Wow. I've managed to write the most awkwardly titled sequel since Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous. Hey, at least I didn't get cute and add "Master" to the first part.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing I say!
Sadly, this is the spontaneous and poorly conceived sequel to Late Night Lights. It takes place after the implied date.
Later Night Lights
This is it, Harry thought as he stared at the bathroom door. Hermione had just excused herself, leaving him alone on the couch in her Head Girl's room.
He could hear water running behind the closed door and could only imagine what she was doing in there. He easily saw himself walking in, seizing her to him, and taking her right there on the bathroom floor; her legs wrapped around him, her ragged breaths on his neck, her hot core milking him until…whoa, down boy… and um, littler boy…
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Hermione's thoughts, however, were on a much less pleasant note. Her seduction was off to a slow start, or at least she thought it was. After spending the evening enjoying Harry's company, her insecurities were beginning to get the better of her.
How does one go about seducing their best friend? It's not as though they write songs and cards about it…
She took a seat on the bathtub to suss it out. Dinner, check. Firelight, check. Sexy little costume to make him come in his pants…
Oh, right.
Of course she had said costume. Just a little white slip Pav gave her for her birthday. Thin shoulder straps, lots of cleavage, the whole thing barely covered her, but apparently that was the idea. Reluctantly, she put it on, convinced she was only going to see how it looked.
She paused to admire herself in the usually neglected mirror.
"Well, what do you think?" She asked, biting her lip.
"Whoa…down girl," the mirror responded.
Hmph. She thought with a frown. Or should she thank it?
She went back to the edge of the tub, lost in her thoughts about the mirror, the outfit, and this whole fiasco of a seduction. Oh gods she sighed as she buried her head in her hands, trying to gather what little Gryffindor courage she could. What's the worst that could happen? Harry takes one look at me, gives a ' let's just be friends' speech, and elopes with Lavender.
Brilliant.
She took a deep breath and snuck another look at herself and the outfit in the mirror. Then again, she thought, if I don't wear the blasted thing, I could always hang myself with it.
Stupid sexy Harry…
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All right. Harry thought. She's not coming out. Why isn't she coming out?
Harry was now in front of the bathroom door, trying to discern any noise from inside. It's quiet. Too quiet. Maybe she's climbed out the window. Ron had told him about girls doing that.
"Never happened to me though mate," Ron added defensively.
Yeah right Ron.
But considering they were on the fifth floor, and that he hadn't really done anything to deserve it (yet), and Hermione wasn't too terribly fond of heights, it seemed unlikely.
Where's her broom? Harry thought, looking around the suite. Best make sure it's still here, just in case.
Sodding Ron…
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Okay, she thought. Time to leave. I'm going to open the door, and walk up to…no, wait. I'm going to open the door and let him come to me. Mmmm…come. No, wait, steady Hermes. First things first. Door open, step out, wait for Harry. Not hard. Unlike Harry… hard…Yum. No. Stop it. It's simple. Very Simple. So, here I go. Yep. Going to open the door. Opening the door, right now. Going over to the door so I can open it…now.
She looked down to find she was still on the edge of the tub. "Stupid door," she huffed.
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Meanwhile, Harry's search for the broom wasn't going so well. He was preparing for another vigil in front of the bathroom door when he knocked an elaborate candelabra off one of the tables by the couch. Smooth Potter…he thought as he knelt down, picking up the pieces. Let's just break her furniture while we're at it. That way she'll have more things to throw at you…
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Hermione heard the crash from the bathroom and leapt to her feet. When she opened the door she saw Harry picking up the pieces of the candelabra that had been on the end table.
Forgetting the state of her undress she padded over to him. "Are you all right?" she asked, her voice taking on that purely-Hermione protective tone.
"Sorry Hermes," he muttered as she knelt beside him. "Must've knocked…" he paused and gave strangled gulp when he noticed what she was wearing: the most perfect, sexy little outfit imaginable. Bright, white, low cut, he could see the outline of her chest under the thin, low cut-material that tapered off to reveal her impossibly elegant legs. Gods, who knew she had so much skin? He had a hard time keeping himself from grunting or falling over. Well, more like both really. Simultaneously. Over and over again.
"Dear Mother of Germanus," he said under his breath.
"Oh honestly Harry, there's no call for that, it's just a candleholder. Here, let me…" she reached for the pieces in his hand when she noticed his stilled form.
"Harry what's wrong?" She asked, puzzled. It wasn't as though he'd never broken any of her things before. Even Crookshanks knew better than to approach the Boy Who Falls All Over Himself.
No. Wait. Harry wasn't upset. He was staring at her. Well, not really staring, more like gaping. She shook her head and followed his gaze. Why is Harry…? Her mouth formed a perfect O as two spots of color appeared on her cheeks. Her hands moved to cover herself, and, muttering an apology, she stood and retreated towards the bathroom.
Oh. Dear. Gods. She was nearly at the door when Harry suddenly caught her hand and drew her back to him.
"Wait," he whispered, stilling her as she struggled to free herself. A trembly apology was on her lips as he took a step closer. Harry leveled his gaze at her, his green eyes boring into her cinnamon ones. "Is it for me?" he asked softly, motioning towards her.
She nodded her head, too embarrassed and ashamed to lie.
He let go of her wrist and ran a shaky hand up her arm. "May I…" he asked as he reached her shoulder. She nodded, her upturned eyes wide with shock. He ran his hand along her shoulder, down along her side, and around her waist, creating the most delicious sensations along the way…
"Harry," she moaned as he slowly retraced the same path.
"Hermione," he said with awe as he cupped her breast, kneading her through the thin material of the slip. Her
knees nearly buckled as he slowly massaged her, and she gripped his collar to stay upright. His hands then settled at
her waist, and he lifted her to him, locking her in a long, lustrous kiss.
She let out a kittenish sigh and nipped at his mouth, reveling in the purely male, purely Harry taste. She broke away with a gasp and began a trail of open kisses along his throat and pressed herself against him.
Harry suddenly froze as her shaky hands worked their way down the latch of his belt. She whispered his name as she gently eased the belt away from him. Roused by her sighs and coos, Harry began looking around for the quickest route to the bedroom.
"No Harry," she sighed.
"No' love?" He asked, not a little disappointed as he lifted her chin to meet his gaze.
"Here," she whispered as she began to undo his shirt. "Right here, I want you here."
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Later, stretched out on the rug, slip and other clothes long since discarded, Harry and Hermione were basking in the glow of the dying firelight.
"Harry," she said, nibbling at the crook of his neck.
"Yes love?"
"I had a really, really nice time tonight." She tossed her hair a bit and smiled in her falsely bright, Harry Potter-groupie way. Harry'd never admit it, but he thought she was adorable when she did that. Of course, she'd be adorable in a horsehair shirt surrounded by screaming mandrakes.
Okay Potter, he told himself sternly, ignoring the visual. Enough of that. Let the girl have a little rest…
"Yeah, well," he replied lightly. "Maybe I'll give you a call sometime."
She nudged him in the chest playfully, and he wrapped his arms around her, gathering her to him.
He kissed the tip of her nose and shook his head.
"What?" She asked, not really sure she wanted to know the answer.
"I still can't believe I seduced you…" he said blithely.
"What…wait, what?" Her eyes narrowed.
"Yep," he sighed, running his hands over her. "What with all my wily charms, it was only a matter of time before you fell in my lap. Should've known really." He gave an evil grin and wriggled his eyebrows.
"Fell into your lap?" She asked incredulously. If her hands weren't so busy dancing over his irresistible abs, she'd swat him. "As I recall, I had to prance around half-naked before you even…" she didn't finish before gloat-boy cut her off with a kiss.
"Fine," she said as he pushed her on her back and began nibbling his way down her front. "Least now I know how to get your attention," she muttered.
He shook his head. "No sweets, the correct reply would be, 'fine, you win Harry,' or 'take me you handsome Gryffindor you…'"
She pushed him further down her body, clever code for 'shut up and do that thing with your tongue.'
Little did they know they'd end most of their late-night talks the same way.
End