Kissing Lessons for the Beginner by Amethyst

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 18/04/2005
Last Updated: 13/02/2006
Status: Completed

Harry needs to learn how to kiss. Who do you think might be kind enough to instruct him? --
chapter seven: Harry finally begins to understand his confusing, female best friend. Note: Chapter
seven is the only NC-17 chapter. If you'd like to read a PG-13 version, skip to chapter
eight.




1. Lesson One - Your Basic Peck
-------------------------------

Title: Kissing Lessons for the Beginner

Author: Amethyst

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: PG-13

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

Pairing: I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

Spoilers: Fifth book. But if you haven’t read it by now why on earth are you reading fanfiction
instead?

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, I’d be rich.

Author’s Note: This is not a one-shot. *gasp!* But I’ve no idea how long it will be, how often
I’ll update, or if I’ll be saving all the updates exclusively for fanfict00bs (to find us, just go
search the name on livejournal.com), which I posted the first chapter of this for. If I update on
the side and don’t post it for my FFT date, I’ll be sure to post a notice. So…yeah. Ask me no
questions about when the next chapter is coming, and I’ll tell you no lies.

Lesson One – Your Basic Peck

Harry’s first kiss had been a complete and total disaster. He hadn’t realized this at first;
he’d been too focused on deciphering Cho’s feelings initially, and then he’d been too busy being
angry with her…but after he got over Cho, and more pressing matters – such as disturbing prophecies
– became somewhat less pressing, his thoughts had inevitably returned to the thoughts of a normal
teenage boy, and he began to think about girls again.

From there, he’d had to think about kissing again. He wondered if he really wasn’t completely
horrible at it. Hermione had said he wasn’t, but he’d decided that she couldn’t possibly be sure,
as she’d never kissed him…and that thought had been his downfall.

He hadn’t *meant* to start thinking about kissing Hermione. He’d never even taken the time
to think of Hermione as the sort of girl that he’d want to kiss…but there it was, out of the blue.
He wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

He had a feeling it wouldn’t be wet. Hermione didn’t cry much, and he didn’t imagine that she’d
do it while they kissed. Besides, her lips had always seemed like they were on the dry side. She
didn’t lick them often and she never wore sticky lip gloss like other girls.

He didn’t imagine it would be as terrifying or paralyzing as kissing Cho had been. He thought,
with Hermione, that he’d probably be able to move enough to at least put his arms around her if she
kissed him, and perhaps then she wouldn’t pull away as quickly as Cho had – he had a feeling he
hadn’t gotten much out of kissing Cho because it hadn’t been given enough time.

And after he kissed Hermione, he didn’t think things would be quite as confusing as they’d been
with Cho. He wouldn’t have to ask Hermione to go to Hogsmeade with him because they *always*
went to Hogsmeade together, and he wouldn’t have to worry about her being jealous because she
didn’t have any girls to be jealous *of*. She wasn’t the jealous type anyway, Harry didn’t
think.

All in all, he thought he’d probably be better off with Hermione than Cho…in fact, Hermione was
probably the perfect girl for him…but he didn’t know what to do about that. How, exactly, was he
supposed to explain to her that he’d randomly decided he rather liked her *that* way?

It seemed to Harry that the only way of going about it was to actually kiss Hermione and find
out if she minded kissing him…but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out that Hermione
*didn’t* want to kiss him…because then she’d probably hex him into next week…

He decided, eventually, that he needed Hermione’s advice, and he needed to get it without
letting on that he was talking about her.

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

“You remember last year, when Cho kissed me and we were talking about it?”

“Yes…”

“D’you really think I’m not a bad kisser?”

Hermione seemed as though she was trying not to laugh as she looked up at him from her essay.
“Oh, Harry, that’s just silly.”

He frowned, searching for a way to explain himself. “Well, it’s just…I’d like to know whether
I’m any good at it or not, before I try kissing anyone else…and I don’t fancy asking Cho how I
did…”

Hermione chuckled. “And what are you going to do if you find out you are a bad kisser?”

Harry blinked. “I don’t know…”

“You’ll have to practice on someone, won’t you?”

“I guess so…but…”

“But you’ve no one to practice on. …So I suppose you’ll just have to practice on me. …Well,
you’ll have to find out if you’re bad at it or not first. But if you are…then I’m probably your
only option.”

Harry gaped at her, wondering what on earth he’d just gotten himself into. “…Are you
*volunteering*…?”

“Well, friends help each other like that.”

“…Like *that*?” Harry said with alarm, thinking of Ron. He would most definitely not help
*him* like *that*.

“…Well, not always like *that*. But in this case, yes.”

Harry had a hard time thinking straight, faced with Hermione telling him she was willing to kiss
him as much as was necessary. He wasn’t sure if it was an improvement in this situation or not.
“So…so how do I find out if I’m bad or not?”

“Well, you kiss me, obviously.”

“Well…all right, then. Now?”

Hermione glanced around the common room. They were the only two still up. “Might as well.”

Nervously, Harry went over to where she was sitting on the floor. He hadn’t felt this nervous
with Cho, strangely. Then again, with Cho, he was too shocked to think about what *she*
thought about *him*…but now, kissing Hermione for the first time and knowing that she would be
evaluating him, he had butterflies flapping full-force in his stomach.

He sat beside her on his knees as she stared at him expectantly. Harry watched her, paralyzed.
How was he supposed to kiss her when she was staring at him like that?

“Would it help if I closed my eyes?” she asked, trying to hide her amusement.

“Maybe,” Harry said, embarrassed. “It’s just weird, it’s like I’m taking a test. One that I
didn’t study for.”

Hermione laughed. “Harry, you don’t usually study much for tests anyway.”

Harry shrugged. “And that makes the prospect of taking a test all the more unpleasant. I’m
always unprepared.”

“It’s just me, Harry,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “No pressure, nothing to be afraid of.
It’s not as if we’re on a date – I’m not going to ignore your owls if you’re a bad kisser.”

Harry couldn’t help chuckling. “I never owl you anyway.”

“See? There’s no problem.” She smiled at him. “I’m going to close my eyes now. Just kiss
me.”

Harry watched her sit back and close her eyes, parting her lips slightly. He watched the light
of the fire flicker on her face, sparks of gold in her hair, and he had an epiphany – the worse he
was at kissing, the more he’d get to kiss her. Oh, yes. He could appreciate Hermione’s brilliance,
whether she meant to be brilliant or not. This practicing idea was the best she’d ever had.

Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. No, definitely not wet. But soft, so soft. It
filled him with a warm, tingling feeling. He pulled away, suddenly remembering to be nervous again,
and waited for her verdict.

Hermione blinked at him. “Oh, Harry, don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got.”

Harry blushed and looked into the fire. “Sorry.”

“No – Harry, I didn’t mean it was bad – it wasn’t, it was nice – it’s just…you’ve got to be able
to give more than a little peck…there are so many different ways to kiss a person –“

“There are?” Harry said, alarmed. “How many different ways could you possibly do it?”

Hermione made a sound dangerously close to a giggle. “Well, you can do it with your mouth closed
or open, with tongue – and then there are the other things that are going on to consider, like
where your hands are and which way you tilt your head and –“

Harry felt a bit faint. What *had* he gotten himself into? “And…you’re going to teach me
all that?”

Hermione shrugged. “I guess so.”

Harry looked at Hermione’s slightly suggestive expression and swallowed. “All right, then.”

*To be continued. Really, I swear. Leave me alone.*



2. Lesson Two – Le Baiser Français
----------------------------------

Title: Kissing Lessons for the Beginner – Lesson Two

Author: Amethyst

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Harry needs to learn how to kiss. Who do you think might be kind enough to instruct
him? And what will his first official lesson teach him? And why do you suppose the author is making
you answer all the questions?

Pairing: I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

Spoilers: Fifth book. But if you haven’t read it by now why on earth are you reading fanfiction
instead?

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, I’d be rich.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the wait, really, I am. And this was only betaed by me, so typos can be
expected. And pardon my French.

Lesson Two – Le Baiser Français

Their first official lesson took place two days after Hermione offered to teach him, which was
unfortunately the only night that week when she didn’t have prefect duties. They met in the Room of
Requirement at midnight, knowing what the rumors would be if they were caught together doing what
they were going to do.

Hermione was already there when Harry, sweaty palmed and terrified, arrived. She’d turned the
room into a sort of bedroom, to Harry’s astonishment and horror, and he couldn’t do anything but
gape at her as she sat on the bed, looking like she was trying not to laugh at him.

“H-Hermione? Why do we need a – a – a bed?”

She raised an amused, know-it-all little eyebrow at him. “Because,” she said in her typical
isn’t-it-obvious tone, “you’ll need to know how to kiss sitting, standing, and lying down. I mean,
you can’t just learn to give a girl a simple kiss and leave it there. Not if you ever plan to
really snog.”

Harry stared at her, red as a tomato. When she’d offered to help him practice kissing, he’d no
idea she’d planned to teach him to *make out* with a girl! The awful truth of the situation
began to sink in for Harry – this was going to be embarrassing beyond belief.

Hermione smiled in a deceptively gentle, coaxing sort of way and patted the spot on the bed next
to her. “Come here, Harry. There’s nothing to be afraid of – it’s just me.”

Harry thought she was off her rocker. Nothing to be afraid of? This was the most terrifying
thing she could *possibly* put him through.

“Harry, honestly, get over here. It’s only a bed. Beds are used for *sleeping*. Get your
mind out of the gutter.”

Harry blushed even more, which he hadn’t believed possible, and hesitantly sat down beside her.
She patted his knee – making him jump – and rolled her eyes.

“You’re going to have to be more relaxed if this is going to work,” she said as she ceased her
patting and squeezed his knee instead. Harry let out a small, mouse-like squeak. “Now, I’m going to
– don’t jump – I’m going to put my arms around you. All right?”

Oh, yes, the feel of her hands on his back was definitely all right. “Okay.”

“Now put one hand around my waist – yes, just like that – and put the other on my neck. …A
little higher…. Perfect.”

“Do I – um – kiss you now?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” she replied patiently. “Go ahead.”

Harry leaned forward, his eagerness warring with his hesitancy. There was supposed to be
something very wrong with kissing one’s best friend of the opposite sex, Harry knew, but her lips
were full and soft and pink, and he wanted very much to feel them again. And this was her idea,
after all.

Hermione sighed softly as Harry kissed her, the little puff of air making Harry’s lips tingle,
and he wondered why she would do that. Was it a sigh of exasperation? Disappointment? Contentment?
…Happiness?

Harry tightened his arms around her and kissed her harder. Why, oh why, did girls have to be so
incredibly confusing? It was bloody annoying!

Just as Harry was beginning to forgive Hermione for being a girl – kissing her wouldn’t be
*nearly* as enjoyable otherwise – he felt something wet press against his lips and jerked back
in surprise.

“What was that?” he asked, almost hysterically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It was just my tongue, Harry.”

“Oh.” *Hermione tried to put her tongue in my mouth. Oh, Merlin.*

“Try again,” Hermione instructed, “and this time don’t pull away when you feel my tongue. Just
open your mouth a bit.”

Harry nodded and did as he was told, rather eagerly anticipating what was to come, although he’d
never admit it to her. Her warm lips pressed back against his for a fleeting moment before her
tongue prodded at his lips and he opened his mouth as she’d instructed. Harry’s hormones did a
gleeful little jig as she pressed her body closer and her tongue slid against his – and then he
realized he had *no bloody clue* what to do next.

“Uh – huh – Hermione?” Harry said when he finally managed to extricate himself from her.

“What’s the matter, Harry?” she asked a little impatiently. “You were doing just fine.”

“But what do I do once we’ve gotten past the tongue bit?” Harry asked desperately.

Hermione shook her head in an exasperated fashion. “Oh, Harry. You can’t plot every single stage
of a kiss. It’s not a step-by-step sort of thing! You have to…to improvise, do what feels right at
the time. And once your tongue is in a girl’s mouth, you don’t just let it lie there –
you…explore.”

With a sigh Harry flopped back against the bed. “This is too complicated.”

Hermione patted his arm reassuringly. “It’s really not, Harry. You’ll get the hang of things,
with enough practice. Just stop worrying about doing it right and do what *feels* right,” she
said, smiling gently at him in a way that made his heart flip. And then it really hit him.

He’d been kissing *Hermione*. He’d been kissing Hermione, and it hadn’t felt quite like it
was supposed to – it hadn’t felt weird at all! Rather, it felt completely, unbelievably normal.
No…perfect.

She wanted him to do what felt right, eh? Well, that would entail kissing Hermione. Again. And
again.

“Why don’t we call it a night? I’m free Saturday evening. We can meet then,” suggested Hermione.
Harry, a little disappointed that it was ending so soon, was forced to agree.

“All right. Saturday.”

Hermione kissed him on the cheek (lingering a bit longer than she ought to have as a friend,
Harry thought somewhat hopefully) and left him alone in the room.

Harry sighed, his mind a blurry, contented, confused, and oddly happy mess.

To be continued



3. Lesson Three - The Various Uses of Nibbling
----------------------------------------------

Title: Kissing Lessons for the Beginner

Author: Amethyst

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: PG-13 for slight sexual implications

Summary: Harry needs to learn how to kiss. Who do you think might be kind enough to instruct
him? Chapter three – Harry obsesses about Hermione and the lessons, much like a girl might. Oh, and
there’s more snogging, too.

Pairing: I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

Spoilers: Fifth book. But if you haven’t read it by now why on earth are you reading fanfiction
instead?

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, I’d be rich.

Author’s Note: As always, sorry for the wait. I’ll try to get the next chapter out in a week or
so. And thanks to everyone that’s been reviewing. Yes, I know, I take too long to update and
waiting is just awful. I will try to pick up the pace.

Lesson Three – The Various Uses of Nibbling

As the few days before Harry’s next lesson passed, Harry became sure he was legally insane.
Functioning normally around Hermione was nearly impossible. Even Ron, who had all of the perception
of a deaf bat, had noticed something was strange about Harry.

Harry very much longed to talk to Ron about his current torment, but he and Hermione had agreed
Ron was better off not knowing about what they were doing, as Ron would surely overreact.

The problem was that Hermione behaved completely and totally normally around Harry. She never
shot him any knowing glances that suggested what they’d done together, never reacted abnormally
when their arms or knees would touch during breakfast (though Harry felt like he had a heart attack
every time), and most infuriatingly, didn’t treat him any differently than before.

Harry knew that technically they’d only agreed that Hermione would teach him and help him
practice, but they’d been *kissing*, for Merlin’s sake! Harry knew he’d felt something change
between them – hadn’t she felt it, too?

…Why hadn’t she *felt* it?

Suffice to say, by the time his next lesson arrived, he was feeling a little depressed about the
whole situation.

“Hello, Harry,” she said when he came in to find the very same setting as the last time, with
her on the bed once more. She’d changed out of her school robes, leaving her in an
uncharacteristically figure-flattering shirt – had they *always* been that tight on her? – and
a skirt that ended midway down her thighs. Compared to what most girls at Hogwarts wore after
classes, it was modest, but the way she had herself positioned on the bed…. Harry gulped.

“Hello, Hermione,” he managed to reply.

Harry went to the bed without having to be coaxed this time, but he was more certain than ever
that this kissing business would lead to his doom.

Hermione smiled warmly at him. How could she smile at him like she’d always done when they were
about to snog like there was no tomorrow?

“Tonight, I just want you to relax, Harry. We’re just going to practice – nothing new. Don’t
worry about doing it wrong. Let the kiss lead you; go where it takes you.”

Hermione lay back against the pillows and looked at him expectantly.

“Er, Hermione? Why are you lying down?” Harry asked, terribly nervous. She didn’t want him to
lie down with her, did she? Because that…well, that would be *terribly* awkward if – no, no
sense denying it – *when* he started to react to her.

“Because it’s more comfortable this way, Harry. Now some on, lie down, sort of on your side
–”

Harry felt a bit like a mannequin as she maneuvered him into proper snogging position. He soon
found that he’d been rightfully wary about this – he’d wound up with his leg between hers and his
hips pressing into her upper thigh.

*This is going to be so embarrassing.*

Harry wished, for once, that he could just kiss Hermione without a slight feeling of dread mixed
in. The first time, in the common room, he’d been afraid of her opinion of him, and the second
time, he’d been too completely terrified to enjoy it very much. Harry grudgingly leaned forward for
his third experience kissing Hermione, already grumpy that he’d been forced into this potentially
humiliating situation.

Hermione pulled him closer as he kissed her, one small hand tangling in his hair and the other
resting on his back.

*What now?* he wondered. *Let the kiss lead me, eh? Just what on* earth *is that
supposed to* mean*? Stupid* girls. *All right, so I’ll just lead it instead. Maybe she
won’t know the difference.*

Harry steeled himself and tentatively snaked his tongue out to press against her lips. To his
extreme surprise, she moaned before swiping her tongue across his. That, combined with her fingers
digging into his back and her leg rubbing against his – why *was* she doing that? – was enough
to throw him right over the edge of reason. He pressed closer to her – and realized a second too
late that doing so would allow her to feel *exactly* how he was reacting to her.

Harry pulled away abruptly, embarrassed – *I* knew *something like this would
happen*.

“What…Harry, what’s wrong?” Hermione asked breathily. Her lips were red and swollen and her eyes
were slightly hazy. Goodness, had he done that to her?

“I – er – well, that is –”

Hermione frowned. “Why are you holding yourself so stiffly? What –” she looked down. “Oh. Oh, I
see.”

Harry flushed. “Sorry.”

Instead of pushing him off the bed and running away screaming like Harry was expecting, Hermione
laughed. “Oh, Harry, really, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean…it’s to be expected, isn’t it?
You’re – well, you’re a teenage boy. It’s natural.”

Harry felt the beginnings of relief wash through him. “You’re not…grossed out or anything?”

Hermione smiled. She had a lovely smile. “Of course not. I’ve always known you had a – a – well,
you know. It would be silly of me to be shocked.”

Harry grinned sheepishly, but he’d only just now thought of Hermione having a – well, you know –
and he found the thought fairly shocking.

“Do you, er, want to call it a night? I – you seem very…tense.”

Harry swallowed. Her arms were still wrapped about him. “Um, if you want to stop –“

“We can keep going. If you want.”

“Oh, er. All right, then.”

*Oh, this is so, so awkward*.

“Harry? Are you going to kiss me?”

Harry jumped. “Oh – oh, right, yeah, sorry.”

And so he kissed her again, wishing he’d found a better way to go about getting Hermione to snog
him.

~

Over the next few days, a new problem developed for Harry, as if he didn’t have enough. It might
never have happened if it hadn’t been for the events of their last lesson, but as it was, Harry had
realized that he could do a lot more with Hermione than snog her, since he had a *you*
*know* and Hermione had a *you know* and those could go together. Suffice to say, he
couldn’t get her out of his head.

Harry was beginning to realize, with this new development, that he could never go back to being
*just friends* with Hermione – which was a very bad thing, considering they were supposed to
still be *just friends*.

But he couldn’t help it! Suddenly every little thing Hermione did was *sexual*. Eating,
talking, walking, even *reading*! What was a boy to do?

Really. What *was* he supposed to do? Harry hadn’t the faintest idea. He wanted very much
to talk to Hermione about matters, to simply tell her that he was having strange, lusty,
heart-fluttering, mind-boggling feelings about her, but then…then she would probably stop the
lessons, to keep matters from getting worse. And she would be right; Harry knew that. But if the
lessons stopped, he would never be able to kiss her again…he’d probably never be that physically
close to her ever again. He couldn’t stand that thought. Every time he was about to confess to her,
that thought would interfere, and before Harry could fully make up his mind, their next lesson
came.

Hermione was sitting on the edge of the bed when he entered, her stocking-covered legs hanging
over the side. She’d already discarded her shoes, school robe, vest, and tie. The top two buttons
of her shirt were undone and her bare thighs peeked out in the space between the tops of her socks
and her skirt. It was entirely too much skin for Harry to be seeing in the state he was in.

“For this lesson, we’re going to have to adjust your wardrobe a bit,” Hermione said, crossing
the room to meet him. Without warning, she began to push his robes off his shoulders. Once his mind
recovered from the shock of having Hermione undressing him, he began to cooperate. Hermione
proceeded to remove his vest and tie until he was very nearly in the same outfit as her, sans the
skirt and thankfully, with pants remaining. Hermione undid the first two buttons of his shirt as
she’d done to hers and eyed him appraisingly. “All right. That should do. Come on, onto the
bed.”

Harry complied, apprehensive about the lack of clothing involved in this lesson. Did she expect
it to get very hot? Or would robes and vests and ties get in the way? Harry stopped to ponder what
vests and robes would be in the way of. He stopped that line of thought abruptly.

Hermione clambered onto the bed after him. “Today’s lesson is on the various uses of
nibbling.”

Harry somehow managed to choke on the breath he’d been taking in that moment.
“*Nibbling*?”

Hermione nodded. “Nibbling. That’s why the ties and everything had to go. Our necks will need to
be accessible. Now, I think I’ll just start off with a demonstration so that you understand what
I’m talking about.”

Harry had no time to brace himself before she was against him, her tongue pressing rather
insistently at his lips. After a few short, blissful moments, Hermione removed her tongue from his
mouth and tugged on his lower lip with her teeth. *Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Now that’s new and
exciting.* She did that a few times, leaving his lips tingling, before she moved her mouth away
from his lips and across his jaw. Harry did his best not to die on the spot as her lips reached his
neck. She then did some interesting things with her tongue and teeth that had Harry breathing
heavily when she finally pulled away.

She stared at him, waiting for a reaction. *Say something…anything…think of something, as long
as it’s in coherent English –*

“Where did you learn to do that?”

Harry frowned to himself. He’d accidentally asked a very good question. Where *had* she
learned to do that? Had another bloke taught her? Ugh, had *Viktor Krum* taught her? It seemed
likely; he was probably experienced…*ugh, just* ugh.

Hermione turned bright red. *Oh, don’t let it be Krum.* “Um, well,” she said. “I – it’s
embarrassing.”

Harry felt very, irrationally, uncomfortably jealous. “Who was it?”

Hermione frowned. “Who? Oh, no, I’ve never done anything like this with anyone before! I
just…um, well, the thing is…I read a lot of romance novels,” she said sheepishly.

Harry laughed, more from relief than amusement. “Romance novels? You? I’ve never seen you with
one.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, I wasn’t about to risk Ron seeing them. I’d never hear the end
of it if he did. I only read them in bed, after my roommates are asleep – goodness knows the whole
school would hear about it if *they* ever found out.”

An awkward pause followed in which Harry pondered just what his jealous episode had meant and
Hermione fidgeted awkwardly. It was Hermione who finally broke the silence.

“Um, do you want to try now?”

“Oh, sure.”

Harry kissed her, too emotionally mixed up to even attempt to feel nervous about it. He tried to
do what she had done, with the lip nibbling and the neck business. *I must be doing it right,*
Harry thought to himself, sucking lightly at her neck. *She keeps moaning.*

Harry almost stopped what he was doing as the realization hit him. *She’s* moaning! *That
– that would mean that she’s – she’s…enjoying this!*

He pulled away, eyeing her expression carefully. She did look rather pleased with her eyes
closed and a small smile on her face, like a cat that had just received a good scratching.

She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “That was good, Harry. You’re getting the hang of all
this really quickly.”

Harry blushed. *Could it be? Could she really want this as much as I do?*

Hermione straightened out her shirt. “I’ve got a lot of homework to do. What do you say we call
it a night? We’ll practice more next time.”

Harry nodded his agreement. He couldn’t wait for the next lesson when he could begin attempting
to prove his suspicions correct.

To be continued



4. Lesson Four - Make Like a Spoon and Snuggle
----------------------------------------------

Title: Kissing Lessons for the Beginner

Author: Amethyst

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: PG-13 for slight sexual implications

Summary: Harry needs to learn how to kiss. Who do you think might be kind enough to instruct
him? Chapter four – someone discovers their meeting place.

Pairing: I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

Spoilers: Fifth book. All the books, really, but mainly fifth. But if you haven’t read it by now
why on earth are you reading fanfiction instead?

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, I’d be rich.

Author’s Note: Once again, apologies for the wait. If you want some material to read while you
want for chapter five, go check out the fanfict00bs community on livejournal (http://www.livejournal.com/community/fanfict00bs)
– there are plenty of goodies just waiting to be discovered every Monday.

Lesson Four – Make Like a Spoon and Snuggle

Unfortunately for Harry, the days between their last lesson and their next dragged on for so
long that he thought he’d burst from the mingled excitement and hope that Hermione’s mere presence
inspired. If he was right, if she wanted to be with him, too…well, he couldn’t help smiling every
time he thought about it.

On the other hand, there was a chance Harry was overreacting to the entire thing, and Hermione
might not feel the same way about him at all.

It was all terribly confusing, and Harry very much wanted the next lesson to come so that he
could begin to test the waters.

Three days full of awkwardness, pleasant but embarrassing dreams, and attempting not to touch
Hermione passed before he finally found himself in the Room of Requirement again, with Hermione’s
petite body beneath his.

Luckily – or perhaps not, depending upon which way the winds were blowing – Harry’s enthusiasm
for kissing Hermione was doing wonders for his kissing anxiety. In fact, he was so calm about it
now that for once, Hermione didn’t have to tell him to get started. The moment she finished telling
him that they would simply be practicing this time, he had his lips on hers – and oh, how lovely it
felt.

“Mmm – Harry, it’s – ah – it’s good to – to see you’re – more confident – mmmph!” Hermione said
between kisses until Harry quieted her with the clever use of his tongue.

Harry was beginning to feel a bit dizzy as Hermione kissed him back – *very*
enthusiastically. Honestly, the girl was a maniac! Before he even realized what was happening, she
was flipping him onto his back – never breaking lip contact – and straddling him. *Should’ve
known she’d be the dominant type.*

“Harry,” she said, pulling away, “I think we’re ready to move on after all.”

His entire body tingled in anticipation. “To what?”

“Touching,” she said in a breathy way that made his heart pound painfully faster.

“T-touching?” He wet his lips. His eyes traveled slowly down to her chest. Was she going to let
him touch those, he wondered?

*God, I hope so. …Jesus, we’re going to regret this later.*

“I know it might be a little strange for us, and if you don’t want to, I perfectly understand. I
just thought you might like to learn how to go about that.”

Harry nodded dumbly. His brain had shifted to autopilot and he could only watch as she took his
hand and placed it under her shirt, against the soft skin of her hip.

“You want to start slow,” she said quietly. “You don’t want to push a girl into anything. Keep
your hands above her clothes at first – if she responds well to that, you can try slipping your
hand under her shirt, like this.”

“Okay,” he croaked, wincing at the toad-like sound of his voice. “Um. Then what?”

“Work your way up,” she instructed. “Again, do it slowly. Give her time to stop you if she
wants.”

Hermione removed her hand from where it held his in place, and he started to caress his way
upward, inch by inch, until he felt the lacy fabric of her bra. He wondered just what sort of
undergarments she was sporting today; he’d always figured her for the white cotton knickers type –
not that he’d thought about it very often, until recently, at least. Never in his wildest – okay,
in *some* of his wildest dreams – had he pictured any lacy bras. *I wonder what color it is.
She’d probably slap me if I tried to sneak a peek.*

“Harry?”

“Huh?”

“You can touch them, you know.”

He was about to hyperventilate, but he reached up anyway and cupped her right breast. It was
fuller than he would have thought by sight alone. *Ruddy school robes…cover up the best
things…*

Experimentally he ran a thumb over the soft curve, feeling her hardened nipple through the
fabric. Hermione jerked her hips against his spasmodically with a sharp intake of breath.

“Was – was that good?”

She nodded without opening her eyes. “Now, um…combine everything else you’ve learned with – with
this.”

She eased herself off of him and laid back on the bed. “Start again.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

~

For the first time, Harry and Hermione left their lesson together. When they reached the common
room, they found Ron waiting in a chair by the fire.

“Where do you two keep going all the time?” he asked. “I’ve been waiting around for you for half
an hour!”

“I told you, Ron, we’ve been practicing defense!” Hermione said without so much as a blush.

“No, you didn’t!”

“Of course I did. Twice.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He looked them over. “You two look a right mess.”

“Getting jinxed will do that to you,” Harry said with an ease he was rather ashamed of, taking a
seat beside Ron. A guilty feeling twisted around in his stomach as Ron accepted their lies without
question.

Harry knew that what they were doing – or at least the way they were going about it, sneaking
around – was wrong. He couldn’t bring himself to change that, though, not when he found he wanted
Hermione more with each passing day. No, he wouldn’t – *couldn’t* – give this up yet.

He glanced at Hermione, who had her knitting needles clicking to the side as she worked on an
essay. Harry’d found earlier that if he opened his eyes while kissing her, he’d see that same look
of concentration on her face – like she was *trying* to drive him mad.

*As if she has to try.*

Hermione had definitely been enjoying their activities, regardless of whether she was trying or
not. Her little noises still echoed in his head… He wanted to go over to her and draw them out of
her again, to kiss and touch her in all the little spots he’d memorized, those spots that made her
whimper or moan or clutch him more tightly.

He could have her every day until the end of eternity, and it would never be enough to drive her
from his mind.

On some level, he knew things were spiraling out of control, that he was losing himself in this
and would never find his way back – and on another level, he didn’t care at all, not when one touch
from Hermione could make him feel more alive than anything else ever had.

Harry watched Hermione finish her essay and blow gently across the paper in an attempt to dry
the ink faster, and he knew he couldn’t turn back from this now. Not from her.

He could only hope she felt the same way.

~

Their next lesson turned out much like the last had – with hands in places they had no business
being and Hermione’s tongue somehow turning off his brain – but eventually, as their energy
flagged, it wound down to something gentler.

She was kissing him softly now, their lips barely brushing, and it felt heavenly. He didn’t want
her to stop, but she had plans of her own.

“This is the perfect time to teach you what to do afterward.”

“Afterward?”

Harry watched in confusion as she laid herself beside him, nestling into the crook of his arm
and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yes. Afterward, you have to show the girl that you care – that you’re not with her only for the
snogging, that it’s not just…physical. If you just leave, that’s exactly what she’s going to think.
So if you do really care – and I’d better not *ever* find out that you’ve been using a girl
that way – you have to show it somehow, like this.”

“By *cuddling*?”

“Yes, cuddling!” she said sharply with a scowl. “It shows that you’re content just to be close,
that you don’t need to have your tongue down her throat to be happy with her.”

“Okay,” Harry said as she pressed closer.

It was nice, actually, even if his arm was going a bit numb. Her eyes were closed, and he could
observe her without her noticing. His eyes took in the way her eyelashes fell across her skin, the
line of freckles across her nose, and her lips, darker and fuller than normal from their kissing.
Her face was so familiar, and still so beautiful…he never wanted to go a day without seeing it.

*Never?* *Did that just cross my mind? But it’s true…I never want to go a day without
her…oh God…*

He had to tell her. Perhaps not *that* – he wasn’t quite ready to accept that himself – but
at least that these lessons weren’t just lessons to him anymore, that he had feelings for her
beyond what he was supposed to – that it wasn’t just physical, and he did actually care.

She opened her eyes and looked up to him with a smile, and he couldn’t stop the words.

“Hermione, I need to tell you –“

But before he could even begin to explain, the door burst open and they both whipped their heads
around to see who their intruder was.

“There you two –” A pause. “What the bloody hell is going on here?”

Harry watched as Ron dropped the Marauder’s Map he’d been using to find them and his face went
chalk-white.

“Ron –” Hermione began, but Ron shook his head forcefully.

“No. No, you know what? I don’t want to hear it.”

The door slammed loudly as Ron left, leaving silence in his wake.

Harry glanced at Hermione’s anxious face and wondered if he’d lost his chance forever.

To be continued



5. Lesson Five - Handling Emotional Side-Effects
------------------------------------------------

Title: Kissing Lessons for the Beginner

Author: Amethyst

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: PG-13 for slight sexual implications

Summary: Harry needs to learn how to kiss. Who do you think might be kind enough to instruct
him? Chapter five – Harry attempts to sort out his two best friends’ feelings, on top of his own.
Messy? Yes, I think so.

Spoilers: Fifth book. All the books, really, but mainly fifth. But if you haven’t read it by
now, why on earth are you reading fanfiction instead?

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, I’d be rich.

Author’s Note: Wow, what a response there was to the last chapter! I hope all of your questions
are answered adequately with this chapter, and for those questions that are still waiting about
afterward – well, there’s one more chapter to go, which I’ll try my hardest to get done with before
HBP comes out.

Lesson Five – Handling Emotional Side-Effects

When Harry and Hermione reluctantly returned to the common room, Ron was nowhere in sight, which
could mean only two things – Ron hadn’t returned to Gryffindor Tower, or Ron was waiting upstairs
for Harry, presumably to kill him in his sleep.

Harry knew that with his luck, it would be the latter…and it was. Ron, who had been kicking at
random things, rounded on him the moment he walked in. Thank the gods that at least the rest of the
sixth year boys were downstairs; he didn’t think he could handle doing this in front of them.

“How *could you*, Harry? You – you had to know that I fancied her! And you didn’t even have
the decency to *tell me* you were together?”

“Ron, I –”

“No!” he cried, turning redder than Harry had ever seen him before. Harry was beginning to
genuinely worry that Ron would punch him. “No, don’t you dare make excuses! The two of you have
been lying to me, right to my face!”

“Ron, we –”

“If you’d only told me you’d gotten together straight away, I – well, I wouldn’t have liked it,
but –”

“Ron, will you bloody *listen* for a moment?” Harry cut in exasperated.

“Just *what* could you possibly have to say?”

“We’re not – we’re not *together*, Ron,” Harry said, rather hating the sound of the words.
“She was teaching me how to kiss.”

Ron spent at least two seconds staring at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “That has got to
be the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard – and I can’t believe you’re still trying to cover
this up! Harry, I saw you two together, and you looked awfully bloody cozy! I know what a couple
looks like, and you looked like it!”

“She was just teaching me the importance of cuddling afterward,” Harry said helplessly as Ron
let out a snort of laughter.

“Yeah, right. You know what, Harry? Screw you. I thought our friendship meant more to you than
this – I thought you’d at least have the decency to tell me the truth!” He turned his back on
Harry, moving toward his bed. “I’ve had enough. I’m going to sleep. Don’t bother trying to lie your
way out of this anymore. I don’t want to hear it.”

With that, Ron plopped down on his bed and drew the curtains with an angry flourish, leaving
Harry staring on in shock.

~

The next morning, Harry woke to find Ron’s bed empty already – a rare occasion indeed. To be
quite truthful, Harry was relieved. As guilty as he felt, he didn’t particularly enjoying being at
the brunt of Ron’s wrath. Moreover, Harry was somewhat afraid of what he might say to Ron, given
another go at their argument – a very substantial part of him was quite angry and dying to get out.
Ron seemed to think he was somehow entitled to Hermione, and all because he fancied her first.
Never mind what Hermione wanted or that he surely felt more for her than Ron ever would – no, Ron
had gotten there first. Who could argue with that logic?

*Just where does he get off, thinking like that? Nowhere near here, that’s for sure. Jealous,
possessive git…*

Still fuming slightly, Harry dressed, grabbed his bag, and headed out.

He wasn’t even halfway down the stairs before he heard the voices of his two best friends raised
in a heated argument.

*Oh, joy. Just what I wanted to wake up to.*

Harry paused near the bottom of the stairs, just out of sight, to listen.

“Ron, it’s the truth! I was just teaching Harry.”

“Did you two come up with that stupid story after I left last night?”

Harry could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “Oh, honestly, Ron, if we were going to lie to
you, I could come up with something better than *that*.”

“Then why lie in the first place?”

“Oh, because you would have reacted *so* well to the idea of Harry and I kissing. Really,
Ron, you know as well as I do that you would have had a fit. We thought it would be better not to
tell you – once the lessons were over, nothing would have changed. We figured it would just be
easier on everyone.”

“But – but why *Harry*?”

“…Why Harry? Because he’s my best friend, and he needed my help! Would you prefer it if I went
around the school giving lessons to any random bloke that fancied a snog? Or is the real question
here, ‘Why not me?’ That’s it, isn’t it? It’s not being lied to that you’re upset about, it’s what
I was doing with Harry. You’re jealous.”

“I am not!”

Harry heard the eyes roll again. “Very mature, Ron. We both know the problem is your jealousy.
And you know what? You have no right to be jealous. There’s nothing to be jealous *of* – Harry
and I are not a couple – and neither are *we* by the way! Where do you get off deciding whom I
kiss? I’m not your *property*, Ron, and never will be. You’ll do well to remember that!”

Harry heard Hermione stomp away, followed by a loud opening and closing of the portrait hole. He
crept the rest of the way down the stairs to find Ron staring dumbstruck at the entryway.

When Ron finally moved and realized Harry was watching him, he gathered his things in a huff and
charged out the portrait hole after Hermione, leaving Harry feeling very, very alone.

~

Breakfast was a tense affair, with Ron on one end of the Gryffindor table, blood boiling, and
Hermione at the other, glaring daggers at everyone – Ron especially. Harry didn’t particularly
enjoy being around either of them when they were angry, but sitting in the middle of the table,
caught in the crossfire, seemed like a dangerous place to be.

Reluctantly, he placed himself across from Hermione. At least she wasn’t angry with *him*.
But it was a bit painful, having to sit and listen to her rant – *Ron’s being so irrational,
there’s nothing at all for him to be jealous of, nothing between us at all – I don’t see what he’s
so upset about!*

Harry poked around at his bangers and mash, severely disheartened. To listen to Hermione, one
would assume that she wasn’t interested in any sort of relationship with him that involved any
kissing outside the educational arena. …She wasn’t interested in him at all. Was it because of Ron?
Did she fancy him instead? Or was he simply so repulsive that she didn’t want anything to do with
him?

But she’d seemed to enjoy the things they’d done. Surely she couldn’t if she found him
physically repulsive. Maybe she was attracted to him but could never love him that way.

*Or maybe she was just randy and I was conveniently in need of instruction*. Harry took a
vicious stab at his eggs, sending a few flying off the edge of the table.

Or perhaps it wasn’t like that at all…perhaps she just didn’t want to be involved with someone
like *him*. Someone that went running into danger and got his loved ones killed…someone who
might become a murderer…

Someone who might die.

His appetite suddenly became non-existent. Hermione would probably never feel for him what he
felt for her…he might go his entire life, however short or unbearably long that was, without
her…

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He didn’t look up. If he had to look in her eyes right now, she’d probably see
everything.

“Are you going to be all right? I know how much you hate fighting with Ron, but he’ll come
around soon enough.”

“Yeah,” he croaked. *Dear Merlin, I can’t believe I’m near* tears *over this.* “Yeah,
I’ll be fine.”

“Harry, I was wondering…do you still want to do the lessons? Now that Ron knows?”

Harry couldn’t help looking up at her then, taking in her teeth gnawing anxiously at her bottom
lip and her wide brown eyes. He wanted to leap across the table and continue their lessons right
then and there. Instead, he replied, “I don’t know. You reckon we should stop?”

“Well, I don’t see any real reason to stop. Ron’s going to have to get used to the idea whether
we continue or not. If you still want my help, I’m still offering it.”

Harry considered the situation. She didn’t want to stop. Perhaps that meant that she wanted at
least some part of him, and maybe…maybe from there, she could begin to feel more, even if she
didn’t now…

He nodded to her. “All right. We’ll continue.”

She smiled. *Good sign*.

“All right, then. Let’s see…I have prefect duties tomorrow night, but I’m free Thursday. Eight
o’clock?”

“Okay,” Harry said, feeling his appetite return just a little bit. There was only one thing that
could make it come back completely, and he was afraid to ask...but he desperately wanted to
know.

“Hermione,” he said in a low voice, glancing down the table to see if Ron was watching.
Predictably, he was, but he looked away immediately upon getting caught in the act. “You – you
don’t fancy Ron, do you?”

She looked like she was about to laugh, but she covered it well. “Oh – no, I don’t. I mean, he’s
a good friend, but…well, he’s not really my type, is he? I don’t think we’re very compatible at
all. No…I don’t fancy him. Whatever would give you that idea, anyway?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I mean, he obviously fancies you…I just…wondered, that’s all.”

Hermione shook her head. “No…I’m afraid I don’t feel the same way. I feel terrible about it, but
I can’t be with him or put my life on hold just because I feel sorry for him, you know? He’ll
just…he’ll have to move on and find someone better suited for him.”

Harry nodded, stopping his lips from turning up in a smile. He felt a bit less guilty for
fancying Hermione now, knowing that Ron had no real claim on her…and his righteous indignation
directed at Ron was feeling more and more righteous by the moment.

~

Ron avoided him and Hermione for the rest of the day, but when Harry finally went up to bed, Ron
was waiting for him once more.

“You fancy her, don’t you?” the redhead said without preamble.

“Who are you talking about, Ron?” Harry didn’t think it sounded very convincing. Evidently, Ron
didn’t either.

“I could see the way you were looking at her when I was watching you this morning. You fancy
her, don’t you?”

Harry sat down on his bed and braced himself for the interrogation. “…All right, yes. I do.”

“How long?” Ron said, pacing in front of him.

“I dunno…a month or two, I guess.”

“Why? Why, damn it, why *her*? You’re the famous Harry Potter – you could have any girl in
the bloody school! Why *her*?”

Harry could have listed a million reasons, but one seemed to sum them all up at the moment.
“Because…she’s the only girl in the school who looks at me and doesn’t see ‘the famous Harry
Potter.’ She’s…she’s different, Ron. She’s special.”

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron sighed as he sat heavily on his bed. “This wasn’t how it was supposed
to be…”

“Yeah? How was it supposed to be, then?” Harry asked. His anger was quickly sapping away all the
pity he’d felt for Ron before.

“It was supposed to be me and her, and…I don’t know, you and Ginny. It wasn’t…she was supposed
to be the one thing that I had that I didn’t have to share with you.”

“So that’s what this is about,” Harry snapped, jumping up and beginning to pace the room as Ron
had done. “It’s not about her; it’s about me, isn’t it? I can’t *believe* you’re still on
about that! God, Ron…*you* got the prefect badge. *You* won the Quidditch cup last year.
Wasn’t that *exactly* what you saw in the Mirror of Erised? You got everything you ever
wanted, and that *still* wasn’t enough for you, was it? And all along, you had the *only*
thing that I’d ever wanted – you knew your parents, you’ve had them your *entire* life – you
had brothers and a sister…you had a family that cared. You had birthday parties and real Christmas
presents and there was someone around to teach you how to ride a broom and see you get your
Hogwarts letter! But you…you want fame and money and you don’t seem to realize that none of that
*matters,* not when a new group of people hates you every other week for it and everyone sees
you for what you’ve done instead of who you are!”

Harry was vindictively pleased to see the chastened expression on Ron’s face.

“And now,” he continued, “now you want her, just to get back at me – and for what? *What*
did I ever do? I didn’t want to be famous…I didn’t want to have to fight Voldemort, and I certainly
didn’t want him to kill my parents. I just wanted to come to school and play Quidditch and maybe
find someone who would see me and not my stupid bloody scar – and I *did*. I don’t…I don’t see
why I should feel guilty about that. I didn’t take anything from you. She was never yours.”

Ron looked up at him, his face having changed from a startling red to a ghostly white. “Has –
has she told you – she…” He cut off, frowning. “She doesn’t fancy me back, does she?”

Harry shook his head slowly as he began to feel sorry for Ron again. “I – I’m sorry. She reckons
you’re not compatible or something – and she might have a point, you know. You fight over…well,
everything.”

“Yeah…I guess she’s right. Again,” Ron muttered as his shoulders sagged with defeat. “I never
could figure out what I liked so much about her, you know…I just…I always thought for some reason
that we were supposed to be together. I still can’t get rid of that feeling. I always thought she
felt the same way…”

Harry stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling hollow after his outburst. “I’m sorry, mate. I
wasn’t trying to steal her away from you or anything…it just…*happened*. And just because I
like her doesn’t mean she feels the same way. I could be in the same boat as you.”

Ron nodded slowly, and looked up with a grin. “I guess we’re both a pathetic couple of gits,
then.”

Harry smiled back, relieved to have this mess sorted out – with Ron, at least. “Yeah. I reckon
we are.”

To be continued

A/N: As I said up top, I’m hoping to have the next and final chapter done with before HBP comes
out, so this time, I’m going to actually encourage you to nag me ceaselessly, as a little pressure
never hurts.

And thanks to everyone that reviewed chapter four – you guys blow my mind.



6. Lesson Six - Repercussions
-----------------------------

Title: Kissing Lessons for the Beginner

Author: Amethyst

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: PG-13 for slight sexual implications

Summary: Harry needs to learn how to kiss. Who do you think might be kind enough to instruct
him? Chapter six – Things go a bit…awry.

Spoilers: Fifth book. All the books, really, but mainly fifth. But if you haven’t read it by
now, why on earth are you reading fanfiction instead?

Disclaimer: Not mine. If it was, I’d be rich.

Author’s Note: Okay, I said this was the last chapter, but it was turning out twice as long as
the others, so I decided to split it up into two parts. I will try my absolute hardest to post the
end by Friday at the latest.

Lesson Six – Repercussions

Harry was on pins and needles waiting for Thursday’s lesson. It was very difficult, trying to
avoid conversations that would cause conflict with Ron and pretending to be perfectly normal around
Hermione when he wasn’t – and to make matters worse, Ron would shoot him a pointed glance every
time Hermione would enter a room, and not very subtly. In fact, he was so far from subtle that
Harry worried he was attempting to sabotage his relationship with Hermione – whatever their
relationship was at the moment.

But finally, after two long days of awkwardness, it was 7:56 P.M. on Thursday, and he was
heading out the portrait hole…

…Until Ron snuck up behind him.

“Where’re you going?”

Harry turned around slowly, feeling his face grow hot.

“I’m…er…meeting Hermione.”

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.” There was a long silence in which Ron stared and Harry fidgeted.
“You going to tell her, then?”

“Um…maybe.”

Ron continued to stare; likewise, Harry continued to fidget.

“You’re going to be late if you don’t move soon. Hermione hates that, you know.”

“Right,” Harry said, nodding mechanically. “Um, see you later.”

Harry wasn’t sure what had just happened – if Ron had just given his blessing, or if he was
still plotting to knock him off his Firebolt in the next Quidditch match – but whatever it had
been, it had been very, very awkward, and he was happy to run like hell away from there, toward the
Room of Requirement.

When Harry walked in, Hermione, for the first time, wasn’t waiting on the bed. Rather, she was
sitting on the couch in front of the fire, reading a paperback book – *one of her romance
novels?*

She was so engrossed in her reading that she didn’t notice him coming in.

“Getting tips?” he asked.

Hermione looked up at him smiling, and he couldn’t help grinning back. He was beginning to feel
hopeful again – surely she couldn’t smile at him like that and send his heart into an all-out Irish
jig without feeling something herself…

“I was just passing some time. Come and sit down.”

Harry wondered what she had planned this time. He didn’t know just what else she could teach him
without them crossing some boundaries that probably shouldn’t be crossed, not when at least one of
them was pretending there was nothing more than friendship between them.

“I was thinking,” she said, “that maybe we should do a bit of a practice run.”

“Okay,” Harry said.

She smiled. “Wonderful. We’ll do a bit of roleplay, then. You’re you, obviously, and I’m your
girlfriend, and I’m sitting here reading. Initiate it.”

Harry raised his eyebrows as she turned back to her book. “What do you mean, initiate it?”

She turned back to him, chuckling. “Oh, Harry. It’s not going to be like in lessons – somebody
has to get things started. So…pretend that I’m your girlfriend and this is just an ordinary evening
– I’m sitting here reading and you fancy a snog. It’s very simple.”

Harry nodded slowly, watching her profile as she again looked to her book. Just what did she
expect him to do?

“Just try the first thing that pops into your mind,” Hermione said with her usual intuitiveness
as she turned a page.

“Er…fancy a snog?”

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh, Harry, not like that.”

“Why not?” he asked defensively.

“*Because*, Harry, most girls…just won’t go for that. I suppose some would, but usually,
they want something a little more romantic. Try doing it without words.”

Harry resisted the urge to ask her what she meant. If it killed him, he would figure this out on
his own. No words…all right. Maybe he’d just grab her and kiss her. But she probably wouldn’t like
being torn away from her book like that.

Her hair was falling into her face, covering the soft curve of her cheek. Harry smiled to
himself as an idea came to him.

He reached out and brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear. She seemed slightly
surprised but said nothing. Experimentally, he pressed his lips to her temple; she closed her eyes.
He moved down to her cheek, then down to her jaw, and finally kissed her neck, just below her ear.
She shut her book with a sigh.

“W-was that alright?”

“Yes,” she said, “That was very good, Harry. Keep going.”

Harry felt his heart flutter pleasantly at the breathy tone of her voice. He didn’t know if he
could make her love him, but he could make her sound like that…. It was something, having the power
to turn composed, sensible Hermione into the breathless, whimpering creature she was now as he
kissed his way back to her mouth.

Her book landed on the floor with a thud as her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer.
He never wanted to leave this, this feeling…

“Mmm – Harry – bed would be – a good idea –“

Harry attempted to guide them to the bed walking backwards, but it was very difficult to do
without breaking away from her, and he didn’t want to do that, not when this was going so well.
They made it about halfway before he became too frustrated and lifted her off her feet to carry her
over.

She laughed against his neck. “A little impatient?”

“A little,” he admitted, depositing her on the bed and crawling on after her.

“There’s no need to rush,” she said. “It’s not a race.”

Harry nodded, reminded forcefully that this was nothing more than a lesson. He returned to her
lips feeling rather embarrassed; he shouldn’t have let himself get so carried away with her.

They continued in relative silence. Hermione seemed intent on driving him mad tonight, the
bloody tease… Didn’t she *know* what she was doing with all the sounds she was making and the
*wriggling* – was that *really* necessary?

And then…she did something he’d never thought she’d actually do, under the circumstances –
without giving him any warning whatsoever, she slipped her hands under his shirt and ran them up
the rather sensitive skin of his back.

*I can’t believe she just did that…does she think she can just* get away *with that?
Bloody, bloody tease…Merlin, I hope she doesn’t stop.*

Harry decided retaliation was in order. If she was going to go torturing him like that, he
wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to do the same to her. He’d been trying very hard to restrain
himself from touching her that way, but she’d crossed a line…and so he wasn’t going to feel any
guilt about reaching under her shirt and grabbing her breast.

Hermione gasped loudly and dug her fingernails into his back. Harry wasn’t sure if he minded or
not…her fingernails didn’t look very sharp, but they were sort of painful clutching him like that.
Then again, it was also very gratifying to have her clinging onto him as if her life depended on
it.

Experimentally, he placed his other hand on her thigh, inching upward. He knew he shouldn’t…his
fingers were getting so very close to *that* and she most certainly wasn’t going to let him
touch *that* and he shouldn’t even be tempting himself…but she wasn’t stopping him. Why wasn’t
she stopping him?

*Why can’t I stop thinking long enough to enjoy this?*

He sighed against her lips, trying to give in to the feeling of her mouth on his and her skin
beneath his fingertips. He couldn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed just how much *skin* she
had before. Her legs were so much longer than the school uniform let on. Surely her thighs were
never-ending…

Oh, but they were – he’d reached the edge of her knickers and she was still going about business
like nothing was amiss, like he wasn’t taking them past the point of no return in their
relationship. She might let him do it. Just a few inches over, and he’d be touching her
*there*.

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t do that, not when she hadn’t consented outright to it – not when
she hadn’t told him she wanted him to do it.

He pulled his hand away and placed it on her hip, above her clothing. Hermione gave no vocal
indication of her feelings about his decision, and he didn’t open his eyes to see her
expression.

By some tacit understanding that his action had brought on, she moved her own hands to more
platonic areas to be touching, and he followed suit, wondering if he’d messed everything up…if what
he’d been on the verge of doing had changed things irrevocably.

Their kisses became lighter, perhaps because their thoughts were occupied elsewhere, or maybe
just because they were eager to get past all of the mess and pretend that everything was
normal…perfectly normal. Either way, Harry eventually found himself pulling away from her entirely,
lying beside her. She smiled at him and nestled closer, evidently wanting to snuggle again. He took
this as a sign that she was not upset with him. The relief was potent.

He wrapped his arms about her and drew her closer, and she lay pressed against his side with her
head pillowed on his chest. She closed her eyes with a sleepy humming sound.

Harry was again surprised to find how emotionally he reacted to simply *holding* this girl.
She seemed so much smaller than usual, tucked away in his arms…so delicate and vulnerable with her
eyes shut and her lips curved upward every so slightly in contentment. Hermione had never seemed
fragile to him before, but watching her now, he thought perhaps she was…much more than she’d ever
let on. It made him want to protect her from the world.

So maybe he still wasn’t being entirely truthful with himself. Maybe he didn’t just feel
slightly more for her than she did for him. Maybe…just maybe, he was in love with her.

*This really wasn’t supposed to happen*.

Harry was beginning to think Hermione had fallen asleep when she finally spoke.

“I suppose you don’t need me anymore now.”

Frowning in confusion, he looked down at her. Need her? He’d *always* needed her. “What are
you talking about?”

“The lessons,” she said, with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She seemed…sad.
Anxious, perhaps. “Clearly, you know what you’re doing now. It’s time to…go out and kiss other
girls. That was the point, wasn’t it?”

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a heaviness settle into his stomach that he didn’t like at all. So
she’d figured out how he felt. She had to know by now. And that had to be why she wanted to stop
the lessons now, when just two days ago she’d been happy to continue. *It’s time to go out and
kiss other girls*. Harry wasn’t so daft that he couldn’t take a hint.

*She doesn’t want me.*

He felt as though he might vomit. Maybe he was going to end up spewing slugs like Ron had; that
would explain the lump in his throat he could hardly breathe through.

Carefully, he disentangled himself from her. “Yeah – yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He moved off
the bed. “I’ll – I’ll just…go, then.”

Hermione sat up, looking distraught. He was expecting her to ask if he was all right, perhaps
explain that it wasn’t him, that she just couldn’t see him that way. Instead, she said in a small,
quiet voice, “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

He wanted to scream at her, tell her that *of course* it wasn’t what he wanted, but he
wasn’t about to embarrass himself any more than he already had. He’d just…let it die, and hope that
he hadn’t lost her forever.

“I’ll see you later, then,” he said, heading for the door. He didn’t turn around to see the look
on her face; he wasn’t sure he could bear it.

As he headed aimlessly down the hall, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever feel like himself
again.

To be continued

A/N: No, people who didn’t read the note up top, that’s not the end. I’m not *that* cruel.
This was intended to be the last chapter, but I decided it ought to be split in two. So, the final
part will hopefully be up by Friday.

Thanks for all the nagging-filled reviews. I hope the ending will live up to your expectations,
but until I finish it…er…review this chapter. ^^



7. Lesson Seven - Buggering the Boundaries
------------------------------------------

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/.



8. Lesson Seven, PG-13 Version
------------------------------

Title: Kissing Lessons for the Beginner

Author: Amethyst

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Category: Romance/Humor

Rating: PG-13

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:** Apologies for the wait. More noting 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.

~

Harry woke the next morning 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.

~

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/.