Disclaimer: I am not affiliated in any way with anyone or anything. Kinda sad, ain't it?
A/N: I PROMISE I will have this done before HBP. Ok? If I fail in this y'all can penalize me somehow. Only one more chapter to go…
Linz: Marry me, seriously. And have my babies. J
*~*~*~*
It had been his best birthday ever. Everyone in the Order had been to celebrate, even Professor Snape (another thing he would never forgive…). Mrs. Weasley had baked him a rather scrumptious chocolate and raspberry cake; Fred and George gave him stock in their new shop; Ron and Ginny gave him a mystery pack from Honeyduke's (he was quite sure he'd never eat anything of it…mystery pack indeed…).
Hermione brushed up against him when no one was looking, and promised him his surprise would come later.
He felt the chocolate cake fall into his stomach with a thud.
When he tentatively opened his bedroom door that night, she was already outside, waiting for him. Flouting cautiousness, she pulled him away from the door, slammed him against it and brought her lips to his. Although half of him was quite willing to continue on in this manner for the rest of the night (the floor had never seemed so inviting…), his fogged up brain finally came to its senses and pushed her away.
"We're in the middle of the corridor," he whispered. "Ron is right behind this door…"
She shushed him with her finger, and gave him a 'who bloody cares!' look.
It was quite fetching.
That was when he noticed what she was wearing…they looked like his Quidditch robes, only, they weren't. Because his were in his trunk, he was sure of it! He had just seen them right before he changed for bed…
"Hermione, what are you wear-?"
"Shh!" she whispered, placing a finger on his lips. Sometimes he wondered whether she did this so much so as to have an excuse to touch his lips.
Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
She grabbed his hand and dragged him forward. It was obvious that they were making their way towards the stairs. Would they be going back to the library? He loved that library. Everything about it reminded him of her…of them. But then he noticed that they were not going upstairs, but that they were in fact going downstairs. Now he knew that not even she would dare pass the portrait of Sirius' mum, so that meant they could be only going to…
She shoved him into the kitchen, where the first thing he saw sitting atop the long wooden table was half the chocolate and raspberry cake that Mrs. Weasley had so lovingly baked.
He got one look at her naughty smile, and could feel his toes curling already.
Her hand still in his, she led him over to the table, and shoved him onto it. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she meant business…tonight was not gonna be one of those nights of dilly-dallying and shilly-shallying…
Which was both a blessing and a curse.
She backed away from him, and Harry watched with interest as she started fidgeting with the fastenings of her scarlet robes.
"Are you gonna tell me whose robes you're wearing? So that I can kill the bastard…"
She laughed at the vehemence with which he said this, and instead of answering verbally, she simply turned herself around so that he could read the name on the back.
Just like on his robes, 'Potter' was emblazoned across the very top in gold. But, unlike his robes, instead of his number '07' right under it, the word 'Captain' was there instead.
She turned around to gauge his reaction: first he looked confused, then shocked, then thoroughly pleased…
"How-how did you-?"
"McGonagall," she replied. No further explanations required.
And then he gave her that famous grin that caused her stomach to flutter, and her skin to warm. He held out a hand for her to take, which she did. He pulled her to him, and lightly grazed his lips on her cheek.
"Happy Birthday," she whispered in his ear.
He didn't reply. He was too busy trying to figure out how to get her naked. There was a running debate going through his head…what was better? The chocolate cake, knowing he had been named Gryffindor Captain, the new Quidditch robes themselves, or Hermione….
Or how about Hermione telling him he was to be the new Captain whilst wearing his new robes? But then the cake would be left out…
Poor cake.
So he then decided that the best thing would be Hermione telling him he was to be the new Quidditch Captain whilst taking off his new robes, and covering herself in chocolate cake…
But she would never cover herself in chocolate cake, unless she was under Imperious. And if he even dared try that, she would most likely Avada him into hell. So there was only one other alternative…and it was up to him to do it…
He honestly didn't mind the job one bit.
So while Hermione was busily using her lips to do wonderful things to his ear, Harry stretched his left hand out to grab a bit of cake…
And quite viciously smeared it all over Hermione's right cheek, down to her neck. He dirtied a bit of his new robes, but that didn't really matter, because the look on her face was priceless…
"Harry?" she said, a completely frozen look on her face. It was really funny. Her face was a mixture of I'm going to kill you this very second, and astonishment.
"Yes?" he answered, already beginning to make a feast of her chocolate covered skin. He couldn't decide on what tasted better: chocolate cake, or Hermione. Or chocolate covered Hermione…
"You know that after that little stunt you just pulled, we're never having sex ever again?"
As an answer, he ferociously used his tongue on that one spot of her neck that left her breathless and wanting. She moaned, and he knew he had won.
He smiled. "Don't speak such nonsense, sweetheart."
She rolled her eyes, knowing quite well that she had to get back at him. She hated being so easy.
She played along for a while. She let him undress her, which wasn't a difficult thing as all she was wearing were his new robes and nothing else. She let him smear cake all over her breasts, which, quite against her better judgment, she enjoyed immensely. There was even a point there, when Harry sucked on her left breast so wonderfully, where she had completely forgotten her goal of retaliation. But then he took off his shirt, and she saw the beautiful paleness of his skin before her. It practically begged to be dirtied.
Without even hinting at what she was about to do, she made a grab for the savaged chocolate and raspberry cake, and with two hands, she smeared the dessert all over his chest. But she didn't stop there. She worked her way up to his shoulders, and neck, and topped it all off by placing a raspberry on his nose.
She stood back to stare at her creation with an artist's fond sigh of approval. And a wide grin.
"Is this amusing you?" he asked, trying to look and sound completely serious and disapproving, but failing the attempt extravagantly.
She nodded, and gave into the temptation of eating the raspberry right off his nose.
"What are you gonna do about the rest of the cake?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Actually, I think I'll just leave it there. You look good with a bit of color on your skin…"
She shrieked when he reached around her waist and pulled her to him. The chocolate on both their bodies stuck to each other comically, but they didn't find anything comic about it. They were too busy trying to eat each other's lips.
They fell back on to the table, with Hermione on top. She decided to take advantage of his weak position by pinning his arms over his head, and working her way down to his chest in order to make a meal of him.
Harry let himself relax for a bit and enjoy the attention. This was it. The happiest moment of his life. Too bad there weren't any Dementors running around, because right now he was sure he could make a Patronus so powerful, all the Dementors in the world wouldn't stand a chance…
He was shocked out of his daze when he felt something odd…she had gotten raspberry, and was tracing it all around his chest, and was currently using it to toy with his right nipple. The sensation was strange, though not unpleasant. It made him impatient.
Using only his eyes, he tried to convince her that the time had come for the fun and games to end. She shook her head, and with a brilliant smile, lowered her head to eat the raspberry right off his nipple.
She really was asking for it.
So without further ado he grabbed her forcefully and turned them around, so that he was now on top. Unfortunately, in the process of flipping over, something very bad had happened to the cake…
"Harry! The cake! You're about to kick it off the table!"
He turned around just in time to watch the cake (well, what was left of it…) dangle from its very precarious angle, and then slip. He stuck out his hand reflexively, but without a wand, he knew he couldn't stop it from smashing to the ground.
Which was why he was shocked out of his mind when the cake didn't fall. It was floating…
He turned to look at Hermione, who looked just as surprised as he was.
"Are you doing this, Harry?" she asked, biting her lower lip thoughtfully.
He lowered his hand, and found, to his great amazement, that the cake floated downward in accordance with his hand.
"I think I am!"
Mentally, he told the cake to set itself down on the table.
The cake set itself down on the table.
"How long have you known?" she asked him, a small, proud smile coming over her lips.
"Always," he answered with a grin. She laughed, and slapped his arm playfully.
"Oh all right! I don't know...you remember last year, when Umbridge sent the Dementors on me? Well…"
He stopped there. Because thinking about Umbridge made him think about the past year of his life, which culminated in the death of his godfather. And when he was with Hermione, he was not supposed to think of these things…
She recognized the furrow in his brows, and knew that she had to stop his train of thought.
"You saved the cake," she whispered in his ear seductively.
He snapped out of his dark thoughts, and grinned at the suggestiveness of her comment. "I would gladly eat some more cake off of you, but I seem to have stained my pajama bottoms with chocolate…"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Then, you'll just have to take them off."
He obliged the command quite happily, wriggling out of his boxers in the process as well. (Fortunately, he managed to steer clear of the cake this time.)
She opened her legs for him, sighing happily when he pressed her knees to her chest. He looked down at her, and brushed some of the hair away from her face, something he always did and loved to do. He loved looking at her face. It was a thing of wonder that a person could be this beautiful, both inside and out, and not acknowledge it.
He bent his head down and kissed her, a long, lazy kiss that never failed to make his entire body tingle. Not being able to contain himself a second longer, he drove into her. He didn't even take a moment to relish in the first thrust…no, he was impatient. So he continued on, building the momentum so that it almost resembled a race. A race against what he did not know…time perhaps. Soon it would be morning, and his birthday would be over. The best birthday he'd ever had. And it would be over.
But now was not the time to think about that. Right now he had to focus on the wonderful sounds coming out of her, the delightful way she was making his toes curl, and the way she was using her hands to massage his bum… (It had gotten quite muscular as a result of the arrangement…witches don't really understand the workout a wizard's bum gets during sex!)
He never thought turning sixteen could be this brilliant. He wished life could always be this brilliant.
*~*~*~*~*~*
"Harry, are you really going to spend the rest of the holidays looking this depressed? Because if you are, you can tell me so now, so that I can invite Luna and Neville over as reinforcements."
He didn't answer. Ron sighed heavily, looking at his best friend as if he were a lost cause.
They were in their room at Grimmauld Place, sitting on their respective bed, both starring into space. Although unlike Ron, who just looked bored, Harry looked as if he were contemplating either suicide, or homicide. Perhaps both.
He had spent the first week of holidays with this same expression on his face. When he woke up in the morning, when he went down to eat his meals, when he sat around distractedly playing all kinds of wizarding games with Ron and Ginny, he always looked the same. Alone. Afraid. Despondent. Angry. And Murderous.
Worst of all was that running commentary that kept playing in his head.
She's with her family in France right now. Ginny told you Viktor's family was also going to be in France. They're probably meeting, right now. They're probably having some deep and meaningful conversation…perhaps she'll even jump on him the way she did you, the first time. Do you remember that, Harry? Good! Because that's the last time something like that will ever happen to you. Do you remember the way her hands used to run down your back, or the way her skin felt hot and sweaty against yours…wonderful. Because you'll never have that again. Ever.
Ever.
When the thoughts became to hard for him, he went and barricaded himself up in Buckbeak's room, just like last year, harboring a deep hope that she'll waltz right in with her messy hair and pink cheeks, and say, "Sorry I took so long."
He always felt slightly disappointed when Ron called him down to dinner, and she hadn't appeared.
When he felt tired of feeling sad, anger took a strong hold.
WHAT ELSE COULD HE EXPECT FROM A WOMAN?!
That's all that woman were! A tussled mess of feelings and fears…they needed to just buck up and get over themselves. Men aren't this ridiculous. Take Ron for example…sure he got pigheaded back in fourth year. But after seeing that he was likely to DIE in the stupid tournament, he came around eventually, did he not?
But no. Not women. Women just had to stay stubborn and idiotic.
Do you remember the way she used to laugh at all the stupid things you did? Do you remember the look in her eyes…yes, *that* look, the one that meant absolutely everything, while at the same time meaning nothing at all…Do you remember the warmth of her breath, or the security you found between her thighs? Do you remember these things, Harry?
Good. Because right now, Viktor Krum is probably enjoying them.
Harry remembered when wandering around Grimmauld Place use to bring him despairing thoughts about Sirius…
How he wished he could return to those days.
At least before he had been secure in the knowledge that Sirius was now in a happier place, where he was free, and not imprisoned by any authority, or his own private demons…
But he was quite sure Hermione wasn't in the best possible place. That place was beside him. And only him. Always, with him.
There was a heavy knock at the door, and he madly sprang out of bed. He was shocked to see the lights out, and Ron gone…had he fallen asleep?
The knocking stopped abruptly, and in came Ron, looking very pleased about something.
"Harry!" he exclaimed, pulling his best friend to his feet.
"She's here."
*~*~*~*