Disclaimer: All characters, concepts, and basically anything creative and superb belong to the amazing JK Rowling.
A/N: Hey! To everybody reading this on fanfiction.net, I should tell you that as of Friday, October first, I have been accepted onto portkey.org, which I'm quite thrilled about. For those of you reading this on Portkey, know that I am also active at fanfiction.net and I may or may not add previous fanfiction from that site to this one, so please don't hesitate to check out my other works. Once again, thank you to everybody for reading! Enjoy!
"Twenty sickles on Potter screwing up his opportunity, any takers?" Minerva McGonnagall spoke in an air of importance, as if there were no question this would happen.
"I'll take that one," came the response of one Remus Lupin, "He's got some James Potter in him after all."
"Exactly," said McGonnagall with an unusual smirk rising slightly at the corners of her mouth.
It was an everyday Friday night and the teacher's lounge was busily occupied with the normal watch-over surveillance group. Tonight's crowd consisted of McGonnagall, Lupin, Snape, and Dumbledore. The recent addition to the school, for security purposes was a large screen in the teacher's lounge that could flip around with the flick of a wand, in order to monitor the activity of any and all areas of the school. Quite spontaneously, the teachers on duty had taken upon betting on various student mischief parades or midnight romances.
"Now Minerva, you didn't know James like I did. He happened to be quite the lady's man." Remus spoke in defense of his fellow marauder.
Severus Snape rolled his eyes in evident annoyance. "I can't believe you're actually placing bets on someone so helpless as Potter. By the time he figures out how to tell Granger he's loved her forever, I'll have been made Minister of Magic."
"And I suppose you're the authority on women?" Minerva asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"Yes, yes, laugh all you want but compared to Potter I'm a- what's that word they use these days- ah yes, `pimp"
"I'm sure…" Minerva said, quite unconvinced at the prospect of her coworker attracting ladies at all, let alone copious amounts of them.
"All right every one, be quiet, he's going in," Lupin said in an excited manner like that of a small child about to open presents on Christmas morning.
"Oh boy," Severus commented in a sarcastic tone, earning a "shh" from the entire room, causing him to roll his eyes once again.
"Hey Hermione!" Harry called to his long-time best friend, whom he was secretly in love with.
"Hello Harry. I thought you were going to patrol the North Tower tonight. Did I look at my schedule wrong?"
"No, I just missed you, that's all." At this, Hermione raised her eyebrow slightly in confusion. "I-I mean-I was bored so I decided to come find you." She had no idea what Harry was up to but it seemed as if something was different about him. He just seemed sort of…nervous.
"Oh, okay then, I guess."
"So, err, do you want to go walk?"
"Sure."
So Harry and Hermione went off to finish her rounds. They talked about loads of things, from quidditch, to Voldemort, to classes, to the war, and so forth. They had been walking for about an hour when they turned into the entrance hall, done with rounds.
"Well, it was nice talking to you Harry, but I've got to go finish my potions essay…"
"Oh o- Hermione, that isn't due for another two weeks!"
"I know but I want to have enough time to study for that transfiguration test."
"But you already know all of it! We went over it in class and you knew ever- gasp."
"Harry! Are you alright?" Harry's hand had just gone instinctively to the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. Hermione noticed his eyes were screwed up in concentration and he appeared to be fighting something off. A moment later and he was back to normal.
"Was it…Him?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Yes. I guess I just lost concentration for a moment there, I'm fine now though." Harry noticed her eyes dart up to his forehead just as so many people's had done before, upon realization of the detail that he was the ever famous Boy-Who-Lived. It had always bothered him in the past, when people had done it, but for some reason when Hermione did it, he really didn't mind. It was almost as if he felt he could share anything with Hermione and that made it comfort him, rather than embarrass or annoy him. The way she looked at it was different, too. Most people used it to identify him but with Hermione, it was more out of concern, or…love.
"Can I touch it?" she asked tentatively. Then, realizing what she had just said, she hastily moved to fix her moment of dazedness, "I-I mean, I don't want to embarrass you or anything, I just-"
She was interrupted by Harry's hand that had just reached out and grabbed her own. He held it carefully as if he thought it might break if squeezed too hard and slowly brought it up to his scar. This was the first time Harry had ever willingly let anyone touch his scar. She felt it lightly as her fingertips grazed the hard skin and found it odd that such a small thing could hold so much power, mystery, and pain. It represented one of the most awful and yet great things that had happened in all of eternity. She felt enticed by it. Swallowing loudly, she placed her palm upon the hard flesh ever so softly and was surprised when she felt it responding to her touch. It seemed to be pulsating, in a way, as if some strange magical barrier had just been lifted from it. She glanced back at Harry who had been watching her tentatively the whole time. Cautiously, she removed her hand and replaced it with her lips.
Meanwhile, the teacher's lounge had gone dead silent. Even Snape was rendered speechless by such a compelling moment between the two. Nobody had ever seen Harry open up to someone in the way he just had.
Harry pulled Hermione into an embrace as she removed her soft lips from his forehead. Making eye contact with her, he spoke.
"Hermione, I want to tell you something that I've been meaning to tell you for a long time. I suppose I've put it off because I'm scared. I'm scared because I've never told this to anyone in my entire life and I don't know what might happen when I tell you. I'm scared that when I tell you this, you'll tell me that you don't feel the same way. I'm scared that I could die knowing that I've gone through my entire life and never had someone to love. But most of all, I'm scared of losing you. I love you, Hermione, more than anything and I'll love you forever."
If Hermione Granger, know-it-all, top student, had ever been caught off-guard, this was it. It was true, Hermione had loved Harry more than the world itself, ever since their unforgettable first year at Hogwarts; but the connection the two had just had, had opened her eyes for the first time to the lingering possibility of Harry as more than just a best friend. For the first time, she felt him give off a different kind of love and she now felt more than ready to return. "I love you too, Harry; and don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."
It was then that the biggest and best thing that had ever happened to both of them was denuded with a symbol so powerful that a passerby might say they were radiating love. This was something, however, that words did not need to describe. It was a simple and yet complex truth being unveiled and agreed upon in, what many would say, was the strangest and most astonishing of languages. Love. For, it was then that Hermione tentatively tilted up her chin at precisely the same time that Harry bent forward. Their eyes locked for a split second that spoke words of a lifetime and then, it happened. The kiss.
Love, lust, affection, desire, excitement, happiness, wanting, needing. It was there, all of it, and neither of them wanted to stop.
`Her lips are soft. Her hair feels good in my fingers. I like- no- love her body. She's so perfect. I can't get enough of her smell, her taste, her-HER. I want to show her how much I love her. I want to touch her mind and feel her body. I want her.'
`He loves me. I love him. I love his perfectly imperfect hair. I love his hot, passionate lips. I love his hard, toned muscles. I love his body. I love his mind. I love his soul. I want him.'
`As much as I try to deny it, I'm truly not me without her. I'd have died a thousand deaths, if not for her. The truth is, I need her.'
`I can't describe the way I feel. Somehow, love doesn't begin to characterize it. It's like I'm not whole without him. I can't survive without him. I'm intoxicated by his touch; his feel, his-HIM and I just need more. I need him.'
`Is it wrong, this feeling I have? How does she do this to me? What is it that draws me to her so? Why am I so powerless with her? If I died right now, would I even care? Is there such a thing as too much love?'
`How can I be so reliant on another person? What is it that makes him so perfect? How does he make my knees buckle? Is it possible to live life so in love? Is it possible to die from too much love?'
`Surely, this is fulfillment at its zenith. Never have I experienced something so perfect. Yes, it's true; there's simply no other word for her than perfect. I know now what love feels like because she embodies it.'
`There's no word to describe it. I'm convinced there has never been a word created that's strong enough for this feeling. I suppose I'm just full of…Harryness.'
The screen flicked off to collective sigh, as Minerva, Remus, and, believe it or not, Severus snapped out of their reveries.
"That will do for today, you're all free to go," said the headmaster, who seemed to be rather enjoying himself.
"Yes, well, I do believe you owe me a fair bit of sickles, Minerva?" said Remus, who still seemed rather dazed.
"Oh fine, I'll pay you tomorrow," then, turning to Professor Dumbledore, she asked, "Shall I go break them up, Albus?"
"Absolutely not," answered Dumbledore in a singsong voice. "We'll leave them to it."
At this comment, there was a sudden change in the atmosphere, as the three teachers were hit with the bombshell of realization.
"What?" spat Remus.
"Headmaster, you're not suggesting allowing them to continue this reckless nonsense. Surely, even a man at your age can see where this behavior may lead." Said Snape, showing unusual evidence of actually caring.
"That's most certainly crossing the code of conduct in this school," added Minerva.
"They're seventeen-years-old, and they graduate in a month. I believe they're both old enough and mature enough to make their own decisions. And I certainly don't doubt Ms. Granger's ability to be responsible and use protection, should they decide that's what they want." The three were all shocked by the approach of Dumbledore, who was still acting quite jubilant.
"You- you mean- you're going to let them-"
"Indeed."
"But, how do you know they'll be safe? That particular spell is not one we preach to our students, after all," said Minerva, skeptically.
"Ms. Granger knows quite a few more spells than we teach here, Minerva. As does Harry, of course. I'm quite sure she knows how to do a contraceptive charm. In fact, I wouldn't be the slightest bit surprised if she looked it up."
"B-but-"
"I'm off to bed now, good night," and so, Albus exited, leaving his coworkers in utter astoundment.
Back in the entrance hall, the Head Boy and Head Girl finally pulled apart, gasping for air. Together, they sported a haggard appearance, no longer exactly what the founders had in mind, when setting a dress code. Harry's tie had, somewhere along the way, been disregarded. His shirt was no longer buttoned, as Hermione had apparently been rather eager to feel his bare, toned chest on her soft, petite hands. Hermione's tie also lay on the floor, while a few of her top buttons had been undone, allowing Harry more access to kiss her neck and shoulders passionately. Her skirt rode high up her smooth legs, exposing a scandalous amount of creamy flesh.
In truth, however, it wasn't their clothes that betrayed their actions as much as the bodies within them. They both had tiny rivulets of sweat dripping down their hot skin. Their cheeks were flushed a soft shade of rouge, while their lips were slightly parted, with a thin, damp coat of each other's flavor, adding greatly to the thick cloud of lust surrounding them. Their limbs were tangled tightly, weaving a quilt that emanated love. Their hair was, if possible, more shabby than usual. There was simply one word that summed up the whole do-up: "sexy."
The two teens made eye contact and just searched each other's eyes for the deepest and most furtive feelings. The truth was, they had known one another for so long that they, in a sense, knew more about the other than themselves. And as they gazed into pools of affection, mirrored on their faces, they knew in their hearts that this is what they wanted forever. Scratch that; this is what they needed forever. This is what made them complete: for Harry, Hermione and for Hermione, Harry. Though they were both afraid to say it, they knew that the moment would come, at some point, when they would show each other just how much they were two, unalterable halves of what was, certainly, a wonderful whole. Whether it would be now, at this very moment, in the hallway at Hogwarts or in some future time and destination, they didn't know, but they both knew that when that moment presented itself, they would be ready. Hell, they already are.
"Make love to me Harry."
Okay, so maybe now is the moment.
THE END
A/N: Well, there you have it… a cliffy! (hehehehehe). As much as I enjoy writing passionate sex scenes, I thought it might be fun to let your imaginations wander a bit. But, to those off you that just can't take it, I'm not completely opposed to the idea of a nice, little sequel… we'll have to see. I hope you enjoyed it and I apologize for not posting anything sooner. Until next time,
-EmilyKP
PS- Reviews are a very magical thing! … Please?
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