Late Night Lights

magpie_igraine

Rating: PG
Genres: Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 19/06/2005
Last Updated: 19/06/2005
Status: completed

Short little fic about a tipsy Harry and the girl who can't resist him. Sequel now up.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

This story is offered proof that you CAN work an Eagles’ song into a Potter fic. Ha Ha. Yes! Go me!

Okay…maybe I need a new hobby …(sighs) and maybe you should read something else. Anyway, H/H, seventh year, super-short fluff. It was a one shot until I wrote the sequel.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. I own nothing.

Late-Night Lights

“Harry, what are you…?” Hermione stammered as he backed her against the stairwell. She found herself trapped between the hard steel railing and a hard…um…that is, an amorous Harry.

She was helping, or at least trying to help, the inebriated captain of the celebrating team back to his room. Harry had spent the evening’s victory party with his arm slung over her shoulders, nursing a beer, and giving dirty looks the few teammates who bothered to talk to her.

Hours later, with a husky whisper and wide, watery eyes, he begged to be taken back to his dorm. There was no way she’d trust the job to Pav or Lav in his state, and besides, she thought as they gathered their things, he might whisper in my ear again. That alone’ll be worth the trip…

Harry had been strangely quiet during their walk through the dorms. After they left the common room, he seemed content to just lean against her as she chatted about the game. She was hoping Harry wouldn’t mind the technically-female-but-still-completely-platonic company, and happily, Harry didn’t seem bothered in the least. In fact, he was apparently too drunk to know the difference.

As they approached the staircase to his Head boy’s room, he’d pulled her to him, her name a reverent whisper against her neck as he nuzzled her neck and ran his hands over her like she was (gasp) like she a girl.

“Harry,” she squeaked as he nibbled her ear.

”Mmmmm.” He moaned as he began to taste her, his mouth planting open kisses along her lovely pale neck. He breathed in her clover scent and smiled against her skin as he felt her shiver under his lips.

Hermione broke away, trying to ignore the full-body throb that was making her retreat nearly impossible.

“Harry!” she cried as he caught her hand and pulled her back to him.

“Hermione,” he sighed, leaning towards her, gathering her about her slight waist, and lifting her to him. She turned away before he could kiss her, allowing him, instead, to nibble her ear and run his hands up her sides.

She gasped as he nipped and licked her, his mouth tugging her ear gently as she pressed against him.

Wow that feels…just a little…“Harry! Wait…I…Oh,” her knees nearly buckled as he ran his tongue along her lob. “I…you’re drunk,” she accused weakly.

“Not that drunk sweets.” He was now working his way down to her throat towards creamy skin of her shoulders. Merlin she tasted wonderful.

“Yes but you’re… you, and I’m…” she hated that she stammered. Or actually, she hated that he could make her stammer, and she had to tell him to stop.

”Yes, fine, great… now be good enough to hold still while I undress you,” he muttered absently, trying to figure out how to undo the complicated ties on her top. Sodding shirt…Sweet Orfeo she smells good…

“Harry” she said firmly, “you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Well it’s not my fault the bloody thing has a million and a half ties. You’re the one who wore it.” He ran his hands over her, trying to figure out the mechanisms of the blouse.

“Harry, stop it, you’re drunk.” She held him at arms length and leveled her Head-Girl’s gaze at him.

He recognized that look and stilled his hands, apparently puzzled.

“No I’m not,” he said slowly.

“Yes you most certainly are,” she insisted, feeling a strange sort of disappointment when he loosened his hold and took a step back.

“Hermes, look at me.” His eyes met hers. “Why on earth would you think I’m drunk?”

“Well,” she sighed, “for one thing, your copious consumption of alcohol.”

“Two butterbeers does not a drunkard make,” he said gravely.

“…And you asked me to take you to your room.”

“No….”

“Harry James Potter you most certainly did.”

“No, Hermes, I asked you to come with me to my room.”

“Well, honestly Harry what’s the difference, I…oh.” Ohhhh. Then he had wanted to…what? Do those things you’d been hoping he’d do for the last two years? Wow, that certainly makes for a nice change…

She was about to (one) tell herself to stop talking to herself and (two) actually stop talking to herself when Harry interrupted her needless internal dialogue.

“Yeah…’oh’,” Harry echoed as he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.

A heavy silence settled before he muttered something like, “well good night then,” and climbed the staircase to his room.

“Harry wait, I…” she called after him. He’s leaving? Why is he leaving? What about the room and the hands and… Merlin it’s hard to walk…

“You what, Hermes?” He turned as he opened the door to his room. “What? Wanted to make sure I made it to my room in one piece?”

“No, I…” she lowered her gaze as he glared at her.

“Then what?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, looming over her as she gathered her Gryffindor courage.

“I-I thought you were drunk,” she stammered.

He stared at her blankly. “Yes Hermione, I think we’ve established….”

“No. I mean I thought you were drunk. You know, with me and,” she motioned back towards the staircase, “and the with me.”

He narrowed his eyes, studying her. Gods she was adorable when she was flustered, made him want to…

”and I…” Morgonna this is hard she thought as toyed with her hands.

“and you…” he uncrossed his arms, waiting for her explanation.

“didn’twantoakeavntage,” she mumbled quickly.

He shook his head. “Say that again.”

”I. Didn’t. Want. To. Take. Advantage.” You stupid handsome git.

“Oh,” oh.

“Yes ‘oh’,” she hissed.

A grin came over his face. “So you’re…” crazy about me.

She looked down, “yeah.” Of course I am.

“And I’m…”

“Perfect,” she said blankly.

“What?” He cocked his eyebrows and grinned.

“I mean right,” she quickly corrected. “You’re right. Right about being sober. So I’ll just…” she trailed off and turned away.

He quickly stepped in front of her, effectively blocking her retreat.

“So if, I were to say,” he took her hand and gently pulled her to him, “ask you to dinner…”

“Dinner?” She swallowed hard, trying to steady her suddenly weak knees as he closed the space between them.

“Yeah” he breathed in her lovely scent as he leaned towards her, “dinner.”

He planted a few feathery kisses on her cheek, pausing a beat to take in her reaction. Encouraged by her sighs and coos he continued, brushing his lips over her forehead and down along her jaw. He snaked an arm around her waist as the other ran through the honey locks that cascaded down her back.

She opened her eyes and gazed into his own sea of green. Sweet Germanus, I think I’m going to… Hermione gave a small cry as her knees buckled. He caught her about the waist, holding her up and pressing her to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head against his chest. Their famous hugs, though memorable, couldn’t compare to this…

He set her on her feet, making sure she was steady enough before pulling away. Although he’d like nothing more than to back her against the nearest wall and slip his hands down along her…whoa down boy… and, er, littler boy…he’d decided not to rush her. Despite appearances, her soft, slender, cinnamon appearances, he wanted to do this right. Dinner, movie, what have you, and then the rest. That glorious, church-choir singing, earth-shattering rest.

“Harry,” she sighed, her soft eyes seeking his through heavy lids.

He leaned forward, her delicious scent surrounding him as he closed the distance between them.

“See you tomorrow then love,” he said cheerfully. He wriggled his eyebrows before shooing her into her room and closing the door behind him. He half-skipped (but in a very athletic, masculine manner) back his own room, humming “Spirit in the Sky” along the way. Yep, he thought as he closed his door. Tonight was a good night…

Meanwhile, Hermione was just coming out of her lust-induced haze, slowly registering the loss of an amorous Harry in her arms. Her heavy-lidded eyes widened with the realization.

Huh, tomorrow? Wait…what?... Wait…what?

She opened her door in time to see Harry’s close across the hall.

What just happened? And who the hezpah is singing? She thought as she bolted the door and ran her fingers through her tussled hair.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her mind reeling and her body pulsing. Well, she thought. Fine. Tomorrow then. I can wait til tomorrow. She glanced at the clock: only three hours until dawn. Does that count as tomorrow? She began planning fun ways of waking Harry up.

Oh, she definitely couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

End