Dreamscape

DigitalFeonix

Rating: NC17
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 30/09/2004
Last Updated: 09/10/2004
Status: completed

Set in the summer after fifth year, Harry's dreams take an interesting twist. Author's Note added to the end.

Chapters

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Author's Note

1. Chapter 1

He abruptly sat upright as his hand went instinctively to his forehead, covering his scar as it seared with pain. The unforgettable laughter still ringing in his ears was slowly replaced with the rapid beating of his own heart. He felt the dampness of the cold sweat that had formed on his skin. He forced his eyes to scan the dark room. He was alone again.

Harry hated it when he woke like this, but it was an all to common occurrence for him. He rarely slept well after his Occulmency lessons. He let a heavy sigh escape as he thought of the lack of progress he was showing. Dumbledore didn't say anything, but Harry knew he was disappointed in him, which only made it worse.

Harry laid his head back down. If he wanted to get any sleep tonight, he realized he would have to give in and take one of Snape's suggestions. The very idea of Snape being right about anything left him with a dull rage burning inside, but right now it seemed the only reasonable thing left to do.

"Think of the most calming, comfortable memory you have and lock yourself in it. Let no one in. Really Potter, you can do a Patronus, you should have no trouble with this." Snape had told him after he pushed through Harry's defenses once again. Snape may have become slightly more helpful since Dumbledore talked to him, but he didn't become any less insulting.

Harry breathed another sigh, closed his eyes and searched through his memories for something wonderful he could lose himself in. He thought of all the times he was flying on his broom, the first time going down Diagon Alley, being cheered as he caught the snitch, and every time he had been to the Burrow. It finally came to him. Not a specific memory as such, but an amalgam of memories and emotions. Harry was in front of the fire in the common room studying, or more like him watching Hermione study.

He let himself drift into that feeling of awe that comes over him every time he watches her bury her bushy head into those piles of books. He cleared his mind and memories of everything but her. The way the firelight danced in the highlights of her hair. The way she bites her bottom lip as she tried to find just the right word for one of her overly long essays. The twinkle in her eyes when she would occasionally look up at him and smile. Those eyes. He concentrated on her eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes that he had memorized thousands of times. He felt himself being drawn into those lovely cinnamon pools until they consumed him completely.

<>

He saw the familiar flicker of candlelight from behind his closed eyelids. He slowly became aware of music gently playing in the background, echoing slightly in the room. The crackle of a fire soon joined it, along with the sounds of heavy breathing. A wonderfully familiar vanilla scent wafted to his nose. He inhaled, taking it into him, letting it fill him with warmth. Something irresistibly soft was caressing his face. Some fingers, attached to an unseen hand, ran along his cheeks before cupping his face. Lips pressed against his. Instinctively he kissed them back. He opened his mouth and found a delicious tongue wrestling with his own. He let a small groan escape.

He had never been kissed like this before. Hadn't imagined that it could be so... wonderful. It felt so natural, so easy. He felt that he had done it hundreds of times before. Then he heard it, removing him from these thoughts.

"Oh Harry," a feminine voice moaned.

He knew that voice, knew it well. His heart leapt against his chest as he realized what it meant. He had only ever dreamed of this. He didn't want to open his eyes to only find out that it wasn't happening.

He felt her soft lips making their way down his neck and across his chest as more tingles shot up and down his body. He had to be find out if it was her or some fantasy woman made up by his hormonal teenage mind.

"You taste so good," the feminine voice said in a very sultry tone that sent tingles down his spine.

He opened his eyes as he felt her silky hair land on his face. He was immediately caught in those lovely cinnamon pools he had memorized so many times.

"I love you Harry," she whispered.

2. Chapter 2

"Wake up!"

Harry felt himself being shaken. With some effort he opened an eye and saw a red headed prat trying to wake him up entirely too early. He was glad he wasn't sharing a room with him this time.

"Go away Ron," Harry protested. "It's too bloody early."

"Harry, it's time for breakfast. If you don't wake up, I'll eat yours." Ron paused, starring at him, then continued. "It's good to see that you finally got some sleep, but it's nearly nine and I'm starving."

Harry heard Ron walk out of the room and close the door. He sat up in the bed and looked around. 'Almost nine', he thought. 'I haven't slept in this late in months.' As he got dressed Harry thought about the dream with Hermione. It seemed so real, yet it also felt like being in one of those cheap romance novels that Aunt Petunia read all the time. What ever it was, he hadn't felt this good, despite his initial interruption, for a long time and he was going to enjoy it. With a smile he was sure was going to be glued to his face for at least half the morning he laced up his shoes and headed downstairs towards the wonderful smells of breakfast coming from the kitchen.

He stepped into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, only to be greeted by several curious faces. Ginny and Hermione stopped whispering to each other, Ron put down his fork and even Mrs. Weasley stopped dishing out food to look up at Harry. The silly grin slipped off his face.

In the corner of the kitchen he glimpsed the stack of his still unopened birthday presents from the 'party' last week. He inwardly groaned, remembering how much of a prick he had been to all of them. He had been enjoying wallowing in his guilt and grief. At the time he didn't mind if he caused them to feel a fraction of the pain he was. Everyone had been acting awkward around him since then. He had been trying to rectify the situation because the guilt was eating him inside, but things were still tense.

"Did you sleep well dear?" asked Molly seeming to want to break the tension that was building in the silence.

"For the first time in a long time, yeah," said Harry as he sat down and began to fill his plate.

"So no more, um... nightmares Harry?" Hermione asked with concern in her voice.

"Actually, I did have one last night. Then I used one of Snape's suggestions. Imagine my surprise when it worked, and I had a very, uh... pleasant dream." Harry blushed slightly at the last bit, but buried his face into his food to hide it.

"So what was this great dream about Harry?" Ron managed to ask between mouthfuls of eggs.

Harry thought steam must have been coming out of his ears, with as hot as they suddenly got. "Nothing really important. Just some, um... personal stuff," Harry managed to get out before he filled his mouth with sausage so he wouldn't have to say anymore.

Harry stared hard at his plate while he heard Ginny trying to stifle a giggle and Ron nearly choke to keep himself from laughing.

"That's alright, Harry dear. You don't have to say anymore," Mrs. Weasley said in her comforting motherly voice. When Harry looked up at her, she seemed to have a knowing smile on her face.

"It's perfectly natural," Hermione said from behind her copy of The Daily Prophet. "Everyone has those kind of dreams. Right RON?"

Harry noticed Ron's face go pale at that last comment. He felt that smile creep back onto his face from earlier that morning, knowing that Hermione must have heard of some of Ron's recent dreams involving Ron, Luna and a bathtub full of pumpkin gelatin.

"So, what's on today's agenda?" Ron squeaked, obviously trying to change the subject.

"Homework," answered Hermione quickly. Ron rolled his eyes at the prospect.

"I think I'll actually enjoy that today," said Harry as he went back to his breakfast with the smile firmly glued back on his face.

<>

Harry put down his quill after scratching the last few words of McGonagall's summer assignment "The Benefits of Transfiguration versus Conjuring." He sat on the floor of the sitting room and rubbed his writing hand to relieve some of the discomfort. He looked up at Hermione, who was smiling at him. That smile pushed all thoughts of hand cramps out of his mind. 'Why can't I just admit to her how I feel?' he thought. 'Because she might not feel the same way, and even if she did, I don't need to make her a bigger target for Voldermort to use against me,' he reluctantly thought.

"I'm proud of you Harry," Hermione said. "You didn't complain once about the essay, unlike some people." She glared at Ron as she said this.

"Yeah, well I realized that studying isn't that bad." When it's with you. Hermione gave him a big smile at that. 'Those smiles are what make it all worth it,' he thought as he lazily lost himself in her face when she leaned over to help Ron finish his barely started essay.

<>

"Very good Potter," Snape said with annoyance and frustration in his voice after Harry had successfully blocked his fourth attempt. "It seems you are capable of learning after all."

Harry just stood there smiling, knowing it annoyed Snape further. He had just realized that Snape's lack of instruction was probably so he could torment and torture Harry outside of his Potions class and to make him fell superior to Harry, and by extension his father.

"Now I want you to not only block my attack, but give me a false memory. Think you can do that Potter?" Snape snarled at Harry.

"I've got just the one for you, Professor," Harry said with a smirk.

"Legilimens!"

Harry could feel Snape pushing at his mind. With the warmth and glow of his memory of his study sessions with Hermione wrapped around his mind he felt and was protected. He mentally opened the tiniest of holes in its fabric and pushed the most humiliating imagery he could muster through it.

Snape was dressed in a long flowery green dress with a large hat decorated with a vulture perched atop his greasy head. He was leaning over, snogging a goblin with a full white beard and mouth of sharp, yellowed teeth. Both of them in a boat floating into the entrance to the "Tunnel of Love."

Harry was brought back to reality as Professor Snape furiously screamed, "That is ENOUGH Potter! We're finished for tonight!" Snape rushed around the room, quickly collecting his things before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving Harry standing there with the biggest grin on his face.

<>

As Harry was getting into bed he noticed that he wasn't as tired as he normally was after Snape's Occulmency lessons. He put his hands behind his head and happily closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander to that wonderful bushy headed girl with those beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

He loved those eyes. He loved more than those eyes he thought. Her smile, he loved that too. Actually there were so many things to love about Hermione that he couldn't list them all. He loved her. He sighed deeply as her realized she would probably never know. Despite being a Gryffindor, he didn't feel that he would ever have enough courage to tell her.

Well that wouldn't prevent him from enjoying any dreams of her. Determined to surrender to whatever happened last night, he once again let himself fall into those deep cinnamon pools as a feeling of warmth enveloped him.

<>

The first ray of morning sun hit him in the eyes. He braved to open one and was greeted by a beautiful sunrise through an open window and the sounds of waves crashing nearby. He lifted his head and looked around. He found himself in a small tropical hut, with the woman of his dreams lying face down, naked besides him on the bed. The smell of ocean air mixed with her vanilla scented shampoo as he leaned to touch her exposed back. Her skin was soft and smooth beneath his fingers. She stirred slightly as his hand slowly moved up and down her spine. He brushed her hair away from her neck and gently kissed the newly exposed skin. He now understood her "tasting good" comment. It was a taste that was both familiar and exotic. She began to moan softly as he eagerly planted kisses along her neck and shoulders. Without hesitation or thought he bent lower and began nibbling at her earlobe, which elicited a very aroused moan.

She rolled onto her back and stared up into his eyes. A smile slowly crept over her face. She reached up and pulled him into her, kissing him hard and passionately on the mouth. He could feel her bare chest pressed into his, her fingers running through his hair. Her tongue darted into his mouth where it battled with his own. His hands slid down her sides caressing every silky inch of skin along the way, only stopping when he could reach no further without breaking their kiss. She pulled away from him, gently tugging at his bottom lip with hers and looked deep into his eyes, still holding his head with her hands.

"A girl could get used to waking up like this," she said.

He smiled wryly as his hands went automatically to her now exposed chest, with his eyes quickly following. In his hands were the two things he had secretly lusted after. He seemed to know what he was doing, as his manipulation of her flesh caused her to throw back her head, close her eyes, and bite her lips as sounds of pleasure emanated from her. He deftly moved his mouth to the sensitive nubbin in the middle of her heaving breasts. As he took one into his mouth a loud gasp escaped her lips, soon followed by low groans that verged on the edge of animalistic growls.

Harry continued his minstrations on her other breast, switching between them as desire consumed him. He enjoyed this very much, but something was nagging him from the back of his mind. When he paused to catch his breath, he looked up at her beautiful face. A playful pout appeared on her face.

"Why did you stop?" she teasingly asked.

He felt he had to confess his feelings to her, even it was just in this fantasy. He had to force himself to ask, "You know that I love you, right?"

She seemed shocked by this, as her smile had faded. "Of course I do. We wouldn't be here if I didn't," she said obviously trying to comfort him.

"Even if it seems silly, I still feel that I have to tell you... I love you Hermione. I have always loved you, even if I didn't realize it. I just hope you know how much." He had to fight to get it all out, yet it still seemed insufficient.

"I think I've got an idea," she said. Her smile had returned.

"I enjoy doing the simplest little things with you." He planted soft kisses down her chest before he continued. "Like just watching you while you study... or sleep."

"Then prove it to me," she said as she grabbed his head and pushed him further down her body. "And get back to work Mr. Potter."

The words tumbled out of his smiling mouth, "Yes Mrs. Potter."

3. Chapter 3

Harry awoke suddenly as if from a nightmare. Mrs. Potter? The thought burst into his head as he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. He looked at his watch. It was only 1 am. Mrs. Potter?! He slipped on his dressing gown and his slippers. Mrs. Potter?!?! He opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

A small murmur from Hermione's room caught his attention. He was suddenly curious about what was going on in that room, in her dreams. He was quickly reminded why he was out in the hall in the dead of night. Mrs. Potter.

He quietly walked down the hall contemplating the meaning of the dream, and the words that fell out of his mouth on their own. Sure, he liked Hermione, really liked her. He had even recognized the fact he loved her, and wanted to be with her in very un-platonic ways, but he had never contemplated any kind of long-term relationship, let alone marriage. Mrs. Potter?

He once again found himself in the kitchen. He had been making a habit of it due to his insomniac nights recently. An old muggle remedy, he had found, seemed to help and make his sleepless night a little more bearable. He reached into the chillbox and pulled out what he sought. A few minutes on the stovetop and he was rewarded with the sweet vanilla-like smell of warm milk. With a large mug filled with the soothing liquid, he headed to a hidden spot upstairs where he could properly think on a night like this.

He paused briefly in front of Hermione's room on his way, hearing a hushed voice inside, unable to make out any words. He wondered what she and Ginny could be discussing this late at night. He pushed the thought from his mind and continued down the hall. After a few doors he slipped up a small staircase hidden by one of the many faded tapestries in the dreary house.

Harry had found this passage when exploring earlier that summer on one of the many occasions he had been left alone in the enormous house. He hadn't told anybody about it. He had wanted to keep it all to himself, a personal oasis to escape when he needed to, like tonight.

He reached the top of the steep spiral staircase and looked around the small circular room. Harry figured it must be in the top of one of the turrets. It had a small writing desk on one side and a small bookcase on the other. Obviously, someone had once intended it to be their own personal oasis too. Harry walked across the small room in just a few steps to the reason he really came here, the large window. It looked out over the neighborhood, with the small park directly ahead of him.

He sipped from his mug and sighed heavily. It was a clear night with a very bright moon, bathing everything in that wonderful bluish moonlight. It was calm, serene, and he needed it.

Before he could get lost in his own thoughts, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and a soft voice ask, "Are you okay Harry?"

He already knew who it was. He hadn't heard her follow him in the room. He was surprised he hadn't jumped when she touched him, and he couldn't find it in him to be mad at her for invading his oasis. "Not really, but I will be," he said without turning around.

"Was it another nightmare?" she asked uneasily.

"No. A dream, but not a nightmare." He paused, then said "Let's just say it was, um... thought provoking and leave it at that," before she could inquire further. "After last year I've learned I really need to think things through instead of just reacting."

He felt her hand slide down to the small of his back as she stepped next to him. He turned and found a very worried looking Hermione bathed in the moonlight. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in the pale light, defining every feature of her face and playing with the highlights of her hair. He burned the image in his mind so he would never forget. He briefly thought of telling her about the prophecy, but decided he still didn't want to worry her anymore than she already was.

"Thank you 'Mione."

"What for?"

"For simply being there for me. You'll never know how much it means to me."

"I wouldn't be anywhere else," she said as she put her head on his shoulder, moving closer and giving him a sideways hug. He put his arm around her shoulder and held her close.

They stood like that for what seemed like hours, just looking out the window, not saying a word. The only sounds coming from the occasional sip of his warm milk. He felt very comfortable and calm, all his previous anxiety gone. A radiating warmth had spread throughout his entire body. He wasn't sure that it was from the milk.

<>

By the time the first rays of sunshine arrived the following morning, he had come to the conclusion that the dream was not as bad as he had first made it out to be. He had, once again, found himself in the loving arms of the only woman that could ever really understand him, on so many levels. He had felt her skin in his hands. He had inhaled her fragrance. He had tasted her essence. Those all had felt wonderful, but the comment that slipped out his mouth had brought that all to a screeching halt.

It was all a dream, but he knew it had to at least mean something. Maybe his subconscious' way to hit him over the head with a clue rock, to get him to look inside and deal with his own feelings for the gorgeous girl that had become so much a part of his life, that he couldn't fathom life without her by his side.

The concept that his love for Hermione might be more than some fleeting teenage thing didn't seem as far-fetched or as disturbing as it did last night. But the circumstances of his life wouldn't let him to explore that possibility until Voldermort was thoroughly, and completely vanquished. With this thought weighing heavy on him, he finished getting dressed and went downstairs for breakfast.

As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw that he wasn't the only one that last night had taken a toll on. Hermione was sipping from a steaming mug, with dark circles under her half-closed and puffy eyes. He sat across from her and gave her an apologetic smile. When he knew he had her attention, he mouthed a silent 'I'm sorry.' She waved her hand and dismissed the apology with a small shake of her head.

As hungry Harry was from staying up most of the night, he didn't eat much, and he noticed Hermione didn't either.

"Didn't sleep well either last night dear?" asked Molly as she cleared his half-eaten plate.

"I guess two restful nights are too much to ask for," Harry responded.

Hermione pushed her plate away and excused herself. Harry wondered if she was going to be okay. He let her into his sanctum for just one night and she had already paid for it. He watched her walk out of the kitchen with a pang of guilt and a growing sense of longing. He began to worry what that night had in store for him.

<>

The ground was rushing towards him. No, he was accelerating towards the ground, so was the snitch inches away from his outstretched hand. The wind began whistling past his ears. The smell of cut grass and sweat invaded his nose. He could feel his hand tightening its grip around the broom underneath him. The ground was approaching quickly, but the snitch wasn't changing direction. Harry began to worry that he wouldn't have time to pull up. He could almost count the blades of grass.

The snitch suddenly cut right. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to pull up. Harry put both his hands on his broom and pulled up with all his might. The Firebolt didn't respond. Harry closed his eyes and braced for the impact he knew he wouldn't avoid.

Harry felt his body hit the ground, the grass not softening the impact any. His body bounced off the pitch several times before finally coming to a stop. He felt like an old rag doll. He opened his eyes and saw a panic-stricken girl running onto the field calling his name.

He closed his eyes and felt the pain flow over his body. He tasted blood in his mouth. He knew this was worse than any of his previous crashes. Just like a script, he thought 'This is it. I'm going to die.'

He opened his eyes just in time to see Hermione's bushy head collide with his chest as she threw her arms around him. She was crying uncontrollably.

"Her-mione," Harry said, wincing at the pain in his chest. "I'll be fine."

She looked into his eyes with hers red and overflowing with tears. He could see the overwhelming pain behind those cinnamon pools, and his injuries paled in comparison. He felt his heart break. He couldn't stand to see in her in such pain and anguish. "Harry James Potter, you PROMISED this would never happen!" she said and broke down into a fresh round of bawling.

"Just... get me to... Madam Pomfrey... and I'll be... fine."

"I can't! There's no one else here and I left my wand in my room." Hermione said hysterically.

Harry looked around and saw the stands were empty. The rest of the Quidditch team was missing, along with any opponents. They were horribly alone in the stadium he realized.

"I love you too much to lose you now! I can't lose you to Voldermort, and I definitely can't lose you to a silly game of Quidditch!" she sobbed softly. He looked back into her eyes. 'I can't do this,' he thought, 'I can't see her suffer anymore.'

He put every ounce of willpower he had into sitting upright. With every jab of pain, every complaint his body made, he pushed the injuries out of his mind and out of existence. He wrapped his arms around Hermione and whispered in her ear, "You'll never lose me, especially not like this."

Hermione pulled back, her eyes as large as bludgers. She stuttered as she spoke, "Y-y-you-your injuries, you should be dead, dying!" A look of utter disbelief plastered on her face.

"I refuse to cause you that much pain, even if it means I don't get the pleasure of dying in the arms of such a beautiful woman." He said as he forced a smirk, trying to comfort her.

She hugged him fiercely. He noticed his ribs no longer hurt, none of him did. He lifted her chin from his chest and kissed her reassuringly on the lips. He felt her surrender to the kiss.

"Just remember that you will never lose me, because you're my snitch Hermione," he said when they broke for air.

"Huh?" she asked dazed.

"You're my snitch, my reason to live. Like a snitch, you are beautiful and elusive, something few will get the honor of getting close to and only the most worthy will ever get to catch and hold. I have always been so close, yet you've remained just out of my reach. I want to hold you so bad it hurts, but happiness is something that has always been kept away from me. But I'll always follow, keeping you within my sight, forever trying to catch happiness." The words had rushed straight from his heart to his mouth. As he spoke them, they seemed to lift a weight he never knew was there. He knew that he had never spoken truer words.

Fresh tears burst from her eyes, but a smile had appeared on her face. He found her chocolate brown eyes to be as beautiful as ever, even red and puffy as they were, for the life had returned to them.

He pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever.

4. Chapter 4

Harry starred through the window of his oasis and watched some kids play in the warm sun in the park across the street. He wondered why he couldn't just have a normal shagging dream like any other 16 year-old boy. Why did these dreams have to deal with his feelings that he had been trying so hard to suppress? He looked down at his empty mug, sighing as he realized he would have to venture down to the kitchen if wanted anymore butterbeer.

He turned around and saw her leaned against the archway at the top of the staircase. Her head was tilted against the cool stone, her arms clutching something to her chest. She was starring intently at him. He just stood there, trying hard not to look directly into her eyes.

"I knew I would find you here," she said after a few minutes. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your... getaway."

"Thank you, but what are you doing here?" He didn't mind, but he wanted to know.

"I came to bring you this, your birthday present." She handed him the package she had been clutching to her chest.

"I don't deserve gifts, not this year," he said as he tried to walk past her.

"Regardless of what you think, you do deserve them. Will you at least take mine because I think you need it instead?"

He hesitated at the top step. Not turning around he asked, "I need it?"

"Just open it and I'll explain."

He turned around and looked at the small gift in her outstretched arm, then into her pleading eyes. He couldn't resist her. "Alright."

"Why am I not surprised that you got me a book?" Harry asked as he took it and turned it over in his hand, trying to bring some levity to the situation.

"Just open it."

He ripped away the brightly colored paper and revealed an exquisitely bound, black leather book inside. On the cover was a finely embossed snitch leafed in gold. Along the side was a superb black quill neatly tucked in a loop designed for just such a task.

"It's a journal Harry. It's your journal. I know how you don't like to talk when things really start to bother you. If you won't talk to me or Ron, please write it down in your journal. That way you have an outlet for it. And I've charmed it so you don't worry about privacy. It's cross between the Marauder's Map and Riddle's old journal. Only those people who you want to share it with will be able to read it. But it will only work if you use that quill." She had come to stand next to him.

He opened it to the first page. Inside was a small inscription in Hermione's neat handwriting.

The Journal of Harry James Potter
great hero, greater seeker, best friend

Underneath was a picture of him and Hermione. He was in his Quidditch robes, holding a smiling Hermione in one arm and a fluttering snitch in his free hand. There was a huge crowd celebrating behind them. Harry ran his fingers across the surface of the picture.

"I got the picture from Collin. It's from third year, final match against Slytherin. You were so happy that you beat Malfoy and won the Cup when you caught –"

"—my snitch." The words slipped between his lips in a happy whisper. His eyes and fingers hovered on the Hermione in the picture.

She paused and then broke into a smile. Wrapping her arms around one of his, she said, "Yes. Yes you did Harry."

"Thank you 'Mione. You were right, I do need this."

"Then I'll leave you alone, so you can get some writing done." She slipped down the staircase as quietly as she had entered. Harry sat down at the small desk and began writing.

<>

Harry was drawn towards the sliver of light slicing into the darkness that he was standing in. The sound of his breathing was concealed by the pulsing music coming from the direction of the light. The smell of vanilla incense gave him courage to walk forward. He felt the stone floor under his bare feet. He carefully reached out and put a hand on the door. After a pause, he couldn't resist the lure anymore and pushed the door open and quickly stepped inside.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Hermione was lying on her bed wearing only a skimpy green pair of panties that perfectly complimented her skin. Her head was thrown back and her back arched in pleasure. She had one hand rubbing her exposed breasts, while her other was rubbing a vibrating orb along the moistened crotch of her panties. Harry's mouth fell open and his member instantly grew erect at the sight that was laid out before him.

Her eyes opened and she looked at him as if she had expected him to be there. A smile formed on her mouth. He watched as her eyes moved up and down his barely clad body, pausing on his obvious arousal. She licked her lips and started crawling across the large bed, stopping at the edge.

"Come here Harr-r-ry," she said, rolling the 'r' in his name in a seductive way. With her hair wild and bushy as ever, her on all fours, and the glint in her eyes Harry had the distinct impression that she was some kind of large predator cat, and he was her prey.

He couldn't stop his feet from moving him closer to her if he wanted to, and he didn't want to. He slowly edged his way to the bed, watching her stare intently upon his form. As he got closer she shifted he weight onto her legs and sat upright. When he was close enough, she reached out and captured his head with her hands and brought her mouth down upon his. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth seeking its partner. He melted into the passionate embrace and intensified the kiss, the taste of her saliva mingling with his. His senses swirled around him, but he could feel his animalistic urges subside into something deeper. It must have had a similar effect on her, because the urgency seemed to leave her lips, but not her passion. He broke the kiss and gently pulled her head to one side. His mouth found her ear and gently suckled on her earlobe, then trailed kisses down her neck stopping at its crook. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her scent. His nose registered the vanilla that he recognized as her shampoo, but new, hidden scents hit him. Cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, and other spices he was familiar with but didn't know the name. Together with the essence that was uniquely her, they made a deliciously sweet concoction that made him hungry. He pressed her tighter against his skin as his mouth continued its explorations, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin, her essence.

He pushed her back onto the bed so she was lying down with him on top of her. Their hands began to roam each other's bodies in a frenzied dance. Moans and appreciative noises came repeatedly as they each found another pleasurable spot on the other's body. For Harry it was blur of skin brushing against sweaty, sensitive skin in a most pleasing manner. His hand found its way to the crotch of her saturated panties. He could feel the heat from her as he rubbed her through the thin fabric that he suddenly had to remove.

He moved so he could pull the only stitch of clothing off her skin. She lifted her hips as he pulled at the waistband of the infuriating cloth. He was greeted by the site of the most meticulously trimmed hair above her most delicate folds of skin. He paused briefly so he could plant a small kiss on the exposed skin that caused her to tremble before he completely removed her of the undergarment. He slid his hands back up her soft legs as he gently pried them apart. He paused for a moment to take in the beauty that was Hermione before leaning in and planting kisses on her inner thighs. The kisses moved higher and higher towards her forbidden fruit. His tongue was first to pierce the skin of the fruit, her juices flowing freely tasting sweet and spicy on his tongue. He explored every crevice, and fold with his tongue could reach while she wriggled and thrashed under the passionate suckling of his mouth, her cries of passion humming in his ears.

After a particularly strong shudder ripped through her body, she pulled him up her body and looked directly into his eyes. They were filled with emotions he didn't recognize, but filled him with desire.

"Harry," she said panting. "Take me. I'm within your grasp. Just reach out and take me."

He didn't have to be told twice. He ripped his broom-patterned boxers off his glistening body and lied back down on top of her. He instinctively knew where to put his rock hard member and slid it inside of her in one long, smooth stroke. Her eyes rolled back and her back arched off the mattress when he reached the hilt. Slowly he started moving back and forth in a rhythmic pattern that steadily quickened. She kept moaning his name and it drove him to keep pumping faster.

Suddenly he felt her whole body clench and her muscles squeeze down around him. He threw back his head as he felt himself explode within her. He collapsed on her, with his head on her heaving chest and arms wrapped around her. He could hear her heart beating rapidly and her breath move in and out of her lungs. He felt one of her hands on his head as fingers lazily ran through his hair. They laid there gathering their breath, holding onto each other.

After a few minutes she rolled over on top of him, smiling. He looked up at her hovering above him. A mischievous glint suddenly appeared in her eyes.

"Tag your it!" she cried with glee as she tapped his shoulder and bolted across the room.

A dumbstruck Harry watched a few seconds as her hair, golden in the firelight, fluttered around her as she ran, before he gave chase.

5. Chapter 5

The first ray of sunshine hit Harry square in the face. To his surprise he was hugging his pillow close. He was pissed that the sun woke him so early and the terrible itch of his pajamas from dried sweat, but those things couldn't ruin the good mood he woke up in. He trundled off towards the bathroom for a long shower. Whether it was going to be a hot or cold one, he hadn't decided yet.

An hour later he trotted into the kitchen in jeans and an old t-shirt with his hair still wet. He had a large grin on his face as he greeted everyone with a pleasant "Good Morning!" He grabbed a plate of food and sat across from Hermione.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" he asked directly towards her.

"Yes it is Harry. A most pleasant morning at that," she said. A bright smile appeared on her face. Ginny let out a small giggle from her side.

His food slowly disappeared along with his good mood and smile. He kept looking over at the empty chair at the table, the chair that no one ever sat in anymore, Sirius' chair. He had done an enormous amount of writing in the journal yesterday, but it all had tap-danced around the subject of Sirius. It was like a piercing weight on his heart and he was getting tired of it. He had been in a very good mood when he woke up and it was completely drained out of him before he even finished breakfast. He was determined to do everything in his power not to let it happen again. He was determined to write again today, about Sirius, the prophecy, and his fear of losing more of the people he cared about.

He looked up at Hermione. She looked back at him, turbulent emotion in her eyes. She seemed to be confused and worried about his sudden mood swing. It hurt him to see her like this, as he was often the cause of it. He wanted to reach across the table to kiss her, hold her, and make her feel better. That wasn't an option, so he excused himself and quickly went upstairs.

<>

Harry paced back and forth in the small circular room, chewing his fingernail and muttering under his breath. He had been trying to write for several hours now and he had a problem. He had some kind of writer's block, nothing wanted to come out at all. He had written about so much inconsequential stuff yesterday, it flowed out of him like a stream. Today he was determined to put more serious matters that were bothering him on paper, but he had seized up. He couldn't find the words, he was lost as where to start and he had grown even more frustrated.

He heard someone clearing their throat and looked up. She was standing at the top of the stairs looking at him. She glanced over to the desk, his journal open. She walked over to the desk and picked the book up, flipping through a few pages.

"Have you written anything or are you just not ready to share?" she asked with concern in her voice.

"I've written some." He paused. "What are you doing up here?"

"I just thought you might like some company."

"Thank you all the same, but I'd actually rather that you left," he said a bit more tersely than he meant to.

"I promise I'll stay out of the way. I'll just sit on the window sill and be quiet," she almost pleaded.

He almost caved in. He wanted her there with him, but her presence would only distract him from the task he set upon himself. He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't take you—I don't want to be around you Hermione," he said without raising his head.

"Harry..." she said, her voice begging.

He looked up at her. Her eyes were searching his. Harry had seen that look on her face before, when she desperately wanted to go look something up in a book, but knew that the library's collection did not contain the answer she needed.

"And don't come up here again."

"Harry... I... I..."

He saw her eyes start to well with tears and frustration. Before she said anything else, she turned around and ran down the stairs. He leaned against the wall and sunk to the floor.

"Brilliant Potter, just brilliant."

<>

Harry's Occulmency lesson that night went no better. Snape had managed to push through Harry's defenses every attempt, even though it was harder and took longer. Snape made it no small secret that he took great pleasure in the thought that Harry's earlier successes at blocking his probes were a fluke. Snape had only called it a night when Harry head started splitting. Harry was sure it was revenge for the last lesson.

"Potter, you either haven't been practicing like I told you, or letting your emotions interfere with your concentration, or more probably, both." Snape closed up his bag with a satisfied smirk on his lips and glided out the room.

Harry trudged up to his room and collapsed on the bed. Wrapping the sheets around him, he sought the comfort of dreams. Concentrating on the face of the person he wanted wrapped around him like his sheets, he let himself dissolve into the image of her gorgeous brown eyes.

<>

Books were everywhere he looked, bathed in a golden glow from the lamps scattered among the wooden bookshelves. The silence unnerved him. The smell of dust and musty books was so strong that it nearly made Harry sneeze. He ran his fingers along the books closest to him, feeling the soft leather covers of the well used tomes. They were a mixture of magic and muggle books, he recognized most of the titles but hadn't read a single volume.

The library he found himself in was similar to the one at Hogwart's, but much bigger. He began to wander around looking for someone. He noticed that he hadn't seen a single study table, reading chair, or info desk. After walking for several minutes, he caught a glimpse of something in the back corner. As he approached he found a very familiar sight, a bushy head of chestnut hair leaned over one of many books that surrounded her, scribbling notes down at the only table. When he got closer he noticed that most of the books were one-of-a-kind manuscripts, with neat handwriting inside.

"What are you researching now Hermione?"

Startled, she looked up at Harry and quickly closed the book she was reading.

"How do you always know where to find me?" she asked.

"I just know you, that's all," Harry said as he sat in the chair that he hadn't noticed across the table from her. "And before you ask, no you're not just being predictable. You still find ways to surprise me on a regular basis."

Hermione stood there with her mouth open for a second. When she finally was able to speak, she said "As do you, Harry."

"You never answered my question. What are you researching?"

She bit her bottom lip for a moment. 'Merlin, she's adorable when she does that', Harry thought.

"I've got conflicting information about something, and I've been trying to sort out the truth," she finally answered.

"Ah, I see."

They fell into an awkward silence.

Seeming to read his mind, she said "You can help me, if you want."

Before he knew what he was doing, he nodded his head in reply. He looked up into her eyes and saw that they were full of confusion and hope.

"I want you to answer some questions for me truthfully. Do you think you can do that?" she asked.

"I'll give it a try."

"What do guys like in a girl?"

"Most guys want some good looking girl that'll snog with them. They want a girl with big boobs, long hair, longer legs, and a model's face. But they'll settle for less if she gives them what they want. I guess all guys are different though. Why do you want to know?" Harry didn't think he wanted to know, and was blushing fiercely.

"I told you, I've got conflicting information." She paused. "I noticed you said 'they.' So what do you want in a girl Harry?" She leaned forward in her chair waiting for the answer.

"I want someone who likes me for me, not the famous Boy-Who-Lived. I want someone who is loyal, honest, and caring. I want someone who wants to hold me in her arms, who's first thought in the morning is me, who's last thought at night is me. I want someone who loves me unconditionally, just as I love her." This was starting to make Harry very uncomfortable.

"Don't you want a girl with big boobs? Or the rest of that stuff?" she asked, cocking her head.

"I've learned that beauty is very subjective. I see beauty where others don't." He noticed she had raised an eyebrow at this, so he continued. "Just like Hagrid thinks a dragon, or a three-headed dog can make great pets, I can see the beauty of say... the Shrieking Shack. It may be ugly to the rest of the world, but knowing what it really is, a place where friends stood by each other in the worst of times, it has it's own unique beauty."

"So, is Cho beautiful Harry?"

"She's nice to look at, but not beautiful."

"Do you still like her?"

"No, I'm not sure if I ever really did."

He felt this dream was out of his control. He didn't like this. He hated talking about his feelings. He rather this be another dream like last night. No thought required, no interrogation, just pleasure. His subconscious must have manifested as Hermione, probably to make him feel guilty about last night and so it could bludger the truth out of him.

"Am I beautiful?" she squeaked out.

He looked her right in the eye, and saw the fear. He knew she didn't think herself as beautiful, or even pretty. She had thought the best she could be considered is a plain jane. Without breaking eye contact he simply said, "You are the most beautiful person I know Hermione, on the outside as well as in. And don't let any mirror tell you otherwise."

"What are your feelings toward me Harry?" she asked calmly.

"You are my best friend, so of course I care about you," he answered, lowering his eyes.

"How do you really feel about me?" she asked sternly, clearly not believing him. He couldn't blame her for it had been a lame reply.

He looked up into her eyes. He could feel them boring into his soul searching for the answers he wasn't ready to tell her.

"I love you," he replied meekly, feeling like he had just been given Veritaserum.

"How long have you felt this way? How long have you known?" she asked slowly.

He couldn't help it. He was powerless. His feelings had been building up for so long, that they came tumbling out his mouth like a long practiced speech.

"The very first day we met on the Hogwart's Express, you obviously knew who I was, as did the rest of the wizarding world, but you didn't let that get in the way of getting to know the scared and awe struck little boy I was. For that I gladly became your friend. By the end of that year, after you followed me into the bowels of Hogwart's and helped me prevent Voldermort from obtaining the Philosopher's Stone, I knew we had become and would always be good friends.

"Then in the second year, when everyone thought that I was the one unleashing a monster on the students, especially after I unknowingly spoke parseltongue in front of most of the school, you stuck by my side. You even risked the thing you held most dear, school, to help me when you brewed the polyjuice potion. After you were petrified trying to deliver me the answers we sought, I realized how much I cared for you then and that our bond was stronger than friends, it was as close as family.

"Third year is when I started to get confused. I became ever more concerned about you each day that I watched you working yourself to death, not knowing the complete truth of what you were doing. Even so, when the rush of events happened at the end of the year, you were once again by my side. I knew then that the bond between us could never be broken. When you wrapped your arms around my waist as we rode Buckbeak, I felt something stir inside of me, something I wasn't prepared for. I wanted to be more than just your friend. I felt an attraction towards you stronger than I had ever felt for any girl before. I knew it was more than just platonic love, because I didn't feel any of it in the thankful embrace from Ginny when I saved her from Riddle. But you were my best friend and some part of my brain told me it was wrong, like having a crush on a sister.

"When fourth year started, I tried to force myself to like someone else, and it was Cho that I settled on, as she was widely considered to be desirable and some people thought I already liked her. But no matter how hard I tried I just didn't feel the same way about her as I did for you. I know that I was only fooling myself in thinking I could. Then Yule Ball came, when I saw you with Krum I was angry and jealous, but I had lost my chance by not asking you when I wanted to so badly.

"Then the kiss on the cheek you gave me at King's Cross at the end of that year tore me in two. It took every fiber in my being not to grab you and kiss you back. That part of my brain was still telling me that my affections for you was wrong, so I re-doubled my efforts to shift those feeling from you onto Cho. Valentine's Day fifth year just proved I wasn't up to the task of keeping my mind on any other girl while I secretly longed for you.

"When we went to the Ministry, you were once again by my side. It amazed me how many times you have been there for me when everyone was against me, when it meant breaking the rules, when no one believed me, when I was being a bastard, and even when you knew that I was rushing into a potentially lethal situation before thinking.

"In the few short moments between the time you where hit with that curse and when Neville told me you had a pulse, I felt my willpower and my very life slipping away. It was then that I had an epiphany, that voice in my head was wrong. Just because you were my best friend, a relationship that is as close as family and can never be broken, my attraction to you was not wrong, but a natural progression.

"The events of that night left me with a dilemma. I had finally thrown off the shackles that prevented me from being honest about my feelings about you. But, if I confessed my love for you, Voldermort would have even more reason to try to use you to get to me. As this is the last thing I want, I kept my feelings for you to myself. So I willingly accepted the fact that you would never know of my love, that I would never know the taste of your lips, if it meant you would live. I decided that I would kill Voldermort, not for the world, not for Dumbledore, not even for myself, but for you. I love you Hermione. I love you with all my being. I would die for you. So, I die a little each day so you stay safe."

He lowered his eyes back to the table. He felt emotionally spent. He knew had finally fully expressed his feelings for Hermione.

He was brought out of his thoughts when Hermione grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him across the table into a kiss. He closed his eyes and went along with it. Her tongue flickered across his lips demanding entrance, which he readily gave. She broke the kiss long enough to sweep every book from the table with her arm, climb up and pull Harry back down on top of her.

His mouth found her neck and planted urgent kisses and gentle nibble upwards. He softly tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, eliciting a moan from her. His hands went to the front of her robes and began to undo them. His mouth followed the path made by the separating fabric. He was halfway down her chest before he realized that she had nothing on under her robes. He quickened his pace to remove the robes from her body. He threw her robe onto the floor and stared in awe at her naked body spread out for him on the table. He threw off his robe, joining it with her robe on the floor. To his shock, he had nothing under his either.

Not letting himself dwell on that thought long, he quickly brought all his attention back to the beautiful girl waiting for him. He resumed his position on top of her and brought his hands to her supple breasts. He watched as her nipples hardened under his thumbs. He brought his mouth back down on hers. The kiss was fierce and passionate. He felt her hands slid from his neck down his back, stopping on his bare ass, and pull him closer urging him to enter her. He shifted so he was ready to enter her, feeling her hips impatiently shift back and forth, waiting for his flesh to join hers in a rhythmic dance.

He held himself still for a few seconds, relishing the obvious desire in her wiggling form, before he plunged into her dripping wet sex. She let out a gasp and arched her back. Soon they were in a comfortable rhythm. He was enjoying the feel of his flesh slapping against hers. Her heels dug into his back, urging him to pump harder and deeper. He felt her body start to tense around him. Then her sudden tremor sent him over the edge as he felt himself burst inside of her. After a moment he put his head on her chest, closed his eyes, and just listened to her heart beat with her arms wrapped around him.

6. Chapter 6

Harry awoke feeling a terrible pang of guilt over the way he had treated Hermione the day before. He really didn't want her to leave, but he didn't want her as a distraction. As it turned out she was more of a distraction after he kicked her out then before. He hadn't managed to write a single word after she left. He was determined to make it up to her today. With a new resolve he strode off towards the kitchen for breakfast.

He entered the kitchen to find Hermione pushing around the last few bites of breakfast around on her plate, clearly lost in thought, and an unusually subdued Ginny next to her. Ron and Mrs. Weasley were surprisingly absent. He piled some food on a plate and sat down across from Hermione.

"Where's Ron?" Harry dared to ask.

"Huh?" replied Hermione broken out of her thoughts.

"Mum has him upstairs cleaning up Buckbeak's room. She hasn't been too pleased with the job he's been doing," piped up Ginny. "I suppose I should go help him."

"I'll come with you," Hermione said bleakly. She got up and headed for the door following Ginny.

"'Mione, can I talk to you first?" asked Harry. He looked up at a waiting Ginny and added "Alone?"

Hermione nodded her head to the young redhead and sat down again while Ginny quietly exited the room.

"What is it Harry?" she asked wearily.

"I want to apologize to you for yesterday. I was a bloody prick, just like I have been all summer. I'm really sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?"

"You mean other than telling me what the hell is going on in that head of yours?"

"Yeah other than that, yeah," he meekly answered.

"You can stop pushing me away."

Nervously, Harry said, "Exactly what I had in mind. I want to spend the day with you, just you and me. I want you to come back up to my 'getaway' and I'll try to explain some of my actions, if you'll come."

"That would be very nice, Mr. Potter," she said with a smile.

"Thank you 'Mione. I'll be up as soon I finish my breakfast."

"I'll be waiting," she said with excitement evident in her voice as she left the kitchen.

A short fifteen minutes later he had reached the top of the spiral staircase to be meet with the breathtaking sight of Hermione surrounded by the yellow glow of the early morning light coming through the window. She turned her head, caught sight of him and walked up to him and gave him a gentle hug.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being such a prick 'Mione, especially yesterday."

She pulled away from him, he saw the pain in her eyes, but she waited for him to continue. He couldn't stand still, so he started pacing with his face down.

"I know I've been withdrawn and everyone's been worried about me, but I've had a lot on my mind. I really do want to stop being a jerk to everyone, especially to you and Ron. The journal helped me feel better. But so far I've only gotten the small, petty things written down. A lot I still need to work through. Yesterday I was going to try and tackle some of these bigger... issues, and I wasn't able to write a word. All these thoughts and emotions were swirling around my head, some of which I've been keeping bottled for awhile now." He looked up and found that she had turned the desk chair around without him knowing and was now sitting in it facing him.

"Anyway, you walked in and I was already frustrated not being able to get any of it out, and I thought your mere presence would have just added to my confusion. So I tried as best I could to ask you to leave, but you insisted on staying. I suddenly felt that you were violating my refuge, the only place I could get away from the constant prying questions and my trust in you that you wouldn't push me in here, that you wouldn't barge in without permission. And I reacted just like every time before, I pushed you away." He walked up to her, lifted her chin off her chest and looked straight into her eyes. "I realize that's the last thing I should do. I'm sorry."

She burst from her chair and crushed him in a hug. Tears flowed from her, soaking Harry's shoulder.

"I'm sorry Harry. I should have understood it wasn't okay for me to come here any ol' time like it was the common room."

"It's okay. I was the prat who should have told you how I felt earlier. I'll take you up on yesterday's offer, though," he said brushing the hair away from her tear stained face. "If you want to stay, sit and read, your more than welcome to."

"Thank you. I promise I'll be quiet." She gave him a quick squeeze before wandering over to the bookcase and scanning the volumes. He watched her pick out a rather large one, which didn't surprise him at all, and settle down on the rather large windowsill. She looked up at him and gave him a smile, which he returned.

He went over to the small writing desk and turned it from the wall so it faced her. He settled into the chair and opened his journal. All his fears, worries, emotions, and memories that he battled the day before began to swirl in his mind. This time however one of them stood out, demanding his attention. He could deny it attention no more, but the words were lost on him. His thoughts and feelings were too complex to put down in the suddenly imprecise written language. He glanced up at Hermione. She was leaning against one side of the window with one foot against the other side while the other was flat on the bottom of the sill. She was bent over the oversized book in her lap, face fixed with concentration, biting at her bottom lip.

He knew that the words wouldn't come, and figured that he shouldn't force them like yesterday, so he let his hand move on its own. He began to draw. The quill scratched against the fine paper in short, seemingly unconnected strokes. Slowly the picture in his head began to form on the paper. It was a drawing of Hermione curled up reading a book, in one of the large comfy chairs in front of the Gryffindor common room fireplace. The image he had seen hundreds of times, so burned in his memory that he wasn't surprised he could draw it so accurately from memory.

He glanced back up at Hermione, still occupied by the book. He dipped his quill and began to draw again.

<>

Many hours later Harry was finishing up the latest drawing. He managed to fill up dozens of pages with drawings of Hermione, all from memory. Now he was drawing her from sight, looking up at her on the windowsill ever few seconds. The sun, now on its way back to the horizon, was shining through the window at the perfect angle. It lit up her hair with a golden light, making the highlights sparkle. It fell across her face in a way that reminded him of an angel who was lost in thought, biting at her lower lip. The light even illuminated the dust in the air so shafts of light could be seen coming through the window.

He put the last stroke to paper and looked back up to her. He noticed that she hadn't turned the page for at least half an hour and began wondering what she was concentrating on. He knew that she had been deep in thought all day. At first he presumed it was the thick text in front of her, but now he wasn't so sure. Whenever she looked up at him she was smiling, and that alone made him feel better.

His stomach making a very loud growl interrupted his thoughts. She looked up at him with a look of amusement on her face and hopped off the sill.

"I guess we should take a break and get something to eat," she said. He nodded and they walked down to the kitchen in the comfortable silence they had been in all day.

They made themselves a light lunch that consisted of some sandwiches and a couple of butterbeers. They just sat and eat quietly. He didn't want to upset the tranquility that had surrounded them.

"I think I'm ready for that birthday party now," he said after he had finished his drink.

She smiled at him as if it was her birthday. He was sure that if there wasn't a table between them, he would have received one of her patented bone crushing hugs.

<>

The party was held that night and had been a wonderful boost to the mood of all those involved. Mrs. Weasley went overboard on the food as usual, enlisting Ginny and Hermione to help in the kitchen. They were unable to bake a suitable cake, so settled on making enough pies to open a shop. The smell of baking had invaded every corner of the dreary mansion.

After a wonderful meal that rivaled one of Hogwart's feasts, Harry enjoyed the onslaught of gifts. Predictably Moody got him a holster for his wand that strapped to his forearm. Charlie sent him a scale from the Hungarian Horntail Harry faced during the tri-wizard tournament, mounted on a necklace. Bill gave him a miniature version of Moody's trunk that he had come across in his work for Gingott's. Fred and George donned him with 6 boxes of their Skiving Sweets and a general's hat with a badge that read 'DA' on it. Neville, Dean, and Seamus had all chipped in to get him a dartboard with Snape's ugly face on it. Mr. & Mrs. Weasley had gotten him a pair of Quidditch goggles that were charmed for his prescription. Although they were obviously used, they were still in excellent condition.

Ron gave him a mixed bag of 'Backfiring Wands.' In order to get some, he had been the unfortunate test subject of the new product devised by Fred & George. The twins told Harry about how you swap the intended victims wand with one of theirs and it would send a hex back on the holder when they tried to use it, such as Jelly-Legs, the Furnunculus Curse, or Slug Belching. Ron groaned at the last one. Harry felt sorry that Ron had to go through that twice in one lifetime. The twins said that incident was what gave them the idea in the first place. Harry promised Ron that all the wands would be used for a good cause, mainly getting back at Malfoy and his two cronies. As great as all the presents were, he still liked Hermione's the best.

Now Harry was lying in bed, with a wonderfully full stomach, thinking about the day's events. He had really enjoyed the time he spent with Hermione. The image of Hermione sitting on the windowsill, cute as hell biting her bottom lip, fixed in his mind. He focused on her smiling eyes, trying to lose himself in those cinnamon pools.

<>

He heard a light squeak and a click. Almost silent footsteps came nearer. Fabric swished and landed with a quiet thud. The smell of vanilla mixed with pumpkin pie awoke the rest of his senses. He felt a weight settle on the bed next to him. Someone was gently rubbing his back. Lips pressed against his neck. Warm breath against his ear sent goosebumps across his skin. A hand on his shoulder rolled him onto his back. The covers were pulled away from him. A pleasant weight pressed into his chest. Soft hands held the sides of his head just before lips pressed against his. His mouth worked automatically opening and sending his tongue to seek its partner. The faint taste of blood lingered on the lips pressed against his. Silky hair fell all around his face as the kiss deepened. His partner pulled back. He opened his eyes to look for his partner.

The moonlight, filtered by the trees outside, drifted through the window and landed on the tender curves of a feminine body, accentuating her form. She was clad only in a functional bra and matching panties, which clung to her body and enhanced her beauty. He watched her cleavage rise and fall with her labored breaths. His eyes went up to her face that was surrounded by bushy hair that caught the light and gave her a blue aura. Her eyes twinkled like the stars outside. It finally dawned on him that this goddess straddling him was Hermione, and that she had snuck into his room. 'Damn that's sexy,' he thought.

"'Mione, I—" he said only to be silenced by her fingers.

"Don't say anything." She began to unbutton his pajama top.

""Mione—" This time he was cut off by her lips pressed on his.

"Shhhh. I want this too Harry," she said with a smirk as she continued to undress him.

He felt her hands against his now bare chest, her fingernails lightly scratching his skin. He didn't remember Hermione having nails. A small moan escaped his lips as she brushed against his stomach right above his waistband. He sat up, throwing his top onto the floor and embraced her. His lips brushing against her skin, following her collarbone, planting kisses every few inches. He reached around her and tried to undo the clasp on her bra. After a few failures, she pushed him back down on the bed, reached around and smoothly removed it herself. The garment joined the growing pile on the floor. He stared at her pert breasts bathed in the moonlight. He watched her nipples grow erect from the chilly air. He reached up and cupped each breast in his hands, feeling their weight and lightly squeezing them. He heard a small groan come from her. She was chewing on her bottom lip again.

He sat back up and held her close, feeling the skin of her chest pressing into his. He pulled her into a deep kiss, their tongues battling again. His hands wandered her body while they kissed, along her smooth skin, up and down her back, along her sides and legs, finally settling on her backside. He massaged her through the soft cotton, before plunging inside and grabbing her flesh. As much of her skin he was now touching, he wanted to feel more. He picked her up, turned around and laid her down on the bed. He grabbed the waistband of her panties and pulled them off her smooth legs. He kissed his way back up her legs. When he reached her womanly folds, he found her hand blocking him.

"Not yet," she whispered.

He leapfrogged her forbidden region and continued his trail of kisses up her body, briefly pausing on her lips before ending nuzzled on her neck. His right hand slid across the surface of her skin stopping above where he was denied to kiss.

"May I?" he asked, hoping he did sound like he was begging. He felt her nod. His hand continued the trek to the Holy Grail, his fingers gliding through her curly hair. She let out a gasp when he found the little bump of sensitive flesh right above the entrance. He sustained the kisses and gently nibbles of her neck as his fingers explored the new area. He felt her move under him, quickly learning where he could elicit the most pleasure with his fingers. After a few minutes and with her breath quite ragged, she pulled his hand away.

"Your turn," she whispered in his ear.

She switched positions with him before pulling the rest of his clothes off in one motion. She wrapped her fingers around his fully erect member and gingerly started stroking up and down its length. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensations she was causing. He felt he was hit with a jolt of electricity when he felt her tongue lightly touch the tip. The rest of the lightning bolt hit him when she put it in her mouth. She slowly bobbed up and down on it a couple of times before pulling it out.

He looked up at her, looking for an explanation, but she was crawling on top of him. She straddled his naked body with hers and guided his hard member to her already slick folds. Once she had positioned herself, she looked him in his eyes, bit her lower lip and impaled herself on him. His mind exploded with sensations and stars burst in his vision. He became aware of her grinding against him, sending new feelings to every part of his body. She gradually started quickening the pace and began to bounce up and down on top of him. Her breasts moving to the rhythm of her movements mesmerized him. Her reached out and took them into his hands, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs, eliciting a moan.

It didn't take much of her sliding up and down him before a tingle began to form around his groin. He couldn't hold back any longer. He began thrusting up into her, trying to match her rhythm. Soon her movements stopped. She was drawing breath in a series of gasps matched to his every stroke. She collapsed onto him, burying her face in his chest. He could feel her holding back a scream. He rolled them over so she was on her back again. Sliding back inside of her, he quickly resumed the previous pace. The tingle got stronger. She reached up and pulled him forcefully into a kiss with one hand, while the other encouraged his continual thrusting. He felt a quiver run through her body and her scream into the kiss, muffling it. He felt her muscles squeeze down on him and the tingle burst in an explosion inside of her. He collapsed onto her, feeling his member slowly continue to pulse. After he caught his breath, he gently slid out of her and settled down next to her. He put an arm across her chest and his head on her shoulder and slipped comfortably into oblivion.

7. Chapter 7

Something tickled Harry's nose. He brushed it out of the way, but it tickled his nose again. Slightly irritated he opened his eyes to see what it was. His vision was encompassed with hair. Brown hair. Bushy brown hair.

He sat bolt upright. The owner of the hair was sleeping next to him in his bed, naked. She was naked. Hermione Granger was next to him, naked. She was on her side, with her bare back towards him. His eyes followed her back all the way down to the soft curves of her ass. His mind raced trying to figure out how she came to be in his bed, let alone naked. It was his bed, right? He looked around the room. Yes, this was indeed his room at Grimmauld place. His mind was still racing when he spotted the pile of clothes next to the bed, and a robe closer to the door.

He hit his forehead with his hand at the realization that last night wasn't a dream. She had really snuck into his room, it wasn't another of his hormonal fantasies. But he couldn't figure out why she came and did... The full weight of the situation hit him like a bludger. Not only had she came into his room, kissed him, but they had—shagged.

Wait, she said that she wanted it. In fact, she said she wanted it "too." How had she known? He didn't put it in the journal. He never told a single soul, not even Hedwig. He must have said something in his sleep.

What to do about the situation? He had to wake her. Instantly a very naughty thought came to mind, one he couldn't resist, especially after what they did last night. It would be worth the risk.

He bent over and swept the hair away from her neck He put his face down and breathed her in. He could smell her vanilla shampoo that he had come to associate with her, but her could also smell what was left of the sweat that had glistened on her skin during their activities last night. The smell didn't put him off, in fact it intoxicated him, it flamed the desire that was already building inside of him. He let his lips brush against the skin of her neck, planting soft kisses along the way. Her skin had a slightly salty flavor, a flavor he soon wanted more of. His kisses grew firmer while he extended his tongue so he could taste her. He made his way up to her ear, his nose caressing the outside before his tongue flicked and captured her lobe. He eagerly nibbled on her flesh, feeling her sift under him. A soft moan escaped her lips and it sent electric shivers down his spine.

He turned her head so he could kiss her on the lips. Her lips meet his and they began to dance. He granted her access when her tongue ran across his lips. The kiss grew deeper, filling with desire, as their hands found each other's hair. Suddenly he pulled away from her.

"Good morning 'Mione," he said cautiously, looking for any signs of anger, but found her only smiling back at him.

"Yes it is Harry. I know you must have some questions, but first things first. You wake me like this, you need to finish what you started," she said with desire saturating her voice. She pulled him back into another passionate kiss. Harry felt her hands start to wander along his back, playfully squeezing his arse. His eyes went wide when her fingers wrapped around his already hard member. She began to stroke him up and down. He couldn't hold back the low groans coming from his throat. His mouth pounced on sensitive center of her breasts. She was now moaning with him. She shifted until he was between her legs. He looked into her eyes when she guided him to her entrance. They urged him to slip inside of her.

She let out a small gasp when he sheathed himself within her. He deliberately kept the pace slow, not just to make it last, but also to show her how much he loved her. He gingerly rested his weight on top of her, enjoying the sensation of their bodies sliding against each other. He wrapped his arms behind her shoulders, pulling her to him with every stroke, and nuzzled his head against her neck so he could lightly kiss her. Soon, her breathing started to quicken, sending shivers down his spine as it hit his ear. He felt her shudder and clamp down on him and he quietly exploded inside of her.

He leaned up to kiss her and felt himself pull out of her with a small 'pop.' The kiss was deep and full of passion, but the urgency had been replaced with satisfaction.

"How did you know this is what I wanted? Did you hear me talking in my sleep?" he asked when he broke the kiss.

"In a manner of speaking. I'm pretty sure that you've been entering my dreams."

"Your dreams?! How?"

"My best guess is that you've worked so hard on your Occulmency defense that you flipped it into Leglimency and entered my dreams. Exactly how I don't know."

"I've been concentrating on your face, especially your beautiful eyes, when I've been going to sleep for about the last week. I felt consumed by them. I didn't have nightmares when I did it the first time, so I keep doing it," he said softly, afraid she would be mad.

"Somehow you created a conduit to my dreams that way."

"So my dream with you and me in that candlelit room?"

"Was one of my, um—normal--snogging dreams," she said as she blushed.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I invaded your privacy somehow."

"You didn't know. Besides, we probably never would have found out how we really felt about each other if you didn't"

"And the rest?"

"The tropical hut was what I always dreamed our honeymoon would be. But it had changed from the way it always happens and it suddenly stopped. I was worried about you after that night, so I had my nightmare about you dieing, and me helpless to prevent it. Again it had changed, you had confessed your feelings towards me. The next day I noticed something you said from that dream. You called me your snitch. I couldn't help it, but it turned me on all day long and that night I had the most vividly sexual dream I have ever had." She blushed again. "I was beginning to think that you were actually in my dreams. But the way you said you didn't want me to be around you the next day hurt and confused me. Don't worry, Harry. You've already more than made up for it.

"Anyways, I started thinking about everything we've been through, trying to figure it out. I wanted to know if I was just imagining that you were in my dreams, or if it was real, by trying to sort through my memories to find the truth. That must have manifested as the library in my dream, the place I go for all the answers. When you showed up, I simply had to ask you. If you remember, I was a little overjoyed by your answers.

"Yesterday, as I watched you write in your journal, happier than I saw you in a long time, the pieces seemed to come together. I decided to act. I risked everything last night when I came to you. Believe me Harry, when I say it was worth it."

"I thought you were another dream," he said before kissing her softly on the lips.

"It doesn't have to be anymore," she said looking deep into his eyes.

He bent his head, looking at a spot on the sheets he had been playing with. He sighed deeply then looked her in the eyes.

"Hermione, it's time I tell you about the prophecy..."

8. Author's Note

Author's Note

Let me start by saying that I hate excessive author notes, so I avoid doing them myself. I would reply to most of your questions in the reviews, but often if I did that, it would ruin any plot twists/points/secrets that I have planned. When my fics are complete, I will try to answer any lingering questions either in the reviews or more likely in an Author's Note chapter like this at the end.

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I want to start by telling you why and how I wrote this story. I wrote it for the smut. The idea of a series of sexual dreams that Harry shared with Hermione that finally culminated with them consummating their relationship in real life was the base of the story. I had to come up with a reason that they would even share dreams in the first place and that's how I came up with the Occulmency/Legimency flip. I didn't want them to share the same dream night after night. Even similar ones would have gotten boring. So I can up with a series of dreams that I though Hermione would have about Harry. (I happen to think that the quidditch dream would be one of her worst nightmares. Watching as he doesn't pull out of one of his dives and is injured so bad that he will die, coupled with the fact that she can't do anything about it makes her feel completely useless by not helping keep him safe.) Then I arranged them so the progression made some sense. The library dream had to be the last one before it crossed-over. By far the hardest part was writing the daytime events. They needed to parallel and prop up the dream sequences, give reason for Hermione to have each dream in the first place.

By now you should know why I didn't simply make the dreams italic text or some other way to easily distinguish them from real events, it would have ruined the twist at the end. I was surprised about how many of you made the leap and guessed at what was going on before I revealed it. I tried so hard to conceal it, but like JKR I still gave you plenty of clues. If you go back and read it, I never made mention that they were Harry's dreams (except out of Harry's own mouth). The dream sequences also started the same way every time, the five senses where introduced in the same order. The night Hermione snuck into his room, the order was different and he was "trying to lose himself in those cinnamon pools". He never made the legimency connection. Add the light taste of blood on her lips from biting them all day, and the obvious awkwardness of them and I was sure I had blown my twist.

Some of you said that Hermione was a little OOC. Now being that this was entirely a smutty fic to begin with, I had to push her in that direction. Hermione figured out what was happening and knew she would be the one who would have to do something about it. I thought I keep her somewhat shy and nervous, even the next morning. Being sexually active at 16 is quite normal these days, and need I remind you that those two have never been described as normal. That's part of the reason Harry enjoyed those dreams. They made him feel normal.

Now it seems a few are confused/frustrated by my ending and some of you didn't really realize that it was an ending. I felt that after Harry could no longer hold back anything from Hermione, especially nothing as important as the prophecy. Lots of you wanted to see Hermione's reaction to the prophecy or Ron's reaction to them being together. I thought that other authors have covered those subjects well enough, that to do it here would be too cliche. I tend to like these open-ended endings anyway.

As for a sequel, I'm happy people like my work and want to see me continue this story, but I wrote what I wanted to, a short smutty story. I have no plans on continuing the story and I won't unless a workable plot pops into my head. If I were to continue this I would have to go in some new direction, like radcliffeluvslave's idea of some time in the future.