Blinders Off

Description: At Ron and Luna's engagement party, Harry and Hermione have a heart-to-heart talk and make some serendipitous discoveries.

Disclaimers: JK Rowling owns them all. I'm just giving them the lives I wish she would give them but probably won't.

Notes: Written for the Erotic_Elves Fantasy Fest on LiveJournal. lilyrose78 asked for Harry/Hermione; At the Burrow, upstairs during Ron and Luna's engagement party. Any kinks you can think of are very welcome. I've borrowed one line from Goblet of Fire and 2 lines from OotP. I'm sure you'll recognize them.

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Blinders Off

By Oh_Honestleigh

From Merriam-Webster.com:

Main Entry: blind·er Pronunciation: 'blIn-d&r
Function: noun
1 : either of two flaps on a horse's bridle to keep it from seeing objects at its sides

2 plural : a limitation or obstruction to sight or discernment

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She looks out the window of Ron's old room in the Burrow. The garden below is crowded with people, and for once, most of them are not Weasleys.

It's a bright summer day in July, the kind of day Hermione has always loved. Today, though, she has mixed feelings. She is standing in Ron's old room, just beneath the attic, watching as he celebrates his engagement to Luna Lovegood. Three years ago Hermione thought that one day, she would stand in that garden, beaming as she and Ron greeted well-wishers. But that was too many rows and angry words ago. There's been too many tears and slammed doors, too much water under the bridge. Wanting something more, not knowing what, but knowing that what they had together wasn't enough.

Ron and Luna look so happy, she thinks as she picks at a loose thread on the curtains. The small bedroom is still decorated in blazing orange, the Chudley Cannons players leering at her from their posters on the wall. She thinks wistfully, again, of the story of how Ron and Luna got together. Hermione remembers Ron storming out of the flat she shared with him, head bobbing, arms flailing, a muttered Mental! hanging like a curse in the air. Her mind hears the crack of Ron Apparating into this very room. Did he throw himself down onto his bed and cry the way she cried on hers? How long did it take him to look out this window and see Luna standing in a light rain, holding a basket of gurdyroots and wearing her Gryffindor lion hat? Did she wait hours or only minutes before he Apparated down to meet her? Hermione didn't know those details, only that Luna had been there to pick up the pieces of Ron's broken heart.

Funny that, Ron's broken heart. Nobody picked up the pieces of mine. Except Harry. There every night, as long as I needed him to be, listening, letting me lean on him. Wiping my tears away. Even, once, brushing his lips against mine…

She leaves the window and perches on the edge of Ron's bed, wondering if she would enjoy the party more if she Disillusioned herself and slipped downstairs like a chameleon. The thought leaves her quickly; she'd rather not hear people tsking and clucking about her and Ron's failed relationship while they laugh and smile about the engaged couple. She slips off her strappy sandals and lies back on the bed, arms and legs spread wide. She whispers a cooling charm, but the room remains sultry.

She wishes she needed a cooling charm for a different reason.

A knock sounds on the door. "Hermione?" Harry's voice is hesitant, concerned. "May I come in?"

A smile plays on the ends of Hermione's lips. Harry would come to find her. He'd always done so, ever since that episode with the troll in first year.

"Of course," she says, her voice trembling as she wonders why she suddenly feels shy at the thought of being alone in a room-- this bedroom--with him.

The door opens and Harry enters, his eyes scanning the room until he finds Hermione in the semi-darkness. The soles of her bare feet stand out from the somewhat worn Chudley Cannons bedspread. He realizes that he can't remember ever seeing the soles of her feet before. They look hardworking and serious, like the person they're attached to. The rest of her foot, though, looks sensuous; a fluid curve begins at her toes, extends over her instep, past the tiny swell of her ankle then up her calf, eventually disappearing beyond her knee and up her thigh.

Jesus. He stops, somewhat lightheaded, trying not to think about what's at the top of those thighs. It's been almost two years since he'd kissed her -- not really a kiss, more of a brushing of lips. But he's never forgotten that ghost of a kiss. Was it just an accident? Would they ever do it again?

He can't worry about that now; he's come upstairs to check on her and convince her to return to Ron and Luna's party. Moving slowly across the room, he stops at the end of the bed, less than a foot from Hermione's bare feet.

"Are you okay?"

Hermione pushes herself up on her elbows, then crosses her ankles and leans sideways on the bed. Her pale yellow sundress shifts slightly, exposing a few inches of lightly-tanned thigh. Harry doesn't realize he's staring at her legs until Hermione suddenly sits bolt-upright, pushing the hem down, covering that swath of mesmerizing skin.

"Y-yes, thank you," she stammers. Her cheeks are slightly pink. "You didn't need to come up here. I'm fine, really." There's a light in Harry's green eyes that Hermione hasn't seen in a long time; it's the way his eyes lit up around Ginny at the end of sixth year. Hermione has seen that light a few more times since the war ended, but this is the first time she can remember them lighting up that way around her.

Harry has noticed her legs before, he's even thought about them sexually (and had more than one dream as proof of that), but he never dared to consider acting on that interest. Until now. He broke up with Ginny before the war. Hermione's not been attached to Ron for two years. Harry wonders why he's never allowed himself to act on those feelings for Hermione. The war made him realize that life is too short to spend time burying feelings that want to be felt. Right now, he realizes, what he feels for Hermione goes way beyond friendship. There's something so vulnerable about her, the way she's sitting with her legs pulled up under the skirt of her sundress, as though she's trying to protect herself…from what? Or whom?

From me?

His heart flutters as she looks up at him with questioning eyes. Back up, Potter, this is your best friend.

"Harry," she says quietly, "I really am fine. Are you okay?" She pats a spot on the bedspread to her left side and nods for him to sit down.

He seats himself on the edge of the bed, kicks off his shoes and crosses his legs. He hopes that, in the dimness of the room, Hermione can't see the bulge that's growing in his trousers. "What makes you think I'm not?" His voice sounds high and scratchy, like it did when it was changing in third year. He hopes she doesn't notice that either.

She gives him a sidelong look, her brown eyes glistening beneath dark lashes.

"I don’t know, you just seem a bit…not yourself right now. Too thoughtful…or something."

"I could say the same about you. You've been much too quiet today. I barely had a chance to talk to you down in the garden, and when I went to look for you again, Molly said you'd gone inside because you wanted to rest a bit. Was that true? Or were you just avoiding Ron and Luna?"

Hermione shifts on the bed so that she's looking down toward Harry's feet. "You know, it's really quite odd. I'm happy for them; I really am. It's obvious that they're madly in love with each other and that they make each other happy."

"But--"

A sad smile plays on her lips. "I just wish I knew what I did wrong. Why Ron and I couldn't make it work. Why I wasn't good enough for him." There's defeat on her face as she looks over her shoulder toward the window.

Suddenly a long finger touches her chin, turning her face back toward the dim room. "Don't ever say that," Harry counters, his voice rougher and lower that she's heard in a long time. "Don't ever say you're not good enough for Ron. Don't ever say you're not good enough for anyone. It's not true, so don't even think it. And who knows if you and Ron could ever have made it work. Sometimes two people just aren't meant to live happily ever after."

The finger on her chin becomes a warm palm cupping her cheek. Unthinking, she turns her face and softly kisses Harry's palm. The feel of her lips sends a shock wave down his arm and through his trunk, skittering across his abdomen until it rushes up to the tip of his hardening cock. Harry doesn't think either; he takes Hermione's face in both his hands and kisses her, his nose bumping against hers as their lips meet.

She pulls away, blushing. "Harry, I--"

Now it's his turn to blush. "Oh God. I've bollocksed up, haven't I? I'm so sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to do that. I -- you kissed my -- and I got carried away." The blood that had pooled so tantalizingly in his groin is now rushing up to his head. "Please forgive me," he mutters, unable to look at her face.

Hermione's small hand turns his face toward hers. Her eyes are red-rimmed and watery. "There's nothing to forgive," she says quietly. "I'm sure you didn't mean anything by it. No harm done."

A memory from their fifth year at school suddenly bursts through to Harry's consciousness. "Am I that bad a kisser?" he asks, unable to suppress a grin.

Hermione rolls her eyes, then does something Harry hasn't seen in years. She giggles.

"Of course you're not," she replies, biting her lip to keep from laughing. It all comes back to her now: Harry's shell-shocked return from the Room of Requirement after Cho Chang cornered him and kissed him under the mistletoe, his worry about whether he was a bad kisser, her own cagey response to him -- well, she couldn't admit then that she'd thought about kissing him…

Taking one of her hands in his, Harry begins to rub his thumb gently back and forth across her palm. His thumb lights nerve endings she hasn't felt since Ron left; the warmth starts in her palm and spreads rapidly through her body. When it reaches that place no one has been (besides her hand) since Ron left, she shifts on the bed, trying not to squirm in front of Harry.

"Hermione," he breaks in with a curious expression, "why did you say that? I mean, back in fifth year, why did you say 'Of course you're not'? I remember what you said back then, but did you really mean it that way?"

"What way?" Her breath is shallow now, her thoughts focused on the way Harry's thumb has moved past the heel of her hand and is rubbing the inside of her wrist.

Harry continues stroking her wrist, his thoughts focused on how her shallow breathing, so warm and close to him, has made him hard again. Her eyes are dilated so far that the brown irises have almost disappeared. Her jaw is soft, her nostrils slightly flared, her body tensing against his as he cautiously leans closer until he can whisper, "Like you'd been thinking about kissing me."

His breath tickles her ear. If he were any closer, he could lick the shell of her ear with his tongue.

"Yes," she says finally, so quietly he almost doesn't hear her. "Yes, I had been thinking about kissing you before that. I have been thinking about that recently. At this moment that's all I can think of."

Hermione's words make Harry's heart leap in his chest. "Me too," he whispers, dropping her hand so that he can slide his arm lightly around her waist.

"I want you to kiss me, Harry. Please."

"Well…if you're sure about it. I don't want to pressure you. I don't want to lose you as my best friend." He's almost holding his breath now, desperate for the right answer.

"You won't lose me that way, Harry. For once, you're thinking too much. Now please kiss me again, before I lose my nerve." Hermione smiles at him, her lips parted expectantly, then her eyelids flutter closed and she cocks her head to one side. Harry moves closer, his hand squeezing her waist, until he can feel the soft puff of her breath under his nose. Closing his eyes, he leans in until his lips meet hers.

This time it's no accident. This time they both want it. This time, his lips glide over hers lightly until Hermione's lips press back. Harry's heart pounds wildly in his chest as Hermione opens her mouth open just enough for her tongue to peek through and touch his. Another shock wave rolls through his body straight to his cock, which is now straining against his trousers. As Harry's tongue slides across her trembling lower lip, he lowers Hermione down onto Ron's bed.

"Harry, it's okay if you want to kiss me harder," she whispers. "Please, kiss me harder." Please don't make me beg, she thinks, trying to will him to recognize what the proximity of his body is doing to her. His leg is draped over her, his knee nestled between hers so that she can feel his erection against her thigh. The thought of his cock so hard and close makes her dizzy and wet.

Nodding, Harry lowers his lips to hers and plies them open slowly with his tongue, which slides into her mouth and sweeps around her tongue like it's reaching for the Golden Snitch. She shudders, her body trembling beneath his as he pulls away slightly to look at her.

"Hermione, I--"

He's at a loss for words. She's lying beneath him, her hair fanned out on Ron's pillow, face flushed, her breathing shallower than he's ever heard it. "I'd like to do more than just kiss you."

She nods.

"A lot more."

She smiles. "So would I."

"Are you sure? I don't want to pressure you. You mean the world to me, I hope you know that."

Hermione's face lights up and she flings her arms tightly around his neck. "Oh Harry, you mean the world to me too. You have for as long as I've known you. I wish I'd said something years ago… maybe you wouldn't have--" She bites her lip, realizing she's gone too far.

"Wouldn't have what? Got together with Ginny?" Her face looks stricken, like she's about to cry for saying the wrong thing. "I don't regret my relationship with Ginny. If you can call it a relationship." He rolls off and lies next to her on the bed. "I don't know what got into me that year. Half the time I didn't even know she was there, but whenever I was near her, or someone talked about her, this -- this thing -- erupted inside me. It was like a monster in my chest --"

"Are you sure it was in your chest?" Hermione says coyly. "I could have sworn it was a bit lower." And for the second time that afternoon, she giggles.

"Touché!" Harry chuckles. "A low blow, Granger. I probably deserve that too. You're right, it was more like a monster in my pants. I think I was in love with her for a couple of weeks. Okay, maybe a couple of months. Or maybe it was just lust."

Hermione leans up on her elbow and looks down at him. "Then what happened?"

"Then Dumbledore was killed and I realized I'd been deluding myself. I couldn't have a normal relationship with a girl back then. I couldn't live anything resembling a normal life until I found all the rest of the Horcruxes, destroyed them and defeated Voldemort once and for all."

"I was a bit surprised you broke up with her," Hermione offers. "I was even more surprised that she didn't beg to come with you. She'd had a crush on you for six years. And then she just let you go. It was like she gave up on you in one afternoon."

Harry leans up on one elbow and looks Hermione straight in the eye. "That's the big difference between you and Ginny. She let me go off without her, but you-- after all that you and me and Ron had been through together, you wouldn't let me go without you. We were going to do it together, somehow, even though I had to stand up to Voldemort by myself in the end. You wouldn't let me do it all alone."

"Perhaps I just knew you a little better than she did. And perhaps I went into it with both eyes open. To Ginny, you were always like a rock star. To me--"

"I was just Harry. And you knew I needed you. And I still do, even if I haven't said it or acted like it in a long time."

"I need you too, Harry. I know I'm not the easiest person to like, but you've always accepted me exactly as I am. I need your acceptance. I need you relying on me. I just -- need you," she admits, lying back on the bed, her head cradled against Ron's pillow.

Ron's pillow. A brainwave strikes Harry -- Hermione and Ron must have shagged on this bed at least once, if not many times.

"Hermione, did you and Ron ever…do it on this bed?"

She stares at him, then blushes and looks past his shoulder. "Yes."

"Was your first time here?"

She looks at him curiously. "Yes, but--"

"Hermione," he growls in a rough, low voice, then nips her earlobe, "I want to do you. Right here. Right now. On this bed."

"Here? On Ron's bed?"

"Yes, Hermione. Right here on Ron's bed. I want to fuck you until you forget that you ever cried about breaking up with Ron." His cock presses insistently against her thigh while he nibbles her ear, waiting for her response.

The musky scent of a young man in heat emanates from him, along with a raw energy that Hermione might mistake purely for sexual excitement if she didn't know what a powerful wizard Harry is. The thought of what Harry might want to do to her leaves her wet and quivering.

"I trust you, Harry. I know you won't hurt me." She licks her lips, hoping he can sense her excitement. "Let's do it now. I think Ron and Luna will start missing us soon."

Harry grins, then casts a look over his shoulder toward the door, which seals tightly with a squelching sound. Then he pulls his wand out of his back pocket and waves it over Hermione's abdomen, his eye shut in concentration.

"Non-verbal spells sure do come in handy," he smirks as he starts undoing the buttons that run down the front of her dress. One button, then two, then three, on and on until all ten buttons are undone and Hermione's sundress lies open. All she's wearing underneath is hipster knickers and a lacy bra that clasps at the front. She's bigger than Ginny, taller and broader in the hips, though with smaller breasts. Harry doesn't care; he unhooks her bra and lets the cups fall to the sides. Then he takes her right nipple in his mouth and rolls it with his tongue. Hermione shivers and moans beneath him, one hand reaching for purchase on his back while the other seeks a lower target. She finds his belt buckle and undoes it, then unzips his trousers. As he takes more of her breast into his mouth, she reaches a small warm hand inside his pants and takes hold of his throbbing cock.

"Nnnnhhhhhh," he moans as her fingers slide up and down and around until he thinks he'll explode right there. "Not so hard or fast. Unless you want me to come right now."

His teeth scrape her nipple and she almost jumps off the bed. "Teeth, Harry! Please…a little less rough. I prefer to take things slow and easy until almost the very end." As he mumbles something incoherent into her breast, she pushes his pants and trousers down until his cock springs free.

"Nice," she observes as dispassionately as possible while he crouches over her, nuzzling her other breast. She takes his cock in her hand again, stroking it slowly while Harry's mouth moves south down the center of her body. When he reaches her knickers, he pulls them down neatly, leaving them dangling around one ankle. As he swirls his tongue around her clit, she stops stroking and grips.

"Oh God. That's -- ahhh, Harry… keep on…"

"Let go, Hermione."

She drops her hand from his cock and pinches her nipple; a swirl of sensation flows to her clit, magnifying the sensations brought on by Harry's tongue. He repositions himself, pulling one of her legs over his shoulder while his face disappears between her legs. Hermione's hands grip the bedspread as Harry's tongue makes her squirm and pant. Just as she's about to cry out in ecstasy, another sensation grips her. Harry's mouth has shifted to one side, his tongue still lapping her clit as something smooth and round slides inside her cunt. It's bigger around than a finger should be, but smaller than any cock she's ever felt. Of course she's only had Ron's cock inside her so far, but still, this is definitely not a cock. She suddenly realizes that this smooth, round object is moving in and out of her body of its own accord in a teasing rhythm. Harry's mouth leaves her clit and he kneels between her legs, stroking his cock with one hand while the other directs his wand as it slides in and out of Hermione's cunt.

"Harry, I'm…I can't…," she pants, astonished at the hotness of Harry stroking himself while his own wand fucks her. His shirt is open now, his pants and trousers down around his knees as he crouches slightly to avoid hitting his head on the sloping ceiling. He's not going to take his clothes off entirely, but neither will she. Hermione doesn't care. She wants him right this minute.

"Now, Harry, please. I want you inside me now," she pleads as the wand nudges a spot that makes stars explode behind her eyes. As her orgasm begins to resolve, she feels the wand withdraw. Then a larger, hotter, harder wand slides inside her, filling her up until she thinks that she'll explode again.

Harry grinds his cock inside her, pumping hard and fast. He plants his lips on the side of her neck, suckling the flesh as he moans and groans and bangs Hermione until he fears he'll drill her into the mattress. She slides her fingers under his shirt until she can dig her nails into his back. His mouth will leave marks on her neck; it seems that she wants to leave her own brand on his back. As he swirls and pumps and grinds into her warm, wet heat, all he can think is that he wishes he'd had sexual thoughts about Hermione more often all those years ago. He pushes into her, she pushes back, meeting each thrust with enthusiasm. It had never occurred to him, until today, that if he made a move on her, she would respond. As his come spills out into her, he laughs softly, shaking his head at the delusions of his youth. Hermione's not done; she writhes under him for another minute or two. He pushes languidly against her, glad when a gutteral cry tears from her throat, even happier when she finally stills beneath him, her breathing returning to normal.

Hermione looks at the room around her. The color scheme is still the same lurid orange, the posters of flying Quidditch players are still in the same locations on the walls, yet somehow everything has shifted, at least in her brain. Harry's breathing slows, his head lolling heavily on her shoulder. His breath tickles her bare skin; the smattering of hair on his chest tickles her breasts. Hermione thinks that she could let Harry tickle her forever, whether on her shoulder, her breasts or between her legs. She would specially like him to tickle her again with his wand -- both of them.

Slowly, Harry rolls off and puts his clothing back together as Hermione does the same. He nods toward the door, which makes a small popping sound as the lock clicks open. Hermione casts a scouring charm on the bedspread and Harry's wand, which she hands back to him with a smirk. As he sticks it into his back pocket, she puts her arms around his neck and pulls him into a soft, sweet kiss.

He slides his arms around her waist and pulls her close. "You want to go back down to the party now? You don't have to go down with me, if you don't want. You can go by yourself."

"Do you think people would gossip if we suddenly show up together after being gone so long?"

"I don't care about the gossip. Hell, I'm used to gossip. I've spent years dealing with it. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable."

She looks at him carefully. "I won't be uncomfortable if you aren't. What was it that Hagrid used to say?"

Harry smiles, remembering back to fourth year. "Whatever happens, happens, and we'll take it as it comes."

Hermione smiles back, about to remark on Hagrid's unintentional wisdom, when there's a light knock on the door.

"Hermione, are you in here?" Ron's baritone sounds nervous and worried.

"Yes, Ron, I'm coming out in a minute."

"Thank goodness," he replies, relief evident in his voice. "Luna and I were getting worried. Have you seen Harry at all? He left the party to find you and we haven't seen him in quite a while."

Harry looks at Hermione, who seems to read his mind. "I'm in here too, Ron. I've just been…cheering Hermione up. We'll be down really soon."

"Oh…okay. I'll see you soon, mate. You too, Hermione." Ron sounds slightly puzzled, but soon his footsteps retreat down the stairs.

A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione make their way down the stairs and out into the garden. It's a beautiful July day, the kind of day Hermione has always loved. She doesn't have mixed feelings anymore. She feels like Harry has taken a weight off her chest, something that has weighed her down for more than two years.

As people stop to chat, Harry stands just behind her, close enough that she can hook her little finger up with his as they make small talk with Ron and Luna's friends and neighbors. Will people notice the love bite on her neck? She doesn't give a damn. All these years, she realizes, he's been her anchor, and she's been his. The blinders are off now, the delusions gone. Whatever happens will happen, and they'll take it as it comes.

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