Author's note: This is a fluffy one-shot and myfirstattemptatsmut, so, yeah, consider yourself warned.
Rated R for dumb jokes and an uninspired lovey-dovey scene. Seventh year. Hogwarts.
By the by, to be 'polymorphously sexual' means to derive sexual pleasure from different parts of the body. (It'll make sense in a minute)
Three-String Note
"No Harry! You're doing nothing of the kind!" Hermione batted his hands away and tried to scramble up from their comfortable spot on the floor.
Bright, industrious Gryffindors they were, Harry and Hermione had decided to kill time in the common room while they couldn't sleep. Hermione had lost another round to that, the most sacred trials of endurance, the staring contest, and was trying to avoid the agreed penalty: that the loser had to do anything the winner asked.
Harry, of course, had made sure to sound as disgustingly Draco-like when he'd said ANYTHING.
Silly girl thought I was bluffing…
"Come on sweets," Harry said as he crawled towards her. "I promise I'll stop if you don't like it." He gave a sly wink and slowly parted her legs, settling over her with a feral grin.
"Tonight love, I'm going to see for myself. Once and for all. Resistance is futile…" He began running his hands over her, thoroughly enjoying her look of impatience and disgust.
"Harry, I've told you a thousand times, I'm not ticklish. At all. Never have been. Period."
"But that's just so….wrong," he said with a frown. Must be some physical impossibility. He shook his head at the thought. Tonight he was going to find out for himself.
His hands brushed over her arms and the tops of her shoulders.
No reaction.
He continued down her sides and around the small of her back.
Nothing.
As his hands danced over her slight waist, he paused to judge his progress. Unfortunately her expression was more 'you're wasting your time' rather than 'please Harry stop before I scream.'
Gods maybe she really isn't…
Hermione gave an involuntary jerk as his hands ran along the length of her jean clad thigh. He grinned and did it again, with the same results.
Harry raised his eyebrows, claiming victory. "Not ticklish huh?"
She gritted her teeth and tensed under his hands. "No Harry, that's not…Ah!" She cried out when he did it
again. She jerked out of his reach, trying to get to her feet, only to have Harry hold her down and grin.
"Well, well, well." He ran his hands over the same spot, a bit more pleased than he should be at her wriggling results. Chink in the armor and whatnot.
"Harry, stop it," she said softly as she caught his wrists and stilled his hands.
He leaned over her, smug smile firmly in place as he started humming Ron's I-was-right-ha-ha tune. However, his budding sense of accomplishment gave way to confusion as she collapsed back on the rug, breathing heavily.
"Hermione?" He asked, concern clouding his voice. Gods, did that hurt? He loosened his hold, accidentally running over the sensitive stretch along her thigh again as he did. A low, throaty moan escaped her lips as her hips suddenly jerked against his.
Oh. My. Dear. Morganna. She really wasn't ticklish.
What's the word? 'Polymorphously' sexually something. He'd overheard Ginny making a joke about Dean being the same way. Of course, that was before fellow eavesdropper Ron began chasing her around the dining hall with a soup ladle.
Hermione interrupted his musing with another throaty moan.
Kink in the armor more like…
Harry was still firmly on top of her and was now painfully aware of their positions. He could feel her soft planes pressing against his increasingly harder ones as she opened her eyes and stared back at him. Her lips were parted and her chest was heaving and her big cinnamon eyes had gone glossy and dear sweet Orfeo…
"Harry," she sighed as she bit back another groan.
She began squirming under him as her breathing grew ragged. He eased back, ready to apologize and curse himself into oblivion, only to find she had no interest in either. Instead she caught him by the collar and drew him towards her.
"Love, what…huh?" He stammered before her lips met his. He felt the feathery softness of her mouth under his own just before opening to taste her. He gripped the back of her neck and held her against him, suddenly not quite so concerned about the evening's unexpected turn. He found he couldn't care less about the consequences, so long as they involved more of her lovely mouth.
She began moving under him, nipping and moaning, setting a frantic rhythm for them as her legs came up to wrap around him. Her hands wound their way through his hair and knocked his glasses crooked as he broke away and panted against the soft skin of her throat.
Harry was sure he looked like some bloody first year getting to second base, but he didn't care. Every Deatheater in the county could've been in that room and he wouldn't have lifted a finger, unless it was to make her moan like that again because that was undoubtedly the best sound he'd ever heard.
"It's all right Harry," she whispered. "I want this Harry I want you Harry I want this Harry…"
He captured her sweet mouth, trying to return the sentiment. Gods she wants me. SHE wants ME.
…
Of course this was a very important, life-changing, earth-shattering moment. So, as if on cue, Draco and Lav appeared and ruined everything in their Punch and Judy kind of way.
…
"Hey you two…Gaooodd!" Lav cried as she turned away and buried her face against Draco's shoulder.
Draco chuckled at the squirming Gryffindors on the common room floor, who now looked like two bright-eyed fawns caught in a spotlight.
Hermione's legs were still around Harry's waist, so when they tried to pull away, they only fell in a tangled mess on the floor.
"Sorry Hermione," Harry muttered as he helped her to her feet. They carefully avoided each other's eyes
as they smoothed back their hair and faced their audience: Lav, who was now studying them with interest, and Malfoy,
who was smirking and shrugging in his patented way.
"Well," said Draco, "let's just be grateful Weasley isn't the corner somewhere wanking off."
"Dear gods Draco," Lav sighed and shook her head. "And as for you two," she turned back to them, hands firmly on her hips, "I can't believe you're dating."
"We're not dating," Harry answered automatically.
He heard Hermione take a sharp breath and stole a glance at her. Oh, wrong answer Potter…
He could tell Hermione was blushing (well what little he could see of her was). Her hair curtained her face as she examined her toying hands and chewed on her now swollen lips.
Poor love, he thought, understanding her embarrassment and helpless to comfort her. He shoved his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to wrap an arm around her. Sodding Lavender…sodding Draco…couple Davender my arse…
"Well Hermione," Lav went on blithely, "whatever you do, don't let Harry here use you as some placeholder…"
"Placeholder?" Hermione whispered.
"Yeah. You know, for Cho," Lav clarified.
"Cho…" She echoed blankly.
"Cho?" Draco said skeptically.
"Or," Lav motioned around the room, "the…um…Ginny."
"Ginny!" Harry cried. And here he thought Draco was the pervert of the pair.
Right, I'm going to date Ginny. Yes, that's what I need in my life: another emasculating cow like Mrs. Weasley.
He looked incredulously at Hermione, hoping to share a good laugh over it, only to find that Hermione too busy staring defeatedly at the floor to be amused.
Lav shook her head and fell in a huff on the sofa. "I don't know why I'm surprised. You men are all alike. We give you our hearts and ours bodies and all you do is piss all over them."
"Hey, I haven't pissed on you in weeks…Oh, right," Draco quickly corrected himself as Harry's mouth fell open. "I mean," Draco went on, "I'm not the one using Granger as a convenience shag."
"Not yet, you're not," Lav pouted. "You're probably just waiting til Harry breaks her heart and then move in on the rebound."
Draco nodded and grinned. "Actually that's not a bad idea." He turned to Harry. "When do you think you'll be done with her Potter? Eleven? Eleven thirty maybe?"
"Get. Out." Harry growled. Hermione was close to tears, and Harry felt like tearing someone's head off. Draco and Lav's, specifically.
"Oh. Wow, Potter," Draco laughed. "Nice to know the school's resident blowhard's back. Apparently snogging Granger…Hey!" Draco yelped as Harry took him by his collar and dragged him towards the portrait opening.
Lav stifled a giggle as she watched Harry manhandle her flaying beau. She held up her hands when Harry turned to her. "It's all right Harry. I can take a hint. You want me to leave, right?"
Harry nodded gravely.
"Ta." She ducked through the door and disappeared down the hall, trailing after her pet Slytherin.
…
With Heckle and Jeckle safely gone, Harry approached Hermione and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Well, I've just been traumatized beyond belief," he grumbled.
Hermione glanced at him and forced a chuckle.
"Oh, yeah?" She said halfheartedly as she gently shrugged off his hand.
"You all right Hermione?" Harry asked, noticing her shift away from him.
"Mmmm," she nodded absently as she crossed her arms over her chest.
An awkward silence settled over the pair before Hermione sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"Well," she said softly. "Good night Harry." She started towards the portrait without bothering to look back at him.
"Good night? But, I thought…" he looked at her, puzzled. "What about the…and the…" he motioned between them.
She turned and bit the bottom of her blush-colored lip. "Oh. Right. Well, I'm… I'm tired Harry."
"Tired?"
She nodded and gave a small smile.
"Well, all right," he said, disappointed. "Will I see you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?" She lowered her gaze. "I don't know."
Okay, she's upset. Harry thought. I can handle upset. He looked into Hermione's wide watery eyes, which only led to his typical I'll-do-anything-she-wants-since-I'm-wrapped-around-her-finger-anyway feeling. Oh, wait. That's right. I can't do much of anything when she's upset…
"Hermione." He took her hand. "I don't think you should go until we talk about this."
Her cheeks were slightly flushed as she studied her hand in his.
"There's nothing to talk about," she said quietly.
"What about…. the back there?"
"Um….back where?" She asked weakly.
"Hermione," he said sternly.
She didn't answer.
"Hermione…" he trailed off, convinced she was too embarrassed to talk about what had happened between them. So in his infinite sensitivity and insight into the female mind, he did the only reasonable thing he could think of.
"Hermione, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," he said gravely as he made a move for her leg.
"Harry Potter don't you dare," she said as she darted out his reach.
"Sorry, drastic action and all…" He gave her a sly wink as she batted his hands away.
"Don't Harry!" She bit back a moan as he ran his hand over her.
No sooner had Harry brushed the intended spot than she collapsed against him with a sigh.
He quickly claimed her mouth, gathering her snugly against him as they fell in a heap against the stone wall.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him and immediately opened for his probing tongue (although whether it was to deepen the kiss or start some semblance of a conversation, who knows)
Hr->"Harry, (sigh) you don't want this (kiss moan)"
H-->"Yeah, you're right (kiss sigh) Get off me ( kiss grope)"
Hr->"I'm not your (moan gasp) type."
H-->"No, you're right (groan nibble) you're gorgeous and you treat me well."
Hr->"(pause) Gorgeous?"
H-->"Absolutely (moan kiss)"
Hr->"What about (nip groan) Ron?"
H-->"He's not bad but (kiss sigh) it's completely platonic."
Hr->"No I mean…(nibble moan)...dear gods do that again…what will he say?"
H-->"I don't know, something like 'was she any good?'"
Hr->"No (grumble grumble) you're not making this easy…(kiss) don't know why I'm surprised…(question) what are you doing?
…
Harry looked at her oddly. "Locking the door."
"Harry," she sighed, "you can't lock up the common room."
Harry grinned. "No?"
Hermione shook her head. "No."
He suddenly dropped to his knees and ran his hands over the backs of her thighs.
"Harry…?" She gave a yelp as he unceremoniously hefted her over his shoulders and carried her into the hallway.
"Harry!" She squirmed in his arms. "Put me down."
He shook her a bit by way of an answer.
"It's supposed to be romantic Hermione. Stop kicking me."
"Harry, someone's going to see us."
"Who? Draco and Lavender?" Harry shuddered. "Believe me, they'll keep an open mind."
As they passed through the darkened dorms, Hermione stilled in her fruitless struggles.
"Where are we going?" She asked with a dear-gods resignation.
"Three guesses," he muttered as he kicked open the door to his Head Boy's room.
He set her down at the foot of the sofa and worked a luminous spell on the fireplace.
"I haven't finished with you yet my sweet," he said as he tossed aside his jacket. "Still have to find out whether your ticklish or not." He wriggled his eyebrows and slipped a not-so-subtle arm around her.
"I've already told you…" She trailed off, distracted by the play of muscles under Harry's shirt. She meant what she said about not being ticklish, but was now imagining all the fun she could have with Harry's lovely chest in the meantime.
"Well," she said shyly as she stepped into his encircling arms, "I guess there's only one way to find out."
He grinned. "Yep. Have to see for myself."
"You should be completely thorough," she whispered as she nuzzled his neck.
"Oh I plan to. Going to give it the old Gryffindor try," he nodded as he eased onto the sofa and settled her in his lap.
"Don't think Davender will find us in here," he said as she began gently tracing his features with her fingertip. "Then again…" he looked at the door and uttered an ensnaring charm. Three different ones actually, just to be sure.
He was still eyeing the door when her lips began a slow trail up along the soft skin of his throat. She dotted his face with light kisses, sighing at his distraction.
"Touch me Harry," she whispered, planting a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth, suckling his bottom lip as her she traced the hard lines of his shoulders.
Locks and bolts forgotten, he returned the kiss and several others as he ran his hands over her and gathered her to him. His mouth moved under hers as he tasted and nipped and teased her, enjoying the kittenish sighs and soft coos she made with every pass.
She groaned in frustration as she tried to shift closer to him. He tightened his hold around her but she broke away with a gasp and moved to straddle him, claiming his mouth with a hard kiss as she settled flush against him.
She gave an approving sigh he moved his hands over her. He, in turn, froze when her clever hands began working their way down his chest and gently cupped him through the material of his trousers.
"Love? I…dear gods…"
He stilled and stared at her, too awestruck and too aroused to move with her as she circled and massaged him, making him rock hard in her small hands.
She gave a secret smile against his shoulder before she pulled away. Her hands came to rest on his chest as she settled her hips over his, beginning a rhythmic rocking motion that became harder and deeper with every breathless kiss.
Harry felt something building, a warm white-burning ache as they rose and fell against each other, generating a wet heavy heat despite the denim that separated them. He ran his hands along her sides and under her shirt until he cupped her breasts. She leaned into his large lovely hands, tossing her head back, sighing his name as she rode him in earnest against the arm of the sofa
Lost in the sensation of Hermione over him, around him, and against him, he was too far-gone to be surprised when bright flashing lights blinded him as the first waves of orgasm washed over him.
Dear sweet love…
He might've called her name. Or she might've called his. Either way…was his last coherent thought before he tumbled headfirst into oblivion.
…
She was smoothing the hair away from his forehead as his not-so-unpleasant surroundings came back to him. He nibbled her neck and muttered incoherently, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of a warm, pliant, utterly-satisfied Hermione purring against his chest.
He couldn't say how long they lay like that. When they did finally stir, it was only to pull a blanket over the both of them and settle down to sleep.
"Hermione?" He whispered she dozed against his chest.
"Mmm," she murmured against him.
He took her hand. "Did that…did you like that?"
She looked up at him a moment before cupping his cheek. "Harry." She shook her head and smiled. "It was perfect."
He couldn't help but grin. "Really?" He hoped he didn't sound as pathetic as he thought he did.
"Really," she nodded before she planted a soft kiss on his lips.
He studied her upturned face. Her cheeks were rosy and she was smiling that truly winning smile of hers.
Great gods, what this girl does to me.
"Well," he swallowed back a tremor in his voice. "I guess we'll have to do it again sometime."
She sighed her approval of, what he considered, his rather brilliant plan.
"But later," she yawned.
"Later? Later's good." He glanced at the clock on the mantel. "When does later start, exactly?"
She gave a soft laugh and shook her head. "Tomorrow," she answered.
"Tomorrow?" Fine. I can wait til tomorrow. No problem. Gives me time to think of fun ways to wake her up and…
"Harry," she said.
"Yeah love?"
"Go to sleep."
End.