Title: All Roads Lead Back
Keywords: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. H/Hr, with a whole lot of other ships thrown in. Post-HBP
Summary: Harry Potter always figured that once he had fulfilled his destiny he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to hell. Set 7 years after the final battle.
Spoilers: All six books.
A/N: I am a Harmony shipper thru and thru. HBP almost sent me into a fit until I realized that I was throwing a tizzy over a book and told myself to get over it. Hee. I then decided to throw my hat in the fanfiction ring and see if I could come up with a realistic (at least to me) story of my favorite couple getting together that adheres to canon. This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I have the whole story already plotted out, but would appreciate it if you would tell me if writing the rest is worth it or not.
I am a born and raised Carolina girl who moved to Florida. I'm southern thru and thru. The closest I've ever gotten to England is by watching BBC America. If you see something I've written that doesn't gel right please tell me, I would like to make this as good as possible.
This story features a lot of flashbacks. I've tried to make it obvious when the character is in present time as opposed to thinking back on an event. If it still seems unclear I would love to hear some suggestions.
I write plays and poetry. As a result my writing tends to be dialog heavy and at times abstract. Description isn't my strongest suit, but I hope to get better at it by trying to write fan fiction.
Although this is a H/Hr story it is told thru multiple perspectives.
If you are a fan of Ginny you're girl takes a few hits in this story. I am no Ginny lover, but to be fair I didn't like the character pre-HBP. She's not the villain of this story however and I would like to think that I've been fair in how I portray her. I could be wrong, oh well.
That's it for now.
Disclaimer: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.
She was in his bed again. No matter what kind of day he had (good or bad) or what dark or pleasant mood his mind was in when he retired for the night she always ended up in his bed. In the middle of the night. This time clad only in a peach colored towel. He liked it when it was only a towel. Makes things oh so much easier, he thought merrily to himself as he turned over on his side and hooked his right thigh over her left leg. She didn't seem to mind. At least not according to those large doe eyes that stared at him challengingly. What are you going to do, they seemed to say.
He began to trace his fingers down her arm at a sloth like pace. He felt rather then heard her sigh in contentment. He could barely contain his grin. He was definitely up to the challenge. Her skin was warm and damp, as if she had just recently come from the bath before ending up in his arms. His bed would be wet afterwards, but somehow he didn't seem to mind. Wasn't that the whole point, he thought to himself.
As he hovered over her, one hand entangled in russet colored curls while the other still traced patterns on bare heated flesh he noticed a bead of sweat that was slowly making it's way from her hairline down the contour of her cheek. She either didn't notice it or didn't care, but he was enthralled. To be able to glide over creamy skin without any other care in the world and then just disappear into it?!! He was jealous! He wanted to be that little droplet of moisture. So he did the next best thing. As it crested the curve of her left breast he licked it. It tasted of salt, sex, and cotton. It was time to remove that towel. But before he could do that she grabbed on to a handful of his hair as if to hold him in place. He obliged by licking lazy patterns with his tongue over the skin the towel didn't cover.
Her little body began to softly quake under his larger form. As he made his way to the other breast his tongue dipped into the valley between the two. She emitted a petulant little moan as her right hand let go of his hair and drifted down to the middle of his bare back. He could tell that she needed some kind of release soon, but he was having way too much fun toying with her. That is until she snaked her unattended hand into his silken boxers and began stroking his cock at a maddening pace. Faster...faster...then sloooooooow. Faster...faster...then slow. Minx.
Whatever it was she needed he now needed too. He realized this fact as his tongue began to get bolder with it's machinations. It forcefully pushed down the material over her right breast and before he knew it he had taken the little brown bud of her nipple into his mouth. He felt a tiny tingle of pain as her nails dug into the skin of his back and her body arched halfway off the bed. He could almost picture in his mind the half moon imprints he would find in the morning. He smiled to himself. They would be well worth it. Battle trophies. He fully intended on winning this war.
As he took one last languid lick of her nipple he rolled his whole body on top of hers. One arm he used to prop himself up so he didn't put his whole weight on her. The other arm was down at her parted thighs, his hand creeping up the inner wall. His lips were on hers, their tongues frantically dueling with each other for dominance. Almost there, almost there, he thought to himself. His fingers ached to touch her there. His cock felt like it would implode if it wasn't sheathed into her wet core soon. Though the rubbing was nice. The rubbing was very very nice. Almost....almost....the smell of her arousal was damn near drugging him...almost...
"Do you want me Harry?"
It took him nearly two seconds to realize that they were no longer kissing and that the voice he was hearing was not in his head, but coming from the half naked woman underneath him.
"Do you?"
Everything seemed to stop at that moment. His roaming hands. His labored breathing. It felt like he couldn't even blink.
"It's really a simple question Harry," she said as she placed both her hands on either side of his face and forced him to look her fully in her eyes. Her big brown eyes. Her big brown eyes that he would gladly drown in if he could.
It was a simple question. A simple question that she asked him every time they ended up in bed together, a mass of tangled arms, legs, and other assorted body parts. And the answer was always the same.
"Yes," he said, looking at her from beneath heavy lidded eyes. If anything his little friend poking at her stomach should have given her that answer. But he didn't mind. He knew from her little sighs and kittenish purrs that she wanted him just as much.
"Do you love me Harry?"
This however was new. Usually after his declaration there would be no more conversation exchanged between them. That is unless you counted groans and pants and screams of "harder...harder..." as they both joyously fucked each other into incoherence. But love? Love was never mentioned between them. It was almost as if the subject was taboo. Did he love her? He knew that he loved his parents and Sirius. He loved Remus and the Weasleys. He had loved his old headmaster Dumbledore, a fact that he hadn't fully realized till the wizened old man had left him. But did he love her? Was he in love with her? The way her question fully implied?
"Yes," he replied adoringly, his voice cracking from the emotion of it. His answer was just as plainly spoken as the last.
"I love you more then anything in this world Hermione."
And he did. He felt the truth of those words within every fiber of his being. He looked into her eyes intently. He hoped she could hear the earnest honesty in his voice, see the near worship in his eyes.
She did. She smiled at him with such a child-like happiness that he half expected her to clap her hands and coo.
"Good," she half whispered as she dropped a chaste kiss on his lips, a kiss so achingly sweet he nearly felt his heart rendered into pieces from the sheer innocence of it all.
"Time to wake up then Harry."
What?
~~**~~ ~~**~~ ~~**~~ ~~**~~
"I said it was time to wake up Harry," he heard a voice say as he felt the weight of a pillow thrown at the back of his head. He scrambled up into a sitting position on the bed, draping the powder blue sheets around his waist. As he turned bleary eyed towards the direction of the irritated voice he tried to gain some semblance of wakefulness.
"Sweet Circe! You are going to be late again if you don't hurry up. Hanes just might actually try to fire you this time!"
He watched the red blur go back and forth across the field of his vision a few times before he reached over and plucked his glasses from the night stand next to his bed. He slipped them on and Ginny suddenly came into focus. She was not a happy camper, if the purple color her face was becoming was any indicator. He placed the glasses back where they had been. He'd rather not 'see' this.
"That's probably been your intention all long hasn't it Harry? To get thrown out of the department. Well I won't allow it," she said, stomping her foot down in an amazing display of anger. She would have made a very imposing figure too, hair all blown back from her face like a Fury, arms akimbo, legs spread far apart. That is if she wasn't all of 5ft4, Harry sniggered to himself.
"Don't you dare laugh at me Harry James Potter," Ginny shouted.
Harry swallowed what ever remnants was left of his amusement. This was after all Molly Weasley's girl.
"Gin..."
"And don't call me Gin," she growled. Harry briefly pondered if maybe he should call for her an Exorcist.
"You know damned well that I hate it when you call me Gin! And if you've made a mess of your sheets again don't expect me to wash them!"
The way her eyes looked disdainfully at the bed Harry was almost afraid to take a peek down. He did feel a certain dampness surrounding him, but he was sure that it was just sweat. Please just be sweat, he thought.
"And if you even think your going to get to use THAT this morning you best think again!"
This time Harry did take a gander down and was greeted by his rock hard erection poking thru the sheets. He discreetly placed a pillow over his lap too tired to even feign embarrassment.
"I wouldn't think of it Ginny," he muttered under his breath.
If she heard him she didn't give any indication other then a roll of her eyes and a rather pissed sounding harrumph.
Harry watched her stalk to the bedroom door. Before she exited she turned around, reached into the pocket of her pink house robe and pulled out her wand. With a deft flick of her wrists she pointed it towards the walk-in wardrobe. One of Harry's scarlet Auror robes floated gingerly out and placed it's self on the pale green settee against the bedroom's far wall.
"I had Dobby press your uniform. I think you should at least look like you want to be there," she sniffed in that irritatingly superior tone she had recently began to address him in. As she turned her back and exited he heard her mention something about his breakfast getting cold.
"Finally," he exclaimed as he heard her footsteps on the stairs.
He jumped out of bed and bolted for his shower. He was still feeling the after effects of his dream and he needed to get rid of the evidence. Badly!
As he felt the first drops of cold water touch his skin he closed his eyes and tried to recapture the lingering pictures in his head. Soft skin, wide open legs, lovely brown eyes...that was all it took. He came hard with a shudder into his hands.
As he maneuvered his self fully under the shower tap, the water sending the proof of his mornings frustration down the drain, he pondered what it all meant. The dream changed, he thought to himself. The dream changed, what does that mean? He turned his face up as if he would get an answer from the heavens and was met with a spray of water to the face. That woke him up. He grabbed a hold of the soap in the dish and began to lather his body with it. It didn't matter. It didn't matter after all. It was just some stupid dream. That's all! Besides, it wasn't like anything would ever come of it. Right?
As if answer to his question he heard a pounding on the bathroom door.
"Get the bloody hell out of there before I throw away the bacon," he heard Ginny's muffled voice shout thru the wall.
"I'm coming Gin," he yelled back as he quickly rinsed himself from front to back.
"Don't call me Gin," she shrieked as she slammed the bedroom door on her way out.
As Harry stepped out of the shower and began to towel dry his body he half suspected that he would have to do a quick spell to repair said door. His suspicions were confirmed when he strode back into his bedroom, the peach colored towel wrapped securely around his hips.
Harry took a quick glance at the clock next to the mirror of his bureau and shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't going to be that late. Besides, Wednesdays tended to be slow at the office.
As he reached inside his drawer to pull out a fresh pair of briefs and a singlet he caught his reflection in the mirror. He had just been about to tug off the towel when he noticed the color of the cotton fabric. Instantly his dream came hurtling back at him. The smells, the sounds, the friction. At this thought his dick practically stood at attention. Damn.
He walked back defeatedly to his bed and reached for the wand that was still under his pillow. After he cast a quick "reparo" at it he threw a locking and silencing charm on the door as well.
As he laid his body on the bed, nude as the day he was born, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that he was in fact going to be late. And Hanes? Well, Hanes might just bloody well try to fire him. Harry didn't care.
The last cohesive thought he had before he placed his hand on his shaft and succumbed to mindless bliss was that he hoped Ginny was just joking about throwing the bacon away. He had to have something to look forward to as he sat across the breakfast table from her, his wife.
Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.