Disclaimer:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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Chapter 5
"Herm... Herm. Hermione! Wake up!"
Hermione opened her eyes slowly, taking in the morning light as slowly as she could. It was fairly bright, it must have been late in the morning. She turned over in bed to face Ginny, who had woken her up. The look of anxiety and concern on the red head's face confused her, causing her to sit up.
"What's wrong?" she asked stupidly, seemingly still half-asleep.
"I should ask you the same," Ginny replied. "Why are you crying?"
Hermione brought her hand up to touch her face, where she realized she had tears running down her cheeks. She sighed, leaning against the headboard. "I didn't even know I was crying."
Ginny sat on the end of Hermione's bed. "It wasn't crying so much as distressed sobbing. It sounded like something was really getting to you, 'Mione."
Hermione didn't say anything. Instead of answering, she looked out the window, where the trees were slowly swaying in the almost non-existent wind. The sun was shining brightly, but it was still low in the sky. Perhaps it wasn't as late as Hermione thought it was.
"Herm? What's wrong?"
Hermione sighed. "I'm not even sure, Gin. I didn't have a bad night, exactly."
"So... another good dream, then?"
Hermione gave a half-hearted grin. "Yeah."
Ginny smiled and pulled herself up so she was sitting cross-legged across from Hermione on her bed. "Tell me all about it, then!"
Hermione wiped the smile off of her face as she felt her eyes grow round in surprise at the request. "Oh, Gin, I don't know about that, I-"
"Please? My ear's aren't too sensitive after all, if you know what I mean."
Hermione felt herself blush. "Yes, well, it's not exactly that part that I'm unwilling to tell you, is it?"
Ginny simply gave Hermione a Look, leaning back on her elbows. Hermione rolled her eyes and got comfortable, shimmying herself against her pillow.
"You have to promise you won't tell anyone, right?"
"Please," Ginny replied, "who am I going to tell? Ron?"
Hermione smiled slightly before she took a big intake of breath. Pouring out the contents of her heart was difficult, but she found it to be easier to tell Ginny what had happened in the dream than she thought it was going to be. She tried to take out details she truly wanted to keep to herself, like how Harry had blatantly confessed his love, and the idea that their time together meant as much to him as it did to her, but Ginny was a smart girl, asking the questions that begged the true answers.
"Do you think it means something that you had that dream right after a row with Harry?"
Hearing Ginny says those words was like hearing her own thoughts spoken aloud. Hermione twisted uncomfortably on the bed, not sure what to say. Did it mean something more than the others had? Was her mind just playing tricks on her, or had Harry really invaded her dreams like she suspected he had been? Was what Dream Harry said just a figment of her imagination, needing to hear something more than "I can't take you"... Or had Harry really meant those things that were said? Did Dream Harry perhaps reflect Real Harry's thoughts? Was Hermione right?
"I don't know, Gin, there are just too many questions right now, you know?"
"No, I don't know."
"Well, there's a lot... Not many I'm comfortable answering. Or even thinking about."
"Well, what am I here for? Let's hear it!"
Hermione shook her head. "No... Thanks, really, but... let's go to breakfast."
Hermione saw a bit of anger flash through Ginny's expression. "Please, Hermione! It's just me and you here!"
Hermione sighed and untangled herself from the covers of her bed. Watching the look on Ginny's face change from confusion to insult to anger was hard, but what Hermione was thinking was simple: true, Ginny knew a lot about Hermione and her life, but there were parts that were meant to be kept private.
"Let's go to breakfast."
----
The first meal of the day was a rather subdued one for Hermione; Ginny was still rather peeved at the way she had treated the situation up in their bedroom, and as a result had minimized their conversation to the bare necessities. Ron had come down, communicating in no more than grunts and flicks of his head. Mrs. Weasley wasn't even creating conversation - a clear indication that she wasn't in the best of moods.
Overall, though, the lack of a friendly atmosphere caused a melancholic streak through Hermione, allowing nothing but the thoughts of Harry to roam through her mind. She found herself pushing her food around her plate, taking miniscule bites rather than actually eating like she normally did.
"Ron," Mrs. Weasley barked suddenly, "when was the last time you did something useful around here?"
Ron looked up from his breakfast, dazed from the sudden noise, it seemed. He didn't reply to his mom, but instead simply stared back at her.
"You know," Mrs. Weasley began again, "even Fred and George help out when they're around here! The girls work in the garden out back, the twins help with dinner, and even Harry volunteers to scrub once in a while, that poor overworked soul. You, however, sit there like a stubborn Hippogriff!"
Ron blinked.
"Speaking of Hippogriffs, Ronald, Buckbeak's chamber could use a spot of cleaning, hmm?"
Ron grunted something about having a shower (Hermione thought, anyway), and made to leave the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley, however, had other plans. Storming over and grabbing him by the ear, she pulled him out of the room and up the stairs, where she could still be heard shouting cries of usefulness and cleanliness.
Hermione sighed and rested her elbow on the table, something she had always scolded everyone for doing, and played with her fork. Ginny huffed as well, but spoke no words.
A noise at the door caused her to look up at Harry, who looked slightly more awake than Ron had been. Hermione quickly looked back down to her breakfast, which was unusually still present on the plate.
"Where's Ron?" she heard Harry ask.
Hermione wasn't prepared to answer, so she was grateful when Ginny picked up the conversation. "Mum has him upstairs cleaning up Buckbeak's room," she said casually, playing with the food she too still had on her plate. "She hasn't been too pleased with the job he's been doing."
Harry nodded in silence. Hermione could feel Ginny's glance on the side of her head, but she refused to look at her friend. Even with they were mad at each other, they still looked out for the other. Hermione, though, refused to listen to Ginny's silent request in this case.
"I suppose I should go help him," Ginny said off-handily, scraping her chair back and collecting her plate.
'She plays dirty,' Hermione thought. She realized that if she wasn't willing to talk to Harry, Ginny was simply going to force her to. But Ginny obviously didn't understand the situation - the degree of the row she had had with Harry the day before, followed up by such a personal and intimate dream left Hermione feeling extremely vulnerable to Harry. Perhaps he wasn't aware of what had gone on in her dream last night, but if Hermione's suspicions were correct, her insecurities were properly based.
As Ginny made to leave the room, Hermione stood up as well. "I'll come with you," she said desperately, quickly running her plate over to the sink. She ignored Ginny rolling her eyes, quickly giving a "be quiet" look of her own. Before they could even make it out of the kitchen, though, Harry stood as well.
"'Mione, can I talk to you first?"
Hermione hesitated at the door and looked over at Ginny, who was looking at Harry.
"Alone?" Harry added.
Ginny looked up at Hermione. Hermione quickly looked over at Harry, and deciding on a whim, gave a small nod to Ginny, telling her it was okay to go. Following Hermione's notion, Ginny left the room.
Hermione turned around and sat down in her chair. Placing her head in her hands and looking away from Harry and around the room, she tried to look nonchalant.
"What is it, Harry?"
Hermione heard him take in a large intake of air. "I want to apologize to you for yesterday. I was a bloody prick, just like I have been all summer." He paused for a moment, and when Hermione looked over, his head was in his hands as well, and he was looking down at the table. "I'm really sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?"
Hermione gave a small laugh. Yes, that was what she had wanted to hear for almost a day now, and yes, it was excellent knowing that Harry did care about her and what she thought... But really, she thought it was quite obvious what she wanted.
She looked over at Harry. "You mean other than telling me what the hell is going on in that head of yours?"
Harry gave a small smile as he made eye contact. "Yeah, other than that... Yeah."
Hermione shrugged as she looked away once more. She bit her lip, nervous at the situation. This had the potential to be a fairly serious conversation, and she was sure if she wanted to subject Harry to what she actually had to say.
'Actually,' she thought, 'sod it. It's his own damn fault.'
"You can stop pushing me away," she said sharply as she looked back at him.
Harry gave a nervous smile. "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."
Hermione detached her upper lip from her teeth to smile. "That would be very nice, Mr. Potter."
Harry gave a familiar smirk and he stood up. "Thank you, 'Mione." He continued as he walked over to the stove. "I'll be up as soon as I finish my breakfast, okay?"
Hermione stood up quickly and made her way to the door. Before slipping out, she looked back at Harry, who was still watching her from the stove. "I'll be waiting," she said happily, as she exited the room.
She made her way up quickly to her bedroom, hoping to find Ginny and apologize, and perhaps inform her of what Harry said. Unfortunately, though, Ginny wasn't there - it seemed as though she really had gone to help Ron. Undaunted, Hermione continued down the hallway to the tapestry that hid the stairs, and slowly made her way up to the hidden room Harry loved so much.
Walking as slowly as she could, as to take up time, she made her way over to the breathtaking window. She leaned against it and looked out at everything basking in the golden hue of the morning light, waiting for Harry to come and join her.
It didn't seem to take too long, though. Soon enough, Hermione heard the tell-tale squeak of old stairs, and moments later, Harry appeared on the landing. He stopped and just stared back. Quickly, she stood back up and made her way over to him. Reading his expression, she leaned into him and gave him a small hug. She pulled him closer when she felt him rubbing the small of her back.
"I'm sorry," Harry said from over her shoulder. "I'm sorry for being such a prick 'Mione, especially yesterday."
Hermione bit her lip at the anguish in his voice. She pulled away from him and held him at arm's length. Just by his eyes she could tell he wasn't finished, the pain and anxiety harboured there enough of a flag of warning against her interrupting him.
Harry pulled away from her grasp gently, and began to pace in front of the window. As he looked at the floor and seemed to fish for the right words, Hermione turned around and sat at the chair that accompanied the desk in the room; the same desk she had found the diary on the day before.
Harry began to speak as she sat down in the chair. "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." Hermione noticed he began to fist his hands in his hair. "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 stopped pacing and turned around. He seemed lost until his eyes found her sitting in the chair. She simply nodded, silently urging him to continue.
He stood still, facing her, exposing himself completely to her. "Anyway, you walked in and I was already frustrated not being able to get any of it out, and 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..." He trailed off and suddenly seemed reluctant to continue.
Hermione opened her mouth to encourage him, but he had found his voice. "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."
Hermione felt herself blushing in embarrassment and forced herself to look away. When she had thought he was simply begging for help and attention, he had only wanted peace and quiet. She had convinced herself that he had wanted her to come up to him, but really, he had nowhere else to turn.
As she looked down at the floor, she felt his hand on her chin. She let him lift her face to look at his, and looked him straight in his eyes. "I realize," he said, "that's the last thing I should do. I'm sorry."
The embarrassment of her intrusion on his privacy, coupled with his sincere apology was too much, and she launched herself from the chair she sat in and hugged him freely. She felt tears flowing down her cheeks, but she didn't mind, because she knew Harry wouldn't either.
"I'm sorry, Harry, I really am. I should have understood it wasn't okay for me to come here any old time like it was the common room," she replied through her tears, burying her face in his shoulder.
"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; if you want to stay, sit and read, you're more than welcome to."
Hermione smiled through her tears. It wasn't an intrusion if he offered it to her, was it? She hugged him again before pulling away to wipe her face clean of the moisture. "Thank you. I promise I'll be quiet!"
----
Hermione had never been aware that silence could be so comfortable; amid all the moments she had really basked in the absence of noise, she was too concentrated to notice. But now, as she looked around Harry's haven, unable to concentrate on anything in particular, she noticed how natural and normal it seemed.
Smiling to herself, she returned to the book she had taken from the bookshelf. She had read only a couple of words, though, when she began to feel dazed. She closed her eyes, worried at her sudden state of sleepiness, when she began to see a picture forming in her head: a picture of herself.
It was a weird sensation; she knew she was sitting on a windowsill somewhere near London, yet the lifelike rendition of herself she was seeing was curled up in front of a familiar fire in the Gryffindor common room. She was reading a book, which she reckoned wasn't an unusual sight, as she sat in what she was sure was her favourite armchair. She was seeing herself as though she was sitting in the chair opposite of her, as if she was another student in the room, watching her.
Hermione snapped back to reality, opening her eyes wide as she looked hastily at Harry. He was hard at work, writing in his diary with his head bent and hand moving furiously. Craning her neck ever so slightly, she realized he wasn't writing, he was drawing.
He was drawing her.
Hermione's head fell back against the window silently. She had just seen herself from Harry's perspective, and now, she noticed he was drawing her. She had seen what he had seen - he was entering into her head, her mind, and allowing her to see what he saw.
Hermione smirked self-satisfactorily, trying hard not to laugh out loud in relief. Harry was using Legilemency, obviously unintentionally. It had been the reason she had seen herself as if she was sitting down, and it definitely had been the reason he had been so different in her dreams lately. Harry wouldn't let Hermione see herself like that if he was invading her thoughts; the degree of importance of what he was doing, she surmised, was too great.
Hermione continued to gaze at him until she felt his eyes begin to move. She stared at her book hard, as if in complete concentration. Hoping to seem casual, she bit her lip out of habit, nervous at the situation. Harry was drawing her in his diary full of his personal thoughts, dreams, aspirations, whatever. He was taking up personal space with her image, one with, she had to admit, breathtaking beauty with light from the fire reflecting from in front of her. He thought she was beautiful, he wanted to draw her, and now she could be sure that he did love her.
Hermione began to get visions of herself every few minutes, each picture different, but still not current. She would be sitting, or laughing, or staring off in concentration, all from the view of Harry.
Hermione tried to shake off the feelings that were circling in her stomach, but staring intently at the book in front of her didn't help. The pictures going through her head now were flashing quickly; one of her when the trio had just arrived back from a rather nasty Potions class, laughing at Snape's ugly hooked nose, another from the Great Hall, laughing at one of Ron's jokes, and again still, arriving at Grimmauld, covered in snow and twirling amongst the falling snowflakes. It didn't take her long to notice that in each flash, her face had the same excited smile, eyes bright and cheeks fairly rosy. Was that imagined, she wondered, or was she really capable of looking so happy?
As the hours passed, the more visions she received, the more cemented she was in the fact that Harry was unintentionally using Legilemency. Casting glances Harry's way whenever she dared she realized he was still drawing her; except it was a different drawing. How many had he gone through?
Quickly, the view changed. She was looking at herself from an angle that one would see her if they were sitting. Her hair was sparkling, helped by the rays of sunshine being filtered by the sun out of the window. She looked troubled - no, not troubled, more like thoughtful, as if the only thing she ever wanted to do was think and contemplate. The angle of the sun was almost blinding parts of the picture. It was as if she was sitting on the floor, looking up at herself... Or sitting on a chair. At a desk.
The silence was broken suddenly when Harry's stomach made a loud, lurching noise. Glad to be given a reason to look at him, Hermione smiled in amusement as she put the book she had only been pretending to read down.
"I guess we should take a break and get something to eat," she suggested.
He grinned as he closed the diary and placed his pen on top of it. Quietly and without conversation, they walked down the squeaky stairs, through the tapestry and down to the kitchen.
Almost afraid to break the serenity of their afternoon, Hermione avoided talking as she sat at the table and awaited the lunch Harry was preparing. He didn't bother talking either, and that didn't change as he sat down with a couple ham sandwiches and Butterbeers for two.
They continued to eat in silence, sometimes meeting glances and smiling through messy bread and drink.
Hermione watched as Harry gulped down the rest of his Butterbeer. Swallowing loudly, he broke the silence. "I think I'm ready for that birthday party now."
Hermione smiled hugely, letting his words sink in. "Really, Harry? Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I really think so. I think it's time... I think it's time to be happy."
Hermione felt a warmth fill her that didn't simply consist of happiness. Contemplating what she could do to make Harry happy, she nodded. "I'll get started, then!"
----
"Well," huffed Ginny over a pot of a steaming roast, "if this doesn't make Harry happy, he definitely does not deserve to be a Weasley."
Hermione laughed as she rolled dough for a pie. Right after her conversation with Harry over lunch, she had rushed to find Ginny, giving her sparse details about her afternoon, but filling her in, in quite detail, about Harry's wish for his birthday party. In true Weasley fashion, Ginny had rushed off to grab her mom, and preparations had begun immediately.
"It's true," chipped in Mrs. Weasley as she peeled vegetables over the sink, "this will surely be a night that boy never forgets! I can't remember cooking this much food since... Well, a long time. Hermione, which pie are you working on, dear? Blueberry?"
"No," Hermione had replied, still turning the dough, "Pumpkin."
"Perfect," Mrs. Weasley returned, "that's Harry's favourite, I believe."
"Less talking, more cooking," Ginny growled from the stove.
Hermione chuckled. Yes, all Weasley women seemed to be excellent in the kitchen, but Ginny sure wasn't going down without a fight.
----
The roar of laughter was still going strong after Harry opened his present from the Weasley twins. Offering his services, Fred jammed the general's hat they had presented Harry with on the birthday boy's head. He tapped his wand on the badge that read, "DA," causing the letters to flash red and gold against the black background.
"So," Ginny said quietly behind everyone, "what did you get him? I haven't seen your present here yet."
"Oh," replied Hermione, trying to sound casual, "I didn't get him anything... that's here right now." Perfect. She hated lying to Ginny.
"I don't get it."
"It's not that complicated," Hermione hissed underneath all the raucous. The boys really seemed to find that hat funny. 'Oh wait,' Hermione thought, 'now it's Ron's bag of backfiring wands they're laughing at.'
"What?" Ginny was still confused.
Hermione sighed in exasperation. "What I got Harry... can't be present... in public."
Ginny's eyes widened. "Hermione! Why didn't you tell me?"
Hermione caught on to Ginny's insinuation. In horror, Hermione began to shake her head. "No, no, no! That's not what I meant! What I meant was-"
"Oy! 'Mione! Where's your present?" hollered George over all the noise.
Hermione turned towards the clump of boys. "I..."
"It's not here," Harry offered, giving Hermione a look that simply told her to go along with him.
"Why?" asked Fred.
"Because," replied Harry, "it simply can't... be here right now."
"Oooh," dragged out George once more, giving Fred a Look, "it can't be here right now."
Fred laughed at winked at Harry and Hermione respectively. "Just leave it there, mates, just leave it there."
Hermione felt her face burning brick red. She covered her face with her hands and thanked the gods that the boys had an attention span of goats, as they had already turned back to open more gifts.
"You know," Hermione heard Ginny say, "I can't tell that's not what you meant... But is it such a bad idea?"
Hermione squeaked. "Gin! Listen to what you're saying."
Ginny laughed, seemingly at Hermione, not with her. "Listen. I'd bet all of the galleons in the Malfoy vault that Harry really, really likes you, and I know I'm right when I say that you love him. Don't even try to deny it. And tonight... Well, we are making up for him miserable birthday, aren't we? Wouldn't... that... be a perfect way to end the night?"
Even surprising herself, Hermione didn't turn the idea down right away. Was it really that bad of an idea? Ginny seemed so sure of it, and she didn't even know half of what Hermione knew. And after their afternoon together, Hermione was even more sure of Harry's true feelings for her; she was sure of the fact that everything he had told her in her dreams had been true and validated.
"Don't even lie to yourself, 'Mione," Ginny said on top of the boy's awe at Harry's new Quidditch goggles. "I don't think I'm lying when I say that you wouldn't mind it yourself."
----
Later that night, after all the festivities had been wrapped up and visions of Harry blowing out his candles from the pumpkin pie Hermione had baked had been tucked neatly away into the minds of the sleeping, Hermione lay awake in her bed, fully dressed.
She would have loved to say that she didn't even entertain the idea of visiting Harry's room that night, but the fact was that she had, and she was thinking about it very seriously, to boot. Ginny was fast asleep, and Hermione knew how much she hated to be woken up, even in this dire time of need.
"Not sure, are you?" Oh, she wasn't asleep.
"No. Not at all."
"Listen," said Ginny as she leaned towards Hermione. "If it were me, I'd do it."
"Would you really?"
"Honestly, Hermione, I would. I think he really likes you, and I know I don't know half of what you do. I know you're holding back from me, and that's okay, because everyone has their secrets. But really, 'Mione, if I don't even know the juicy bits, and I'm still sure it's a great idea, that should tell you something, shouldn't it?"
Hermione stayed silent, hugging her knees to her chest and looking out the window at the pitch black night.
"Look," Ginny said quietly from her bed, "you love him, and that's the main idea in what you're thinking about. As long as you love him, you can do anything. Listen to what I'm saying: you love him. Do something about it."
Hermione failed to answer and continued to gaze out the window. It was true, simply put; she loved Harry. And, at this point, she was sure he loved her back. So what was holding her back?
Nothing, really. Nothing was holding her back.
As she got up from her bed, she saw a smirk form on Ginny's face in the dark.
Hermione smirked back. "I'm doing this 'cause I told myself to, not you Gin."
"Fair enough."
----
Hermione stood outside the door to his bedroom, hopping from one foot to the other. She was already so nervous, this hesitation wasn't helping at all. But she was starting to get cold feet - the anxiety she was harbouring had been enough to cause her to chew right through her own lip. She tasted the blood coming from her bottom lip as she hesitated outside his door.
A compelling force caused her to push the door open before she had deemed herself ready. Cursing the squeaky hinges, she treaded quietly over to the bed. She saw Harry, sleeping on his side and curled up in a ball. She began to chew her lip again. She couldn't stop now - not after his adorable form was presented in front of her, as if on show.
Slowly and ever so timidly, Hermione rid herself of her dressing gown, leaving her only in her favourite bra and panties set. Reassuring herself of her intentions, she moved towards Harry.
She leaned on the bed as she began to rub the small of his back, as he had done when he hugged her earlier that day. She felt him stir at her touch. She continued to rub his back gently as she leaned forward to kiss his neck teasingly, urging him to wake up. She kissed him in a what she hoped was sensual manner, bringing her hand from his back to tangle up in his hair. When Hermione felt Harry begin to respond to her, as if he was arriving to consciousness, she gently pushed him onto his back.
Smiling wickedly, she moved to straddle him, with one leg on either side of his hips. Throwing the covers right off of the bed, because they would do nothing but get in the way, Hermione took in a big breath before leaning in towards Harry. Placing her hands on the sides of his face and feeling his soft cheeks grazed with the slightest bit of stubble, she moved quickly and instantaneously covered his lips with her own. Harry began to work with her automatically, bringing his hands up to touch her hair and playing with her lips and tongue, teasing and nipping at her with his teeth.
Hermione pulled back and watched and Harry slowly began to open his eyes. Hermione bit her lip as a look of recognition, surprise, then appreciation began to filter through Harry's expression. A faint smile crossed his lips as he looked her up and down. Hermione smiled, feeling her eyes crinkling in return. He looked back up at her, returning her gaze.
"'Mione, I-" Hermione refused to let him continue, and quickly placed her hand atop his mouth.
Putting on what she hoped was a seductive look, Hermione leaned forward and began to pick apart the buttons on Harry's pyjamas as he looked on. "Don't say anything," she said quietly as she divested him of his top.
A faint growl came from the back of Harry's throat. "'Mione..."
Hermione layered Harry's body with her own, and once again began to kiss him with vigour. Pulling back slightly, so that she knew Harry could still feel her breath on his lips, she whispered, "Shh... I want this too, Harry."
As Harry closed his eyes and threw his head back onto his pillow, Hermione raked her nails lightly along his chest. Feeling the faint muscle tone that was inevitably the result of Quidditch, along with whatever other things he had been doing to keep up form, she heard him moan, his voice momentarily higher than normal.
Laughing inwardly, Hermione threw herself back onto Harry, kissing him devoutly and passionately. She tried to concentrate on the movement and union of their lips, tongues and teeth, when Harry's mouth began to administer heated kisses elsewhere. Hermione arched her back as Harry's lips met her chin, then neck, then collarbone. When he began to nibble slightly at the edge of her bra, Hermione only slightly felt his attempt at undoing her undergarment. Only when he took his lips off of her did she realize he was having trouble. Purring encouragingly, she removed it herself. In an effort to redeem himself, Harry latched on to her left breast, caressing her nipple with his tongue, while he massaged her other with his hand.
Hermione heard herself moaning incoherently, writhing against Harry's body beneath her. His lips continued to pay service to her chest, but the feeling of Harry's hands roaming along her body felt too good to ignore. She felt his fingertips ghost along the line of her panties guarding her backside. Rubbing her hips against his, she immediately got Harry reacting, as he quickly slipped his hands underneath the unwanted cotton barrier.
Hermione growled into their kiss, feral need beginning to build up inside of her. Her hands tangled up in Harry's hair once again, and she intertwined her feet with his.
Harry broke the kiss and, with a quick and easy move of his arms, had her underneath him in a reversal of position. She raised her head when she felt him easily slide her panties down and off of her legs, and watched him begin to kiss his way back up. He slowly made his way, kissing the back of her knee sensually. Hermione realized, though, what his destination was. Quickly, she put her hands on top of her auburn curls, still embarrassed at the idea.
"Not yet," she said, quickly and quietly.
Harry didn't seem to mind, as he continued to kiss his way towards her. Paying extra attention to her breasts, Hermione was blatantly moaning before Harry finally kissed her outright. He quickly pulled away from her, resting his head on her shoulder.
"May I?" he asked. It took a moment for Hermione to realize that his hand was situated at the border of her auburn curls, waiting for permission. The idea was so adorable that she couldn't help but nod, and she instantly felt his hand on her nether lips. She felt him begin to kiss and nibble at her neck. All of a sudden, white hot pleasure ripped through her, as Harry began to rub the miniscule nub of flesh that could only elicit pleasured sounds.
Seemingly at her outburst, Harry began to apply more pressure and rub at a faster pace. Hermione felt herself bucking underneath him, moving in rhythm with his hand. Her breathing was getting faster and raspier, and finally, she felt she had to pull away before she couldn't anymore.
Hermione felt Harry's brow furrow against her neck. Pulling him up to eye-level with her, she whispered, "Your turn."
With help from Harry, Hermione flipped the two of them over, and sensing the grin of anticipation on Harry's face, quickly yet coyly ripped the rest of the boy's clothes off.
She was hit with the reality of the situation once she looked down to see Harry's fully erect cock staring her in the face. Although, she was in too deep to back out now, and frankly, she didn't believe she would, even if she was given the chance.
With her eyes never leaving Harry's, she trailed her hand down his body to take him fully in her hand. Harry's eyes closed quickly, and his jaw went slack as she began to stroke him firmly. Encouraged by the look of pleasure on his face, Hermione tentatively leaned down, and with a deep breath, licked quickly at the tip of his penis.
Harry instantly bucked up, moaning quietly. Biting her lip, Hermione got more comfortable, and after swallowing quickly she slowly took all of him into her mouth. She heard Harry let out a large breath of air and she began to bob up and down. Holding the base of him in her hand, she let her tongue slide along the underside.
Hearing the rather desperate noises coming from Harry, Hermione let him slip from her mouth. Seeing his head immediately snap up to see what happened, she crawled up along his body to straddle him once again. She looked into his eyes; he looked as though he could hardly believe this was happening to him.
She couldn't believe it either, frankly. As she began to position herself directly above his member, she decided how she would go about doing this. With a quick wink at Harry, she dropped herself on top of him, resulting in a loud gasp from both Harry and herself.
Hermione closed her eyes tightly, trying to decrease the amount of pain she was encountering. Yes, she had heard it would hurt, but she could never have been sure just how much it would affect her. Heavy breathing on Harry's part caused her to open her eyes. Seeing the slack-jawed look on his face compelled her to move on.
She began to roll her hips against him, creating only the slightest bit of friction that she could handle without grimacing. Harry began to respond almost courteously, with his eyes shut tight this time. Hermione reached out to grab his hands as she gradually increased the intensity of her movements. With Harry's encouraging moans, she began to bounce on him outright; the pain hadn't left, but it wasn't as intense as it had been.
Harry's pleasure, though, was compensation enough. To know that it was her he seemed to want so badly had her smiling. As she continued to move up and down, Harry let go of her hands and opened his eyes to watch himself caress Hermione's breasts. Hermione looked down as well, and the sight sent a jolt of lightening through her own body. She threw her head back and began to move quicker on top of him.
Quickly, Harry began to match her thrust for thrust, eventually grabbing hold of Hermione's hips and moving her to his speed. His moans and groans became louder and more frequent, and Hermione watched intently. The intense speed he had set her at created a friction that pooled in her lower body and a final groan on Harry's part, combined with the look of writhing pleasure on his face sent her over the edge. She stopped moving as a blinding happiness coursed through her.
Suddenly, Harry switched positions with her once again. Hermione wrapped her hands around his neck as he began to pump into her at a blinding pace. She pulled him into a fierce kiss, no longer able to hold back the noise she had needed to let out.
Slowly, as she began to come down from her natural high, she felt Harry still and moan into their kiss. She felt his release and continued to kiss him as he let go.
A few moments later they both lay gasping on Harry's bed, trying to gain control of their hearts. Without a sound, however, Harry guided Hermione onto her back, and without even saying so much as a goodnight, rested his head on her shoulder. With a single kiss to his forehead, Hermione intertwined her feet with Harry's, and decided that she had never, ever, convinced herself of doing anything better than this.