Disclaimer: Everything concerning Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I own nothing, nor is this done for any purpose except my own enjoyment and the enjoyment of anyone reading this. There is no attempt to make any profit.
The Most Ancient Magic
Chapter Twenty Nine: The Most Ancient Magic
Warning! This chapter contains the Potter's wedding night, it is intended to be sensual without being graphic. However, if you find such material offensive you should skip to the last chapter of the story.
Harry lay next to his wife. He couldn't suppress an enormous grin. "Am I dreaming Hermione? I can't believe we're married." He began to caress her cheek and ear as he had done at Christmas. Hermione shivered as she felt him began to run his fingers gently through her hair. She caught his hand and pressed it to her lips.
He leaned down and began to explore her lips with his, kissing down her jaw until he began to nibble on her ear.
Hermione reached up and began to stroke his back before catching the back of his head and guiding him back to kiss her lips once more. "No, Harry, this feels too real."
Harry drew back and looked into her eyes enjoying the light shining in them. Knowing it was her love that made them shine so. She continued to stroke his back and shoulder as she nestled closer to him.
Emboldened he began to caress her side and hip, finally allowing his fingertips to explore under the edge of her nightie. She smiled at the tentative, gentle touch on the skin of her side and stomach, responding with soft noises of pleasure.
Harry had met with Professor Sprout before the wedding, she had cautioned him to take his time with his new wife and to be sensitive to her reactions. Her memories were no longer suppressed she and was still subject to severe flashbacks, so he tried to continue with caution.
Hermione was enjoying her husband's attentions, feeling warm and safe in his embrace. As she looked into his eyes everything was fine. It was when she closed her eyes to kiss him that she began to see the faces. Unbidden, she began to see the males in her life, looking at her.
Harry's hand began to caress her under her nightie. Hermione tried to stay in the present, but as his fingertips moved upwards over her cool skin, her attacker's face joined in the parade, she suddenly began to have a flashback. She had named him, "The Pig", not because he had been fat, but because of the expression in his eyes as he had groped and pinched. She gave a small gasp as she stiffened and clutched Harry's wrist, "Wait, Harry, just give me a minute!" she said, a rising note of panic in her voice. She tried to breathe deeply in order to control her fear.
As she tried to gain control of her emotions, the parade of faces began again behind her closed eyes. Now they were leering at her, even the little Creevy brothers, all of them knew she was in bed with Harry.
Harry drew his hand away, "Are you ok?" he asked anxiously. He could tell she was trying to concentrate. She nodded to him and tried to relax. Harry cradled her in his arms and hugged her to him, raining kisses on her forehead and eyes. After a time she responded to his kisses with her own, whispering into his ear, "I love you, Harry."
They lay quietly together for a while, his wife seemed to have calmed down so Harry began again, gently caressing her hip and legs. The parade of faces had subsided in Hermione's imagination but the poison was subtle, as she gazed at Harry's face she thought she could see the same lust creeping into his expression, as she was aware of his excitement. The thought that every one knew that she was in bed with Harry constantly nagged at the back of her thoughts. It's not fair, this is supposed to be private, she thought.
Just where it came from she never knew. Perhaps it was the vindictive spirit of the house left over from all the dark magic that had been practiced there. Perhaps it was the memory of being abused, magnified by her shyness. Perhaps it was her fatigue. Perhaps it was all of it combined, but the storm of her anger seemed to come out of nowhere.
Hermione went from a slight feeling of unease to a rage in a few heartbeats. She rolled away from Harry and out of the bed. He was staring at her in surprise as she stood there with her hands balled into fists and her face twisted by anger. "What are you doing to me," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You're supposed to love me, all you're doing is … staring-lusting-groping me, just like all the rest of them have been doing," she cried. "Don't you think I've seen them. Leering at me when they think I'm not looking. All of them-undressing me with their eyes." With a swift movement of her arms she swept the nightie from her, throwing it into the corner. She stepped from the panties and threw them into Harry's stunned face. "Is this all you want from me?" she shrieked, "is it?"
It was as though Hermione had removed all the air from the room. His shocked mind was trying to process what was going on. His eyes were drawn irresistibly to her, he knew girls were different, that Hermione wouldn't have … but he never expected her body to be so exquisitely beautiful. All he wanted to do was gaze at her, touch her, tell her how beautiful she was. At the same time he knew she was so angry … he didn't understand why … what he had done? Whether actual minutes passed, or it just seemed like a long time passed as he tried to figure out what to do or say, he never knew.
"Yes … I mean no … I … mean, I do love you, I'm sorry for staring … I've never seen anything as beautiful as you are. Please don't be mad … what did I do wrong?"
She looked at his face. His expression registered shock and confusion. Her anger evaporated and she began to cry. Hermione tried to cover herself as she turned from him. "Harry, I thought … I know what's supposed to happen … but I … I'm scared…" she whined.
Hermione stood there crying, suddenly she felt two warm arms encircle her waist. She uncovered her face and looked down. Harry was on his knees, hugging her. He looked up at her. "One," he began, "my One, please don't cry. I love you." His own tears streaked down his face. "I will never make you do anything you don't want to do. I will never hurt you."
Her tears subsided for the moment. Harry stood and guided her back to the bed. She lay down and Harry covered her, tucking the sheets around her bare shoulders.
Hermione lay with her face pressed into her pillow. All she could think of was how this was the most important night of her life and how she had ruined it. Her tears at last failed her, her eyes burned as she tried to cry tears that weren't there. Her feeling of misery grew and she gave into great wracking sobs that were more like silent screams of anguish. The storm of emotion, spinning like a tornado, dragged her down into the deepest pits of her mind and into despair.
"So here you are, the great Hermione Granger," the voice said, in a cruel imitation of Professor McGonagall, "you thought you knew it all, even though everyone told you that you were too young. They begged you to call it off and now you are stuck …FOREVER! The great, brave Gryffindor, afraid, afraid of what, pain perhaps? Of failure, that you won't do it right, afraid that after this Harry won't love you anymore? Why should he, have you even thought of him once tonight? How he felt, that he might know what to do? Why didn't you talk to him? So now you've ruined it, and you will have to face your failure every day forever … and ever …and ever…"
How long it lasted, Hermione would never know, but it was not as long as it felt. Since it drew it's energy from her the storm at last spun down leaving her feeling more miserable than any time she could remember. In that moment a second voice spoke to her, her mother's voice, "Hermione, what's wrong?"
"I'm afraid, Mum," she thought, "I've ruined everything. Harry was trying to make love with me, and I'm scared."
"One," her mother's voice smiled, "some fear is natural, just trust your husband, and remember this is something you learn to do, enjoy your mistakes. Remember we taught you that this was wrong until you got married. You are Hermione Potter now. Take a little time to shift your mental gears and everything will be ok."
Hermione came back to herself, becoming conscious of her surroundings. She tried to make sense of the noise she was hearing. Rolling over she looked up at Harry. He was stroking her back, looking down at her with an anxious expression on his face, but most incredibly of all, he was singing to her. His voice was breathy and more than a little flat, but she recognized the words of the lullaby her mother used to sing to calm her when she was upset.
Her throat hurt as she tried to speak, "Harry, where did you learn that song?"
Harry was startled when she spoke to him, "Your Mum taught it to me. She said it helped when you were upset." Hermione nodded. He continued, "One, you're exhausted, why don't you go to sleep?" He leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek.
"Harry?" she asked as she closed her eyes, "please sing to me some more."
Harry did as she asked and shortly his wife was snoring gently beside him. He smiled, her father told him she snored when she was upset. He rose and went down to the kitchen, his throat was dry and he wanted something to drink. After pouring some Pumpkin juice, and realizing how thirsty he was, he thought Hermione might want something if she woke up. He placed the bowl of strawberries and a small pitcher of grape juice on a silver tray and brought it to the bedroom. After placing the tray on her nightstand he hung up his bathrobe and crossed to his side of the bed. He put out the candles and had an inspiration, he stepped out of his pajamas and shorts and slipped into the bed with his wife. Sensing his warmth Hermione nestled against him, shortly the only sound was the gentle snoring of the two young lovers sleeping together for the first time.
************************************************************************
Hermione stirred in the dim, gray light. She was puzzled by the unfamiliar background. Pushing the hair back from her face she froze at the sight of the ring on her finger. Her heart sank, she hoped she might have been having a nightmare. Her throat was sore and her chest hurt when she breathed. Focusing on the dark blotch near her, she recognized Harry's unruly thatch of hair, and his ring, glowing softly in the semi-darkness. An unfamiliar weight told her his arm was flung protectively across her waist.
She crept out from under his arm and slipped out of the bed. She stared at Harry, just watching him sleep for a few minutes, entranced by the peaceful expression on his face. At last she put on her robe and slippers and made her way to the kitchen.
She was sure she had seen some strawberries, but after a thorough search they were nowhere to be found. She settled for some juicy melon to soothe her throat and poured some pumpkin juice to drink. As she started to return to the bedroom, she thought about Harry and she chided herself for not thinking of him. She found a toasting fork, gathered some bread, butter, jelly, and some juice and laden with breakfast for her husband she made her way up the stairs.
The first thing she noticed was Harry's pajamas and boxers on the floor beside the bed, she thought she'd let him get away with it today but it definitely was not going to become a habit. She smiled at him as she put the tray down on his nightstand. The second thing she noticed was the tray with the strawberries and juice on her nightstand. Harry had thought of her last night, his consideration brought tears to her eyes.
She slipped out of her bathrobe and into the bed. She ate some of the strawberries while she waited for him to wake up. Growing impatient she called to him, "Harry, wake up." His eyelids fluttered but he quickly dropped back to sleep. It was then that she discovered the surest way of waking her husband. She placed her foot on the floor for a minute or so, then she applied it to the center of his chest. Harry jerked awake with gasp. He tried to focus on her face as she smiled at him, "Wake up, sleepyhead."
He returned her smile, "Good morning, One."
Hermione lay back against the pillows, inviting his kiss with her eyes, "I was wrong, Harry," she said, "when you call me 'One' it seems the most natural thing in the world."
Harry responded to her invitation, and he would remember those warm, deep kisses forever, the ones that tasted of strawberries.
Hermione touched him as he kissed her, surrendering to his caresses, his kisses stealing her self-consciousness away. Cradled by pillows and promises she welcomed his embrace. Her willing surrender to his touch seemed to awaken something within her, something ancient and powerful. It came to life within her, awakening long dormant connections as she allowed him to gently invade her intimate places. He loved her with his eyes, hands, and lips. She guided where he was tentative, enjoying his gentle exploration. Gazing into his eyes she questioned how she had mistaken his wonder of her as lust. Further, she realized the grins of the adults at the wedding were just reflections of their own memories, they knew the joy awaiting her and were welcoming her to this experience.
After a time the power of his caresses drove the capacity for rational thought from her mind. She felt some tension building within her, as she gave in to the ancient magic which had always been a part of her being. It was as though she were being swept along on some powerful wave. Suddenly something seemed to open within her and waves of pleasure rippled through her body, leaving her gasping for air.
Harry smiled as he watched her shiver and moan with pleasure.
Hermione's only desire was to share her joy with the person dearest to her. She caught him and pulled him to her, raising up she whispered into his ear, "Harry, please, be with me. I love you so." She lifted and spread her knees as she continued to tug at him, arching her back as she did so.
Harry felt a sudden stab of sharp pain, which just as suddenly melted into the sensation of being drowned in hot, moist velvet. His consciousness fragmented under the assault on his senses. He was aware that Hermione's eyes widened slightly as her indrawn breath hissed through her teeth. She lay back against the pillow as she locked her gaze with his.
Stunned, Harry stared into her eyes as he tried to figure out what was happening. For long minutes he fell into her soft, brown eyes, eyes that had pain at the edges, as something in his soul connected with Hermione's. She seemed to be drawn upward into his green eyes, as she tried to kiss him again. Clinging to his shoulders she whispered again, "I love you." Harry enfolded her in his arms and resting his weight on his elbows he held her to his chest.
It didn't matter that Harry's mind couldn't figure out what had happened, his body knew. The ancient magic was written into every cell, every fiber of his being, and he surrendered to it's rhythms.
The ancient magic was love, the gift of the powers that shaped the world, whose fingerprints were the magic they studied at Hogwarts. Harry surrendered to a rhythm and a power that was enough to send the planets spinning in their courses. It was as constant as the fall of the leaves and their greening in the spring. It was as relentless as the surf pounding on the rocks of the coasts. For him it was as warm and gentle as the beating of Hermione's heart.
The experience was thrilling, almost like flying. Though flying with Buckbeak was a pale imitation of what he was feeling now. He felt as though Hermione was moving away from him and he pursued her, leaving himself behind as he went.
For the ancient magic was also the power of creation, and in it's furnace Harry was melting away, becoming nothing. It had been set in motion by two gentle acts of self-surrender. Yet in the loss of himself, he was gaining his deepest desire, in the forge of their embrace, something new was coming into being, a family. Now, and forever, it would be Harry and Hermione, Hermione and Harry. One without the other would be an inexact expression, an incomplete thought.
In his last few moments as Harry, just Harry, he knew that somewhere Voldemort was screaming. Screaming in rage, frustration, fear, and agony. Trapped like a fly in amber by the scar that bound them both, blasted by the power poring backwards through the connection that bound their minds. The thought whirled away and was gone.
Hermione's face was a mask of the most intense concentration he had ever seen there. Some other part of his consciousness knew she was groaning with pleasure and calling his name. All thought fled away as his awareness narrowed to a point like a needle.
In that moment Harry and Hermione together touched eternity and there was … fusion.