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.
Note:
Thank you so, so, so much for reading the story; it was a serious labour of love, so I appreciate everything!
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Chapter 6
Hermione fought the urge to open her eyes as she felt someone playing with her hair. She smiled as she felt a hand comb itself through her undoubtedly tangled locks, stirring slightly as to encourage them. When she felt lips descend upon her neck, however, her eyes shot open.
It felt just like a dream, the dream, yet it was different. It was real. The initial shock of the situation dissipated quickly when the memories of the night before began to flood back into her mind.
Not that it was easy to forget what she had decided to do; no, it was a life-altering experience that would be burned into her memory forever.
All thoughts exited her head once she felt Harry's tongue playing on her neck. Arching slightly towards him, she once again closed her eyes, giving in to the sensations Harry was beginning to build. She bit her lip as she felt his own lips trail up her neck, nipping and suckling and finally latching onto her ear. He began to nibble on her earlobe, eliciting a moan from Hermione. Such a strong feeling so early in the morning had to be against some sort of law. She felt him grin against her skin and in reply, she shifted so she was directly underneath him.
She looked up to see Harry's eyes void of anything but laughter and happiness; he definitely wasn't tired anymore. Reaching her head up, she met Harry in a passionate kiss, tilting her head to the side so she could get closer to him. Spurred on by the look in his eyes coupled with his eagerness, Hermione parted her lips and slipped her tongue out. Harry immediately responded, giving her access; her tongue met his in an erotic sort of conversation, twisting around and enveloping each other's in their respective passion for each other.
Harry pulled away suddenly, licking the moisture off his lips as he locked his eyes with Hermione's. "Good morning, 'Mione," he said.
Hermione cleared her throat in an attempt to sound respectable. "Yes it is, Harry." It had failed, her voice was heavy with lust, sounding hoarse and slightly crackly. "I know you must have some questions... but first things first. You wake me like this, you need to finish what you started." She latched her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him towards her, immediately beginning where they had left off.
The soft moan Harry let out gave Hermione a sudden burst of confidence. Letting her hands stray away from his neck, she wandered down his back, imprinting little designs with his fingernails. She came to rest on his backside, and while grinning into the kiss, she gave it a little squeeze. Harry made a little noise with his mouth a mix between a grunt and a moan, inevitably showing Hermione she was in complete control.
With a newfound belief in herself, Hermione trailed the tips of her fingers around his hips; she opened her eyes to watch his face as she tentatively grasped onto him with both hands. His eyes closed tighter and a gasp came from his mouth, giving Hermione reason to move her hand. As she began to stroke him, low groans began to come from Harry's throat, making Hermione giggle at the vibrating sensation it evoked in their kiss.
Her giggles turned to gasps, however, when Harry pulled from the kiss forcefully and immediately descended upon her breast. His tongue and teeth playing together on her nipple caused a shooting pleasure to caress her spine, ultimately pooling in her lower back. She refused to let go of him, however, and soon they were moaning together, filling the room with a lustful sort of music.
Hermione gasped one last time before shifting once more underneath Harry. As she positioned herself so he was resting in between her legs, she used her grip on him to guide his body towards her own awaiting one. Looking into his eyes, she saw lust, urgency, amusement, but also something else - something that Hermione could only pinpoint as a willingness to commit... Or something. Her mind wasn't working properly, but she knew this wasn't just about sex.
He smiled as he pushed himself into her. Still feeling slightly uncomfortable, Hermione let out an involuntary gasp, shutting her eyes briefly until the feeling subsided. Harry began to move slowly, perhaps helping her get used to the sensation. She looked up and petted his cheek, letting her fingers trail along his sweaty brow. He grinned slightly, and slowly he moved to wrap his arms behind her, bending forward so their bodies touched with every movement.
She could feel the pleasure pooling in her back once more as their bodies rubbed together every time Harry pulled out or pushed in. When he bent his head forward to kiss her neck, she heard herself whimper and closed her eyes to give in to the feelings he was creating within her. Her arousal began to skyrocket as he pushed his weight onto her even more, creating more friction. This, coupled with his tongue drawing patterns along her collarbone sent her over the edge, gasping in pleasure as she bucked up towards him. In her euphoria she felt him let go after her, emitting a sole grunt and his arms gave out and he rested completely atop her.
They lay there a few moments, allowing their breathing to return to normal. Hermione finally opened her eyes and looked down at Harry; he was looking up at her, and once they made eye contact he slowly leaned towards her. She met him halfway in a sated, satisfied kiss. Hermione felt Harry move his hips and with a small sound, pulled himself completely out of her.
"How did you know this was what I wanted?" he asked shyly. "Did you hear me talking in my sleep?"
Hermione chuckled quietly as she pushed herself up to lean on her elbows. "In a manner of speaking. I'm pretty sure that you've been entering my dreams."
Harry's mouth created a perfect "o" shape in his surprise. "Your dreams?! How?" he asked in wonder.
"My best guess is that you've worked so hard on your Occlumency defence that you flipped it into Legilemency and entered my dreams," she said aloud for the first time; what a relief it was to finally be able to admit her suspicions. "Exactly how, I don't know."
Harry flipped over to lay beside her. "I've been concentrating on your face, especially your beautiful eyes, when I go 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." There was hardly any volume to his voice as he looked determinedly at their feet.
"So," Hermione replied, brow furrowed, "somehow you created a conduit to my dreams that way."
Harry nodded. "So, my dream with you and me in that candlelit room...?"
Hermione felt her face burn up at the implied question. Looking away, she replied, "...Was one of my, um - normal - snogging dreams."
Hermione looked up when she didn't hear Harry reply, only to see him shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he began, "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," she concluded simply.
"And the rest?"
Hermione felt herself blush once again. Although, she was quick to realize that there was no reason to lie anymore - the feelings were mutual, and skirting around the truth would probably only create more problems. Looking over at Harry, she saw that he really wanted to know.
She took a deep breath. "The tropical hut was what I 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 forced herself to look at Harry. "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," she said quickly, noticing the look of shame crossing his features.
"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." She finished, breathless, searching his eyes for any reaction, hoping to Merlin he wouldn't be affronted or angered, for some reason, by her confession.
She had said all that she had thought, going over her endless conversations with Ginny, along with her debates and dilemmas she battled out with herself. Anything and everything that had bothered her in the past week, especially, had been told to Harry just now. If he rejected any of it, well, in essence he'd be rejecting her and her thoughts.
To her relief, though, Harry leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes lightly as she concentrated on the feel of his lips hovering over hers.
"I thought you were another dream," he said quietly. Moving in closer, he finally kissed her, distracting Hermione from any form of conversation.
She pulled away slowly, keeping her eyes closed until she began to speak. "It doesn't have to be like that anymore."
To her dismay, Harry looked down at the bed. He was silent for some time, long enough to get Hermione worrying. As she watched him pick on a spot on the bedclothes, she bit her lip, hoping he's say something, anything, that would give her an answer to her suggestion.
Almost as soon as Hermione opened her mouth to tentatively ask what was wrong, Harry looked back up at her, eyes filled with worry and anxiety. Hermione immediately closed her own mouth, already worrying about what Harry had to say.
"Hermione," he said quietly, "it's time I tell you about the Prophecy..."
Hermione crinkled her brow. "Harry... what are you saying?"
He sighed deeply as he reached behind them both to retrieve something from his night table. "When Mrs. Weasley sent me up here yesterday, while you girls were getting everything ready for the party, I started writing in my journal... It's pretty rough, of course, but it's important, both to me and, well... Everyone else. I want you to hear it."
Hermione wasn't sure what to feel. As she looked at the expression of solemnity on Harry's face, she knew this was important. Trying to keep her own emotions in check, yet still not quite sure what to expect, she nodded.
Harry handed her his notebook - the one she had given him and the one he had pulled from his night stand, and dropped it in her lap. Biting her lip, she picked it up as she watched Harry start to fidget with the sheets again.
"Do you want me to read it?" she asked.
"Yes. Please."
"Okay."
Taking a final look at Harry, she glanced down at the journal's open pages. Page after page was filled with drawings of her, just as she had felt them the day before. Her mouth hung open as she flipped through them, unable to believe the sheer passion that had seemed to go into them.
"They're beautiful," she said softly without looking up.
"Thanks," was the equally soft reply.
"I didn't know you could draw."
"Neither did I. Keep reading."
Hermione nodded. Flipping the page, she came to the first full page of text he had written in the journal. Coughing, as though to prepare herself, she settled in to the bed and began to read.
I never thought I could draw... Well, I still don't think I can draw, but even looking over the pictures I drew of Hermione, I can still even see how beautiful she is. She's gorgeous, even when she's not here in person. I don't know what she'd ever think of me if she saw these drawings; she'd probably think I'm some sort of maniac. But it helps me; she helps me. She calms me down, which is a task I've found nearly impossible. It's hard for me to just sit and breathe without worrying about something or someone, but with her, it's almost like I can take a break from everything just being with her.
It's amazing how much I can count on her, how easy it is for her to trust me and believe in me. I always feel a little bit better knowing that Hermione's on my side and that believes in what I say. She's always been there for me, even when Ron and I were being pricks to her during the Third Year about the Firebolt, and even in Fourth when Ron and I were fighting a ridiculously stupid fight. Even if I'm being a prat, she's behind me... It's like she knows that I'll let up and see the light. It's almost as though she knows I need her.
And how do I pay her back? I go against everything she said to me last year. All throughout the term, she told me that Voldemort was just trying to get into my head, that he was toying with me. And, finally, when he put his plan into action, I threw everything she said out the window and endangered everyone's lives. Especially hers. I don't know if I would be able to go on if she had died... Watching her fall, it felt like it was all going in slow-motion, with her eyes open wide and her stiff body falling carelessly towards the ground... Sirius was enough. Sirius was more than enough, I didn't know how to continue after that. If Hermione had died - I don't want to know how much worse off I'd be.
It's all because of that stupid Prophecy. Why couldn't Dumbledore have told me about it earlier? What was the harm in letting me know? Well, whatever. It's not like I'll ever forget it now:
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."
I haven't let anyone know yet. I'm not sure why, though. I really, really want to tell Hermione; sometimes she's the only one I feel like talking to. Something, though... Something's holding me back for letting her know about it. But I know if I tell her what went on with Dumbledore in his office, she'll be scared for me, and worry for me. She doesn't need to worry about me, I'm a big boy. ...And it's not only that, either. If she continues to worry about me, she'll continue to put herself into danger. I hate how everyone around me is at risk of getting hurt. How many times have I contemplated just telling everyone to sod off so they'll leave me alone and live normal lives? If it meant that she was going to be safe, I would seriously think of doing it. But sometimes I think I need her too much to push her away like that. The least I can do is keep her at sea with the stupid Prophecy.
Hermione stared open-mouthed at Harry's journal. Of course she had wondered what the two had ever talked about, and why Harry had been even more sombre after leaving Dumbledore's office, but she never thought it was anything like this. This... Prophecy was practically predicting his death. Either his death, of course, or Voldemort's.
Tears pricked up in her eyes as she subconsciously envisioned Harry fighting a powerful Voldemort, standing three feet smaller than the horrid monster her mind had made up. Shaking her head, she rid her vision of her mind. She couldn't be thinking of things like that; not when Harry had just opened up to her and shared all that he had refused to share a month previous. Hermione rubbed the tears away from her eyes and looked up at Harry. He was looking away and out of the window, an anguished expression on his face.
He had been really hesitant to share with her, that much she could tell. And it seemed almost as though he didn't want to talk about it, he just wanted her to know. He wanted her as his solace, a living, breathing person instead of a room he had to climb squeaky stairs to get to. He wanted a person that trusted him and believed him, someone that took him for face value.
Harry wanted someone that would listen to what he had to say, but would remained unchanged in their view of him.
Harry, Hermione realized, wanted her.
"So," she began shakily. She waited until Harry turned to face her; she took his hand in hers and put on a timid smile. "You think I'm gorgeous?"