Unofficial Portkey Archive

Title: Kissing Lessons for the Beginner

Author: Amethyst

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: NC-17…for obvious reasons.

Summary: Harry needs to learn how to kiss. Who do you think might be kind enough to instruct him?

Spoilers: First five books. We'll pretend the sixth doesn't exist, and happily.

Disclaimer: Not mine, because if I was JKR, I'd have a completely random character that Harry hardly knows giving him lessons. *shrug* Don't really know why she's getting the money for work like that, but at least I get better feedback.

Author's Note: I'm sorry for the wait. Really, I am! Further note-age at the end.

Lesson Seven - Buggering the Boundaries

Harry wandered throughout the castle for at least two hours after their final lesson before he finally dragged himself back toward Gryffindor Tower. He desperately didn't want to go back and face her. It would be a miracle if he could so much as look at Hermione without having some kind of explosive reaction - bursting into tears or screaming out his frustrations or maybe just blowing something up, loudly. He wasn't sure which he wanted to do most; anything would work, so long as it eased the pain.

Hermione wasn't there waiting for him when he returned. Normally, she would have been, sitting with a book and sometimes gnawing on her bottom lip with worry. How had so much changed in so little time?

He trudged up the stairs to his dormitory and was greeted immediately by the sounds of three sleeping boys. Ron's notable snores, however, were conspicuously absent.

"You look like hell, mate," he said quietly.

Harry shrugged. "Looks like hell…feels like hell. Guess it must be hell."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "I hope this doesn't mean you told her."

"No," Harry sighed as he began changing into his pajamas. "I didn't need to."

"She knew? Are you sure? She seemed pretty damned oblivious a few days ago."

"Yeah, well, I suppose she didn't say anything because she didn't want to make things awkward, but she made it good and clear that she didn't want anything to do with me."

"I can't see her doing that," Ron said skeptically. "Is that what she actually said?"

"She said she wanted the lessons to be over and that I should go snog other girls now. What does that sound like to you?" Harry replied, crawling into bed.

Ron never responded.

~

The next day, it was clear that the night before had put them all - all three of them - in a pickle.

Ron, who was already a bit frosty toward Hermione for rejecting him, had now taken her rejection of Harry as a further insult and refused to speak to her, leaving poor Hermione entirely friendless, as she was actively avoiding Harry as well. Ginny tried to keep her company at mealtimes, but in class, Hermione would be found sitting alone, across the room from Harry and Ron, causing quite the speculation amongst their peers as to what had occurred to cause such a rift.

To make matters worse, Ron seemed to be struggling slightly with delight that the 'famous Harry Potter' had been turned down by the very same girl he had. Harry knew Ron tried to be loyal and not show those feelings, but they kept leaking out in conversation, which finally turned quite ugly at lunch.

"Maybe she doesn't want to be with you because of all the media attention - I mean, after what happened with Krum and all, she probably doesn't want to go through that again."

Thanks, Ron. Thanks for reminding me that everything about me makes me a poor choice for her.

"Or maybe it's because of You-Know-Who - you know, with the prophecy and all. Maybe she reckons it's too risky to be with you…"

Bloody, knife-twisting, good-for-nothing -

"Or maybe she just thinks you're a bit scrawny. Krum was rather bulky, after all. Maybe that's how she likes them…"

Harry's fork fell to his plate with a clatter. "You know, Ron, if you want to enjoy my misfortune, maybe you should try doing it at the Slytherin table - they'd love to hear about it," he said, angrily leaving the table.

After that, none of them were sitting together in class. Even stoic McGonagall couldn't hide her surprise at finding them separated.

And so it seemed the strong bonds between the three had finally been broken, leaving everyone in Hogwarts a little disoriented.

And all because Hermione just had to turn into a stupid, bloody girl.

Thus, the agonizing misery went on - for an entire week. Harry roamed the castle like a ghost - which was perhaps a bad idea, as the longest conversation he'd had all week was with Nearly Headless Nick, and he'd walked into a few walls in the process, breaking his nose once and his glasses twice.

Though dear Nick valiantly tried to cheer him up ("Look on the bright side - you've still got your head firmly attached to your shoulders!"), he was about as successful at it as Ron was. Ghosts really needed to learn that being dead didn't give them the greatest grasp on the emotional matters of the living.

Even though Harry had admitted to himself that he might perhaps be in love with Hermione, he was still surprised at just how much he missed her. She wouldn't look him in the eye, let alone speak to him. Going without the simple things was simply unbearable - things like seeing her smile and hearing her say, "Good morning, Harry," every day made all the difference.

His marks were also suffering without her, and it wasn't helping that all he could seem to do in class was sneak glances at her. McGonagall kept telling him to get help from Hermione, leaving Harry to wonder if she was perhaps conspiring to get them to speak again. He never did ask Hermione for help; he hadn't even worked up the courage to say hello to her.

By the next Friday, Harry was ready to burst. He didn't know how long he could go like this, being estranged from Hermione and at odds with Ron every other day. How could she act like she was fine? How could she just let this happen? …How could he?

Lord knows he didn't want to let it happen…but he didn't know what to do to fix it. What was he supposed to say? "Hermione, sorry I fell in love with you, think we can still be friends?" He didn't know if that was even possible, to go on being her friend, much as he wanted her in his life….

It was that evening, when Harry was roaming the castle again, that something finally happened.

It was quite dark, and he wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings, too lost in his own gloom. Therefore, when someone reached out from a broom closet and dragged him inside, he wasn't at all prepared to react, and the door was shut behind him before he could reach his wand.

"We need to talk."

That voice was unmistakable. It was Hermione.

While Harry was relieved that he wasn't being attacked, he wasn't sure Hermione was quite the person he wanted to be trapped in a broom cupboard with - at least, not under the present circumstances.

"Lumos," she whispered, and her face was illuminated by the small circle of faint white light at the tip of her wand.

To use Ron's favorite description, she looked like hell. Judging by her pale complexion and the bags under her eyes, Harry didn't think she'd been sleeping well, or eating well, or doing much of anything well lately. Harry was struck by the familiarity of it. Could it be that she was as miserable about this as he was?

Harry didn't know what to say to her that could possibly convey what he wanted - needed - her to know, so he asked the first question to pop into his head.

"Why are we in a broom closet?"

"Because I thought ambushing you would be the easiest way to get you to talk to me," she said, fiddling with her wand. The light in the room bounced around with the movement of her fingers. "Harry, I need to tell you something, whether you want to hear it or not."

"Hermione, I -"

"No, please, just listen," she pleaded. Harry acquiesced, hoping she wasn't about to say what he thought she would say.

"The thing is," she said slowly, not meeting his eyes, "I'm not ready for the lessons to end. You might be, but - but I'm not. I mean, not the lessons, exactly, but what we were doing…I'm not ready to let go of that."

Harry's mouth went dry and he found himself speaking before he'd decided what he was going to say. "Me neither." He hesitated, watching the tentative smile form on Hermione's face. "But…I don't understand, you said we were done. You said I should go find other girls to kiss. I thought that's what you wanted."

"Oh, Harry, you really can be unbelievably thick about girls sometimes," she said, shaking her head sadly at him. "When I said that, I was hoping you'd say you didn't want to kiss other girls or - or something. It was supposed to be like…like a hint to get you to say how you felt."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" Harry asked, torn between exasperation and the feeling that he was indeed quite thick.

"I don't know. You weren't. I don't know what I was expecting," Hermione said on a sigh. "I just know it went all wrong, and I can't stand going like this any longer. I miss you."

His mind struggled to formulate the words to respond, to express just how much he'd missed her as well - how completely miserable he'd been without her.

Hermione began pacing the short space, and, before he could reply, said, "Harry, I…I don't just want the kissing, though. It's wonderful, but…it's not enough for me. I need to know that if you want this too, that it's more than just…physical."

She wants me too. She…she actually wants me too.

"Of course it is," Harry said as his heart tap-danced around in his chest. "I mean, it's you. You're too important to me for it to be just physical."

"Oh - oh, Harry - I'm so glad," she said as she threw herself onto him. He caught her as the force of the impact knocked him back into the door.

"So it's the same for you, then?" Harry asked, needing to hear it - his happiness would finally be complete when she said it.

"Of course, you git," she said, pulling away. There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. "Do you really think I would have let you do all those things to me if I didn't feel anything more than friendship for you? You're the only one I would trust with my body like that."

"Really? …Me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Who else would you suggest?"

Harry looked at her watery eyes, alight with happiness, and knew there was only one thing left to say -

"So when's the next lesson?"

Hermione grinned. "Now."

She had him out the door before he could say a word.

~

The candles in the Room of Requirement seemed to glow in an entirely new way now that everything was out in the open, and he couldn't wait to find out what kissing Hermione would be like now that he knew she wanted it as much as he did.

Hermione was even more aggressive now that she had permission of sorts to be, and they were hardly in the room before she was pushing the robes off his shoulders, which were quickly accompanied to the floor by her own.

"Take off your shoes and socks," she told him as she kicked off her own and began tugging at her stockings.

"What - why?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Because, they'll get in the way."

Obediently, he bent down and took off the offending articles. The moment he stood straight again, Hermione's mouth was on his, insistent and greedy. Harry then found himself being forced backward to the bed, soon to be trapped underneath her as she kissed him senseless.

Needless to say, it was a very good evening for Harry.

As he let his hands wander to areas of Hermione that were not platonic at all, he wanted to ask her how far this could go. As it was, his mouth was a little preoccupied for that, and Hermione soon gave him his answer by placing his hand on her thigh.

"I want you to finish what you started last time," she said. His fingers were itching to move as they rested against her soft skin.

"Hermione…are you sure that's what you want?" Oh, please, please be sure.

"Yes…yes, I'm sure. I don't want to leave this room unsatisfied again."

Harry wet his lips. God, had she really been lusting after him the whole time? "If we do this -"

"There's no going back, I know," Hermione said. "This…well, this may be a bit soon to be talking so seriously, but I can see us together for a very long time, and even if…even if that isn't the case, I know I'll always care for you - that you'll always be my best friend. Harry, I want you to be my first. I know it will be special if it's with you."

She blushed so devastatingly sweetly that Harry completely forgot about the teasing temptress he'd come to see her as lately. There she was, the Hermione he'd always known - beautiful, warm-hearted Hermione, who deserved so much more than him.

"Are you sure it's me you want?"

"I've had my mind made up about you for awhile now," she said, smiling. "I'm not about to change it now."

Harry nodded and let his hand resume its journey upward, memorizing the feel of the soft, smooth skin under his fingertips. He had a feeling he'd never get enough of this.

Tracing the edge of her panties, his fingers brushed against lace. Dear Merlin, lacy knickers… Did she plan this? I bet she did…oh, I do love this side of her.

Hermione trembled slightly. "You can take them off…if…if you want." She moved and lay back on the bed, making it all too easy for him to do so.

He reached up and hooked his fingers in the waistband. Pulling them down took a torturously long time, but he couldn't bring himself to move any faster. He almost laughed when they made their first appearance at her knees where her skirt ended. Pink. He'd never imagined they'd be pink. They barely made a sound as they hit the floor.

Looking up at her, he saw that she'd been unbuttoning her blouse while he'd been otherwise engaged. She popped the last button and shyly let the shirt fall open, exposing a long strip of pale, beautiful skin. His eyes moved on their own accord to the bra that matched her panties, from which the tops of her breasts peeked out.

She allowed him to stare for a sufficient amount of time before she grinned and said, "Stop dawdling, Harry. You still have pressing business to attend to."

Harry glanced back down to her skirt-covered pelvis.

"Unless…unless you don't want to. I'd understand if you didn't."

Harry looked disbelievingly up at her. "Are you insane? Of course I want to." He blushed sheepishly. "I just…er…have no idea what I'm doing."

Hermione chuckled slightly and shot him an impish look. "I'll give you a proper lesson sometime, but tonight, I just want to be with you." That look was on her face, the one she got when she was in the mood to break a few rules; it was an undeniable turn-on to see it when her knickers were lying on the floor somewhere.

"Trust your instinct, Harry," she said, once again placing his hand on her inner thigh, a little higher up this time. "That's good enough for me."

Instincts. He could do that; he'd done it before. Right now, instinct - or something like that - was telling him to reach upward. His fingers brushed against her curls, the only thing between him and - and oh, the silky smooth slick skin he'd just stroked a finger against.

Hermione urged him on with a gasp, followed by a mewling moan. Pleased with her reaction, Harry dipped his finger further into her slit before drawing it upward, across a spot that made her jerk her hips toward him. Curious, he rubbed the spot again, noting it felt oddly different than the other bits…almost like a little nub of some sort. He had no idea what he was touching, but he had a feeling it was the right thing, as she'd thrown her head back against the pillows and was moaning loudly.

"Harry - oh - from now on, always trust your instinct," she groaned, pulling him to her for a rather forceful kiss. He struggled to kiss her back and continue stroking her at the same time, a little surprised. Hermione was rather bossy, sure, but he'd never expected her to be so aggressive in the bedroom.

Hermione, evidently following her whims, pushed him away from her, onto his back, which confused him until she straddled him and shed her shirt.

Harry reached up to unclasp her bra, expecting her to willingly go along with that, but she smacked his hands away.

"Your turn," she said firmly, nearly attacking the buttons of his shirt. "It's not fair; you've got all this clothing on and I have yet to see any of your more interesting bits."

Harry grinned, happy to let her get to any of his bits that she wanted. "I thought you wanted me to finish what I'd started."

"I changed my mind," Hermione said as she reached the last button. "I don't want to come until you're inside me."

Just as she said that, she placed her hands - burning hot hands - on his abdomen. Harry had to close his eyes to keep his control.

"Good heavens, Hermione, if you keep talking like that, I'm not going to last until then. And since when do you talk to blokes that way?"

"Since now," she answered slyly. "You bring it out in me, I think. You always have been a bad influence, you know."

Well, he certainly enjoyed being her bad influence, if that was the case. Hermione went to work on his belt, then his pants, until he was left only with his boxers. Harry sat up with her still in his lap and drew her against him, figuring it was her turn to lose some clothing now. He distracted her with a kiss, and as she turned her focus to his mouth, he snaked his hands up her back and unclasped her bra.

Hermione pulled away, grinning. "Oh, very smooth, Potter."

"I try," he quipped, sliding the satiny pink straps down her arms as though unwrapping a long-awaited present. Hermione allowed him to toss the bit of fabric away and pull her close again, giving a hum of pleasure as their bare skin made contact.

Harry didn't know what to do other than kiss her - her lips, her jaw, the smooth column of her neck, the graceful line of her collar bone, down to her now exposed breasts. He was drawn irresistibly to her rosy nipples, pulling one and then the other into his mouth, laving them with his tongue. Hermione threw her head back and arched into him, and rocked her hips against his in the rhythm of his tongue.

At the feel of her damp sex against the flimsy fabric of his boxers, he had to pull away from her, and she took that at the opportunity to move even further away and remove her skirt, revealing every tantalizing inch of her to his feasting eyes.

She made a half-hearted attempt to shield her more intimate parts from him, but Harry could tell it was a completely feigned sense of modesty by the way her eyes raked over him - as a cat stares down its prey.

"Your turn," she said simply.

Harry nervously hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, watching her watching him, praying to whoever would listen that she didn't laugh the moment she saw him completely naked.

In one deliberate and terrified movement, he pushed the undergarment down his legs and let it fall to the floor.

Hermione stared at him a long while, so long that he was about to dive off the bed to recover his clothing as well as his dignity, but then she began to crawl back to him on the bed. A dangerous gleam had appeared in her eyes, one that he'd learned to be wary of over the years.

She stopped short of him, on her knees, still staring. Harry swallowed as she finally met his eyes and outstretched her hand ever so slightly. "May I?"

The girl is truly barking mad, Harry realized, amazed that she even felt the need to ask. Could she touch him…as if he wanted anything else in the world more than just that.

"By all means," he managed to choke out, and a split-second later her hand grazed against his straining erection.

Paralyzed by the pleasure zipping through his nerves, he could do nothing but watch her, watching him, stroking him at an agonizingly steady pace. Her little pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips in a subtly, painfully subtly, wanton expression of lust. He couldn't imagine why she would look at him that way, but she did and that was all that mattered.

His body began to tense and tremble, and he had to force himself to pull her hand away, knowing he could not control himself under her ministrations much longer.

"D-did I do something wrong?" she asked as he continued holding her hand in his own.

"No! No, not at all. You were just…well, you were doing it a little too well," Harry said sheepishly.

Hermione grinned smugly and mischievously as she crawled forward, up his body, until her mouth was close enough to descend upon his. He pulled her close, feeling every tantalizing inch of her creamy skin against his, her wonderfully soft breasts against his chest, the soft patch of her pubic hair against his stomach, knowing that the time had come to end their foreplay…that she was soon to be his, completely, and vice versa.

Deftly, gracefully, he rolled them over, settling himself between her thighs that firmly hugged his hips. Her fingers pressed into his back as she ran her left calf against the backside of his leg.

"You're sure you want to do this now?" he asked her, the head of penis dangerously close to her damp heat. "There's no rush."

Oh, what a smooth liar he was. If she backed out now he might very well die from the mixed over-stimulation and disappointment.

"Don't even think about stopping now," she said, nudging him forward with her legs around his. He really, really didn't need to be told twice.

When he first thrust into her in one deep, swift plunge, she gasped in what he recognized immediately as pain and dug her fingernails into his back. His first instinct was to pull back, as if that would somehow undo the damage, but she stopped him.

"It's all right - that was supposed to happen," was her strained whisper against his ear. "Keep going."

He couldn't obey her request right away - how could she ask him to make that pained crease in her brow any deeper? - so he stayed as still as possible, unbearably still, as he kissed her jaw and her earlobes and the corners of her mouth and the lone tear that had escaped from the corner of her eye. She clutched him all the while, kissing him back wherever she could reach and whispering words of reassurance in his ear. Strange, but rather wonderful, how she felt the need to console him when he was trying to comfort her.

Some long moments of torturous waiting passed before Hermione urged him on with a subtle rock of her hips and he began to move slowly within her.

Nothing could compare to the feeling of being inside her, her silky walls warm and slick around him; she was a beautiful haven that he never wanted to leave.

Sharp little gasps in his ear told him that Hermione's pain had receded, that she was now beginning to feel something of what he was feeling - and, oh, how he wished she could feel all of what he felt.

He kissed her hungrily as he began to move faster within her, swallowing her moans. Her hips rocked back against his and she dragged her lips away, across his jaw, suckling on his neck. He ran his hands over what of her he could reach, enjoying the mewl she made when his thumb grazed over her nipple and the louder one she made when he slipped his finger down to her sensitive bundle of flesh, just above where they were joined. He loved watching her, the way her eyes drifted open and closed, the graceful way in which she arched her back, pressing her body into his. In all his adolescent fantasies, he'd never imagined how much of a turn-on just seeing Hermione in this act would be.

Her moans soon turned to cries, and he struggled to hold on a bit longer as her fingernails pressed little crescents into his back. He desperately wanted to please her this time, to ensure that she'd want a next time, and another time after that…because he certainly couldn't live without this. Not now, not when she'd taken over every one of his senses, clouded his mind…stolen his heart.

Harry felt her silky walls clenching about him and watched her toss her head back against the pillow, mouth hanging open as she gasped and panted for breath…he could tell she was coming undone, and it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen.

The moment she first bucked her hips in the initial throes of her climax, his last tendril of control slipped away, and he was seeing stars, seeing her, thrusting wildly, without rhythm, until it felt as though he'd spilled every last bit of himself into her and become nothing more than sensation, a collection of tingling nerve cells floating above his lovely new home…his Hermione. Hermione, who'd shouted out his name at the height of his pleasure, who'd fallen limp but hadn't stopped quivering beneath him.

He reached up to brush a sweaty strand of hair away from her forehead. Smiling languidly at him, she pulled his head forward for a kiss.

As he rolled them onto their sides and she curled her body into his, he knew nothing could ever be better than this.

~

Harry woke feeling more perfectly warm and content than he ever had before in his life. Hermione lay fast asleep on her stomach beside him, her arms tucked under her pillow and her hair spread out wildly across her bare shoulders and back. Her face was turned toward him, her mouth curled upward in the smallest of smiles. He wanted very much to reach out and touch her, perhaps to confirm that she was more than a dream, but he was afraid, somehow, to disturb this perfect peace. He would be happy to lie next to her for a very long while and listen to her rhythmic breathing. It had been a long time since he'd felt such simple, uncomplicated tranquility.

It was almost frightening how quickly things had changed…how one moment he thought she'd never speak to him again, and the next she was giving all of herself to him. They couldn't go back now…the line that had held them back for so long, the line that marked the limits of their friendship, had been obliterated. Harry knew he'd lose an essential part of himself if they ever tried to re-define that line.

There was a certain shyness present, however, now that the boundaries were gone. Harry'd never had any idea how to go about initiating any kind of physical contact with anyone, the opposite sex in particular, and while Hermione had helped some with her valuable instruction, he was still unsure about touching or kissing her without her having told him to do so.

Where they stood was unclear as well, and Harry didn't want to try anything until he was sure of it. Was she his girlfriend? It had sounded last night like she wanted them to be together as a real couple…but what did that mean? Could he kiss her anytime he liked now? Would they be doing what they did last night again any time soon, or would she even want to?

Those questions could wait, however. For now, she was there, beside him, and in that simple moment, he felt more at home, more peaceful and safer than he'd ever felt before.

"What are you thinking about?"

Harry looked down with a start, meeting his favorite pair of eyes in the world. He contemplated her expression, remembered the way she'd felt in his arms, and realized exactly what all those things he'd been thinking about really meant.

"You know how last night you said you could see us together for a long time?"

She turned onto her side and he saw the beginnings of panic in her eyes. "Oh, Harry - forget I ever said that. I didn't mean to jump to that sort of thing so quickly - I don't want you to feel pressured -"

"No, no," he interrupted, on the verge of panic himself. "I was just going to say - I can see it, too."

Her anxious expression quickly turned to one of happiness.

"I'm so glad - oh, Harry!" She threw her arms around him, pressing all sorts of wonderful naked skin against him. "I was terrified you didn't feel the same way. I know this is new for us, but I already feel so much for you…I don't know if I could have pretended as though we were just any two people dating - because we're more than that, aren't we?"

"Yeah," he replied, "we are."

Hermione smiled, visibly relaxing. "It almost makes more sense than an ordinary relationship, don't you think? I mean, we've been through so much together as friends, and we know each other so well, there's almost no point in us dating - dating's all about getting to know someone, after all. We're way past that."

"Agreed," Harry said, holding her tightly to him. "So…this means…you're my girlfriend now?"

"You're my boyfriend, yes," she replied with a grin.

"That sounds good to me," he said, running his hands over her back to test the waters. As if she had read his mind and new exactly what he was up to, she leaned forward and kissed him.

"You don't have to be afraid to do that, you know," she murmured as she pulled away. "I certainly wouldn't object - and you could use the practice."

The teasing gleam in her eye drew him in. "Oh? But you said at the end of our last lesson that I was proficient enough to quit your instruction - and I do believe you were quite enjoying yourself last night. I think practice is unnecessary at this point."

"Oh, don't get so cocky," Hermione said, shoving him over onto his back. Her breast pressed into his arm and her thigh worked its way between his; he found himself hardening against it. She smirked and continued, "You're good, sure - but even the best need practice. To stay in shape, you know."

"I'm sure you're right as usual," Harry said. "…You really think I'm good?"

Hermione chuckled. "What, did you think I was faking it before?"

Harry blushed and shrugged. "I guess I didn't know what to think. I was pretty much confused as hell the entire time."

She kissed him apologetically - funny, and amazing, how he could read her emotions in her kisses now. "I'm sorry if I over-complicated things," she said, "but I was too afraid to tell you how I felt…I hoped maybe I wouldn't have to take that risk if I could make you want me. That's…that's sort of why I suggested teaching you." Her face flushed. "I thought maybe you'd take a fancy to me if I was the first girl you ever really kissed…and I…er…sort of wanted a chance to snog you."

Harry couldn't help it - he laughed. "Sorry," he said quickly as she scowled at him. "It's just that I only asked you about kissing because I wanted to find out how you'd react if I kissed you - in hindsight, I should have known what you were up to. Your offer was horribly contrived -" she smacked his arm, and he laughed again - "but like I said, I was rather confused."

"We were quite the couple of idiots, weren't we?" Hermione said as she settled down in the crook of his arm, snuggling into his side. Smiling up at him, she added softly, "But I like the way it worked out."

"Me too," Harry grinned, unable to express just how well it really had worked out in his case. He'd never felt this relaxed, this whole, this good in his life.

"Now," Hermione said, rubbing her thigh a little harder against his erection, "maybe we should do something about that."

~

By the time Harry and Hermione finally emerged from the Room of Requirement, perhaps an hour or two later, nearly all of Gryffindor was up and about, headed to and from breakfast, playing chess and gobstones in the common room, or gossiping - primarily about them, and where they'd been last night when their beds lay empty.

Dodging suspicious stares and awkward questions - with secret smiles for each other - they made their way upstairs to shower and change clothes. Harry did so as quickly as possible, inexplicably eager to be back by Hermione's side, as though magnetically drawn to her. She evidently felt it, too, because she came clattering down the stairs mere seconds after he had.

Very deliberately, in order to confirm every suspicion of every curious eye, they joined hands and went down for a late breakfast, where they assumed they'd find Ron.

~

Walking into the Great Hall, Harry felt his stomach clench with nervousness. He knew Ron had accepted that Harry had feelings for Hermione…but a relationship? That was quite another thing entirely.

Harry spotted him sitting with Dean and Seamus, his back to the door. Hermione clenching his hand tightly, they approached him. When Dean and Seamus caught sight of them (with raised eyebrows), Ron finally turned to see what they were looking at.

A moment of tense silence passed. Harry was positive Hermione was holding her breath.

Ron shook his head. "Well, it's about bloody time."

Harry blinked. "W-what?"

Ron shrugged. "Look, I won't pretend I'm completely thrilled about this, but this weird silent treatment thing you've had going for the past week was just…well, weird. I mean, I'm used to Hermione avoiding me, but it's just strange when she's not nagging you…"

Hermione put her free hand to her hip, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me, that is not all I do…I can't help it if you need nagging, but -"

"Anyway," Ron said loudly, drowning her out, "I suppose it was meant to be. You're the one that could always put up with her, not me."

Hermione gave a little 'humph!' that Harry found inexplicably adorable, and he grinned at Ron. "I reckon you're right, mate. I can see how you might have been confused, though…she is awfully cute when she's annoyed."

"Boys," Hermione huffed as she yanked her hand away from him and sat down at the table. "I'll never understand your distorted sense of camaraderie."

"And I'll never understand your insults," Ron said, turning back to his meal. "Can't you use more words less than ten letters long?"

Harry took a seat next to Hermione, and she offered him a subtle smile that informed him she, too, was happy to have things finally, finally back to normal.

And this normal is even better than the old one, Harry thought as her hand placed itself on his knee, to remain there throughout breakfast, as if it was the most natural thing in the world…and Harry suspected it really was.

The End

A/N: Okay, before anyone starts asking about a sequel, let me tell you what's what. This is the definite end of this part of the story, although I may end up writing some future lessons for poor, clueless Harry (and maybe one or two for Hermione), but I guarantee nothing and I cannot say when I might be writing them.

If you'd like to keep up with my future works, you can always add me to your author alerts or join my Yahoo group, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SpellbookFics/.