Intervention
By FenrisWolf
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DISCLAIMER - I don't own anything related to Harry Potter, JK Rowling does…darn it.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE PART ONE - Sorry this has taken so long, but I had a lot of ideas to work into this chapter, some of which only occurred while I was writing it, which is why this one is so long - 9,000+ words, not counting Author's notes and such, and all of it Harry and Hermione.
Speaking of which, I was a bit surprised by the reviews I received that were so down on the large portion of the last chapter that was devoted to Ron and Luna. I felt it important that the ease with which Ron accepts Harry and Hermione's changed relationship be explained, and that in order to do that I had to flesh out his history with Luna. Now I know this story is listed as H/Hr, and that is the main focus, but their relationship doesn't exist in a vacuum, it affects and is affected by the relationships that surround them. Harry and Hermione are going to have enough on their plate dealing with their own issues without having to worry about Ron being a prat.
Anyway, I hope that answers some reader's questions about why it's taken so long for the real Harry/Hermione action to get rolling. Hopefully Part Two will make up for any perceived lack in Part One.
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Chapter Three - Taking The Plunge - Part Two
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The water lapping against the platform and the warmth of the afternoon sun performed their usual charm, lulling Harry into a restful doze, though the occasional sounds as Hermione stroked her way past the float sent shivers of uneasiness through him. Something about the sight of her head and bare shoulders bobbing on the surface as she treaded water, her hair shining and wet, her skin flushed from exertion and glistening with moisture, stirred feelings in the pit of his stomach he couldn't identify. He remembered the flash of pale flesh when she turned her back and swam off, her long, slender legs churning the water into forth as she kicked powerfully away, and the feeling spread outward, tingling along his nerves. Finally the exhaustion he felt from weeks of tortured days and restless nights took precedence over his body's reaction to his friend's presence, and he fell asleep.
The sound and feel of something thumping onto the wood next to him startled him awake, causing him to flail about momentarily before awareness kicked in and he realized where he was. "Sorry, Harry!" Hermione's voice called, and he opened an eye to see her bracing her arms on the edge of the platform, obviously in preparation of levering herself out of the water. The source of the thump was identified by the sight of a tightly wrapped oilskin bundle on the float next to her, its surface still damp from its trip across the lake.
"What do you think you're doing?" Harry grumbled, and then any remaining questions he had vanished along with all cognitive functions as with a kick of her legs and a graceful flip, Hermione left the water.
When Harry had said earlier that he knew Hermione could swim, he hadn't been lying. More than once she'd mentioned missing swimming while at Hogwarts, and then there was that one time at the Burrow, during the summer before their fourth year. Harry and Ron had been about to head off to the Quidditch pitch for a little one-on-one practice, when Hermione and Ginny had passed them on their way to the lake. Both had been wearing baggy tee shirts over modest, one-piece bathing suits of very conservative cut, and the best that could have been said for Hermione's gawky figure was that she was coltishly cute. She was all arms and legs with nothing beyond her long, bushy hair to tell anyone seeing her from a distance that she was female, not that Harry paid much attention to that sort of thing. She was Hermione, his best friend, and as far as he was concerned the fact that she happened to be a girl was more or less irrelevant.
Two years had passed, with time working its strange magic, and whatever else happened, Harry realized he would never again be able to forget that Hermione was a girl. If anything, the legs she swung up onto the platform were even longer than he remembered, but where they had been gawky and angular, they were now slender and well rounded, with the firm muscles of her calves and thighs moving easily under her smooth skin. The arms that had been awkward and stick-like, with jutting elbows and bony shoulders, were awkward no longer, her toned biceps effortlessly supporting her weight as she adjusted her position on the float.
But the greatest changes, and the ones that caused Harry's breath to catch in his throat, had occurred to the body to which the arms and legs were connected. For the most part they were subtle, which was probably how he'd missed noticing it before, but it was hard to overlook those transformations when the body in question was clothed (if you could call it that) in a skimpy string bikini that probably contained less fabric than the average pocket handkerchief, and covered far less. The top consisted of two triangles of iridescent, emerald green fabric, each no more than three inches wide at the base and no more than four inches long on the remaining two sides. They covered just enough of her small breasts to be decent and no more; certainly they weren't there to provide unnecessary support. The triangles were connected to each other and around her back and neck by thin, black cording that was held taut by two simple bows, the loose ends of which peeked out from under her thick hair and dangled enticingly down her spine.
Below the top, her slender rib cage merged seamlessly with her flat stomach and tiny waist, with only the slightest swell showing her toned abdominal muscles and the navel that nestled there. Below her narrow waist her hips flared out, her bottom firm and round where it connected to those incredible legs. More of the thin, black cording supported the scrap of emerald fabric that provided her with the required modesty, secured on each of her hips by another of those maddening black bows.
By the time he had his pulse somewhat back under control Hermione had pulled a thick towel out of the protective oilskin and spread it on the float, giving her something a little more comfortable than the damp wood to lie on. Next came a small bottle of what Harry assumed was a tanning potion, which she began to apply to her arms, legs, and torso in a languorous fashion that increased Harry's discomfort to the point where he was very glad he was wearing baggy boxers. His dazed condition became critical when, her application of the lotion apparently finished, she looked over and asked, "Harry would you mind doing me?"
The images that flashed through Harry's mind at her simple question were not those one normally conjured when thinking about their best friend, even if said friend had transformed into the incredibly cute and sexy young woman sitting next to him. "Wh-what did you say?" he finally stammered, his face turning red.
Hermione gave him a repressive look that clearly said, 'Get your mind out of the gutter!', a neat trick considering how she was dressed, and explained, "My back, Harry, I can't properly reach my back with the lotion. If you won't do me, my tan will be uneven, or I'll get a burn. Do you mind?"
Swallowing nervously, Harry accepted the proffered bottle, waiting until she had settled face down on the blanket before moving alongside her; his boxers weren't that loose, and he didn't want her to see the effect she was having on him. She flipped her thick braid to one side and settled onto her folded arms, her eyes closed, and though Harry couldn't see it, a smug smile playing around her lips.
He squirted a generous portion of the lotion into the palm of his hand, and then brought his palms together to spread it evenly between them. Just as he touched her shoulder blades she suddenly gasped, "Oh! Wait a minute!" Harry watched incredulously as she reached behind her and with a swift tug undid the bow in the center of her back before drawing the cord, and apparently her top, under her. "Tan lines," she explained before he asked. "There might be another Ball this year, and some of the new dress robes are backless."
Smothering a whimper through gritted teeth, Harry leaned forward again and began to apply the potion to Hermione's back, marveling at its velvety texture as he did so. Noticing the tight muscles along her shoulders he increased the pressure of his fingers, earning a murmur of pleasure from the girl beneath him. When he reached her lower back, though, he started to pull away, only to freeze when Hermione asked crossly, "Why did you stop? You were doing such a good job." With a muttered groan he continued, his fingers trembling slightly as he applied the potion all the way to the edges of the skimpy triangle that covered her pert bottom. Thinking he'd finally be able to escape his torture, he set the bottle by her head and moved to his side of the float, only to have her say, "I forgot; could you go over the backs of my legs? I might have missed a spot or two, and I'm sure some of it rubbed off when I lay down."
Sighing, Harry retrieved the bottle and descended to Hermione's legs, repeating the process he'd just performed on her back. He found his own breath catching when she shivered at his touch on the back of her knees, and at the sight of the small, strawberry-shaped birthmark that winked at him from the bottom of her left cheek.
Finally finished oiling everything it was remotely possible for him to oil without crossing a line that was already becoming dangerously blurred, Harry settled back down, his knees drawn up to ease some of his discomfort, to discover Hermione watching him from beneath her damp hair, her head still resting on her folded arms. "Thank you," she said with a slight smirk, the sight of which made Harry suddenly furious.
All thoughts of how much he wanted to touch her, feel her, vanished and his vision narrowed to the face of the girl next to him. If there had been a mirror handy, he might have been shocked out of his blind rage by the murderous expression he now wore, but no such mirror existed. "What are you playing at?" he snarled, his hand flashing out to grip her upper arm with bruising force. "Is this some new game you've dreamed up? Is it? Something new idea to get Harry out of his shell?"
"Harry, you're hurting me," Hermione said quietly, trying to remain calm in the face of his temper. She'd known this was a possibility, but she hadn't expected him to flare up so quickly. She didn't flinch, didn't pull away, she just stared at the hand gripping her arm, its fingers digging painfully into her bicep.
As fast as it had arrived, the rage passed, leaving Harry feeling slightly dazed as he released the grip he had on her. Hermione touched the spot and hissed in pain, causing Harry's gaze to return to the place where he saw to his horror the bruises already forming. "Merlin, what did I do?" he whispered. His eyes flashed to hers, the pain and shame clear in them. "Gods, Hermione, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"
"It's all right, Harry; if anyone has a right to a little temper tantrum now and then, it's you," Hermione interrupted, triggering another flash of annoyance in him.
Closing his eyes, Harry struggled to bring his dangerously erratic feelings under control. Merlin, he hated this, hated how any little thing seemed to set him off lately. It was as if his emotions had been scraped raw, and the slightest pressure on them sent waves of agony through him. It wouldn't be so bad if they just went inward, he was more or less used to that, but lately he was lashing out at those close to him, even worse than when he'd been at school, and the closer they were, the more brittle his control became.
After a minute or so of struggle, he felt his control was strong enough to open his eyes again. In the interim Hermione had sat up and refastened the string of her top; it wasn't much, considering what was still exposed, but he appreciated the gesture. "Sorry," he said again, and she shrugged.
"It's more my fault than yours, Harry; I can't pretend I didn't know what sort of mood you've been in, and I set out to push all your buttons. Though this wasn't quite the response I'd hoped for," she admitted wryly, rubbing her sore arm.
Harry drew himself up to a sitting position as well, his curiosity piqued in spite of his better judgement. "Do you mind telling me what you were hoping for? Don't take this the wrong way, but this is a pretty extreme departure for you…" he concluded, gesturing in a general way at her lack of clothing.
He watched in fascination as the blush that appeared on her face traveled down her body before she spoke. "I was trying to find out…whether you liked me," she mumbled, looking at her feet.
Like her? Like her? What on earth was she on about? "Of course I like you, Hermione; you're my best friend. You've believed in me when everyone else thought I was nutters, or some glory-seeking prat like Lockheart. Why wouldn't I like you?"
She uttered a frustrated little sigh and shook her head in exasperation. "Why are boys so…you're going to make me say it, aren't you?" she asked, her gaze meeting his more directly as he continued to stare at her in bewilderment. Taking a deep breath she continued, "I wanted to know if you could like me…the way you liked Cho Chang." With the words finally spoken her expression became almost defiant, her chin raised proudly.
At first the words made no sense to Harry. What did Cho have to do with anything? She'd never been as close a friend to Harry as Hermione was; certainly he'd never shared a fraction of the secrets with the Ravenclaw girl that he did without a second thought with Hermione. Aside from Ron, Hermione was the closest friend he had, in many ways even closer. Ron was like a brother to him, but Hermione was like his other half, providing the things he lacked, inspiring him to try and be the person he wanted to be, instead of the slightly broken person he was. What he'd felt for Cho didn't even hold a candle to what he felt for Hermione. In fact, the only thing that was different about his feelings for Cho was-
The world seemed to shift under Harry as his perspective adjusted to what he finally comprehended. Hermione, coming swimming with him while Ron was kept busy elsewhere with 'chores'. Hermione, wearing an almost-there bathing suit that left virtually nothing to the imagination, and made absolutely sure that the thickest male on the planet (meaning him) would notice that she was a girl. Hermione, lying next to him and flirting for all she was worth, asking him to 'do her', for Merlin's sake! Was she trying to find out if he fancied her? And if so, what did that mean about her feelings for him? The weird feelings that plagued him whenever he thought about her for too long returned full force, twisting his stomach as he tried to wrap his mind around the idea. "Why would you want to know that, Mione?" he asked, unconsciously using the pet name that had always remained unspoken before.
"Isn't it obvious, Harry?" she said softly, and he was stunned to see unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "I…like you, Harry, a lot, I have for a while…what happened before the end of school, at the Ministry, it made me realize just how uncertain our lives are…" she saw his shoulder hunch at the mention of the debacle that had claimed Sirius's life, and frowned. "I know you blame yourself for that, and I promised I wouldn't argue with you about it, but Harry…we're all in danger, every one of us who refuses to submit to V-voldemort; myself more than most, not because I'm your friend, but because I'm a Muggleborn witch who violates all their notions of pureblood superiority. Being your friend doesn't change that.
"The point is, none us of knows how much time we have, and I decided that I had to tell you this summer how I felt, because if…if there was any chance…that you might…then whatever time we have, I want it to be with you…do you understand?" she asked, hating that it was so hard to say the words.
She waited nervously, watching the expression in his eyes change as he worked through what she was trying to get across to him, the eyes she'd learned to read so well over the last two years: confusion, surprise, understanding, hope, fear, and finally puzzlement, puzzlement that stayed in place as his mouth opened a couple of times to voice a question he couldn't seem to put into words. "What is it?" she finally prompted.
He sighed and gave a little shrug. "It's just…I thought you fancied Ron," he explained, earning a very startled look from her.
"Ron!" she exclaimed, "Why on earth would you think I fancied him? All we do half the time is fight." She paused and thought for a moment. "I never really thought about it, but aside from both being in Gryffindor, the only thing we have in common is being your friend, well that and being on the Dark Lord's list of least favorite people..."
Harry looked down at his hands. "I just thought, you know, all your bickering, it was just your way with flirting with each other," he mumbled.
Hermione stared at him, her expression one of mild exasperation. "Harry, I do NOT fancy Ron! Oh, I suppose I might have thought about it once or twice; I think every girl does that with any boy she knows once she notices that they're, well, boys, but honestly! There's a huge difference between playful banter and cutting each other down. Constantly fighting and picking at each other, me nagging him about school, him making fun of me for caring about my grades, not to mention his complete lack of interest in the things that really matter to me like S.P.E.W…if we really got together, we'd end up hating each other within a month! That's not the way two people who care about one another should act."
Harry just shrugged. "It was where I grew up," was all he said, but the simple acceptance behind those words tore at her. It was all she could do to keep from flinging her arms around him, but it wasn't time for that, not yet.
Instead she laid a hand gently on his and whispered, "Harry, you do know that the way your relatives acted wasn't normal, don't you? That the way they treated you was wrong?" He just shrugged again, and she tried another tack. "What about Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? You've seen how they act around each other, and around their children. Not to mention how they've always accepted you. Doesn't that seem much more normal to you?"
"But they're…special," Harry replied quietly. "I don't think there's anyone else like them in the world." He smiled slightly, remembering the ease with which the Weasleys had taken him into their home, despite all the troubles he brought with him, and the way Mrs. Weasley treated him like one of her own children. He didn't quite know how to respond when she fussed over and mothered him; he knew, in an abstract sort of way, that most mothers actually cared for their children, but he had no memory of having such affection directed towards him, and the feelings it aroused sometimes left him feeling confused and frightened.
Hermione considered her answer carefully. "They are special, Harry, but they're not as unusual as you might think. Most couples have good times and bad, but if they're happy, well, it shows." She paused, her expression growing wistful. "My mum and dad aren't anywhere near as demonstrative as the Weasleys; they come from conservative backgrounds, where displays of affection are a very private matter, but I've never doubted for one moment that they loved each other, and me, very much."
"I envy you," he said quietly, but she heard the pain and longing that were hidden behind the words and couldn't resist giving him a hug. she was surprised when he returned it, and then she felt his arms tighten further. An odd shaking went though him, and suddenly she felt something hot and wet on her shoulder. She turned her head just enough to see his face and realized his was crying, great, wracking sobs with his eyes screwed shut, but completely, utterly silent.
It took a moment, but she finally understood that this was the way he must have learned to cry growing up with the Dursleys, in silence so that they wouldn't hear and add to his pain, and she felt a tremendous anger burning in her at this further sign of their abuse. She began crooning him to him softly, her arms holding him and her hands moving in gentle, comforting circles on his back, much as her own mother had held and comforted her when she came home crying from school after being teased for being a know-it-all. Gradually the tremors eased along with his grip on her; she felt him shift uncomfortably, and let her arms slip from around him. "Better?" she asked, and he nodded.
The thoughts that were running though Harry's head at that point were nothing if not confused. The brilliant and attractive (and nearly naked, his hormones reminded him) girl that Hermione had become fancied him, not Ron. What was more, he was beginning to suspect that those odd sensations that crept into his stomach whenever he thought about her meant that he fancied her, too. 'Do I?' he wondered. 'Do I fancy her, or is it more than that? It's not like what I felt for Cho…' The image of Hermione in her bikini flashed behind his eyes, and he corrected himself, 'Okay, some of it is like that, I admit, but that's not all there is to it. I want her, but I want her to be happy even more, even if it meant that she was with someone else.' The brief thought of Hermione in someone else's arms sent a surprising stab of pain through his gut, and he blinked. "Is that it? I want her happiness, even if it means I'm miserable, and I think I would be without her in my life. Is that…love?' The idea shocked Harry. Not so much that he loved someone; after all, he loved his parents, and Sirius and Remus, he loved the friends he'd made at school, and loved Ron like a brother. He even, as mad as he still was at him, loved Dumbledore as a surrogate grandfather. But what he felt for her went deeper; the others he loved were a part of him, but she…completed him in ways he could barely comprehend, let alone put into words. He just knew that he needed her, badly, and that if he lost her he'd never be whole again.
She saw the look of realization appear on his face, along with a small smile. Biting her lip, she asked, "What is it, Harry?"
To her utter amazement, instead of answering he leaned forward and lightly touched his lips to hers, just for an instant, before settling back and looking at her expectantly. She felt the beginning of tears in her eyes, and whispered, "Does that mean…?" Smiling, he nodded, and with a cry she flung herself around his neck, raining little kisses all over his face as he laughed with her. When she'd calmed a bit, he took her face in his hands and leaned forward, carefully pressing his lips against hers.
At first both their mouths were closed, but as the sensations of their first real kiss swept over her Hermione's lips parted with a soft moan. Harry's followed suit, his tongue tentatively reaching out and touching her teeth, asking for admittance. Hermione obliged, and together they learned the first steps of the dance of intimacy they were starting together. Hermione's arms slipped around Harry's neck, her hands finally playing with the messy black hair she'd ached to touch for so long, while his hands slipped down and held her waist before moving to the small of her back, where his fingers began to move in gentle circles.
Finally the kiss broke and they leaned together, their foreheads touching while their laboring lungs calmed. "Wow," Harry said at last, as Hermione blushed and nodded. "I guess this means we're dating?" he asked, feeling happier than he had in a very long time.
"Mmmm," Hermione replied, turning in his embrace and settling back against his chest, his head resting atop hers as her hands trailed possessively along his forearms. Her eyes wandered across the lake, to the low granite bluff where she'd dived into the water, and to something at the edge of the trees just beyond. The sight of it jogged her memory, and she bit her lip as she tried to decide whether to continue with what she'd planned, or leave things as they were. There was every chance that her plan might backfire, that he might resent what she had in mind, even be furious with her. 'He'll understand eventually,' her inner voice argued. 'And you're not doing it to control him or hurt him, but to help him; he'll see that. Besides, if you wait until later, you'll lose this chance…'
She turned slightly in his embrace and reached one hand up to lightly caress his cheek. "Harry, do you trust me?" she asked.
Harry snorted and with a smile kissed her forehead before answering. "That's a pretty silly question; isn't it? I've trusted you as my best friend for years, I'm certainly not going to trust you any less now that you're my…girlfriend," he finished, hesitating slightly, but sending a shiver through her at the sound of the word on his lips. Still, she kept her questioning gaze on his face, and he sighed. "Yes, I trust you. Happy now?"
She smiled and slipped out of the circle of his arms, moving towards the edge of the float. At his surprised look she explained, "There's someplace I want you to come with me…no questions asked," she added as he started to open his mouth.
Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Aren't we a little underdressed to go visiting?" he asked, his eyes travelling over her bare form appreciatively in a way that made her skin tingle.
"It's not far," she answered, skirting his question, "and we won't be seeing anyone on the way or there. Please, Harry?"
Not seeing any real point in arguing the matter, Harry smiled and nodded, getting to his feet. Hermione took a moment's pleasure in looking him over now that he was 'hers', at least unofficially. His early years of privation meant that he would never reach the inches he would have growing up in a loving home, but five years of good Hogwarts food and several growth spurts had brought Harry to a respectable 5'10". He was still whipcord slender, but it was the slenderness of a body type that favored lean muscle, not the gauntness of hunger, and the sight of his smoothly toned chest, flat stomach and narrow hips made the tingle that had started on her skin move elsewhere. She felt a flush color her cheeks, and she quickly ducked her head lest her expression give away her intentions.
The quick swim across the lake was uneventful; Hermione pulled herself out of the water next to the granite outcropping and waited for Harry to join her by their piled clothing. They dressed quickly, Harry in his usual worn and baggy cast-offs, while Hermione simply pulled on an oversized tee shirt that hid the skimpiness of her suit admirably but did nothing to cover her long legs. A brief stop at the charmed stump that served as a wand repository for swimmers had them feeling fully dressed again, Harry with a wand holster wrapped around his thigh, Hermione with a slender belt slung low around her waist with a holster set for a fast draw.
That important task completed, Hermione gave Harry's hand a quick squeeze before taking the path that led to the top of the little bluff. Once there, though, she turned away from the lake and faced the forest. There, hidden in the shadow of the trees, was something he'd missed seeing on his previous trips. Two small upright stones, each about four feet high, defined a gap in the trees that seemed to indicate a path. The stones were too regular to be natural, but centuries of exposure to the elements and to the lichen that shrouded their surfaces had long since erased any trace of their shaping.
Hermione stepped into the gap between the stones and placed a hand on top of each before whispering a phrase he couldn't quite catch. Whatever it was, it apparently had its desired effect, as both stones began to glow a very soft blue, the color flickering across the surface like and echo of St. Elmo's Fire. Hermione turned to face him, and somehow he wasn't surprised to see a flicker of that same blue lurking within her chocolate eyes. "Do you want to tell me what's going on?" he asked quietly. She looked for a moment as if she was going to speak, and then bit her lip and shook her head. Nodding, he just said, "Lead the way, then."
She smiled gratefully and turned, passing between the glowing stones and onto the path with Harry close behind her. Harry noticed immediately that the woods they were passing though seemed older, and far more primal, than the ones he was used to around the Burrow. These trees reminded him more of those within the Forbidden Forest by Hogwarts, and he began to feel a bit concerned.
They walked for about fifteen minutes, the narrow path clearly defined as it wound among increasingly larger, more ancient trees, their trunks covered with moss, lichen and parasitic fungus. Harry was just about to speak again when the trail ended in another clearing, this one far smaller than the one holding the lake. No more than ten meters across, it was almost perfectly circular; its edge defined by a ring of giant trees whose spacing far too regular to be natural. If that weren't evidence enough that the clearing wasn't natural, before each bole stood another of the standing stones, like the ones that had marked the beginning of the path but taller, a good six feet above the forest floor in height. The crowns of the trees merged overhead, forming an unbroken canopy that produced an eerie twilight atmosphere, not threatening, but very, very old. Harry was suddenly reminded of the time the Dursleys had dragged him to Westminster Cathedral for services because of something to do with Vernon's business associates. The reverent atmosphere of the ancient church was reflected in this clearing, though the feeling here was…friendlier, more personal. "Hermione, what is this place?" he asked, instinctively keeping his tone a respectful whisper.
"This is the real center of the Weasley family land," Hermione replied, surprising him. "This is where all the keys to the family's protective wards are grounded, and where they come when they need to reinforce them. It's also the most heavily protected space, magically speaking, on their land, even moreso than the Burrow itself." Slipping off her sandals, she indicated that he should follow suit with his trainers; moments later she took his hand and led him barefooted into the ring. There was a brief flare of blue light as they passed between the stones, a surge like static electricity that made Harry's hair stand on end (though oddly it didn't seem to affect Hermione). Once inside the circle, she approached what he somehow sensed was the northernmost point, where a low, altar-like slab was imbedded into the springy greensward cushioning the ground. Drawing her wand, she laid it at an angle across the stone, and then turned to him. "Could I have your wand, Harry?" she asked quietly.
This then, he realized, was what she meant when she asked if he trusted her. To walk without explanation to this strange, magical place, to enter it without knowing what powers might be awakened by their presence, and now to willingly disarm himself. He didn't even hesitate as he drew his wand and placed it in her hands.
Smiling now, and with her eyes bright, she laid Harry's wand at an angle across hers, forming an 'X' in the center of the slab. There was another flare of that now familiar blue fire, flickering across the slab and outlining the crossed wands. Hermione looked away from the stone and into her boyfriend's face, searching for any trace of doubt, and found none. "Thank you," she said gently, and stepped past him towards the center of the circle.
Harry watched the hypnotic flickering of the blue nimbus for a few moments before speaking. "What now, Mione?" he asked, his eyes still on the wands.
"Now, Harry…I want you to make love to me." It took a couple of seconds for the words to register, but when they did, his head snapped around and his heart started pounding. Hermione's tee shirt was lying on the ground, along with the top piece of her bikini. Her hands were stiff at her sides, as if she were fighting the urge to cover the perfection of her small breasts, while the rest of her stance was a strangely enticing blend of nervousness and desire.
Harry felt his body reacting to her, and from the way her eyes flickered downwards, he knew she could see it, too. Myriad thoughts and feelings flickered through his mind as he stared at her: surprise, desire, confusion, fear, doubt, all whirled together until he felt light-headed and dizzy. He closed his eyes, trying to still the chaotic emotions her offer had triggered, and then he felt her hands slip into his. His eyes snapped open and he found himself looking down into her face, her expression a mixture of insecurity and anticipation. "Hermione…why…?" he whispered, needing desperately to understand.
She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him, and then her hands went to the bottom of his baggy shirt, tugging it slowly upwards while her eyes never left his until the fabric passing over his head briefly blocked from view. A moment later his shirt was on top of hers on the ground, and she was gently funning her hands down his arms until she could slip her palms into his. Once their fingers intertwined, she tugged at his hands, drawing him with her to the center of the circle, and then urged him downwards until they were kneeling, facing one another.
After a minute she began to speak quietly. "I told you, Harry, I've thought about you, and this, for a long time. And I know this is…rushing things…" she paused for a second, glancing away and blushing before returning her gaze to his, and smiling. "It's supposed to be you saying this, you know; telling me about how uncertain life is as an excuse to get into my knickers…at least that's what all those 'save yourself for marriage' tracts say…"
Harry actually looked shocked at the idea. "Hermione, you know I'd never-!"
"Shhh, I know, Harry, I was joking," she soothed, calming him, "although in our case, it's really true, isn't it? With the war with Voldemort starting, we don't know how much time any of us have. And if…something happens to me, to us, I don't want it to before I've had the chance to share this with you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Harry thought about it, trying to be as rational as was possible with the nearly nude girl he had just realized his feelings for right in front of him. "I guess I never really thought about it," he finally admitted. "I've never let myself think much about making love to anyone, really; it didn't seem like the sort of thing that was going to happen any time soon, if at all, if you know what I mean."
"You've never thought about having sex?" she asked, her eyes narrowing doubtfully. "Not even with Cho? That's a little hard to believe, Harry; you are a teenage boy, after all."
"I never thought much beyond kissing her…well, maybe snogging a bit," Harry admitted shamefacedly. "You saw what a balls-up mess I made of things, Mione. I turned into a blithering idiot every time I was around her." He sighed and shook his head. "I guess I am just a bit thick where girls are concerned."
A wicked gleam suddenly appeared in her eyes. "I certainly hope so," she purred, as she patted the front of his baggy pants possessively.
"Hermione!" he gasped and blushed, eliciting a laugh from her, but one unlike any he'd ever heard from her before. It was low and throaty, maybe 'earthy' was the word for it, and it sent a shiver up his spine.
"Relax, Harry; you're my boyfriend, I'm allowed to flirt with you now."
"That's an idea that's still going to take getting used to," he admitted. "Not that it's a bad thing!" he added hastily when he saw her face fall, "it's just…different, is all. I guess I'm just afraid I'm going to wake up and this will all be a very vivid dream, the kind you're not supposed to have about your best friend."
"You're not dreaming, Harry," she said firmly, taking his hand. "And even if you were, it is the kind of dream you're allowed to have about your girlfriend." She paused and bit her lip, and then slowly pressed his hand against her breast. "Does that feel like a dream to you?"
Harry's pulse jumped at the sensation of her nipple pressing against his palm, the hardened tip burning into his flesh like a brand. He had the feeling that even when he took his hand away, he would continue to feel that incredible pressure tingling along his nerves. Wonderingly he moved his palm across her breast, earning a shiver from her. Intrigued, he gave the firm globe that so perfectly fit his hand a gentle squeeze, and was rewarded with a soft moan as she leaned into him.
Later he would admit to himself that the only thing that made him hesitate was his inexperience; not knowing what to do next made him pause long enough to think about whether they should do anything more. "Hermione, are you sure about this?" he asked, still uncertain. "I mean why here, why now? Why is this place so important?"
"If you're asking am I sure about doing this with you, the answer is yes, Harry," she replied. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I've dreamed of this forever it seems…" She realized how that might have sounded and blushed. "Well, maybe not this this, exactly, but that when it happened, it would be with you? I've wanted that for a long time.
"As for why here, why now…" She took a deep breath. "I can't tell you everything, not yet, but there are…reasons, things I only just recently found out…" she saw the look of bewilderment on his face and realized she was going to have to be blunt if she wanted anything to happen. Blushing furiously, she explained. "Harry, when witches and wizards…when they have sex for the first time, it can release magical energy…a lot of energy. For most of us, that doesn't matter that much one way or the other unless we want it to, but while you may hate it, and I know you do, you are different, Harry."
She saw his sudden frown, and squeezed his hands. "Different isn't a bad thing; it's what makes you so special. Not special like all those people who go on and on about 'The Boy Who Lived' think you are, but special because of how much you care. Special enough to save a bossy know-it-all from a troll, or a lost girl from a deadly monster, special enough to forgive his best mate for being a jealous prat…special enough to think his best friend isn't ugly, even when she has mousy, frizzy brown hair, and boring brown eyes-"
"Now just a minute, Hermione," Harry said firmly, interrupting her. "Before we…before this goes any further, let's get one thing straight. You-are-not-ugly. Your hair is wicked; it's one of the things I've always liked about you, how you can't tame it, how little tendrils of it are always getting in your face when you're working. And besides, it's not frizzy, not any more; it's more, curly I guess. And it's not just brown, it's all shades of brown, with red and gold and copper all mixed in. I love your hair.
"And your eyes? Mione, saying your eyes are 'brown' is like saying the sky is blue or that grass is green!" he exclaimed, and she stared at him.
"Harry? The sky is blue, and grass is green," she said cautiously, as if afraid he was going to start gibbering any second, but he just laughed.
"And you're supposed to be the smartest witch of your generation?" he scoffed. "Have you ever looked, really looked at the sky? It's never just blue, it's all the shades of blue mixed together, and it's constantly changing with the time, the weather, and the season. It's never just 'blue'.
"And grass; I've spent enough time mowing the Dursley's grass to know it's all sorts of shades of green, with yellow, and tan, and even blue, all mixed in. It's never just 'green'."
He smiled, his hand reaching up and caressing her cheek. "Your eyes are the same way; they're chocolate, and caramel, and cinnamon, and coffee, warm and friendly, strong and powerful, deep and inviting. I wouldn't want them any other way."
She swallowed a couple of times before saying in a voice that was only half-joking, "Who are you, and what have you done with the boy who couldn't string three words together around Cho Chang to save his life? Not that I'm objecting, mind you," she added lest he think she didn't like being complimented.
"I guess I just had to have the right inspiration," he chuckled, before turning serious. "Now, you were going to tell me about…sex and magic, and why we're here, talking about doing this now." He looked down at her and smiled. "I should've added 'incredibly sexy body' to that list of why-Hermione's-not-ugly, but I don't want to get off track again. So, why?"
She nodded, ignoring the thrill it gave her when called her 'sexy', and thought for a moment, trying to decide how much to tell him. Finally she said, "I found out by talking to Ginny and Luna that wizards know a lot about using sex magic, and the energy it releases. Apparently we Muggleborns are supposed to figure it out the hard way, but wizarding children are taught all about it as they grow up so they don't make a mistake."
She held up her hand when he started to open his mouth, forestalling his questions. "Why we were talking about sex doesn't matter. What does matter is that I found out that the first time a witch or wizard has sex, it releases a lot of power, moreso if it's the first time for both of them…?" At her questioning tone Harry blushed furiously but nodded. She returned his nod and continued. "So there's a lot of magic involved even for the average couple, and we may as well face it, Harry, we're not average. Professor McGonagall says I'm the most powerful Muggleborn she's seen since your mum, and you know she wouldn't lie about something like that. And strong as I am, I don't hold a candle to you." She shook her head when he tried to demur. "Oh, I may know more spells and charms than you, but that's just books and cleverness; when it comes to the power behind the spell, only Dumbledore is stronger, and you're still developing."
She took a deep breath. "And then there's Voldemort. We both know he has a connection to you, and will use it against you if he gets a chance. When a witch or wizard loses their virginity, their natural defenses are at their weakest. If you weren't shielded properly, he could possess you, maybe even kill you. But here, inside this circle…it's sort of like a magical version of a Muggle bomb shelter. Once inside nothing we do can get out, and nothing outside can get in. We can be together in safety, without worrying about being attacked." She paused and looked around with a smile. "In fact, the only place I ca think of with stronger defenses would be Hogwarts itself…"
"Well, we could wait, Mione," he offered, though the part of his brain that was focused on matters to the south was screaming at him that he was an idiot. "We'll be back at school soon enough, and if you still want to…"
"Harry, I told you, I want this," she said, her voice beginning to show her impatience. "I am not waiting another year to make love to you…and I have no intention of losing my virginity on the floor of a broom closet or in the Astronomy Tower," she answered primly. She waited until she was sure she'd been understood, and then asked, "Well, what's your decision?"
She could see the desire in his eyes, see the flush of his skin and the sheen of sweat on his forehead, she could even see the outline of his erection straining against his boxers inside his pants, the sight of which made her own heartrate jump in response. He made a couple of hesitant moves towards her, and then let his hands fall to his side, his eyes dropping to the ground as he admitted, shamefaced, "I…want to, Hermione, I just…I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing." It was a sign of his confusion that he completely missed the double entendre he'd just uttered.
She smiled; unbelievably touched by his confession to something most boys would rather die than admit. "It's all right, Harry, really it is. When I decided to do this, well, I read up on what happens….don't you dare laugh!" she said, blushing as he smirked over her predictable solution to any question involving some new piece of knowledge. He shrugged his apology, and mollified, she continued. "What you don't know, I'll teach you, and what neither of us knows, we can learn together, all right? Now then, why don't you shut up and kiss me?"
She leaned forward slightly to encourage him, and the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, hungry and demanding, his arms wrapping tightly around her and pulling her close. For a few moments she lost herself in the sensations, and then as she'd promised, began to lead him in the dance. She pulled her mouth away from his and trailed little kisses down his neck, eliciting a groan when she gave him a playful nip that encouraged him to start doing the same to her. When she felt him nuzzling at the juncture between her neck and shoulders, she gently pulled his hands from her back and, as his eyes watched in wonder, placed them on her breasts, closing her eyes with a sigh at the feel of his roughened palms on her sensitive nipples.
Encouraged by her reaction he began to massage the soft flesh, experimenting and learning what she liked from the way she gasped and shuddered under his touch. Running his thumbs over her nubs produced one response, while tweaking them between his thumbs and forefingers caused another. Emboldened, he leaned forward and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, laving the hot tip with his tongue as she whimpered his name, her nails digging into his back. Suddenly he felt her whole body to begin to quiver violently, and he looked up in alarm to see her biting her lip, her eyes rolled back as the spasms shook her. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked worriedly as the attack passed, and was startled by the burning look she turned on him.
"I'm better than all right," she purred, and proceeded to show him just how all right she was, her hands and mouth hungrily exploring his chest. Without being sure how he got there, Harry found himself lying on his back, with Hermione's body pressed against him, her hips grinding against his in a way that was driving him mad. "I think it's time these came off, don't you?" she whispered, tugging at the waistband of his pants. He swallowed and nodded, lifting his hips slightly as she tugged both layers of material down at the same time, allowing his erection to finally spring free.
Hermione stared in wonder at…it, fascinated to finally be seeing what she had only read about before. She wasn't sure, but Harry certainly seemed to be larger than she'd expected, but how much of that was reality and how much anticipation of where his manhood was supposed to fit she couldn't tell. Slowly she extended one hand towards him; she knew he wouldn't have much control the first time, and she didn't want this to end before it started for more than one reason, but she had to see what it felt like…
Her small hand encircled him and she flinched as he gasped, his hips instinctively bucking upwards. She glanced at his face and saw that his eyes were slitted and he was biting his lip in concentration. Turning back to her prize, she ran her hand down the warm, velvety flesh, relaxing her grip only to slip down and cradle the heavy sac at his base, an act that elicited another groan from Harry. The sight of a pearly drop of precum forming on the eye at the tip of his shaft reminded her to be cautious, and she released him, running her hands up his chest. His eyes snapped open as her mouth covered his again, and after a moment they were rolling over so that Harry was now the one hovering above.
Hermione took Harry's hand and guided it to one of the bows securing the bottom half of her bikini. At her smile he tugged, freeing the knot, and then repeated the act on the other side. Hermione lifted her hips slightly and he pulled the scrap of cloth away from her, revealing her mystery for the first time.
Harry was fascinated; the only nude women he'd ever seen had been in a magazine Dudley had accidentally left lying about, and the pictures had been less than explicit. He knew, for example, that women grew hair down there like men, but that the parts that made them…different…weren't nearly as obvious, at least not in the photos he'd briefly seen. He reached out wonderingly, and as his hand first touched the soft curls above Hermione's sex her legs drifted apart, letting him see her lower lips, their pale, pink folds already glistening. Nervously he glanced up for permission, and at her nod he gently touched her. She sighed as his fingers stroked her gently, and then her hands joined his, spreading her folds so he could see what was hidden within, the small nub peeking from beneath its hood, and below that, the flower-like petals that surrounded what he instinctively knew was his goal.
Emboldened by his curiosity, Harry experimentally slipped a finger into her, marveling at how slick and hot she felt. The sound of her whimper made him look up in concern, but Hermione's expression was not one of pain, but of intense pleasure. He kept watching her face as he started sliding his finger in and out, trying to figure out what she liked best by the way she reacted. Then his thumb accidentally brushed against that small, hard nub he'd seen and she arched her back, her mouth forming a silent 'Oh!' of surprise. With a delighted smile he deliberately touched the nubbin again, rolling it under his thumb, and was amazed when her whole body shuddered in response, the passage in which his finger still rested clenching tightly around him.
As Hermione's vision cleared from her second Harry-induced orgasm, she realized she was going to have to encourage him to proceed to the final act. She pulled him close for another passionate kiss, and when they broke apart she whispered, "Now, Harry."
Harry was more than willing to comply, despite his lingering insecurities over his lack of knowledge. Awkwardly he positioned himself between her legs, adjusting himself at her gentle instructions, his fumbling efforts not made any easier by his at best vague idea of what was supposed to go where. Finally, when he was close to achieving his goal, she reached down and guided the tip of his shaft to her opening, lifting her hips slightly to better grant him access.
The moment Harry felt her moist heat surrounding his crown, instinct kicked in. Without any warning he drove forward, trying to sheathe himself within her. Fortunately for Hermione, he was still slightly out of position, so instead of impaling her he ended up slipping out and downward, with the beneficial side effect that her juices now coated his length. "Sorry," he muttered, and started to line himself up again.
"It's all right, Harry, but…take it a little slower, okay?" she cautioned. "I need to get used to you or it'll hurt too much."
Harry's eyes widened and she felt him start to pull away. "What? I don't want to hurt you, Mione!" he gasped, but she gripped his shoulders, holding him close.
"Harry, it's going to hurt the first time, at least a little, no matter when we do it," she told him, trying to alleviate his fears. "We've already come this far, let's not stop now. Just…be a little gentler, all right?"
Biting his lip he nodded, and repositioned himself at her entrance. Once again she guided him into place, but this time he eased forward slowly, allowing her tightness time to stretch and adjust to his presence. The sensations coursing though him were starting to make his vision grey out, but he focused on Hermione's face, looking to her for the cues on how to proceed. Suddenly he felt resistance, and realized he was pressed up against some sort of barrier within her. "Mione, what-?"
Before he could finish formulating his question she answered him. Her hands gripped his buttocks and pulled him hard against her as she thrust her hips upwards, rupturing her hymen and sheathing him fully within her.
The feeling of her, hot and wet and oh, so tight around him was too much for Harry's limited self control, and he began to thrust erratically into her, once, twice, three times and then he felt himself let go, the pressure that had been building up maddeningly within him spilling into her, flooding into her warm embrace.
So completely was he swept away in the sensations he was experiencing, he didn't see the tears of pain rolling down Hermione's cheeks as she surrendered her virginity, nor did he see the flaring of the blue fire that was limning the altar where their wands rested. He didn't see those flames jump to the encircling pillars and briefly flare incandescent as their mingled fluids touched the ground, or hear Hermione intoning quietly, "Blood and seed, bound as one…" The only thing he would remember, and that not until much later, was her whispering softly, "Forgive me, Harry…"
~~~~~~
AUTHOR'S NOTE PART TWO - Well, there it is, a few answers, a few new questions, some of which I know the answers for, and the others…? At the moment I'm enjoying writing this, and the short, three-or-so chapter story I had initially envisaged has expanded quite a bit. Expect the next chapter in around a week, give or take a few days.