her to ecstasy made her boil with desire to have him do it again.

That was the problem. She couldn't see herself doing that with him again if all he cared about was the Snitch tattoo, but she couldn't bear to ask him about it and a large part of her couldn't see how it could mean anything more to him. But Ginny's words from the previous day rang in her ears. He adores you. He'd do anything for you. The more she thought about the whole situation, the more complicated it seemed to get, and for the first time in years her Gryffindor courage vanished. When she finally let herself stop thinking about it she went to bed, relieved that she had to get up early and would again be gone by the time Harry came down for breakfast.

The next morning came much too soon, and after her shower Hermione dressed quickly and went down to breakfast, briefcase in hand so she could make a quick exit. Ron and Lavender were putting on their cloaks as she entered the kitchen.

"You're up awfully early, aren't you?" she yawned at them.

Ron looked to Lavender with a hint of the smirk he'd worn last night. "Got an early practice at Chudley Stadium today. Bad enough we got bounced from the playoffs, now we have to practice for a charity game. We're playing the Appleby Arrows next Sunday. All the proceeds go to Ward 49 at St. Mungo's -- you know, where Gilderoy Lockhart is locked up." As he shook his head in disgust, Lavender reached her hand up to his cheek.

"Oh, Ronnie, you know you'd rather be playing Quidditch than doing anything else…well, almost anything else!" she laughed with that leering twinkle in her eye. Hermione hoped they wouldn't look at her as she was sure her cheeks were redder than the old Gryffindor scarf Ron was wearing. Lavender fastened her cloak then kissed Ron soundly and stood apart from him in the foyer.

"Goodbye Ronnie, I'm off to the Prophet now. And ta ta, Hermione, don't do anything I wouldn't do," she winked then disapparated from the flat.

Feeling herself redden again, Hermione turned and found Ron hovering nearby, about to hug her. "Don't mind Lav, you know how she gets sometimes." He looked down at her kindly. "Have a great day, Hermione. Everything will work out for the best, I know it."

"Umm, right, Ron. Thanks," she muttered as he disapparated too.

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that Ron and Lavender knew more about her and Harry than they were letting on, but there was nothing to do about it now and she had to get to work soon. She was thankful Harry still hadn't come down, because she honestly didn't know what she would say to him if he did. She used her wand to toast some bread, then ate the toast quickly as she dug around the fridge and pulled out two whole meal rolls, a few slices of ham, some lettuce and tomato. She made two ham and salad sandwiches, wrapped each in plastic wrap (another Muggle convenience she appreciated much more than Ron did) and put one of the sandwiches into the fridge for Harry, in case he wanted something quick for lunch. Then she stuffed the other sandwich into her briefcase and grabbed her cloak. Almost ready to disapparate, she wrote a note on the whiteboard on the fridge:

"Dear Harry,

Ron has gone to early practice and I've gone to do some research in the Ministry archives before they get crowded. Will be busy all day - see you tonight.

Love from,

Hermione

"PS - That Snitch is still a bother."

There. That sounded fine. Normal, noncommittal, but with an appropriate (she hoped) undertone of interest. And only she and Harry would know what it really meant, she was sure of it.

She just hoped she wasn't a bloody fool for writing it.

~~~*~~~*~~~

Hermione had planned her morning well. The Ministry archives were, indeed, only sparsely populated when she arrived there for her morning's research. She was trying to find documents that would firmly connect Mulciber and Nott, two Death Eaters who had escaped from Azkaban a year ago, with the unicorn-poaching racket she was also researching. It was long, difficult and tedious work, but she was sure that all she had to do was find the right parchment amongst the sixty-two million parchments in the Ministry archives and the case against Mulciber and Nott would be airtight. Unfortunately, the Ministry had not discovered the joys of computer databases, so every parchment was hand-catalogued and cross-referenced then tucked away in the files using reducing charms. It would be a long, hard slog as usual, and Hermione left her Ministry badge as collateral with Susan Bones, her old Hogwarts classmate who was now second assistant librarian at the Ministry.

After three hours of digging through parchments, Hermione needed a change of scene and decided to take a lift back up to level 2, where the Auror Division was headquartered. As she approached the archives desk to retrieve her badge from Susan a parchment airplane floated up to her. She plucked the missile from the air and her eyebrow cocked when she saw the handwriting on the parchment, which was addressed to "Miss Granger, That Damned Dusty Library, MoM." Inside it read:

"You are cordially invited to lunch with Lavender Brown. Get your butt down here now before I come looking for you. I might even bump into Harry first. Ha ha.

Yours,

Lav."

The parchment then reassembled itself into an airplane and floated out of the archives, fluttering in front of one of lifts as if it were waiting for Hermione to follow it.

"What's that all about?" Susan inquired as she watched the parchment airplane floating in the lift lobby.

"Lavender Brown has invited me to lunch," Hermione frowned.

"Business or pleasure?"

"Hmmm? Ummmm…neither…," Hermione replied, hoping she didn't sound panicked. "I mean… umm…personal stuff, I'm sure. Probably wants to know what to get Ron for Christmas. She and Ron recently started…dating."

Hermione was too preoccupied to notice the smirk on Susan's face. "Christmas isn't for six months, Hermione. Are you sure this is about Lavender and Ron?"

"Oh HONESTLY!" Hermione sighed heavily. "I…I have NO IDEA what else it could be about." With that she grabbed her badge from the top of Susan's desk and bustled out toward the lift lobby. The parchment airplane stopped flittering, dipped its nose to acknowledge her presence and then led Hermione into one of the gilded lifts. Soon the lift took her to level 8, where she followed the parchment airplane through the Atrium until it deposited her in front of the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Seated there, resplendent in a violet cloak and a lilac pants suit, was the redoubtable Lavender Brown.

"Hello, Lav," Hermione said, eyeing Lavender's attire. "Lovely outfit. It's so…you." Hermione forced a smile that couldn't quite reach her eyes. Was Lavender playing at something?

Lavender stood and air-kissed Hermione's cheek. "Thank you, darling. Though I know you don't really mean it and you're just killing time until I tell you why I'm really here."

Damn psychics! Hermione fumed and gave Lavender a long, appraising look. "Well spotted, Lav. So… why are you really here?"

A wicked smile came over Lavender's face. "This isn't really the best place to have this conversation, Hermione. It's so… public…" - she leaned in conspiratorially - "and what I want to talk about is really a personal matter. So why don't we go over to the Leaky Cauldron and have a bite there?" She grabbed Hermione's elbow and began to steer her toward the Ministry entrance.

Hermione looked skeptical. "The Leaky Cauldron? Where everybody knows your name, and mine too? I don't know, Lav…"

"Hermione, am I a witch or not? Can I erect a proper ward or not? Did I learn how to keep and use secret information in the D.A. or not??" By this time they were at the security desk, where Lavender retrieved her wand from Eric Munch, the perennial security guard.

"Well, yes, of course, but…"

"But nothing! Then off to the Cauldron we shall go!" And with that, Lavender led Hermione out of the Ministry headquarters and, keeping hold of her elbow, apparated both of them to a back room of the Leaky Cauldron, where they landed with a thud in two well-worn chairs.

"Lavender Brown!" Now Hermione was really fuming, and she was surprised to see the table laden with two platters of fish and chips, two mugs of butterbeer and an open bottle of Old Ogden's Firewhisky. "What in Dumbledore's name possessed you to bring me here? Whatever are you on about?"

"Shhhh…" Lavender hushed her, then took out her wand and waved it around at all four walls, the ceiling and the floor. "Silencio!" The walls, door, floor and ceiling wobbled as the silencing charm took effect. "There now. Nice and private. Now we can really talk."

"Stop being such a drama queen, Lav. Just spit it out. What's going on?"

Lavender smiled coyly. "I could ask you the same question, Hermione. What's going on with you and Harry?"

Stomach flip-flopping, Hermione tried to respond calmly. "With me and Harry? What makes you think anything is going on? Did Ron say something?" She thought back to Ron's odd declaration that morning. Everything will work out for the best, I know it. Did he and Lavender really know anything? "If he's been using those Extendible Ears, I'll hex him into next week," she smirked.

A hearty laugh escaped Lavender's mouth as she rolled her eyes. "Oh honey, Ron and I didn't need any Extendible Ears to know what was happening in your room last night. But thanks for putting me in the mood for that myself…"

Hermione almost knocked over her mug of butterbeer as her hand flew up to her mouth in shock. "You…you heard us??"

"Every blessed grunt, groan and moan that either of you made. It was like listening to porn over the Wizarding Wireless Network!" Lavender giggled.

Hermione felt her cheeks redden yet again. "Oh God…we forgot Silencio," she muttered, shaking her head with disbelief. She was sure she had never, ever been so embarrassed in her entire life. She wished she were an animagus with an insect form so she could scurry away and not have to face her friend. She'd rather be a ladybeetle or a cockroach right now than sit here embarrassed to death.

Sensing her discomfort, Lavender patted Hermione's arm and chuckled kindly. "It's okay, honey. I've forgotten it a few times too. That's a problem for us Muggleborns -- sometimes, in the heat of the moment, we forget to take every precaution." She cocked her head, an inquiring look on her face.

It took only a second for Hermione to cotton on. "Oh…well… we didn't actually need to take every precaution," she muttered.

"You didn't? But…the noises… we thought…" Now it was Lavender's turn to be shocked.

Cheeks still red, Hermione lifted her head and shook it slowly. "No, we didn't do the deed, if that's what you mean."

"You're having me on, aren't you?" Lavender goggled, but Hermione continued shaking her head. "Well then, what did you do? Come on, Hermione, this is me, Outstanding N.E.W.T. in Divination here. If you don't tell me, I'll just have to read your mind," Lavender smirked triumphantly.

Oh bugger, she's not going to stop asking until I tell her, Hermione realized. Catching Lavender's eye, she stared down toward her own private parts then muttered, "He went down on me."

Lavender's eyes went wide. "Noooooo…. Only that?"

Hermione shook her head. "Well, no, he also wanked while he did me."

The look on Lavender's face morphed from shock to lascivious glee and she could barely contain her laughter. "Oh honey, you two were so noisy, we were sure Harry was banging you for all he was worth!"

Hermione grimaced and rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Oh honestly, Lavender, is that all you think about these days?" she barked, unconsciously wringing her hands. "Honestly. Banging. Really, the very idea of me doing that with Harry is…well, it's…I mean…"

She stopped in her tracks as the blush in her cheeks spread like wildfire to her throat and chest. The thought of having sex with Harry was actually quite exciting. Oh bugger, I'm doomed, she thought. I want him. I want to do that with Harry. Well, really, isn't that what all this other… stuff… has been leading up to? Even contemplating it made her a bit dizzy. Resting her chin in her hands, she found herself shuddering with anxiety. Lavender took the cue and sat primly and quietly until Hermione spoke again.

"Lav, tell me the truth about something," Hermione began cautiously.

"What truth do you want me to tell?" Lavender asked.

Hermione laughed quietly. "Harry never really showed any interest in me until after I got that Snitch tattoo. But I showed it to him the morning after I got it and it seems like ever since then, he's been transfixed by it and -"

"You showed him the tattoo before last night?"

"Well, yes, you see, when I woke up the morning after the Quidditch party, I had this awful bloody hangover and my belly itched and I needed to pee and I found this, this THING on my belly, and I was totally shocked, of course, and I remembered that you were, um, in Ron's bedroom so I couldn't talk to you about it so I did the first thing I could think of, and I apparated into Harry's room so I could talk to him," Hermione said in a rush.

"I see."

"No, you don't see. Not nearly as much as Harry saw. I was… partially undressed when I did it. I was hung over, and not thinking straight, and I just popped in on him with my clothes half off, my shirt unbuttoned and my jeans zipper down and he was sitting there on his bed in just a towel, I guess he'd just come out of the shower, and-"

"So he saw the Snitch on your belly? What did he do then?" Lavender's voice was thick with intrigue.

"Well, he didn't really do anything, he just kind of stared at it," Hermione explained. "It was like he couldn't take his eyes off it. And then… the strangest thing happened. I could feel the Snitch flapping its wings on my belly! It felt like a hummingbird was flitting across my skin. And, well, it was a very sexy feeling…and then later that day I found that the Snitch would flap around just about every time I even looked at him." She blushed again. "That's when I realized that even being near Harry turns me on. And that's what terrifies me."

Lavender caught Hermione's eyes in a steady, level gaze. "And why does being turned on by him terrify you? You're hardly the only witch who gets her knickers in a twist looking at him. He's bloody handsome, if you hadn't noticed."

"Well, certainly I'd noticed, I'd have to be blind not to. I just - I'd never allowed myself to think about him that way…until recently," Hermione blushed and sighed again. She sat and picked at her chips, gathering her thoughts, hoping she could make Lavender understand.

"Look, Lav," she continued carefully, "you've never had a male best friend. I've had two of them simultaneously since I was eleven. When Ron and I dated in sixth year, I was terrified about how that would change my relationship with him and with Harry. I was actually relieved when things didn't work out with Ron, because that meant I could go back to being his best friend. But I've never dated Harry and he's really the best mate I've ever had, and now suddenly I'm having all these…highly sexual feelings for him," she choked out. "But I don't know if he's doing these things with me because he's got sexual feelings for me too, or just because he's hypnotized by that bloody stupid Snitch!" Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed with frustration.

"And you're afraid that if you go with these sexual feelings for him, you might lose him as a friend?"

Hermione nodded, relieved that Lavender understood. Sometimes it didn't hurt to have a friend who'd earned an Outstanding N.E.W.T. in Divination.

The two women sat in silence for a moment as Hermione waited for Lavender to offer whatever words of wisdom she might have. Finally Lavender leaned toward her and took her hand.

"Hermione, honey," she began, "do you really think Harry doesn't have these kinds of feelings too? Because I don't think a person needs to have the Sight to be able to see how he feels about you. In fact, you might be the only person who doesn't see it - and that might just be your way of protecting yourself."

Lavender's smile radiated a kindness Hermione had rarely seen, which encouraged Hermione to say more. "I…I don't know what to think. I just know I feel more for him than I've ever felt for anybody. And I don't know how or when it happened, and I don't really know what to do about it."

"You know, Hermione, you should try not to analyze everything so much. Just let yourself go with the flow for once and don't try to figure it out. If it feels good, why not let it happen?"

Lavender paused and eyed her friend carefully before continuing. "Do you know that American telly show called The X-Files?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well," Lavender forged on, "one of my favorite X-Files was about a bloke who was a weather forecaster. He'd been friends for years and years with this bird he worked with, and then suddenly one day, he could make it rain and snow. Maybe he was a wizard, I don't really know, but he had these really deep feelings for this girl and he didn't even know that he felt them, and instead his feelings came out in the weather. When Mulder and Scully came to investigate all this weird weather, the girl ended up having a heart-to-heart talk with Scully."

Hermione looked at Lavender questioningly. "So what does this have to do with me and Harry?"

"It has to do with you and Harry because what Scully told the girl stuck in my mind. Scully said to her, 'Well, it seems to me that the best relationships -- the ones that last -- are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.' Maybe that's what's happening with you and Harry," Lavender finished, looking very pleased with herself.

As Hermione listened, a switch went on in her own heart, illuminating something that scared her almost as much as it pleased her.

"So what should I do?" she frowned, her brows knit with confusion. "I thought if Harry and I went slowly and just…did a few things, it would be easier. But it hasn't worked out that way."

Lavender smiled again. "I think you should stop trying to be so logical about this. Take a chance. Let whatever happens happen. I really think you'll be leading Harry in a direction he already wants to go. Okay?"

Hermione stood up and pulled her cloak around herself. "Okay, Lav, point taken. You've given me a lot to think about. Thanks for the lunch -" she looked at her mostly uneaten fish and chips -"but now I need to get back to work." Lavender rose, pushed her chair back and hugged Hermione soundly.

"Everything will work out for the best," she said, "I just know it."

"You and Ron are the divination twins today," Hermione laughed. "It's a pity Trelawney isn't here to see you."

"She always said I was her best student," Lavender laughed back. "Now don't you go prove me wrong!"

And with that Hermione heard a Pop! as Lavender disapparated from the Leaky Cauldron.

~~~*~~~*~~~

The afternoon dragged on at a snail's pace as Hermione returned to the archives and buried herself in the files. Several hours later, she still hadn't found the documents she needed concerning Mulciber and Nott, so she went back to her cubicle and read through several new folders on her desk, grimly wondering if Lupin's new slave-driving tendencies were related to the current phase of the moon.

Finally calling it a day around six o'clock, she apparated home to a very quiet kitchen. Ron was apparently still training at Chudley, Lavender hadn't come over yet, and there was a note on the whiteboard in Harry's spikey script:

Hermione and Ron (and Lav too if you're here),

I ate the rest of the fried chicken (sorry). I've got a load of work to catch up on so I'll be in my room tonight. See you later.

Harry

She noticed he hadn't made any mention of the Snitch. Bugger. Maybe Lavender was wrong and he really didn't return any of her feelings. Right now, though, she was too hungry to worry about it. She realized she'd barely eaten all day, and suddenly she felt very stroppy toward Harry, who'd eaten the last of the take-out chicken without even asking, the great berk. She spooned some of last night's Weasley casserole into a bowl and charmed it to a suitable temperature, then snarfed it while reading the latest issue of Witch Weekly, which reinforced her opinion of how poorly she read others' motives and feelings ("Justin Finch-Fletchley is engaged to Hannah Abbott? Merlin, I had him pegged wrong…").

Putting her dirty dishes in the sink, she let the magical chamois clean them while she trudged into the downstairs bathroom. After shedding her clothes, she pulled her hair out from the elastic band that held it up and stepped into the shower. She reveled in the feel of the warm water cascading down her skin, loosening the tension that had built up in her muscles after several days of pulling parchments out of files in the Ministry archives. There was another tension building in her body too, paralleling the tension that began building in her heart even before she had stumbled into that tattoo parlor in a drunken stupor. She wanted so much to ease that tension, but now was not the time and her own hands were not right for the task. But she knew whose were, and the thought made a wicked smile curl her lips.

After washing her hair she dried herself off then pulled her silk bathrobe around herself and apparated up to her room. She wiggled into a pair of girly jock-style knickers, then slid into her favorite pants for lazing around the flat, a pair of crushed-velvet slacks that Ginny had given her for Christmas a few years earlier. Lastly she pulled on a grey singlet then dabbed a drop of jasmine perfume on her throat. Now she felt ready for what she needed to do. She would go in and talk to Harry about what was happening between them.

She entered his room without knocking. He'd never seemed to mind in the past, though given the events of the past few days, a part of her worried about what she might find when she entered. She was relieved to find Harry sitting quietly at his desk, writing on a parchment from a Ministry file. He was wearing a black, snug-fitting tee-shirt (which did seem to show off his broad, lean chest, though he probably hadn't thought of that when he put it on) and a pair of dark-green tracksuit pants. At first he didn't acknowledge her presence, but eventually he put down his quill and smiled at her. His smile quickly changed into a stare and the intensity of his gaze left her blushing.

"Hey," he said.

She took a quiet centering breath before speaking to him.

"Hello," she said, pursing her lips, feeling like a naughty little girl who'd been caught teasing her mum's cat. "I'm sorry about being scarce this morning and...well last night too, I suppose." He twisted his lips thoughtfully in his fingers, apparently weighing her apology.

"I didn't upset you, did I?" she continued.

"No, no," he said lightly. "I was just languishing in the belief that I'd become your wanton sex pup."

When his words sank into Hermione's brain, she realized he'd been struggling to keep a straight face.

"Harry!" she gasped, starting to chuckle.

Shrugging, he smiled bashfully. Hermione felt equally bashful--an odd feeling for her--but knew she had to continue saying what she'd planned to say, so she stepped closer and sat on the edge of his desk. As she weighed her words, the smile left her face.

"I've been thinking about this... A lot, actually. In fact..." -- she laughed sadly. How could it be so difficult to talk to Harry? She had to stay focused -- "I've barely been able to think about anything else. And I decided--"

She took one more breath then forged on. " --that this whole thing has been sort of unfair on you."

Hermione was surprised to see that Harry was avoiding her eyes. His breathing was shallow and a blushed burned his cheeks, as though he was afraid of what she might say next. Trying to reassure him, she covered one of his hands with her own.

"Harry, I've been afraid...of so many things," she went on.

"Of me?" he said in a small, uncertain voice.

"Oh heavens, no!" she gasped. "Never you, Harry! Actually I...I was scared that...you really will laugh!"

As he arched his brow, she hoped her next revelation didn't make him laugh.

"I... I was scared that the only reason you wanted to uhm...to do things with me was because of the Snitch..."

There. She'd laid it all out for him. Now the chips would fall where they might.

His reaction was not what she'd expected, though she hadn't really known what to expect. His brows darted down and his mouth wagged as a look of mingled confusion and relief swept over his face and something utterly amazing fell from his mouth.

"Hermione," he croaked, "you're everything to me."

She blinked, her eyes suddenly moist. "R-really?"

He nodded, his face glowing with emotion. "Yes! You - you can't fall in love with someone just because of a tattoo."

Did he just say…? Hermione shrank from him a bit, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. He couldn't have said that… could he? Her head spun as the words ricocheted through her brain. She finally lowered her hand and gulped.

"You... you're in-" She could barely get those words out, the other one wouldn't follow. The idea that Harry could be in love with her was so much more than she'd ever imagined possible. Her heart suddenly felt like a balloon that would burst through her ribs in another moment, and she reminded herself to breathe so she wouldn't faint. Harry is in love with me, she marveled.

"Completely and utterly," he sighed giddily. "It's been very distracting."

Hermione's heart flooded with a happiness that left her almost breathless. "Well I'm sorry that I'm such a bloody inconvenience!" she gasped, feeling more than a bit giddy herself.

"I'm not," Harry replied, and suddenly their mutual giddiness slipped away, replaced by an openness and vulnerability that she'd never shown to anyone else and, she now realized, had never seen in Harry until this moment.

His hand still under her own, Harry stood up, his green eyes gleaming with the same vulnerability she felt toward him. As his face slowly leaned in toward hers, Hermione felt their eleven years of friendship flash through her mind faster than the Hogwarts Express on the home stretch. Through all those years and adventures, she and Harry had steadily grown closer, sharing the good and bad of their daily lives to the point where she couldn't remember the last time they'd spent more than twenty-four hours apart. Now this beautiful man, whom she'd adored (she could now admit) for more years than she could remember, had just proclaimed he was in love with her, and as he leaned toward her, his lips moving inexorably toward her own, she could barely believe what was about to happen. As his lips touched hers, she trembled all over, feeling like a twelve-year-old about to be kissed by her favorite pop star. She'd never melted under anyone's kiss before, but she found herself melting under Harry's. His kiss was slow and firm, not demanding but quietly insistent, full of the promise of something much grander and deeper than some fleeting attraction. She knew that for her, there was no possibility of having a fleeting attraction to Harry. With him, it would be all or nothing - and his kiss said the same.

Finally he pulled away from her and very gently stroked her jawline. His hand trailing on her face made her shiver with delight.

"Harry..." she breathed.

His eyebrows arched in question.

"You're a bloody good kisser," she sighed, her head feeling almost as woozy as her heart.

Harry chuckled. "Ohhh, and I haven't even properly kissed you yet."

She bit her bottom lip, a hopeful smile lighting her face. "Well, would you like to give me a demonstration?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes and looking down to the pile of parchments on his desk. "Ah, I don't know... I do have an awful lot of work to do-"

As laughter punctuated his last few words, Hermione realized he was having her on. The great berk would not get away with this.

"Harry!" she gasped in an affronted tone while tugging his arm playfully.

He laughed aloud, his face twisting into her favorite lopsided grin as he looked at her. "You should see your face!"

"Very funny, I'm sure, you awful tease," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Me a tease?!" he cried. "Dear God! I'm not the one giving on-the-fly handjobs!"

"You didn't seem to mind at the time," she shot back through crimson cheeks.

"No, I didn't," he replied, his voice and face softening. Suddenly the back of his knuckles grazed lightly over the soft, round pad of her chin, and she felt her knees wobbling a bit beneath her. "In fact I rather enjoyed it."

As his knuckles feathered against her skin, her eyelids fluttered and she couldn't help but smile. "That's good because I intend on doing it again some time in the future," she sighed.

"Glad to hear it," he murmured and slowly began to nuzzle her cheek. The feel of his lips grazing her skin sent another shiver through her and her breath came out in shallow puffs against his cheek and ear. Harry's face lit up with a dreamy smile as he continued to press sweet little kisses up across her cheekbone and into her hair. As he discovered her earlobe and kissed that too, she sighed and clutched his shoulders.

"You smell good," he mumbled. "Always."

"Th- oh my!" Hermione gasped as he took her earlobe in his teeth and gave it a gentle tug. "Thank you." She could definitely get used to this. She'd always wondered whether Harry was as romantic as she's suspected, and now she was discovering just how easily he could make her swoon.

"Don't mention it," he breathed into her ear, and his breath set her to trembling again. It was all so lovely, so romantic, so…uncomfortable? She realized she must be sitting on something on his desk.

"Harry," she said, squirming in her spot.

"Hmm?" he breathed as he gently nibbled and licked her earlobe, sending a flood of sensations to even more sensitive parts of her body. Whatever was making her uncomfortable was bloody inconvenient.

"My bottom is sore," she grimaced. "I think I'm sitting on something..."

He pulled her towards him by the small of her waist and stepped back. As she lifted her bottom from the desk, they saw the quill on the table, quite rumpled, and the pointy metal lid of his inkpot where she had perched herself. She gasped and patted her bottom.

"Oh no! Have I got ink on my bum?"

Harry chuckled as he turned her about and checked. "Oh dear."

"Ohhh what? Do I?" she fretted, still unable to see her backside.

He stepped back, folding his arms and stroked his jaw with a critical flourish. "I could do a Rorschach test with your bottom."

"Ohh bugger!" she moaned. Bloody hell, did I ruin these pants? She seethed at herself for sitting down on his desk, of all places, without checking to see what might be underneath her.

"I see a hippogriff," he teased.

She whimpered, too upset to laugh properly. "Ginny gave me these pants!"

"You can clean them, can't you?" he asked. "Just soak them."

"No, I bought you that ink," she said, twisting about and tugging at her pants. "It's wizard ink! Charmed to be fade resistant and waterproof and stuff like that." She slapped herself internally for doing something as stupid as sitting on an open inkpot. Fifty points from Gryffindor, she chided herself.

"Oh," was all he could say.

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyelids. The romantic mood of a moment ago seemed to be crashing in front of her. "I can only hope Mrs. Weasley knows a good charm to get rid of it."

He held out his hand to her as he walked into his ensuite.

"I'm sure she does. Here, take those pants off and we'll soak them anyway, to see if it does any good."

She walked into Harry's bathroom behind him, sighing as she relished the view of his bum; despite not playing regularly for several years, he still had the "Quidditch arse" that set hearts fluttering at Hogwarts in sixth and seventh years. As he turned round to her, she realized he had, very innocently, managed to get her out of her pants.

"Oh, very smooth," she smirked, resisting the urge to believe he'd left the quill out just for this purpose.

"Are you going to try it or not?"

"Ah, why not?" she muttered.

There she was, alone with him again in the bathroom where all of this began just a few days ago. She sensed that taking her pants off this time would start something that neither of them would want to stop, and the thought filled her with mischief. Pushing down the elastic waistband, she wriggled out of the stained pants then left them in a heap on the floor. As she stood there in nothing but her knickers and singlet, Harry pursed his lips delightedly. A sudden wave of shyness made her toe the floor anxiously.

"They were the most sensible knickers in the store at the time," she said, standing tall. Honestly, a girl couldn't even wear cute but sensible knickers without someone making a big deal of it. "They're very comfy," she went on.

Harry said nothing, but his face veered between a smirk and a leer. She stomped playfully to the sink and turned the tap on full-blast. Behind her she could here Harry stifling a laugh.

"They are also stained with ink."

Stained? They're stained? Then I'll have to -- her heart leapt into her throat as the logical conclusion raced through her mind, and she didn't have to think twice about the quantum leap she was about to make. She turned off the water and very, very slowly turned around and gazed at Harry, hoping that the fire in her soul also blazed in her eyes.

"Well," she said breathlessly, barely able to contain her feelings, "I'm just going to have to take these off to soak too, aren't I?"

"Uh- huhh- khem!" Harry cleared his throat and nodded, his emotions seeming barely in check. "I think that's a very sensible measure."

Having his complete and undivided attention (at least the part that wasn't traveling south) put a wicked glint in Hermione's eyes.

"And heaven knows I am a sensible woman," she said. Then she stepped forward and, looking straight at him, hooked her thumb in the waistband of her knickers.

"Always," he answered, his voice suddenly husky, his eyes locked on hers. Hermione reveled in that huskiness and in what her every movement seemed to be doing to him. Very deliberately and carefully, she moved her hips from side to side, the tip of her tongue pressed to the middle of her upper lip, her brow wrinkled in concentration. Eyes still on his, she wriggled out of the knickers and kicked them off, then tossed them over his head and out the bathroom door. Now she stood half-naked physically but fully bared emotionally.

"I thought we were meant to be soaking those," he murmured, inching closer to her, watching her lips.

She shrugged one shoulder. "They were cheap knickers anyway."

The last objection cast aside, she flung herself toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him voraciously. He seemed amused by her eagerness, but really, what did he expect? She'd never been one to go at things half-arsed, and now that she'd taken this step, she'd be damned if she would hold anything back. Even wrapped in her arms, he seemed much too far away, and the need to get closer burned in her as she hooked one leg up over his hip. His hand caught her naked thigh, sending a shiver through her. Lips still locked to his, she tried to steer him out of the bathroom. But as she continued kissing him she couldn't steer very well and suddenly they collided with the bathroom sideboard, causing a shudder of protest from the mirror and the sink.

"Oh shit!" he chuckled.

"Whoops!" she laughed.

Their laughter was short-lived as Harry leaned in and kissed her hungrily, his tongue stealing between her lips, sweeping through her mouth, the kind of kiss she'd wanted and dreamed about even before the Snitch came to reside on her skin. She could resist him no more than she could have resisted Imperio, but Harry didn't need to command, as her own desire made her want to go wherever he wished. She removed his hands from behind her waist and pulled them down to her naked hips and thighs, offering herself to him fully. The time for being a gentleman was long past.

Quickly Harry took her cue and suddenly his lips trailed down her body. When they stopped at her stomach and he began suckling the delicate skin there, a jolt of desire rocked her body.

"Harry..." she panted, twining her fingers in his hair. She'd always felt like the two of them were on the same wavelength, but now he seemed to know what she enjoyed without even being told. And people say I'm clever, she marveled. He nuzzled her belly, licking and kissing the Snitch, her pleasure mounting with every touch of his tongue and lips. Then he burrowed lower, his nose sliding in among her curls.

"Harry!" she squealed as the tip of his tongue touched her clitoris. Realizing certain things needed attention before she and Harry went much further, she leapt away from him and ran across his bedroom, then picked among the various objects on his desk.

"Where is it?" she asked, still searching.

"Where is what?" he returned, apparently having entered the bedroom.

She looked over her shoulder at him. "Your wand!" She needed his wand right now, as her own was back in her room and she couldn't exactly retrieve it in her current state of undress.

Harry pursed his lips, seeming to resist the temptation to make a dirty joke. "In the pocket of my coat hanging off the chair."

Bending over the chair, Hermione dug around in Harry's coat pocket until she found his wand. From the other side of the bedroom she heard a hoarse, guttural "Oh my…"

She looked over her shoulder at him, confusion on her face. In her haste to find the wand she'd forgotten what part of her anatomy was naked and pointing right toward him.

"I love your bottom, Hermione," he said. He gave a brief, boyish smile, the sort he used to give if she'd done a spell particularly well at school. "And the bits that go with it."

A week ago she would have laughed and blushed wildly if anyone had suggested that Harry would ever see her bottom. Now he was declaring his love for it, and his declaration gave her an incredibly naughty idea. She ducked her head away from him and very deliberately lifted her bottom higher in the air, angling her pelvis directly toward him, giving him an eyeful of all of those bits. Then, not waiting to determine his exact reaction, she stood up and waved Harry's wand at the door in a big, slow circle.

"Silencio!" she commanded.

The air around the door wobbled and as Hermione turned around, she took care of the other - and even more important - business and tapped her belly, muttering the contraceptive charm in her head. Then she dropped the wand and slowly, carefully swiped her arm along the top of his desk, clearing off a sizeable space on which to sit.

Everything taken care of to her satisfaction, she parked her naked bum on top of his desk. Then she opened her legs and, putting her feet up on the arms of his work chair, she placed her hands strategically in front of her privates. He'd see plenty of them in the near future, but first she intended to get him naked.

"Harry," she said pointedly.

He looked at her, his eyes glazed with desire. Flapping his mouth a bit, he barely choked out a sound.

"Uh - buh-"

"Take your pants off." This was going to be fun.

"What?"

She looked directly at his crotch, enjoying the bulge she knew was there because of her.

"Your pants, Harry. Take them off," she commanded, amusement flickering on her face.

"A-All of my-" he blubbered.

She arched a brow and grinned. He wasn't nearly that dense, was he? No, of course not. Finally cottoning on, he nodded.

"All off..." he muttered.

His voice drifting off, he looked down and hooked his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his track pants, then pushed his pants and boxers down his legs, letting them drop around his ankles. Hermione shifted on the desk, her legs opening wider, hands up on her knees, her thumbs twitching with anticipation, and peered raptly at his erection. The sight of his very firm, unrestrained penis made her ache with lust. She'd now seen it four times in four days, and it still took her breath away. It was such a lovely length, so generously proportioned and unabashedly male, strutting proudly from its bed of raven curls, reigning over an equally impressive set of balls. Yes, Harry was hung. And now he's mine, she mused, enjoying the view.

"Now we're both half-naked." He looked down. "In a strange, strange way."

"Yes..." Hermione said, biting her bottom lip, unable to control either her old nervous habit or the blush in her cheeks. No, half-naked wasn't nearly naked enough. "My turn, eh?"

His brows arched inquisitively. Apparently she was going to have to lead him step by step into the abyss of bliss. Not that she minded, of course - she just hadn't figured on having to spell everything out for him. Gathering the hem of her singlet between her fingers, she arched her back and pulled the slight garment up and over her head, then tossed it on the floor.

Now she sat naked on his desk, her legs open, arms tucked at her sides. Flushed with desire and laying herself bare to him in every way, she ached to see all of him too, though what she'd seen so far was more than enough to make her very aroused. She'd always thought he had a very attractive chest, in the lean-muscled Quidditch player way rather than the overly-muscled bodybuilder way. Now she wanted to see that lovely chest again, to drag her fingernails across it and feather them across his nipples and lick lazy circles around his pectoral muscles, and more.

"Now you..." she nodded toward his tee shirt, impatience growing in her chest. He pulled the garment up over his head, his hands shaking (she hoped with anticipation rather than fear), then tossed it over his shoulder.

Then he looked at his chest and frowned. "What?"

She'd just seen his chest a few days ago, yet now that he was completely nude, it seemed even nicer than she'd remembered. Now she was seeing him au naturel but not yet engaged in any sex act; merely nude and erect (though there was no "merely" about Harry's erection), and his chest was yet another perfect piece of him. It was broad and lean, with a smattering of black hair in the cleft between his pecs. Below his not-too-prominent abdominal muscles was a tiny swell of belly, then a lovely long line of fine black hair leading from his navel down to his privates. Happy trails to me, she thought. Merlin, he's beautiful.

"Well... you have an awfully nice chest, don't you?" she said, suddenly feeling shy toward him.

He glanced down at himself and them back to her. "You really think so?"

She smiled appreciatively, her eyebrows lifting in approval, and he edged toward her, blushing like a schoolboy.

"Well... I like yours too," he offered. "Very much."

As well as they knew each other after eleven years, they barely knew each other at all this way and she giggled quietly at the thought that finally, finally they were exploring each other physically. As she leaned back on the desk, he rolled his chair away and stood between her legs. His hands slid up and down her thighs as deftly as they'd caressed a Quidditch broom, his touch making her shudder to her core and drawing a raspy breath from her throat. Though he touched her gently, almost reverently, the fact that they were his hands and not anyone else's set her blood roaring and left her dripping with need for him. Then his hands slid up her body, caressing her hips then settling at her waist, and she scooted forward on the desk, pressing closer to him, his erection brushing her thigh and sending more shivers through her.

When she looked in those green eyes she knew so well, she saw a swirl of emotions that echoed the maelstrom in her own heart; it was as if friendship, longing and physical desire were heated up and boiled together into something neither of them had ever felt before. He put his hand on her jaw and tenderly cradled and stroked it, and suddenly she felt as if everything that had gone before had dropped away and they stood on the precipice of a new and wonderful land meant just for them.

"Hermione..." he whispered as if she were the only woman in the world. But he didn't need to say anything; she already knew, and her eyes would tell him everything he needed to know. So she smiled and, leaning forward, nuzzled his nose with her own. Then he kissed her and wrapped his arms tightly around her, gathering her to his body and picking her up off his desk. The warmth and strength of his embrace, and the electricity that seemed to leap between their bodies, made her gasp.

"Don't want you getting ink on your bum again, do you?" he mumbled hoarsely into her ear.

No, she definitely did not want that again, and she chuckled with glee as he pulled her against himself. Her legs were wrapped around his smooth narrow hips, her folds were pressed firmly against his stomach and, if she wasn't mistaken, the tip of his penis was lightly touching one of her buttocks. She vaguely felt him taking small steps backwards as he kissed her with a kiss full of years of pent-up love and lust and passion, his tongue stealing between her lips and teeth, her own lips and tongue returning his passion. His mouth was a delicious cornucopia of moisture, taste and texture, and she sighed and huffed against it, enraptured by how perfectly everything about him seemed to fit against her. For a few blessed moments she'd forgotten about Mulciber and Nott and the damned dusty Ministry archives and Lupin breathing down her neck for the next report. All she could think about (and she could barely think at all) was Harry's precious body pressed tightly against her own.

Suddenly they tumbled onto the bed and Hermione let out a tiny shocked gasp.

"Sorry," he apologized.

She shook her head and kissed him again, happy not to worry about where they were going. Realizing that he was still wearing his glasses, she plucked them nimbly from his face and, stretching out an arm, put them out of harm's way on his bedside table.

"Don't need those for the moment, do we?" she smiled.

Harry shook his head.

They were on his bed now, and she realized she'd never lain on his bed before, at least not naked with her limbs wrapped around him. It was a delicious, powerful thing, this business of lying naked on his bed with his chest just barely brushing against her breasts, barely but just enough to send frissons of sensation from her nipples to down below. Apparently Harry was enjoying this too, as he wriggled backwards a bit and very tentatively cupped one of her breasts in the palm of his hand, his touch firm but gentle, just as she'd imagined it would be. Concentrating on the sensation, Hermione bit her lower lip and arched her back, pleasure drifting across her face. When her nipple stiffened under his palm, he squeezed it carefully and she responded with a happy sigh.

She watched him as he played with her breasts, watching his own hands stroking and squeezing them, and in return her fingers grazed gently up and down his arms and shoulders. Then his head bent down and he took her nipple into his mouth. As his tongue laved the sensitive flesh she gasped, folding her legs towards her belly and arching her back suddenly.

Harry seemed startled. "Did I hurt-"

"Uhn-nnn," she moaned. Hurting, no; making crazy, yes, she thought, shaking her head vigourously as she pulled him back down to her breast. "Don't stop."

The cheeky sod grinned at her and put his mouth back where it had been, making her sigh again. He continued to lavish attention on her breast, stroking and caressing it, licking the curve. When he nipped the nub with his teeth, a strange noise erupted from her throat and she felt her legs fall open beneath him as her coherent, rational mind fell out of her head.

"Ohhhhh bloody hell," she muttered. If this was what the preliminaries felt like with Harry, could she survive the main event? Before she could think on it, he smiled and shifted up and kissed her again, softly this time. As his fingertips drifted down her skin, tracing light circles between her breasts, she shuddered and stroked his side with her bare foot.

She'd been so focused on everything happening between her and Harry that she'd not thought much of the Snitch, but now she could feel it flapping wildly on her belly. Obviously Harry hadn't forgotten it; he traced his fingers along the pattern of the tattoo, then kissed her and dipped his fingers down past her curls. As he made long, lazy strokes on and over her clit, her breath hitched and became faster and shallower, echoing the tension building in her body. She turned her head and sighed, and Harry began to suckle her neck gently. When his lips found a certain very sensitive spot under her jaw, she squirmed but smiled to herself, not the least bit surprised that he would guess to kiss her there. After all, he knew her almost as well as she knew herself.

As he continued to kiss and stroke her, she raked her fingers up his chest until she found his nipples, then tweaked them until he gasped. Turnabout is fair play, she thought with a naughty guttural chuckle. Harry responded by stroking her lips and clit even more firmly. Her legs fell open again but she continued to stroke and tweak his nipples, and judging by the smile on his face, he didn't seem to mind at all. As his arousal continued to build even more obviously than her own, she remembered the first time she'd taken him in her hand. Wanting to make sure he hadn't forgotten, she wrapped the fingers of her right hand around his erection, stroking the shaft and tracing lacy patterns on the tip. The feel of him in her hand made her blood roar, and she felt her core melt as his fingers worked their magic on her.

Now it was her turn to make him melt. Removing her hand, she pushed him off her and onto his back on the bed, her skin sliding against his as she drifted down toward his knees. He gave her a curious frown, as if he had no idea what she was doing. Silly boy, she shrugged with a smile. Wasn't it obvious? She wasn't the only one who needed to be wet and ready.

"Can't go in unprepared," she breathed. "And don't make me go get the lube."

Harry shook his head, his mouth flopping like a fish out of water. He seemed completely shocked yet utterly delighted as Hermione locked her eyes to the head of his penis then took him partway into her mouth. As her tongue moved up and down and around his shaft, licking and tickling him, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes, a look of complete and utter bliss playing across his face. She continued her ministrations with fingers, palms and pursed lips then, taking a breath, took him even deeper, until she noticed a look of alarm on his face.

"Duh- oh God.... Gag reflex!!" he bleated, "Don't choke-"

She laughed at his assumption and continued to ply him with her tongue, remembering a story she'd read that asserted (she thought rightly) that in oral sex, the giver was always in control. She'd not forgotten what Harry's mouth had done to her just last night, and she was determined to give as good as she'd gotten. She worked him until her mouth shook around him and Harry groaned and gripped the sheets; she gave him a last long, wet lick and, satisfied he was now adequately lubricated, pulled her mouth off him. Then she crawled up the bed, skirting past his penis and laid on top of him.

"Didn't mean to scare you," she breathed, cradling his face, her eyes on his lips.

"You- I mean-" He stared at her, disbelief on his face. "When did you-"

"Best not to ask that," she replied, unable to hide her amusement. Her brain muttered a silent thank you to Alan Plankinton, the fellow she'd dated while at the Auror Academy.

"No, I suppose..." He gulped. "You're just so-"

Just so what? Her raised eyebrows questioned him silently and Harry sighed with a disbelieving smile.

"-bloody dominant!"

He seemed surprised that his bossy eleven-year-old friend had grown into a sexually assertive young woman, and she laughed and wriggled her naked body on top of his, unable to resist the urge to tease him. "Well," she jested naughtily, "would you rather I roll over like a good little bitch and play dead?"

Harry blinked, an equally naughty idea seeming to possess him. Then he grinned and, growling like a rutting animal, grabbed her and rolled them both over. She squealed and giggled as he suckled her neck for a few moments then looked in her eyes again.

"Do you know, I think I love it when you talk dirty," he murmured with a grin.

What a difference a day makes, she thought. The same Harry who couldn't believe she wanted him to watch her was now excited by sexy banter, and she couldn't help but grin back at him and wrap her arms around his neck.

"Hmmm, well, that's very interesting," she replied, closing her eyes as he kissed her neck again. "I suppose you want me to spank you as well?"

He chuckled into her neck and mumbled, "Not tonight."

"Good," she said, then smiled as she ran her fingers through his beloved hair, now even messier than usual. "I prefer kisses."

"Me too," he said with an intoxicated smile, nuzzling her again.

She lay there beneath him feeling equally besotted. She knew it was happening, yet she could hardly believe that the idea of doing this with him had barely entered her consciousness only four days earlier. He kissed her again and she wrapped her arms around his broad, smooth back, twining her fingers in his hair. Then she opened her legs wider and wrapped them around his hips, those lovely, strong yet narrow hips that were so near what she wanted so desperately inside her. With each breath of his lips on hers, her mouth opened a little wider and her tongue dipped a bit deeper inside his own, coaxing him to do what she knew they both wanted.

She felt him settle between her legs, one hand stroking her breast and the other twined in her hair. As the tip of his penis slowly stroked her folds, she trembled and dug her fingers into his arms and her heels into his bottom, her sighs escalating along with her pleasure as he kissed her one more time and then slowly pushed himself inside her.

Nothing Hermione had ever done or seen or felt had prepared her for this. Every nerve in her body was on fire with the sensation of being filled - and filled completely - by Harry, and her brain all but melted trying to determine why she'd never done this until now with this sweet, wonderful, gorgeous, amazingly sexy man whom she'd adored for…well, forever. She lay there in his arms, returning his long, slow, deep, wet kisses, reveling in the feel of his fingers in her hair, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, the better to feel every glorious, mind-bending sensation. As he continued to kiss and caress her, she felt him angle his hips then sink into her again and again as if to better explore the new territory he'd just entered. Every stroke, every glide, every touch of him on and inside her sent rivers of pleasure rippling all over her body, leaving her limp and helpless with delight, and all she could do was moan and push back against him.

Then Harry began to roll his hips slowly and something inside Hermione knew to stop thinking about what was happening and just be. She knew something else instinctively too - that for as long as they lay here together this way, the rest of the world didn't exist and there was just Hermione and Harry, blessedly naked and totally wrapped up in each other from head to toe.

Now she lost herself completely in the feel and taste and sound of him, how his skin slid against her own and he filled her to bursting and his breath grew ragged as he threw himself totally into making love to her. Soon her moans and gasps were all she needed to communicate her pleasure to him, and as she clutched him with her hands and legs and inner muscles, a rough guttural groan escaped her and Harry responded by kissing her even more hotly and deeply. His kisses and his ceaseless rolling and stroking sent a ripple of tiny shudders through in her body, and suddenly Harry groaned and began to thrust into her almost with abandon, pumping like a champion. He kissed her yet again and as his thrusts grew deeper and quicker, an old Muggle song ran through her head and made her smile:

I'm just wild about Harry

And Harry's wild about me!

The heav'nly blisses of his kisses,

Fill me with ecstasy!

He's sweet just like chocolate candy,

Or like the honey from the bee

Oh, I'm just wild about Harry,

And he's just wild about, cannot do without,

He's just wild about me.

Suddenly she broke the kiss as heavy gasps and moans of ecstasy left her throat.

"Ohhh... Oh my-" She gulped and as her eyes flickered open, she cradled his face with her hands. "Yes, oh-" She was so close, so very close to falling into that abyss of bliss. She would be there very, very soon and wished he could come with her. She bit her lip trying to hold back, but Harry would have none of that.

"Just say it," he said with a ragged breath.

As his eyes bored into her soul, she tightened around him until, seconds later, a tsunami of sensation threatened to drown her and she cried out, "Oh... oh HARRY!"

Her exclamation apparently pushed him over the edge, and in another second he was clenching and shuddering too, moaning and growling like a wild animal as she gasped and whimpered her own resolution. As his orgasm concluded and he made a last few shallow strokes within her, he cradled her face in his hands, his own face full of bliss and - perhaps - love. He sighed and kissed her again, but rather than the heat of passion, this kiss was full of the sweetness of afterglow. His eyes filled with emotion, Harry breathed her name over and over…

"Hermione…"

Oh, how she loved the way he breathed it, as though it were music to his ears. She tilted her head a bit sideways and ran her fingertips through his fringe, now sweaty from the exertion of lovemaking, and her lips widened in a stunned and blissful smile which he promptly kissed yet again.

Then Harry sighed and shifted himself partially off her so that the right half of his body lay on the bed. As she felt him slip out of her, she pushed him off slowly, then quickly snuggled up to his side.

"... Hermione..." he began.

"Hmm?"

He licked his lips and looked at himself and then her.

"We're on the bed sideways," he announced.

"I know."

He moved to sit up, but she pushed him down again.

"Relax," she said and settled back onto his chest. Feeling happier than she'd felt in many months, she wanted to curl up with him and enjoy the rest of the rapture washing through her. "There's no rule saying you have to lie on the bed in a certain way."

He squirmed. "Yes, but I feel sticky."

"So do I," she said. "I want to snuggle for five minutes."

"Yeah but... I might fall asleep," he admitted with a sheepish little grin.

Men and their endorphins, she sighed. Can't they stay awake for even five minutes afterwards? Bloody wimps, they'd never make it through childbirth, she smirked, her impatience showing on her face as a frown. But if he's really feeling that sticky… A naughty idea seized her. There he lay, sticky and sweaty, but even more beautiful than before they'd done this. His breath had just barely returned to normal, and his manhood was no longer saluting her. She just might have to do something about that. She sat up and sighed dramatically, then eyed him over her shoulder.

"What are you saying, Harry?"

He nodded once and put his hand on hers. "I really need a shower now."

She considered this. She would definitely have to do something about it.

"Well, so do I!"

Then she got up and, without saying a word, strolled into his bathroom and stood there waiting to see how long it would take him to cotton on. When a minute had passed and he still wasn't there, she realized she would have to make things more clear to him.

"Are you going to come have a shower or not?" she asked, poking her head out the bathroom door, an amused expression on her face.

She didn't have to wait long to find out, as Harry jumped off the bed, a devilish grin on his face, and chased her as she ran squealing into the shower.

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