His Hardest Feat For the Greatest Purpose

John and Mary Granger sat happily in their living room on September 19, 1998, their daughter's nineteenth birthday. They had just spent the morning with Hermione, catching up on what was going on in her life. As it turns out, she just received a job offer at the prestigious and highly important St. Mungo's Hospital as a healer, which she excitedly accepted. The Grangers were very proud that their daughter had finally gotten the offer to the job that she had wanted since she was fifteen. She had spent copious hours this summer studying to take the Healer's test, in order to place out of extra schooling, which she passed with flying colors. John and Mary, though knowing very little about the Wizarding World, were very pleased to finally see their daughter back to perfect health and her old enthusiasm in her work.

Ever since she came home from school after her fifth year, she had been changed forever. All of her time and energy was put towards the war going on in the Wizarding World. They had never known much about what was going on in the war until after it was over, when Hermione told them all the details. They now know that the reason she didn't tell them before was because she was worried that they wouldn't allow her to return to the Wizarding World if they knew how dangerous it was for her. Of course, she was probably right. They couldn't imagine what they would have done, but they certainly would have done something extra for her safety. However, while they were originally upset that she hadn't told them, they were simply glad that she was alive and that her friend Harry had succeeded in his destiny. Now, it seemed, she was happier than she had ever been in her entire life. They supposed living through a time so tough at such a young age really taught her to enjoy the time that she was given. The day after the war was over, Harry had confessed his love for Hermione and she quickly followed suit. They had been the talk of the Wizarding World for the past few months, but it didn't seem to affect them in the slightest. They were just glad to have each other and when the two of them were in the room together, the Grangers could tell that they really did love each other more than anything.

John and Mary were just about to have tea, when the doorbell rang. Mary went to answer the door and was slightly surprised when she came face to face with the young Harry Potter, her daughter's boyfriend. “Oh, hello Harry. Would you like to come in?”

“Yes please, Mrs. Granger. I was wondering if I might have a word with you and your husband.”

“Sure Harry. Is anything wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to ask you about Hermione's birthday present.”

“Certainly, Harry, we were just about to sit down for tea. Won't you join us?”

“Yes please.”

They went to join Mr. Granger in the living room. Harry took a seat in the chair across from Mr. Granger and Mrs. Granger poured him a cup of tea.

“Good afternoon, Harry,” greeted Mr. Granger, “What brings you by, this afternoon?”

“Oh, Harry says he wanted ask us something about Hermione's birthday present,” said Mrs. Granger.

“Oh, she is rather difficult to shop for. We usually just get her some books or quills or something of the sort,” said Mr. Granger.

“Well, actually, I've already bought her something, but I'm a bit nervous about giving it to her. I really hope she likes it.”

“I'm sure she'll love it Harry. You know, she doesn't talk about much else besides you, these days. You should have seen her this morning. It was, `Harry this and Harry that.' I think you've won our daughter's heart, Mr. Potter,” Mrs. Granger replied with a smile, causing Harry to blush.

“So, what did you get her that you're so worried about?” asked Mr. Granger.

“Well, the truth is…you see…well, really it's just…” Harry paused and took a big breath and then blurted, “I've come to ask for your daughter's hand!”

Mr. Granger who had just been taking a sip of tea, coughed on himself, causing tea to squirt out of his mouth and settle on Harry's blushing rouge face. Harry pulled out is wand and muttered a quick charm to get rid of the mess.

After a moment's silence, Mrs. Granger's timid voice asked quietly, “Are you really sure you're ready for marriage? I mean, you're only eighteen and Hermione's just turned nineteen today.”

“Honestly, I've never been surer of anything my whole life… except when I confessed my undying love for her in the hospital, after the war. I want you both to know that I love your daughter more than life itself and if I had to go to hell to save her, I would without a further thought. She means the world to me. I mean, I know what you're probably thinking right now, `this man across from us is still a child and Hermione's still a child and they don't know the first thing about love and marriage and he probably just wants to get in her pants and'…”Harry cut himself off, realizing what he just said, before continuing, this time a bit slower, “What I mean is, I don't think love is a powerful enough word to describe how I feel for your daughter.”

There was a long moment in which nobody said anything. To Harry, this short pause seemed to last for a millennium, until, finally, Mr. Granger open his mouth to reply.

“I can tell that you love her and, frankly, I think it's quite obvious that she loves you, as well. So, if you really feel that the both of you are ready for marriage, then I give you my blessing.”

Harry had been bracing himself for the worst, but was slightly shocked to hear what Mr. Granger had just told him. He had half expected the Grangers to laugh in his face, before telling him that he wasn't good enough for their daughter and that he should be ashamed of himself for ever touching her. But the response he got, well, he was nothing short of ecstatic. He jumped out of his seat and hugged both the Granger's, assuring both of them that he would take nothing but the best care of her and how he would always be there for her and plenty of other things along those lines. The Grangers smiled at him, remembering their own engagement, twenty-five years before.

“Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Granger. I best be off to get ready for our date. Everything has to be perfect, tonight.” He got up and excitedly ran toward the door, like a small child, ready for his first day of school. When he got to the door, however, he realized he'd forgotten to show them the ring, which he wanted to get their approval of. He ran back to his chair, pulled out the ring from his coat pocket and then carefully opened the box to present it to the Grangers.

Mrs. Granger almost fainted, after seeing the size of the ring Harry had picked out. “Oh my god, Harry, it's beautiful! Look how big that thing is, John!”

“I…wow Harry. If Hermione says no to that thing, I…well, look at it! She's very lucky to have you, Harry,” responded Mr. Granger.

“But, more important than the ring, is the man asking her. She loves you Harry. She probably won't even see the ring through the tears of you asking her to be your wife. It could have been a piece of string, tied in circle and she would have flipped out,” said Mrs. Granger.

“Well, I just wanted the perfect ring for Hermione because she's perfect,” Harry stated with complete honesty.

The Grangers shared a look at what Harry said, knowing that he meant it. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go get ready! Oh, and good luck, Harry!”

“Thank you!” Harry ran to the door and then apparated back to his flat to get ready. He had meant everything that he said to the Grangers and he was damn well going to make this night perfect for his Hermione. If he did everything right, he was sure that this night would be the best and only marriage proposal that Hermione would ever receive.

Author's Note: Well, there it is, the first fanfiction I've written since…wow, I don't even remember. I hope you liked it and I'm sorry that the beginning may have been a bit boring but I just had to fill in everyone with what was going on in their lives, at the moment. I promise it'll get better, though! Please review…it's good for the soul!

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After asking the Grangers for their daughter's hand, something Harry was quite glad to be over with, he excitedly apparated back to his flat to get ready for the big night.

“Well, I guess I ought to go make myself presentable,” he mumbled to himself, upon entering his flat. He took a nice, long shower, thinking nervously about the night ahead of him. When he was certain he had done a good job making himself clean (he wanted to smell nice for Hermione) he stepped out of the shower and examined himself in the bathroom mirror. He really didn't know what the look was that he wanted to sport tonight. Even though he knew Hermione loved him, he still doubted himself and was rather worried she might decline him. So, he figured, the better he looked, the more bonus points he would be awarded, making him more appealing as husband material. He thought this was only natural. Taking a deep, calming breath, he pressed his face closer to the mirror and examined it. To shave, or not to shave? Shaving would make him look more sophisticated and well-mannered. This would, in turn, draw descriptions such as smart, high-classed, handsome, and gentle. On the other hand, deciding not to shave would leave that sexy stubble that seemed to flutter the stomachs of a lot of women. Sexy was definitely a good thing to be, but, he decided, Hermione was more the well-kept type and she would probably prefer him to shave. His decision made, he lathered his face in shaving cream and carefully began to remove the offending facial hair with his razor. When this step was completed, he rinsed and dried his face and then applied a tad bit of aftershave balm to make his face soft, for Hermione to kiss. Of course, that was assuming she would want to kiss him after tonight. What if she said no? What if she really didn't love him? What if, instead of crying with joy, she cried with laughter at the preposterous idea of marrying someone that was as pathetic and unworthy of love as Harry?

“Dammit Potter! Get a grip on yourself!” he shouted at the mirror, in disgust, “She will say no, if I don't have any confidence in myself.” Sighing, he trudged into his bedroom to get dressed. Stepping into his closet, he pulled out the black pants that he bought the week before, specifically for this occasion. Pulling them on, along with his shiny black shoes, he contemplated what shirt he should wear. He had found himself physically incapable of deciding whether he wanted the green, white, or black button down shirt and ended up buying all three. White would be the safest. It was the basic shirt color for special occasions. However, Harry feared this shirt would be viewed as plain, something he didn't want to be viewed as. Black would be sexy and masculine, but he feared that this would be too much black, since he was already wearing black pants and shoes. The last thing he wanted was for Hermione to think that he wasn't creative enough to pick out two different colors for his outfit. Green he had bought because he remembered that Mrs. Weasley had said in fourth year that it brought out the color in his eyes. On the other hand, he thought that green might be too informal, making him seem unsophisticated and childish. Unable to decide, he resorted to closing his eyes and grabbing one, which turned out to be green. `Well,' he thought, `I hope Mrs. Weasley was right.' He then pulled on an undershirt and put the green shirt on over top. Then he tucked in his shirt and put on his new black belt, before reentering the bathroom to brush his teeth and hair. Finally, he stepped in front of the mirror for his final once-over. Feeling satisfied that he didn't look incredibly terrible, he placed the ring box in his pocket and, seeing it was time to go, he got in the car and drove over to Hermione's apartment, to pick her up for the most nerve-racking night of his life.

During the entire ride, Harry found himself with the same feeling that he had gotten before the final battle against Voldemort. It was that all too familiar feeling of dread that tonight might be the last night of his life. True, he wouldn't physically die if Hermione turned him down. He was more worried that he would simply never feel alive again for the rest of his life, like an empty shell, wandering in the darkness.

When Harry pulled up into the driveway, he suddenly found himself at a loss of breath. It was as if he had just run an entire marathon and simply stopped breathing, about to pass out from the undying heat of love-sickness. Pulling at the collar of his shirt, he reached into the backseat to retrieve the two-dozen roses that he picked up earlier that day. When he knocked on the door, he suddenly found himself feeling very self-conscious, as if he was a five-year-old, about to attend his first day of school.

When the door opened, Harry held his breath for a moment upon seeing Hermione for the first time that day. She was dressed in a beautiful blue dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. For that one, single moment, Harry felt as if he had died and gone to Heaven.

“Err…Happy Birthday, Hermione…y..yy.you look very beautiful,” Harry stuttered out in his nervousness.

“Thank you, Harry!” she replied happily, “You look very handsome, as well. That shirt really brings out the color in your eyes.”

`Thank you, Mrs. Weasley! She likes my shirt!' Harry thought, feeling slightly relieved.

“Oh, err…these are for you.” Harry handed Hermione the red roses and was met with an excited squeal.

“Oh Harry, they're beautiful!”

“Just like you,” he replied with a smile, earning himself a blush from Hermione.

“Well…err…thank you,” she said shyly, taking the roses from him, “I'll just go put these in some water. Please come in and sit down. I'll be ready to go in a minute.”

“Okay, Luv,” he replied, taking a seat on the couch.

Five minutes later, Hermione returned to a now slightly sweating Harry who quickly hopped up and took her hand. They walked out to the car and Harry opened Hermione's door for her with a bow, earning a cute smile from Hermione, who smoothly entered the vehicle. He then closed the door before moving around to the driver's seat, allowing himself in.

The ride to the restaurant was slightly awkward, mainly because Harry kept nervously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and making jittery attempts at conversation. His actions, of course, made Hermione a bit curious. Harry hadn't acted this neurotic since their very first date, but she figured it was probably just because this was the first time they had gone someplace this fancy together. She figured he would probably cool down some when they got to the restaurant.

The high-end Italian restaurant quickly seated Harry and Hermione at the table he had reserved two weeks in advance. It was, arguably, the best table in the house, as it was slightly secluded, which, in Harry's opinion, was the best place to be. Harry hated attention and, even though they were in a muggle restaurant, his abnormal scar tended to attract furtive glances. Hermione knew this, naturally, and found that she also enjoyed a break from the publicity that she and Harry drew whenever they went to any magical place. They were, in a sense, the most popular and publicly watched couple in the entire Wizarding World. Hermione felt that this was completely because of Harry, but Harry insisted that she had become quite media-loved, herself.

“Good evening. My name is Angela. I'll be your server for tonight. May I start you out with some drinks?”

“Yes, please,” Harry responded, “I'll have a Merlot.”

“Yes, sir. And, for the lady?”

“Water, please.”

“Okay. I'll be back in a minute with your drinks.”

“Thank you.”

When the waitress left, Harry smirked at Hermione. It was incredibly typical of Hermione to order water.

“You're smirking at me, Mr. Potter. May I inquire as to the occasion?”

“You ordered water in a fancy Italian restaurant, on your birthday.”

“And…” she replied questioningly, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

“And you're supposed to order expensive alcohol on your birthday and make me pay for it, so that I can feel like I've done something to make you happy.”

“Well, I guess you'll just have to find another way to make me happy, then,” she said, with a challenging smirk.

“What if I'm not capable of doing it another way?”

“Oh, believe me, Mr. Potter, you're certainly capable,” she said with a suggestive wink, leaving Harry fumbling for words, as a slight tinge of rouge rose on his cheeks.

Their game was broken up, as Angela returned with their drink orders.

“Are you two ready to order, or would you like a few more minutes?”

“I think we're ready,” Harry said, relieved at the excuse to change the topic, “I'll have the fettuccine alfredo with shrimp and scallops, please.”

“And, would you like a soup or salad with that?”

“Ummm… I think I'll have a caesar salad.”

“And I'll have a house salad with Italian dressing,” Hermione chimed in.

“Okay,” said Angela, cheerfully, “You kids enjoy yourselves and I'll be back in a while with your food.”

After Angela left, Harry looked at Hermione and sighed. “A house salad and water?” he asked a bit exasperated.

“Honestly Harry! Do you insist on having a problem with everything I order?”

“If you always get the cheapest thing on the menu, then yes, I insist,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“I like salad, though,” she said in the manner of a child who had just been told they couldn't have chocolate for breakfast.

“I know that, Luv, but I want to spend lots of money on you,” Harry said, as he took her hand in his. She smiled shyly and lost herself in his beautiful, green eyes. “I love you.”

“You do?” she asked, hopefully.

“I do.”

Once again, the moment was broken as Angela appeared with the food. “Okay, here's your food. You guys enjoy yourselves and call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied, still looking at Hermione.

“Say it again, Harry.”

“What?” he asked rather stupidly, before catching her eyes and knowing the answer.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

Hermione closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, before responding softly, “I love you, too, Harry.”

At this point, Harry gulped, maintaining his composure. If this wasn't the perfect moment to ask her the question that would change their lives forever, he didn't know what was. He reached in to his pocket and pulled out the ring box, before kneeling down in front of her, never taking his eyes away from hers.

“Hermione, I love you very much and I want to always be there for you. I want to be the shoulder you cry on when you're upset. I want to be the one to make you laugh when you're stressed out. I want to take care of you when you're sick. I want to kiss you every day. I want to be the father of your children. I want to love you and to hold you until the end of time.” Then, he opened up the ring box and took out the ring to show to her. “I know I'm not perfect and I know you deserve someone a thousand times better looking than me but I would be the happiest man alive if you would be my wife. What I'm asking you, Hermione, is will you marry me?”

Harry looked up and saw a single tear rolling slowly down her right cheek. She gulped and then replied simply, “Yes.” Then she threw herself into his arms and cried with tears of joy onto his shoulder. “Yes, Harry, I'll marry you, under one condition. Tell me that you're the handsomest man alive and then kiss me.”

Harry smiled. He had been worried for a second, when he realized there was a condition, but then cheered up again when he heard what it was. “I'm the handsomest man alive.” He then bent forward and kissed her gently on the lips and gasped when he felt her tongue on his lips. He opened up his mouth to her and then kissed her passionately. When he pulled back, he smiled giddily and placed the ring on her finger. “I believe this belongs to you, my fiancé.” He got back up and sat down in his chair across from her. Hermione smiled at him ecstatically and then looked at the ring on her finger for the first time.

“Oh my god, Harry, it's beautiful!”

“I wanted a ring that was as perfect as the woman wearing it, but I couldn't seem to find one. That one was closest I found.”

“Oh Harry, you're so sweet. But it is perfect, just like you.”

The rest of the meal consisted of laughter and excited talk of the wedding. When Angela came back to ask about desert Harry was cut off before he could open his mouth. “No, thank you. Harry and I are having desert at my house,” Hermione said anxiously.

“Okay, I'll bring the bill.”

“Hermione, I didn't know we were eating desert at your house.”

There was a moment's pause before Hermione responded with a gulp, “Who said anything about eating?” For the next minute, the world seemed nonexistent. As their eyes met in a fiery gaze, they both became incredibly nervous, all of a sudden. They had never actually talked about sex before. It had never come up. When Angela came back, Harry quickly paid and then took Hermione's hand in his own and led her to the car. This day had been filled with undying emotions of worry, doubtfulness, anticipation, and love. Harry had gone through the steps of asking for Hermione's hand from both her parents and Hermione, herself. But now there was a whole new idea to be nervous about. They were going to make love for the very first time. This would surely be a day that they would remember for the rest of their lives.

Author's Note: Well, there's chapter two! The beginning of this chapter was a little hard for me to write, but by the time I got to the proposal, the words were just flowing through me. I really hope you enjoyed the way Harry proposed, I tried to make it realistic and romantic at the same time, which was a bit difficult, seeing as I've never been proposed to before. Please give me feed back before the next chapter! I really do appreciate all of your reviews. And, for those of you that haven't guessed yet, the next chapter is indeed the reason that this fic is NC17. Hehehe…I'm going to have lots of fun with it! Until next time-

♥ EmilyKP ♥

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Harry had been to Hermione's house a countless number of times before. But when Harry entered Hermione's house that night, it was as if it was his first time. The air was thick with anticipation, wanting, needing, and above all things, love. Sure, they had often come back here for a passionate snogging session that blew both their minds into a giddy exhilaration, but they had never gone anywhere past that point. Suddenly, the idea of love-making was in the air and both he and Hermione were at a loss for speech.

Finally, Hermione's mouth let out words that just seemed to want to flow from her being. “Do you want to go to my room?” She spoke with uncertainty and there was a doubtful expression on her face.

Harry gulped, but, noticing her concern, stepped toward her, with newly found bravery. “Hermione, are you absolutely sure you're ready? I don't want you to be uncomfortable and if you would rather wait till we're married, then I'll just have a good night kiss.”

Hermione's eyes met his and she visibly calmed for a moment. “No, Harry, I don't want to wait. I love you and I know you love me and that's all that matters. I'm your fiancé now and that makes me closer to you than I have ever been to anyone for my entire life. So, I think we ought to seal the deal.” She said the last part with a shy smile and then took his hand to lead him to her room.

Once inside, Hermione tentatively reached up, placing her hands on his cheeks. Harry, taking this as his cue, leaned his head forward for a kiss. He placed his hands on her lower back and pulled her into his powerful embrace then softly brushed his lips against hers. Her lips, oh God, her lips. Harry loved Hermione right down to the last intricate detail but he had to admit that her lips were, without a doubt one of his favorite things to ponder on his free time. Yes, Harry thought of little else besides his love and at times he would even dream of her. He could even recall a particular dream from the week before when he found himself gazing at her lips which had seemed abnormally large. He had wanted nothing more in that dream than to simply grab her and kiss her perturbing lips; kiss them until they were swollen from an overdose of love and passion. And now, as he kissed her lips once more, he found himself full of a desire that he had yet to fulfill. With a moan, Hermione opened her mouth under his and invited him into her arena of love, in which the battle of the tongues was to pursue. Harry tentatively placed his hands on her lower back, closing the scarcity of space between their bodies to a simple nothingness. Hermione, suddenly feeling encouraged, reached her arms around his neck, placing her gentle hands in his hair. They stayed like this for a short while, lost in a satisfied contentment of pure and simple love. The kiss, however soft it was, was incredibly deep. It was almost as if they had never truly been kissed in such a way, filled with immense desire and passion. Harry had once heard that a picture said a thousand words. He thought that if this was true, a kiss said a million.

When Harry finally pulled away, his heart was broken into a thousand pieces by the single, solitary tear running slowly down Hermione's right cheek. He frowned slightly, pulling her in for a hug. “What's the matter, Luv?”

She pulled out of his embrace to look him in the eyes, holding a deathly gaze. “It's just…” she broke off for a moment, sighing. “It's just that it seems like I've been waiting for this moment for my entire life and now that it's here, I'm, well…scared.”

Harry pulled her back into his embrace, rocking her gently, back and forth. “Hermione, I don't want to push you into something you're not ready for. You're my fiancé now. Next thing you know, you'll be my wife.” He paused for a moment, grinning at the revelation that she would indeed be his wife, and then continued, “We'll have our entire lives to make love to each other. The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable, pressured into something you're not ready for. We're still young, you and I. I think you're beautiful, smart, genius even, creative, everything. You are perfect. But above all else, Hermione, I love you. In fact, I don't even know if love is a strong enough word for the way that I feel about you. You're my life, my passion, my everything. I don't ever want to cause you pain. I couldn't bare it. So, be honest with me, Luv. Are you ready or are you not?”

Hermione was freely crying now, but she had a huge smile on her face. “Oh, Harry, how do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“How do you make me feel like I'm perfect, like I'm some sort of goddess? You know perfectly well that I'm not.”

Harry smiled back and replied, “To me, you are. Hell, you're even perfect in your imperfections.”

“Well then, let's seal the deal; shall we?”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She then turned around and strolled over to the bed, lying spread-eagled across it, a seductive smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “For tonight, Mr. Potter, my body is yours. Play nicely.”

Harry gulped deeply. He couldn't help but stare at her as she gave herself to him with such conviction. It was as if she trusted him so much, that she would be willing to give him her life, if it was necessary, knowing that he would be careful with it and return it when he was finished, without a scratch. His gaze drifted from her face to her feminine curves. Right then, at that precise moment in time, he had the greatest epiphany of his entire life. Hermione was a woman. He knew this, of course, before hand. He found her beautiful and sexy in all ways possible, but it wasn't until then that he realized just what that entitled.

“Harry?” Hermione's voice broke him out of his ruminating period. She looked at him questioningly as if to say, “What's the matter?” only it was more than that, much more. She had just willingly put her body and morale on the line for him and now he looked like a man who believed he was dreaming. “Harry, are you alright?”

Harry's mouth was so dry, he was sure he could have breathed a breath of fire, had he been able to breathe at all. “I never imagined that you would be this way, I guess.”

“What do you mean?” she inquired.

“I mean, you, you're so…so…pure and yet you lay there offering yourself to my disposal with utmost trust and sincerity. How can you do that? How can you be so open to me? I always thought you wanted a white wedding. Why would you let go of your morals and dreams so easily? Heaven knows that you're certainly not a damn bit submissive. Why, Hermione?”

There was a short pause in which neither one of them made a movement or spoke a word. Then Hermione got up out of the bed, walked over to him, looked him straight in the eye and then kissed him with more energy than she had ever done before. Then she pulled back and spoke with her lips still grazing his, her breath on his face.

“I'll tell you why, Harry. Growing up, I always wanted, in my heart, to be liked, to fit in, to feel loved. That never happened though, not until I went to Hogwarts. My parents loved me of course. They always treated me like I was an angel, but Harry, until I met you and Ron, I never had friends. I suppose I was always a bit bossy for my own good. All the other kids didn't want to play with the annoying, smart kid who always had to raise her hand to answer every question, just because she could. But when you and I realized our feelings for each other and fell in love, it was like nothing mattered anymore except you and spending time with you. I never knew that I could feel that way, Harry. All of a sudden, it was like my whole existence had reached the pinnacle of need and want and love. Harry, you're exactly right. When I first learned about sex, I wanted to wait until I was married, so that it would be that much more special, but Harry, being with you has made me realize that much more important than waiting till marriage, was waiting till it could be with you. I love you and I trust you…just use protection, okay? I don't think my father would be too pleased if I got pregnant before the wedding.” She finished with a grin and then, kissing him, reached forward and began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

Harry quickly muttered the contraceptive charm while she undid his shirt. Hermione's little speech had been more than reassuring for Harry. More than anything else, he had been worried about hurting her. He still was, of course, but now he knew that the only pain she would feel would come from the breaking of her maidenhood, not from regret, which would hurt much worse. Tentatively, he allowed his hands to settle on her lower back, before reaching up, and undoing her zipper. He trailed his lips along her jaw line and down her neck. She shivered slightly as she felt his lips on the sensitive flesh of her neck. Looking up at her, he made eye contact with her, as if asking permission for what he was about to do. Finding reassurance in her eyes, he pulled at the material covering her body, allowing it to fall into a pool at her feet. Still, as her near-naked body revealed itself to him, his gaze did not drop from hers.

“You're beautiful,” he said.

“You haven't even looked at me yet,” she replied with a small smile edging at the corners of her lips.

“I know, but I just know you're beautiful. I don't need conformation of the eyes.”

“Look at me Harry, and then tell me what you think.”

Slowly, his gaze drifted down her body, pausing at her covered breasts and again at the point where her legs met her body. He then pulled her into his embrace and kissed her chastely.

Pulling away from her lips, he said, “You were right, Hermione, you're not beautiful, you're godly.”

She smiled shyly at him and then removed his already unbuttoned shirt. His undershirt and pants quickly followed. Her eyes went wide when she noticed the bulge in his boxers. She gently let her hand brush over his fabric-covered penis and got rather excited when he got even harder with her caress. Meeting his gaze again, she noticed that his eyes had grown dark with lust. He released the clasp of her bra and, with her nod, pulled it off.

“Wow,” was all he could say before leaning down and taking her left breast into his mouth. Hermione let out an excited sigh and placed her hands on the back of his head, holding him in place. Not removing his mouth from her breast, he reached down, bringing his arm behind her legs. In a quick and rather ungraceful move, he picked her up and kissed her sloppily. He walked over to her bed and set her down gently, allowing himself to fall on top of her. Hermione let out an amused laugh at the awkwardness of the situation. She quickly became serious again when Harry met her gaze. With her nod, he removed her last article of clothing and threw it over his shoulder with a grin. Then he did the same with his boxers and stretched out next to her. They slowly allowed their eyes to drift down each other's naked forms. Harry, with newly found bravery, reached forward with his right hand, allowing it to settle on her hip, before moving softly down her thigh. Hermione watched Harry touch her. He seemed to be in such fascination, lost in a sort of trance as he learned her every curve to heart. Surprising even himself, he flipped her from her side to her back and kissed her, as he moved his body above hers. His hand traveled from her hip to her inner thigh and gently pushed outward, to allow himself more access. She obliged and moaned in excitement when she felt him touch her for the first time in the most intimate of places. He was surprised to find that she was already quite wet and ready for him. Pulling back from the kiss, he searched her face for any regrets. She looked incredibly scared, but made no move to stop him.

“Just go slowly.”

She moved his hand off of her and, finding his penis, moved him slowly to her virginity. His perturbing penis in position, she moved her hands to his back and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Remembering her request, he entered her as slow as he could, pausing when he reached her barrier, he kissed her fiercely and then pushed through, sheathing himself completely inside her. He pulled back from the kiss and found a single tear running down her cheek.

Harry's heart broke immediately, realizing her pain. “Hermione, I'm so sorry, I-”

“Don't you dare be sorry. Make love to me.”

He slowly began moving inside her, forcing himself not to enjoy it until she did. She slowly began to relax as the pain subsided.

“Faster now Harry.”

He quickly acquiesced. A moan escaped her lips and he realized she was actually enjoying herself. With a sigh, he allowed himself to enjoy the immense pleasure that had been threatening to take over his body. He wanted to close his eyes and get lost in this feeling but he wouldn't let himself. He refused to release his passion before she did. He reached down and rubbed her clitoris, knowing that he wasn't strong enough to last if she didn't have her orgasm soon.

Hermione let out a deep, guttural moan, when she felt him touch her there. “Oh, Harry…oh God, Harry.”

His name on her lips, the sweat all over her body, her eyes closing in passion, her body arching into his; it was all too much. He couldn't handle it. He had never seen something so incredibly sexy and erotic in his entire life. He bit his lip to hold it in but then…

“HARRY!” She threw back her head in passion, opened her eyes wide, clenched around him, and arched her back, as her orgasm took hold of her. If Harry thought this experience was erotic before, he could have died now. Two more thrusts and he came wildly, spilling into her. When his orgasm was complete, he collapsed on top of her with exhaustion. They laid quietly like this for a few minutes until their breathing returned to normal. Harry removed the hair from her face delicately with his fingers, whispering, “I love you,” over and over again.

“I love you too Harry.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione woke up to the sound of the door bell ringing.

“Oh, shit!”

She jumped out of bed, waking Harry up in the process.

“Hermione, where are you going?”

“Harry, my parents are here for brunch! I invited them over yesterday. Of course, if I had known that you would've been staying ahead of time-”

“Damn, where are my boxers?” he said. They were both rushing around the room, getting dressed.

“Harry, grab your clothes, go home, get changed, and then come back. I told them I was going to invite you.

Harry left with a pop and Hermione, after taking a record two minutes to get dressed, ran downstairs, to greet her parents.

“Mum! Dad! You're early.”

“Hermione, it's 12:00,” her mother replied.

“Oh…guess I must have slept in…”

“Is Harry here already? I saw his car out front.”

SHIT! Harry's car! There's no way I am going to be able to cover that up.

“Err…”

“Hi, Hermione. Did you sleep well? Sorry I left my car here last night, but I was really tired and decided to just apparate home.” Harry had just arrived and saved both of them from a huge scolding. She had never been happier to see him in her whole life. She jumped into his arms with excitement and gave him a passionate French kiss. Unknown to Harry and Hermione, Hermione's parents were sharing a knowing look while the pair made out in the living room for the world, or rather, Hermione's parents to see.

John and Mary stared wide-eyed as their daughter and Harry fell backwards onto the couch, completely forgetting they were there. After a minute, Mary cleared her throat loudly, causing Hermione to push Harry unceremoniously onto the floor and jump up, in pure shock. “I can't believe I just did that…” she muttered. “I'll, err…start making brunch. Why don't you and Harry take a seat at the table and we can all talk together.” They all went into the kitchen, which Mary quickly took over, saying that Hermione should just sit down and enjoy herself.

“So, did you two have fun last night?” Mary asked. Harry and Hermione shared a look and blushed, nodding their heads, `Yes.' This didn't go unnoticed by her parents, who both smirked as if they already knew exactly what happened. “Is there anything you want to tell us, Hermione?”

“Err…no…”

“No? So you're wearing a gorgeous ring on your finger that just came from nowhere?”

“Oh, my ring! Harry and I got engaged last night. I'm really excited about the wedding. I want to do it as soon as possible. I can't wait to go dress shopping and-”

“Whoa, Hermione, breathe. We're very happy for the two of you. We've been talking about this ever since Harry told us he was going to propose yesterday,” John said.

Hermione turned to Harry, surprised. “You told them already?”

“Well, I, err…I sort of asked for your hand…you know, from your parents.” Harry blushed a mad shade at this and looked away.

“Oh my gosh, Harry, that's so sweet of you. I didn't know you asked them permission first.”

“Oh, you should have seen the poor boy, Hermione,” her mother said, “He was so nervous. He looked like he was about to faint on the spot.”

“Oh, Harry, why didn't you tell me?” she reached over and pulled him into a hug and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush even more than he already was.

“So,” her mum continued, “Is there anything else we should know about, Hermione?”

“No,” she said a bit too quickly.

“So you didn't come back here and have a good shag, after the proposal, completely forgetting that we were coming the next day and then waking up the next morning to the door bell ringing, shooing Harry out of the house, telling him to come back when he got dressed, and then letting us in, after you `slept in?”

Harry and Hermione were both sitting there looking rather pale, with their mouths hanging open as far as they would go.

After a long pause, Hermione's parents both started cracking up loudly.

“Y-you're not mad?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“No, Honey,” her mother answered. “You, know, your father and I made love in the car after he proposed. At least you two made it home, first.”

“I did not need to know that, but…how did you know what happened?”

“Well, you were rather obvious, Honey. Honestly, you were about to jump Harry on the couch.”

Both Harry and Hermione had been blushing during this whole conversation.

“Anyway, Hermione, we trust Harry enough to know that he didn't pressure you into anything that you didn't want to do. In fact, you were probably more likely to pressure him than he was to pressure you.”

“Yeah…”

“And you two obviously love each other more than anything and we can respect that.”

“Yeah…”

“Now, about that wedding, Hermione, let's start planning.”

“Yeah…”

THE END

Author's Note: Yes, yes, I know…the finish was really weird and the whole chapter was incredibly fluffy and, well, romantic. I suppose this is partially because I've never had my first time before and so I expect it to be all romantic and everything, even though I highly doubt it will be…sigh…oh well. Anyway, I'm terribly sorry about the wait. This chapter was really difficult for me to write. I think I've been trying to finish it for the past couple weeks now. Of course, exams are never easy either, if you know what I mean, so I've been rather busy as well.

One more thing before I leave you. Many people were telling me after the first chapter that Hermione was actually younger than Harry. I'm going to be honest with you. I hate being told I'm wrong, especially when I know I'm right. I shall simply point you all out to this link, from JKR's website. No, I'm not arrogant. I just don't like being wrong…

http://www.jkrowling.com/textonly/faq_view.cfm?id=90

Thank you all for the reviews and I look forward to a few more…write one…please?

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