Drunken Honesty

Drunken Honesty

By: Amanda, a.k.a. Rosie

My first Harry/Hermione ever, so be kind please. One-shot, post-Voldemort's demise, please read and review.

Disclaimer: Pfft, if I owned Harry Potter I wouldn't be posting my stories online, but at a publishing company; I wouldn't be worried about paying college, probably wouldn't even worry about college. I'm just a 19 year-old college student with no life at the moment and uses this as a means of escape.

*~*~*

Harry stumbled in the door late after a long night of drinking.

“SHH! We don't want to wake Hermione!” he hushed the chair he knocked into.

“Too late for that, Harry.”

The light switched on and Harry squinted against it, turning blindly trying to find where Hermione stood. The abrupt movement caused him to over balance and fall on the coffee table.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said coming to his side. “I was worried sick. Were you at that muggle pub again?”

“They don't know me there,” he replied in answer, rolling off the table and landing on the floor. “Guess what, Hermione?” he asked her excitedly while she helped him onto the sofa.

“What, Harry?” she responded patiently and quietly, knowing full well what Harry was going to tell. He did this every year at the anniversary.

“Voldemort's dead! He's GONE!” His green eyes wide as told her. “We're safe now, Hermione.”

“I know, Harry. He's been gone for two years.”

He nodded slightly, staring at the floor near her feet. The giddy drunk was gone and now replaced with the solemn one. “He's gone because I killed him,” he finally said quietly.

“You had to, Harry,” Hermione told him firmly, taking his hand in hers and bringing his eyes back to hers. “It was either him or you…and the better man won.”

“But I murdered him. I'm a murderer.”

“No, no you're not,” she said quietly, her hands moving to his face. “You saved the world, Harry, both wizarding and muggle. You're a hero to so many.”

His jaw set and his body stiffened as he pulled away. “I don't want to be a bloody hero.”

She gazed at him, her heart aching at how much he still hurt after two years, at how much Voldemort still managed to affect him after being vanquished. “What do you want? For you, what do you want for you?”

Harry looked into her deep brown eyes, contemplating the question. “I want it to stop. The emptiness,” he continued at her perplexed expression, staring at his hand on his knees. “I feel empty, like there's nothing in me, like I can't feel.” He retuned his eyes to hers. “I want to feel.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, pulling him into a comforting hug, Harry wrapping his arms around her waist. “You can feel. You do feel. That's how you defeated him.”

He drew back to look at her, shaking his head slightly. “No, not anymore…unless I'm with you.”

“How do you mean, Harry?”

“I mean,” he began after a moment, “when I'm with you, or think of you, I actually feel something. A strong urge to protect you…and comfort you…and hold you…and -and other things,” he mumbled.

Hermione waited for him to continue, knowing there was more he wanted to explain.

“I don't know what it is, but I like it. I like that I feel when I'm around you or you're on my mind. I like what I feel, I just haven't a clue what it is.”

“Love, perhaps,” she supplied.

“I don't know what love is, Hermione.”

“Yes, you do, Harry. It's what you used to kill Voldemort, it's what you felt for Sirius, for Ron and the Weasleys. And for me it seems.”

Harry's eyes got wide when she said this. “Hermione,” he frowned slightly, “I don't think what I feel for you is the same as what I feel for Ron or Sirius or any of the Weasleys.”

Hermione cracked a smile. She knew Harry would say something of the sort, with or without the alcohol in his system. “You know there are different kinds of love Harry. Love for a parent, love for a brother or sister, love for a friend.” She paused a second. “And love for a husband or wife, being in love with someone,” she added timidly, avoiding his eyes, her arms still around his neck.

Harry stared at her. It may have been the alcohol consumption, but he thought there might be more to how she said that last bit. Acting bold (undoubtedly caused by the amount of hard liquor he'd drank earlier), he asked her, “Do you feel that way for me, 'Mione?”

“I know how I feel, Harry,” she replied in answer, her hands moving to his chest. “I think we should establish how you love me, we both know you do. So, Harry, how do you love me?”

Harry knew there was no use denying it; he'd all but said the words earlier. He leaned back on the couch, pulling Hermione down with him. “How do you know if you're in love with someone?” he questioned.

Hermione went to sit up, looking anywhere but at the man whose arms she was in, but Harry held her tight, his eyes studying her face intently. She was quiet for some time before she finally answered. “You think about that person all the time,” she started softly, “you feel happy just hearing their name. When you're with them, in anyway, you feel…complete. Little things from them, a look, a small touch, their scent from anything, give you butterflies and make you want it more. You can't imagine not having that person in your life…you'd be lost without them,” she finished quietly.

The honestly from the alcohol betrayed him. “Then I'm in love with you, Hermione,” he told her, his green eyes on her sincere.

She turned her head quickly and stared at him, afraid to believe what he said. “Don't toy with me, Harry,” she whispered.

“I'm not. I feel all those things for you. So much it hurts almost. Merlin knows without you I'd have died in first year. Without you, I honestly feel incomplete. I think the question now is, do you feel the same for me?” he questioned softly.

“Harry, I've been in love with you for so long,” she told him, silent tears streaming down her face. “It's almost pathetic how long I've been pining over you.”

“I can say I'm quite glad you never moved on and got a boyfriend.”

“And why's that?” she asked with a small laugh as he brushed her tears away with his thumb.

He gave a devilish smirk, one that had driving her mad for ages. She found it so sexy, so devil-be-damned, so arousing. “Because then I wouldn't be able to do this without a care,” he said before capturing her lips with his.

Hermione gasped in surprise and sheer bliss. When Harry's tongue tensely touched her lip, she opened her mouth to him, inviting him in. She could taste the vodka on him, smell the stale cigarette smoke, but beneath all that she found him and his uniquely Harry flavor and aroma. Him, Harry, the man she loved and loved her.

“I want you, 'Mione,” he growled in her ear, “so bad,” he trailed kisses down her neck.

“Then take me,” she told him back on the sofa and straddling him.

Hermione arched her hips into Harry, a groan coming from him, feeling his arousal against her, as she pressed her lips to him and began unbuttoning his shirt. Pulling it down his arms, she caressed the torso she'd admired from afar so many times.

She drew back to look at his perfect chest and abs. That was the only way for her to describe them; they were perfect to her. Lean and defined, not overworked and bulking, each abdominal visible and flawless in her mind. She ran her fingers lightly over his body, watching them move as Harry slid his hands under her tank top.

His touch was like fire on her skin as he pulled her shirt over her head. His fingertips gliding gently down her arms made goosebumps as they made their way to her breasts. Her head fell back as he kneaded them, a moan escaping from her throat. He marveled at how perfect they were for her petite frame, how perfectly he could cup them in his hands.

Harry moved his hands to her back and after some work, undid her bra. He slid it down her arms and received his first look at her perky breasts with their rosy nipples. He ran his thumbs over them and, the moans eliciting from Hermione encouraging him, took one in his mouth while still teasing the other with his fingers. Harry's free hand slid down her bare back, under the elastic of her pants and grasped her buttocks, pressing her into him more. Hermione gasped at the contact and the feeling of him groaning around her nipple.

Hermione pulled Harry's face level with hers, the pebble of flesh slipping from his mouth. “Seems like you need some release,” she said with a seductive grin.

“Huh?” he replied stupidly as she slid from his lap to the floor. Realization dawned on him when his belt was undone and his trousers were being tugged down his legs. His boxers soon followed and Harry found himself completely naked on the couch in front of a kneeling, topless Hermione.

When did I lose my shoes and socks? he vaguely thought, but it was driven form his mind as Hermione's hands began moving up his thighs, slowly and teasingly. Her hand traveled to his knees and pushed them apart, positioning her body between his legs.

Hermione stared at Harry's erection hungrily. Sweet Merlin, he's magnificent, just like him; it's better than I'd imagined.

Harry watched as Hermione lowered her head in his lap, trailing kisses along the inside of his thighs. He drew a shuddering breath at the contact and she looked up.

“Oh, I'm just getting started, Potter,” she told him, an evil glint in her eye.

“Be my guest, Granger,” he responded, a small quiver in his voice with the teasing, “by all means.”

A groan came from Harry as he felt Hermione's tongue run along his shaft, circling the head of his penis before taking it in her mouth. Harry gave a low moan from deep in his chest when she took him deeper, then slid him out slowly, deeper again, then sliding him out, the inside of her cheeks cradling his member as she sucked lightly.

Hermione continued her movements, speeding up her pace, slowing down, then speeding up again all the while encouraged by the noise Harry was emitting.

“Hermione…” Harry moaned, her lips continuing to move over his length, “I'm-I'm gonna…”

“Shh,” she stopped momentarily. “I've wanted to do this for the longest time, and I'm going to do it right,” she told him before taking him in her mouth once more.

“Oh Merlin,” he groaned, his head falling back against the sofa, grateful he could stop fighting it. Hermione's tongue dancing along his shaft, swirling around his head, her soft lips wrapped around his hard penis, taking him deep to her throat, Harry was soon groaning her name, his hips jerking forward on their own accord as he came with a shudder.

Harry sat panting, Hermione rubbing his thighs with a smug smile on her face when she straightened and took in his appearance.

He cracked open an eye and looked at her. “Proud of yourself, are you?” he asked. “Doing that with your mouth.”

She nodded, the grin still on her face as she moved next to him on the sofa.

“I'm quite sure I could do that, as well,” he told her with a smirk.

“Oh, do you? Well, I think you'll just have to prove it, won't you?” she whispered in his ear, her hand on his cheek while she sucked his neck.

Harry groaned. “I do believe that is a challenge,” he said, mustering his strength and picking her up.

“Harry!” she exclaimed surprised. “You have to move me?”

“I don't want you to hurt yourself. You'll need a lot more room for all the thrashing I plan to make you do,” he answered, looking at her suggestively and wiggling his eyebrows. She responded by attacking his mouth with her own.

He stumbled into his room carrying Hermione and kicked the door shut. Throwing her rather unceremoniously on the bed, he crawled over her and placed his hands on her hips, fingers inside the elastic of her pajamas. “You, love, are wearing far too many clothes,” he told her before pulling them down in one swift movement, the effects of the alcohol gone from his system.

“I don't wear underwear to bed,” she said to his unasked question as he gazed down at her, a look of surprise and arousal in his eyes.

Harry brushed his hands up her legs to her hips, up her sides and back to her hips, watching their progress over her naked body. “So beautiful,” he muttered, the honestly in his voice causing Hermione to blush. “You're so beautiful.”

He leaned over and captured her lips with his, his hands still roaming her body while hers wrapped around his neck, toying with his hair.

They were both lost in the passion of their kiss as Harry's hand found its ultimate destination: the golden curls of Hermione. He began to slowly circle her clit with his middle finger, varying the pressure, feeling her moans as they continued kissing, her legs falling open for him.

Harry slipped a finger inside her and they broke apart as Hermione gasped and throwing her head back as it moved within her. “You're so wet already,” he growled in her ear. He slid another finger in her, watching her pant and moan as they moved simultaneously and his thumb resumed teasing the hidden bundle of nerves.

Hermione pushed herself into Harry's hand, desperate for more pressure, for more of him. His thumb on her clit was maddening and wonderful. She had vaguely registered that Harry's thumb had left her before it replaced by his tongue.

“Oh, MERLIN, Harry,” she yelled, her eyes fluttering shut at the contact of his warm, wet tongue swirling around the sensitive nub hidden in her curls. Her hands around his neck ran through his hair, caressing his scalp as it held him in place.

With Harry's fingers and tongue moving in, on and around her, Hermione was soon screaming his name and bucking her hips.

Harry watched her as she came, seeing the usually reserved Hermione, the woman he just discovered he loved more than anything, with her hair wild, her cheeks flushed, and naked chest heaving because of what he did was the most arousing sight. He found himself achingly hard and wanting her.

He moved so he lay beside her and began kissing her neck, his hands caressing her body. “Harry,” he heard Hermione moan, “I want you…I need you inside me.”

He looked at her, deep in her gorgeous brown eyes. “You sure?” he asked. “We don't have to tonight, Mione. I'm perfectly content lying next to you, holding you in my arms as you fall asleep, waking next to you tomorrow…” he trailed off.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered, eyes tearing slightly at his sincerity. “I know we don't have to, but I want to. So much. And besides,” she added with a small smirk, “you're little man wants attention.” Hermione reached down and took the erection pressing into her leg in her hand, causing Harry to close his eyes and let out a small moan. “Please, Harry, make love to me.”

“Well, I can't if you don't let go,” he grinned in response.

“So sure you can get it in by yourself, aren't you?”

“Cheeky little devil, you are,” Harry told her as he moved between her legs. She still hadn't released his penis, but Harry wasn't complaining about the contact.

“But you love me,” she smiled, guiding him into her, her smile turning to a groan.

“I do,” he told her seriously, pushing into her further. “I love you, Mione, more than I thought possible.” His head dropped to hers as she engulfed him and they moaned in unison, a sense of fulfillment washing over them. “Oh, bloody hell, you feel so good,” he told her, stopping himself from thrusting madly into her.

“Sweet Merlin, Harry,” Hermione panted.

He bent his head to kiss her full lips. He wanted to stay like this forever, her tight, wet warmth surrounding his long, hard member. But both their bodies grew impatient, the natural instinct of procreation setting in and Harry slowly drew himself out and gently plunged into her.

Each time Harry pushed in, he was telling Hermione the same thing: I love you. His eyes told her, his emerald pool bore into her cinnamon depths as he made each pass.

When Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deeper, and her hips began to move to meet his thrusts, and matched his stare, he knew she was telling him, too.

Their movements continued, the steady rhythm they created never breaking, their breathing grew ragged, coming in pants. Harry increased the strength and force of his thrust as he felt them both reaching their peaks, Hermione meeting him each time, never missing a beat as she moaned his name, growing louder each time.

Far too soon, in her opinion, Hermione felt the tension begin to overwhelm her. Her orgasm exploded inside her, sending waves of warmth and euphoria throughout her body, screaming Harry's name as he continued pumping into her.

Harry felt Hermione's orgasm hit her, her inner walls tightening around him sent him over the edge. “Hermione…” he groaned, spilling himself in her with a shudder, then slumping against her. Rolling on his back and wrapping his arms around Hermione, pulled her close to him.

They laid together, Hermione pressed flush against Harry's and legs intertwined, basking in the post-coital bliss. No words had been spoken, but much had been said in the actions of the night.

“Say it again,” Hermione requested suddenly, idly drawing on Harry's chest with her finger tips.

He smiled, knowing what words she wanted to hear. “I love you.” And he'd never tire of telling her.

“When?”

Harry blew out his breath, thinking. “I'm honestly not sure,” he said after a few moments. “I know I've felt that I'd die without you for…years now, but I never associated that with love. I've never known love, never seen it between a man and woman, only vaguely at the Burrow. But earlier, when you described it, it finally clicked. I not only love you, I'm in love with you.” He gazed down at her, compassion, devotion, sincerity, and love filling his eyes. “Tell me.”

“I love you; I've loved you since third year. That's when I recognized my feelings that I was in love with you. Young as I was, I knew.”

“I'm so happy you knew, that I know, that we know together. And I'll tell you,” he added with a smile, “if this is love, I'm glad I found it with someone so sexy and beautiful, inside and out, who I can trust and was my best friend.”

She smiled, a teasing look in her eyes. “If you chose your other best friend, I'd imagine you'd be living a different life style.”

He laughed. “Ron and I are close, but not that close and not in that way.”

“I did have my doubts, sorry to admit,” she continued. “That whole never dating thing you did.”

“Sorry if my heterosexuality was in question due to my lack of social life,” Harry apologized, rolling his emerald eyes. “Saving the world from a psychotic bigot does tend to put a damper on those things.”

“I know,” Hermione told him softly, genuinely, her hand stroking his cheek. “I wish you never had to endure that. I wish I could take it all away. I really wish you wouldn't drown your memories and pain in alcohol.”

“I know,” he whispered, “I promise you, I'll never drown out everything in alcohol again. I found something new and better to drown myself in,” he added with a sly look in his eye.

Hermione stared at him apprehensively, not missing the expression. “And what's that?”

Before she could protest, or realized it had happened, Harry had flipped her on her back and was towering above her. “You,” he grinned. “And I'll prove to you how not homosexual I am,” he added, rolling his hips to brush his erection along the inside of her thigh, then against her womanhood.

“Oh really?” She let out a slight gasp. “And why would you drown yourself in me?” she asked, trying to press herself into him more.

“Because when ever I'm with you, nothing hurts,” he told her seriously. “All the pain and horrible memories are gone, and happiness fills me, consumes me even. It's near bursting point when we do this,” he slid into her in one smooth motion, to both their satisfaction. “Ron could never do that,” he added with a smile.

“I'm quite glad to hear that only I can help you,” Hermione said, the statement ending in a moan as he began moving.

“Oh, me…too,” he said softly, his eyes fluttering shut as he rolled her hips against him.

They made love again, coming together in the orgasmic bliss.

Harry lay on Hermione, her chest pillowing his head as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I love you,” he said suddenly, placing a kiss on the skin above her heart. “Forever, till the day I die.”

*~*~*

I dedicate this story to a close friend, to remind her (if reminding she needs) that true love always lasts and everything works out in the end, that if two people are meant to be, they will, because love always finds a way.

And to my Pruny, my Libby, mi amor, to remind her (because I know she needs it) that everyone has their special someone and they'll find them someday. It just takes some longer than others. In the mean time, we still have the beach house with Tom and Josh! :D ;)

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