Title: Rising to the Challenge
Summary: Harry couldn't let Hermione's little "favour" go unpaid now, could he? PWP.
A/N: When writing smut for Amethyst's birthday, I went and hijacked the plot of Wicked to come up with this. She's been nice enough since then to let my unofficial sequel become an actual sequel. *hugs her*
Rating: NC17
Harry had no bloody idea what he was doing.
He tended to act on instinct, following his gut, often leading him recklessly into dangerous situations.
Just do what your body is telling you to do, he told himself, huddling under his invisibility cloak and waiting for Hermione to finish the last of her rounds. He was willing to bet a hundred galleons that Hermione had researched that… that… thing she did to him earlier. That, or… well, he didn't really want to think about the "or" part of it.
Without realizing it, she had issued him a challenge. And Harry Potter had never let a challenge go unchallenged.
She came into his line of vision, her Head Girl badge attached importantly to the front of her blouse. Bet she wouldn't be able to keep that if McGonagall knew what she'd been up to today…
Her lips were curled up in a small smile, and Harry leaned forward, certain she was smirking.
Hermione had always been rather dominant.
Harry took off the invisibility cloak, pleased when she gave a small jump of surprise.
"Hey," he said casually, folding the cloak over his arm. "Want to come to the Room of Requirement with me?"
It should not have been that easy to ask that question, Harry thought, without a trace of a blush. There should have been awkwardness. After all, the… the… stuff… they'd done, it wasn't normal behaviour, not between still-platonic-best-friends.
Hermione licked her lips, an unconscious gesture that had Harry wanting to loosen his trousers.
"Okay."
***
"Yes… YES… HARRY! Sweet, Merlin… where did you… yes, there!"
Harry flicked his tongue against a particularly sensitive part of Hermione, and her hands fisted painfully in his hair. Oh, fuck, is that her clit? I have no idea. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…
"Yes…"
Whatever it was he was doing, she seemed to be enjoying it. Her hips bucked against his face and her thighs were shaking with the strain of keeping them parted.
I can't believe I'm doing this. Ican'tbelieveI'mdoingthis. I can't believe I'm doing this to Hermione.
He could still remember her confidence as she went down on him, swallowing him until he could feel the muscles straining in the back of her throat. And that look she gave him, when she swallowed his seed. That glint in her eyes…
He delved his tongue into her folds, bits and pieces of whispered boys dormitory talk floating through his mind. Dean's exploits weren't much to go on, but they were all he had. He didn't know what he was doing, but he did it anyway, trying to gauge her movements, the way her hands tugged in his hair.
He could taste her and his face was smeared with her juice… and, oh, Merlin, he didn't think he'd ever been this turned on in his entire life…
His erection was reaching painful levels and he slowed down his exploration of Hermione to undo the fly on his trousers, aching to be free of restraint. Think of Ron in his undergarments… think of Snape in his undergarments…
Hermione let out a low moan. "Harry… yes…"
Oh. Fuck.
He pressed his tongue harder against her, scraping his teeth over her clit-oh, god, he hoped that's what it was-and she bucked harder, her entire body shuddering. She shouted his name again, a deep throaty sound that nearly had him moaning in return.
She came to a rest, panting and sweating; her knickers still tangled over one ankle where they'd left them in their haste to get them off. Her chest heaved with her breaths and he could see her nipples pressing against her bra.
"Oh my," she whispered, still trembling. "Oh… my…"
She reached out one hand to grab his tie and she yanked him to her (she was always so bloody dominant). She kissed him, her tongue furiously pushing past his lips to enter his mouth, and he wondered if she was tasting herself. Then he wondered what he'd taste like on her lips.
He slid one hand down her stomach, moving his palm over her skin and he couldn't help but wonder what they were doing. She was Hermione-best friend, dependable Hermione.
And though this was nice-very, very nice-he couldn't bear the idea of losing her for this. It wasn't worth tossing seven years of friendship down the drain because of some insatiable hormones.
Their hips locked together, and she arched against him, her heat pressing against the erection in his boxers and Harry grit his teeth, wondering how she managed to strip him of all control…
"Hermione… wait…" he said, his breath coming out in short gasps. He didn't know how she did this to him.
"Yes?" she whispered.
"What… does… this… mean…?" Harry swallowed and tried to start again. "For us?" He hesitated. "Is it… is it just a… a shagging thing?"
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Harry, you really are rather naïve sometimes, you know." She touched his face with her fingertips, smiling brightly. "Of course it's not just a shagging thing. You're the only one I'd ever consider doing-any of the things we've done-with." She sucked in a breath, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "That's… that's how much I trust you."
Harry felt himself brighten. This time, when she ground against him, he made no attempt to hold himself back.
"Between us?" she said, her voice a soft whisper in his ear. Her lips skimmed down his cheekbone. "It could never be 'just' for anything."