The Boy Who Wanted Her

Jori

Rating: NC17
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 06/06/2003
Last Updated: 06/06/2003
Status: completed

Set thirteen years after they first met, Harry Potter now has Quidditch groupies and Hermione wishes for something more between them.

Chapters

1. The Boy Who Wanted Her

1. The Boy Who Wanted Her

The Boy Who Wanted Her
by Jori

E-Mail: jori@netroenterprises.com

Website: http://www.netroenterprises.com/hidingout/

Summary: Set thirteen years after they first met (and a year or so after the defeat of Voldemort), Harry Potter has his Quidditch groupies and Hermione wonders what will change his ways. Starts out with Harry and a few nameless, faceless women (you've been warned) but ends up H/Hr because that's the way it ought to be.

Author's Notes: While eyeball deep in the plot of another story I'm working on, I felt like writing something with no redeeming social qualities to it at all. If you're looking for any great or deep character study, this isn't it. If you're looking for perfect characterization, well, this probably isn't it either. This is completely PWP. Finished May 2003.

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

***********

It was only sex.

That's what Hermione kept telling herself over and over. He was only having sex with those . . . girls. No, women. At one time, when they were all much younger, she could have called them girls but now they were women. Not that it mattered. He wasn't in love with any of them. She had seen Harry in love; had seen how his eyes positively sparkled when he was with the right person. With most of these women, his eyes were blank. They would talk and talk, adding a giggle and a hair toss where they felt it was necessary but it didn't really matter what they did or said. If Harry Potter wanted to take a particular girl . . .woman . . . to bed, he did it.

He used to hate girls who liked to show him off. Then he discovered that most of them would have sex with him after they paraded him around in front of their friends (or the photographer from the Daily Prophet) and he didn't mind them doing it as much. And Hermione really did know it was only sex and it shouldn't bother her. They were only friends and she shouldn't care what he did behind closed doors.

The problem was, lately she did care.

It was a fact that all those glossy girls didn't get to be part of Harry's life like she did. Most never got more than a night while she had the last thirteen years. They could never hope to see him smile at them the way he smiled at her when he finally came home at the end of the War or feel the way he hugged her when he bounded off the train bringing him from the Northern Front and into her waiting arms. They would never be the one who got to share all those nights afterward when he wasn't able to sleep and the two of them would spend hours and hours talking. And they would never know how proud he was the day he found out that at last, he was going to be able to play professional Quidditch with no other cares in the world.

But even though she was a part of all those moments, they all got to know something that she never would. They got to know what it felt like to look up at him while he moved inside of them. They got to feel his warm skin against theirs and to feel his hands send them over the edge. This was something she could never hope for.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived was now Harry Potter, the Boy Who Was Way Out of Her League.

It never bothered her before, back at Hogwarts. When Harry had a girlfriend (and he had many his last year), she had her studies or she would occasionally have a boyfriend of her own. If that wasn't the case, she had Ron for company back then. Now Ron was off opening the latest store for the twins in Bermuda and when Harry was with someone, Hermione was completely alone.

Hermione rushed past Harry's closed door and to her own room in their shared flat, hoping she didn't have to hear anyone giggling . . . or worse. They all seemed to giggle. Some liked to scream. Most didn't care that he had a flatmate at all. They were with the Harry Potter and the rest of the world didn't matter.

Safely tucked in her own room, she pulled her wand out of her pocket and used a new silencing charm charm she had learned so she wouldn't have to hear anything she didn't want to. Pulling a heavy tome off one of her many shelves, she sat in her favorite chair, struggling to focus on something other than what could be going on in the room down the hall.

She knew she could only lie to herself for so long. This had nothing to do with being alone or with the type of women Harry was interested in these days since he became the premiere Seeker in all of England. This had nothing to do with how she felt about him back at Hogwarts when she didn't really want him to be anything more than a friend. This had everything to do with how her feelings towards him had changed while he was off fighting in the War. With every one of Harry's letters an owl would bring to her from the Northern Front, she slowly began to realize just how much she needed him and how she hoped when he returned victorious, he would feel it, too. They would share a flat and sooner or later, he would realize that after all this time, the girl . . . woman for him had been right there.

Instead, he came back and got a position as Seeker on a new start-up team in London (many of the teams in the previous league fell apart during the War as most of their players had to leave to fight) and soon after that came even more fame and fortune and all the trappings of success. It wasn't that many women, really, but from her standpoint, it felt like thousands of them had crossed the threshold of their flat, giggling about the fact that Harry Potter had taken them home even if he would never remember their names the next week.

Hermione sighed, closing her book and dropping it to the floor. The sound proofing charm worked both ways and she should really teach it to Harry one of these days. She closed her eyes and realized this also had to do with the fact that even though she knew it was only sex with those women, just once she wanted it to be with her.

Or more than once.

Maybe twice.

*********************

Hermione had no clue how Harry managed to so easily get rid of the women he'd bring home, but he always did. She thought that at least one would make it to breakfast but they all seemed to floo out of here before she could even butter her toast. She was just happy she didn't have to see them. It was bad enough she had to see early morning Harry wander out of his room looking like he usually did after they were gone.

She turned around with her toast and tea and found Harry standing at the doorway to the kitchen, his hair sticking out every which way more than usual. He had on no shirt and just his old red and gold sweatpants with the lion going up one leg that he would wear to practice when it was cold. Her eyes moved down his body quickly and she blushed when she realized he really did have on just the threadbare sweatpants. Not much was left to the imagination at the moment.

"Would you please wash up and put on some clothing before coming to the breakfast table?" Hermione asked, wincing at how much she sounded like her mother.

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, sitting down without a shirt anyway. It was then that she noticed he had something in his hand. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

He slid it across the table. Hermione had copied the sound proofing charm for him and slipped it under his door this morning. She looked at it and then at him.

"I was trying to get some work done last night," was all she had the nerve to say.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize we were bothering you," Harry said, nabbing a piece of her toast and downing it in two bites.

"That's okay," she said instead of no, of course you don't realize it, you git. You were the one getting fucked so what did you care if my heart was breaking right next door?

"Maybe from now on, if I meet someone, I can go to their place. Then you can study in peace," Harry said, moving for her other piece of toast and getting slapped back.

Hermione didn't know what to say. Would that be better? She wouldn't have to deal with knowing what was going on but she also wouldn't get to see Harry look at them blankly as he hurried them to his room.

"Maybe that would be a good idea," Hermione said, unsure of why she decided that. "For a while. Until I get this paper finished."

"Not a problem, 'Mione," he said, picking up today's issue of the Daily Prophet and immediately turning it to the page featuring the latest Quidditch scores, muttering about some other team. "Damn it! I was hoping they lost."

Hermione took a sip of tea and worked up the nerve to say something. "You've been bringing home a lot of women lately. Is something wrong?"

He put down the paper and looked at her, his eyes giving away nothing. She cringed when she realized it was the same blank look he would give whatever girl it was he brought home. It was the expression he used when he was trying to hide a piece of himself from the world. He had never used it on her before and she wanted to push away from the table and run to her room. Instead, she pushed her remaining piece of toast in his direction so he could look at that instead.

"I said I was sorry," he said, not making a move towards the toast. His eyes were still locked onto hers and for a second, she thought she saw them flash with . . . whatever it was. Not love of course, but something. She looked down for a moment and when she looked up, he was hidden behind the paper again.

"It's not that. It's just that . . ." she didn't know what she was getting at or how to say it politely. How does one tell someone that they seem to literally be screwing their life away? At least, how does one say it without sounding bitter that it's not them that's on the receiving end? "I don't want to see you get hurt."

He folded the paper and set it aside, looking at Hermione again. Whatever it was there before was now replaced by a flash of anger. "I gave up years of my life, Hermione, to go off and fight some evil that decided years ago I was his personal plaything. I'm finally getting back to having a life again. That's all it is. Nothing more. Nothing less. I'm not going to get hurt because to be honest? I can't be hurt more than I already have been."

She wanted to say 'I can' but she held her tongue until the urge passed. "I'm sorry," was all she allowed herself to say even though she wasn't sorry about anything, really.

"Only one thing still hurts and . . . never mind. It's nothing," he said, brushing off whatever he was going to say with a wave of his hand and getting up from the table. "I have practice in an hour and tonight, we're off for a month on the road. Deacons wants us to stay together as a team this time and not apparate home every night so I'll be gone the whole time. When I get back, maybe we can reassess our living arrangements."

Hermione wanted to take the whole conversation back because she didn't know what she would do if he decided to move out. She had lived near either Harry or Ron or Ginny since she was a girl and she wasn't sure what her life would be like without one of them around. But she also knew she couldn't keep living her life like this. She couldn't spend her nights wondering about something she could never have.

"That would be for the best," she said and watched him walk away.

*****************

Three weeks went by without a single owl from Harry. Hermione knew exactly where he was because the Daily Prophet was dedicated to covering every aspect of his Quidditch career, including some of the more gossipy parts of it. On the third page, she found a picture of Harry still in his Quidditch robes with his arm around a pretty young witch. She was beaming at him and he kept looking at her and then forwards and Hermione hated her. She would hate her more if it weren't for that blank look in Harry's eyes.

"Alexandria Woolenbright seeks out and captures Harry Potter after his loss to the team she will one day inherit," Hermione said, reading the caption in her best snooty society witch voice. She knew all about the Alexandria Woolenbrights of the world. She was using Harry as much as he probably used her later that night.

Hermione had worked hard these last few weeks to get over this horrible feeling she had building up inside of her. Harry was always going to have women like Alexandria all around him and she would have to accept that as a fact of life. If she wanted to remain his friend, she was going to have to bury everything she felt for him beyond friendship or else she would grow to hate him as much as she hated all his past, present and future Alexandrias at this moment.

Casting the paper aside, she planned her day out. Go to the lab and the library. Go to the grocery store. Go to the bookstore to pick up book ordered last week. Stop thinking about never being in bed with best friend. Stop putting that into the plans.

Before she could get up from the table and get ready for the day, an owl fluttered to a stop outside of the window and Hermione jumped up to get the mail. Harry still hadn't gotten another owl after Hedwig's death so for the time being, they were borrowing Pig from Ron while he was away.

"Thank you, Pig. Want some toast?" Hermione asked and the little owl flapped in excitedly.

She fed the owl as she sorted the mail, throwing aside the various pieces of fan mail for Harry his Quidditch agent had sent along with the latest copy of some endorsement contract he wanted Harry to sign. The last envelope was from Harry himself, addressed to her. Perhaps he had decided to never come back.

Opening it, she pulled out his letter and scanned it over quickly first to make sure it wasn't bad news. It wasn't too terrible.

Dear Hermione--

This road trip has been awful. I can't manage to catch the Snitch no matter what I try. It looks like our season will be over at the end of the week. I was thinking that perhaps you and I could travel to see Ron in Bermuda when I return home. That is, if it fits in with your work schedule at the University. We really do need to talk. Don't bother to reply. I'll probably be home before Pig could ever deliver it.

Love as always,

Harry

Great, Hermione thought. He can now go and pick up naturally tanned and beautiful witches from Bermuda with their sun kissed hair and perfect bikini bodies and I get to watch. It wouldn't be so bad since Ron would be there to keep her company. Maybe Ginny could get some time off, too, and they could all go . . . except for the fact that Ginny wasn't all that happy with Harry, either. It would just have to be the two of them. Rather, the three of them once they got there. The three of them together again. That ought to take her mind off of things. Like Harry in his swimming trunks.

She got up and walked to her bookshelf, looking for a good tanning spell that wouldn't make her too orange. She might was well show up in Bermuda looking halfway decent. Who knows? She could meet someone and Harry Potter might not be the only one getting lucky this holiday.

********************

Hermione heard Harry apparate in and head straight to his room sometime around 10 p.m. The team they lost to this evening (she had already heard the news on the wireless) wasn't all that far away and she expected he'd be home about now. Usually, after these long trips, he would come seek her out to tell her he was home even though he knew she heard him coming in. When it got to be half past the hour and he still hadn't come to her, she left her room to seek him out.

Before knocking on his door, she listened carefully to make sure he was actually alone. Not hearing anyone, she knocked twice and waited.

"Come in," he called out, sounding beyond exhausted.

She entered his darkened room and found him lying face down on his bed, still in his Quidditch robes.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"It's only fun when you're winning," he muttered, turning to face her. "When you're not winning, it's a lot like work."

"I'm sorry. That was a bad streak you had there. Forget what the Snitch looks like, Harry? It's that gold thing with the wings," she said and he almost smiled.

"I don't know what happened. We were doing so well until this road trip. I think Alexandria Woolenbright might have cursed me," he said, sitting up. He patted the spot on the bed beside him and Hermione hesitated a moment before joining him. This was probably the closest she was ever going to get to being in Harry's bed anytime soon so she might as well enjoy it.

"Did she have a good reason to curse you?" Hermione asked and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Are you asking if I slept with her? No, Hermione, I didn't. I know you think I leave behind this endless trail of women but seriously, it's not that many. And I would never shag the daughter of someone who owns an opposing team. That would be asking for trouble," he said.

Hermione didn't know what to say next. She sat there in the dark, breathing in the scent that was Harry. They must have just finished playing right before he apparated home because he still smelled of the sky. It was mixed with adrenaline and sweat and she could breath it in forever.

"Are we still leaving tomorrow? I got time off from the lab so were all set. I even started working on my tan," Hermione said, holding out a slender arm that was slightly brown now.

"You look nice," Harry said, taking her hand in his as soon as she put it down. Her heart began beating hard in her chest just from his touch and she swallowed hard.

"So, why are you alone tonight?" she asked, feeling a warmth spread from where his fingers were wrapped around hers to a place deep in her abdomen.

"I'm not alone," he said softly and she knew not to read anything into his words. He was upset right now, having lost his first real chance at the national cup.

"You know what I mean," Hermione said, giving him an eye roll. He almost smiled again.

"No one likes a loser?"

"You're hardly a loser, Harry! I don't think those women even know how to read the Quidditch stats in Sports Animated Monthly so that's not why they hang around you," she said, choking back any jealousy she might be feeling which was none because she had an entire month to get over it. No, she was feeling no jealousy at all.

"Hermione, it really isn't like that, you know. You have this notion in your head that all I do is play Quidditch and whore around and that's not the case," he said with a resigned sigh.

"Damn it, Harry, if anyone on this earth knows that you're more than a Quidditch player with a penchant for women, it's me! I've been here the whole time, you know, through thick and thin and the many near death experiences," she said, letting go of his hand while she still could.

"I know you have," he said so softly she could barely hear him. "You've always been there for me. Except . . . never mind."

"Never mind what?" she asked. He did the same thing to her right before he left last month and she had no clue what he was getting at.

"It's nothing. What time would you like to leave tomorrow? I'm going to have to get some rest if I'm to travel that far. In the state I am now, who knows where parts of me might end up," Harry said with a yawn. He stood up and started stripping out of his uniform and Hermione turned her head even though she didn't want to.

"Ron is expecting us around noon Bermuda time so you have plenty of time to rest up. Sorry about the cup, Harry. I really am," she said, getting up from the edge of his bed even though she didn't want to do that either. "Want a hug?"

"From you? Always," he said and they embraced for a long time. Hermione didn't know what had happened while he was gone, but this was the old Harry she had known for years. The sweet side of Harry none of those women ever got to experience. Harry yawned again. "Unless you plan on holding me up as I sleep, we better end this soon."

"Oh! Sorry," Hermione said, stepping back.

"Get some rest, 'Mione. We have a long way to go tomorrow," he said, reaching out to touch her face but pulling away before he made contact.

"Yes. We do," she said, leaving him alone in his room.

*******************

Long distance travel, whether by floo, portkey or apparating, all made Hermione sick lately. They were in Bermuda and the sun was shining and here she was stuck in the bathroom heaving up her breakfast.

"You okay, Hermione?" Ron asked, knocking on the door. "You're not hiding something, are you?"

It took Hermione a moment to catch on to what he was talking about.

"No, Ron. Just a touch of Apparation Sickness," she said, wanting to add that in order to be pregnant, she would probably have to be having sex and that just wasn't happening. If she couldn't get her head out of the toilet, it wouldn't be happening while she was here, either.

"Harry and I are going up to the market to get some food and drinks. You need anything?" he asked and Hermione's stomach lurched at the word 'food.'

"Not now. I'm okay," she said, struggling to get to her feet.

"See you in a few minutes, then," Ron called out as went away from the door. Hermione waited until the house fell silent before leaving the bathroom.

It was a nice place and the decor was different than anything Hermione had ever seen in her life. It was only recently that Fred and George decided to open joke shops in all the biggest wizarding tourist spots and this was Ron's first assignment. She gathered from his letters that the next spot would be in Florida or Southern California.

It wasn't long before Ron and Harry came back, both carrying bags of groceries and several bottles of some sort of local concoction Hermione had never heard of and knew she'd never be able to keep down right now. Luckily, Ron put those away behind the bar in the living room.

"You wouldn't believe the hassle the local ministry is giving us about permits. Fred thought it was difficult when we opened up in Majorca but that was nothing compared to this," Ron was saying and Harry nodded along. He gave Hermione a slight smile as they both followed their host into the kitchen.

Ron had just arrived home from a meeting right before they got here and he was dressed like all the local wizards in shorts cut right above the knee and a shirt and tie all beneath a robe that was shorter than most she had ever seen. He must have spent a good deal of time in the sun lately because his face was more freckled than usual and his hair had washed out to a lighter ginger color.

"How about your ventures into the American market? How are those going?" Harry asked, trying to sound interested in it all. It was only recently that Hermione discovered it was Harry who was the financial wizard behind most of the newest Weasley storefronts but he didn't care much about the day to day aspect of it. They refused his money at first, only accepting it if Harry became a full partner in the business. It was only money, he'd always say, giving Fred and George more if they needed it, but what happened to that money next never seemed to concern him much.

"Salem is guaranteed as are a few other east coast hot spots. Orlando . . . they seem to think they don't want us but George will get them to reconsider yet," Ron said and he continued on about all the cities they'd like to open up in. Even after all these years, Hermione was still amused by the number of cities that had a huge wizarding population in them that the Muggles never even noticed. The house they were in now was set in a neighborhood hidden with various charms. It even had it's own private beach and resorts that never made it onto Muggle maps.

"Just let me know if you need anything," Harry said and Ron's expression changed.

"We're doing really well, Harry. Soon, we'll be able to pay you back for everything. Buy you out, so to speak," Ron said. Hermione knew how he felt about the financial disparity that was always there between them but for first time in his life, Ron and the other Weasleys were now starting to catch up to that Potter fortune.

"You don't have to do that. It's only money," Harry said as Hermione mouthed the words behind him.

"Feeling any better, Hermione?" Ron asked, moving away from the conversation about finances.

"Yes, thanks. I don't travel enough, apparently. It never bothers Harry," Hermione said, watching the two of them open bottles of locally brewed butter beer. They clinked the bottles together and took a sip.

"Maybe my traveling days will be over sooner than you all think," said Harry, his expression growing rather forlorn.

"Oh, get off it, Harry. It was only a few bad matches. It could happen to anyone, even you. That team would have never filled their stadium this past year if it weren't for you. They'll never get rid of you . . . especially since you have the London Lightning logo right there on your forehead," Ron said with a smile before going on. "I bet you have fans teeming all around you. I bet you have no trouble meeting women, hey, Harry? Not that you ever did . . . but I see your picture everywhere now with some of the most beautiful women . . . you'll have to tell me about them . . ."

Harry gave Hermione a quick glance and she raised an eyebrow at him, seemingly saying 'I told you so' as Ron carried on some more.

"Harry's quite the playboy these days," Hermione said and Ron smiled.

"Lucky you!"

"It's not quite as bad as Hermione makes it out to be," Harry said from behind gritted teeth.

"How could it be bad at all? If anyone deserves a little fun in life, it's you, Harry. And besides, look at you, Hermione -- you can't be hard up for a date these days, either," Ron said, giving her a quick once over. She blushed and looked to Harry, who was looking at her, too, and without any sort of blank expression. This caused her to blush some more.

"Hermione never pulls her nose out of her books long enough for anyone to notice her," Harry said and she decided to end this now, knowing they could go tit for tat for hours about their polar opposite love lives.

"I'm feeling better so why don't I make you two something to eat? You can do more catching up and I'll have it done in a few minutes," Hermione said, looking at all the groceries they had carried in.

"Sounds great, Hermione," Ron said, grabbing her and pulling her into a tight embrace. "It's so good to have you both here even if Harry had to go and become Snitch Blind in order for it to happen."

"That's right. Go ahead and rub it in some more. I don't mind," Harry said, smiling now. It was the first time Hermione had seen him really smile in a long time. Maybe this vacation would be a good thing in the end after all.

**************

"Do you remember when Dean's curse backfired and instead of repelling them, they ended up behind our lines?"

"How could I forget? Do you remember how cold it was that day? Next war I'm ever in, I'm going to the Southern Front."

War talk. Hermione knew it well. Even she knew all the stories and she hadn't even been there. She had spent the War working in a refugee center that was located in what used to be Diagon Alley until it fell right before the end of the war. They thought all was lost at that point until a miracle happened on the Northern Front and the War soon came to a glorious end. They had all lost friends (and in Ron's case, family) in the War yet still the two of them always managed to talk about it with an incredible sense of pride.

"Lunch," Hermione said, handing them each a plate.

"Is this my mom's recipe?" Ron asked, his face glowing at the thought of food he didn't have to cook for himself.

"Of course it is," Hermione said, sitting down at the table with them though without a plate of her own. She could cook it, but she wasn't ready to eat it.

"Fantastic!" Ron said, digging into his meat pie. They both ate quickly, stopping occasionally to take a sip of their butter beers. When he was finished, Ron wiped his face with a napkin and smiled at Hermione. "You've outdone yourself again, Granger."

"Thank you," she said. Harry nodded in agreement but didn't say anything.

"I'm going to have to go back to work for a few hours but I'm sure the two of you can find something to do. The beach is just down the street. You can't miss it and you both look like you could use a little sun. Well, you do, Harry. Your, um, tan is very nice, Hermione," Ron said with a wink and she suddenly felt very self conscious about the way she looked. She had packed her swimsuits but until now forgot that she would actually have to wear one in front of Harry.

"I could use a few hours at the beach," Harry said with a heavy sigh.

"So could I but unfortunately, something came up this morning. Tomorrow, I should be able to give you the tour of everything. Small place, though, so the tour won't last all that long. You two have fun and if you need any privacy, there's always the cottage out back. Fred likes to stay there but he won't be home for days," Ron said.

"Privacy for what?" Hermione asked, thinking he was talking about her and Harry.

"Don't pretend with me that you don't know what I'm talking about, Hermione. Privacy in case you meet someone at the beach," Ron said, standing up from the table. "I'll see you all later."

With that, he 'popped' out of the room, leaving Harry and Hermione alone together.

"Like that's going to happen," Hermione said beneath her breath. Harry heard her anyway.

"Why wouldn't it? Ron's right. Look at you. There must be loads of men waiting for you to notice them," Harry said and she thought he sounded odd.

"Hardly," she said, pulling her wand from her pocket and using a charm to clear the table. She didn't want to tell him that she didn't really care about other men but then she remembered that she was over that. She spent a month getting over that and wasn't going to slip down that slope again.

"I'm going to go change my clothes. Meet you back here in a few minutes?" Harry asked, standing up.

"Sounds like a plan to me," she said, not looking at him as he walked off to his room.

*************

Damn it. What possessed her to wear a bikini? Hermione looked around the beach at all the other witches in their bikinis and she wished she had worn her one piece suit. She looked terrible compared to all of them and now she wouldn't be able to take her cover-up off at all.

She watched as Harry gave them all a good looking over and she watched as they looked back. When they saw who he was with, they all beamed with confidence that they could get him away from her in a heartbeat. Little did they know they didn't have to worry about that in the first place. He was probably practicing his blank expression right now.

"Want to go for a swim?" Harry asked and Hermione was sure he was hoping she'd say no so he could go off and meet Miss Brazilian Wax Job who hadn't stopped staring at him since they arrived.

"No. You can go. Don't worry about me," she said, pulling her cover-up tighter around her.

"I am worried about you. Now come on and swim with me," he said, standing up and offering her a hand. That gesture made Miss Perfect Breasts squint her eyes at Hermione, probably assessing what was wrong with this picture.

"I'll be right there, Harry. Go on in," she said, hoping he'd go away long enough for her to take off her cover-up and get in the water without him having to suffer any embarrassment for being out here with her.

He took off his glasses and left them on the beach towel. She watched as he walked towards the water, stopping at the shoreline while squinting out over the ocean. She noticed how many other people were watching, too. Even a long away from home, he was still Harry Potter, the Boy Who Made The World Safe For Vacations, and all these people knew it. Add to that the fact he looked good in a pair of trunks with no shirt . . .

Hermione kicked herself. She wasn't going to think about that. She stood up and pulled off her cover-up, watching Miss Tanned To Perfection roll her eyes. Well, to hell with her. Hermione was the one on holiday with the most famous wizard in the world, not them.

Yet, she could feel this tugging in the pit of her stomach as she realized any one of them could be the woman spending the night with him. It certainly wasn't going to be her.

She was adjusting the sides of her bikini bottom when Harry turned to look her way. Hermione blushed when he cocked his head, considering her a little more closely than she was used to. It had to be her imagination.

"Hurry up, 'Mione!" he called, putting his hands on his hips which just accented his Quidditch playing physique all the more.

"Hold on a second," she said in return, trying to get used to the idea of walking out there with all these people watching her. She finally did it, focusing only on Harry and not all the eyes she was sure were rolling around her.

The two of them splashed into the water, him pulling her out further than she really wanted to go. Her parents used to take her on beach holidays all the time but that had been years ago. Still, she knew she was safe with Harry. He would never let anything happen to her. Not anything he could stop, at least. Her slightly bruised heart and ego were another thing entirely.

He let her go and disappeared beneath the water. She couldn't help but scream when he came back to the surface, grabbing her. Somehow, she ended up in his arms and they were face to face, the ocean performing some sort of magic by pushing them together closer than they had ever been. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and for one brief second, she thought 'so this is what it would be like.'

Neither of them made a move to pull away but instead they both laughed nervously before letting the waves gently push them together and pull them apart, causing her to rise and fall on his body.

"Do you know how many hearts you're breaking right now by swimming around with your best friend?" Hermione asked, her arms going around his neck to hold on as she glanced back towards the shore.

"Do you know how very little I care?"

"Do you care about any of them?" Hermione asked and Harry just shook his head. "Then why do you do it?"

It was something she was never going to understand and she knew it. It was just sex. It didn't need to mean anything to him. The thought that used to make her happy now kind of made her sad.

"I do it because I don't know what else to do in the meantime," he said and she gave him a puzzled look. His expression was anything but blank at the moment and she could drown in emerald sea that was his eyes if she wanted to.

"In the meantime? What does that mean?" she asked.

"In the meantime. Before I can have what I really want. If I can have what I really want," he said and she just stared at him, trying to strain out the meaning of his words. Could it mean what she thought it meant? No, that wasn't possible.

"What do you really want?" she asked. A wave pushed them even closer together and she brushed up against a part of him she never thought she'd feel. It sent a warmth flowing through her body and a wetness flooding to a place that was already rather wet at the moment.

"I want the time to be right. I want to be sure. Most importantly, I want her to be sure, too," he said and her heart started pounding harder, nearly blocking out the sound of the waves around them.

"Maybe she is sure."

"Then why doesn't she ever say anything?" he asked. His hands disappeared underneath the water and wrapped around her waist, moving her against him.

"Maybe because she didn't think it was something she could ever have." The feel of him pushing against her, even through all that fabric, was wonderful. She had to concentrate in order to talk coherently.

"Why not?"

"Because he never said anything," she said.

"But he did say something. Over a year ago, he sent her a letter and never heard back," he said.

"You did?" asked, dropping the whole 'he' and 'she' nonsense.

"I did."

"I never got a letter," Hermione said, looking into his eyes and seeing something there she'd never seen before. Was that regret?

"Damn owl."

They both laughed and he spun her around in the water, her legs wrapped even tighter around him.

"It wasn't Hedwig, was it?" she asked and they stopped laughing at the mention of her name.

"No, this was the first owl I used after she got killed. After Hedwig . . ." Harry shook his head at the memory of his owl and Hermione pulled one arm from around his neck and touched his cheek. "First Hedwig and then when Charlie died, I decided I needed to tell you how I felt. I knew how short life can be but I had to tell in case something happened to me."

"You mean all this time, when I thought you didn't want me . . . not even for one night . . ."

"I was thinking you didn't want me, either," he said with so much regret in his voice it hurt her. "I've done so many things since then that you had to suffer though. I didn't think I could have what I wanted so I took whatever else there was. Hermione, I'm tired of nothing lasting longer than one night. I don't want it to be just one night with you."

"Two nights would be good," she said with a smile. He didn't smile back.

"You couldn't possibly want me after the things you've seen and heard . . ."

"Shut up already!"she said, wanting to explain to him that she knew it was just sex. He never once looked at those girls with the look he had in his eyes right now.

Instead of saying a word, she pulled his face towards her, anxiously awaiting a kiss. They were so close to having what they both wanted and she wasn't going to let it pass her by ever again.

But before his lips could meet hers, they heard someone shouting from the beach.

"There you two are!" Ron called out and Hermione pulled away from Harry as quickly as she could. "I got off work early and thought I'd join you."

He was paddling his way out towards them. She gave Harry an apologetic look and before Ron could get to them he said only one word. "Later."

It would be hard, but she knew she could wait. Harry Potter was now the Boy Who Wanted Her and that was worth waiting for.

******************

Later was actually much later. The three of them sat up chatting half the night, Ron clueless as to why Hermione tried to say goodnight so many times. Each time she tried, Harry gave her a knowing smile. Yet , each time she tried, Ron handed them all another drink and told her to stay put. She sat their listening to the rain come down on the tin roof of the house while Ron and Harry carried with stories from their youth.

She finally managed to escape at around 3 a.m. and Harry told Ron he had to use the bathroom and would be right back. He caught up with her in the hallway, grabbing her arm and spinning her towards him. Their bodies pressed together and her pulse quickened.

"Where do you want to meet?" he asked and she looked up at him. She hoped his eyes were blazing like they were because of her and not because of all the alcohol he had consumed.

"Your room?"

Harry turned to look at Ron, who was pouring himself another drink, oblivious to what was going on between his best friends. Turning back towards her he whispered, "Fifteen minutes? That will give me enough time to talk Ron into going to bed. Then I'll be in my room."

"You don't plan on being too loud, do you?" she asked, nervous that Ron might hear something. They would tell him about this tomorrow when everyone was sobered up but she didn't want him to find out before then.

"Don't worry. I know a good sound proofing charm," Harry said with a grin, leaving her there. Hermione rushed to her room and studied herself in the mirror.

"A touch of gloss might be nice, dear," the mirror said and Hermione frowned. She didn't pack much in the way of make-up so she bit her lips and pinched her cheeks, hoping to make them a bit rosier. It didn't work all that well. She went to change her clothes to discover that she packed nothing appropriate for going to bed with her best friend. Nothing. All she had was one silky pair of knickers. She sat down with them on the edge of her bed and struggled with all the feelings building up inside of her.

He couldn't possibly want her. He was only doing this to be nice. Tomorrow, he'd go back to the beach and pair off with one of those girls he really belonged with and she would have to watch knowing that he could have really been hers if only she had packed the right outfit.

She wasn't sure how much time had gone by when she heard a soft knocking at the door. Quickly, she shoved the knickers back in her bag and went to the door. Harry was standing there, looking rather concerned.

"You weren't there. Did you reconsider? Is something wrong?" he asked in a whisper and Hermione let him in.

"Besides the fact that I'm a complete mess, no. Nothing is wrong at all," she said, returning to her spot on the edge of the bed.

"A complete mess . . . how?" he asked, closing the door. He leaned back against it, studying her.

"Look at me! Now remember all the other girls you've ever been with. See the difference?" she asked, pointing to her face.

"Yeah, I see the difference. I didn't love a single one of them . . . didn't even like most of them . . . and you, Hermione . . . don't you see the difference?" Harry volleyed her question back at her.

"I'm so scared."

"Close your eyes, 'Mione," he said and she gave him a quizzical look. "Just do it for me. Close your eyes."

She did as she was told and felt him kneel down in front of her. Her heart was pounding like it had been earlier when they were in the surf together.

"What now?" she asked and he placed a fingertip against her lips.

"Remember the first time we ever met? Remember the train car carrying us to Hogwarts for the very first time?" he asked and she nodded, unable to speak past his finger. "That is me and that is you again, okay? Who was scared? It wasn't you. It was me. I didn't even know who I was or where I was going and there you were, so smart. You knew everything about me. You even told me so. You still do, Hermione. There's nothing to be afraid of, okay?"

Hermione nodded again and moved away from his touch, opening her eyes. Their faces were level, his eyes looking into hers and all her fears were washed away with just that look. He was the same Harry as he always was and he was there with her tonight and quite possibly for every night hereafter so there was nothing to be scared of.

"I'm the one who should be scared of screwing this all up. I love you, Hermione. I have for years and I don't want to ruin that anymore than I already have."

"You couldn't ruin it if you tried," she said, reaching out to touch his face. She pulled him closer, their mouths meeting in a soft kiss. It wasn't long until the kiss became more passionate and she had her legs wrapped around his waist much like she did earlier in the water. He started to grind against her and her head was swimming from the sensation of him being so near and from the thought that she was finally going to bed with her best friend *and* he loved her. This was so much better than the one night she once hoped for.

He pulled away from the kiss and smiled at her. "After those last few Quidditch matches, I'm not sure my knees can take much more of this," he said, shifting back from her.

"Oh! Get up here, then," she said, crawling back across the bed. He followed her, on all fours, looking like he could devour her right then and there. A heat swept through her body like she had never felt before and as soon as he was over her, her hands flew to the fly of his jeans. She had waited so long and she wanted him now.

He looked at what she was doing and then back her, a huge smile on his face that carried over to his eyes. She tugged down the zipper, slipping his jeans and his underwear down over his narrow hips. He kicked them all the way off and helped her pull his shirt over his head. He helped her get out of her clothing and she smiled to herself, happy that it didn't matter that she didn't have any silky knickers on. He wanted her anyway. Naked now, they explored each other, his hands cupping her breasts as her hands wandered over his chest and abdomen.

"Hermione?"

"Yes?" she asked.

"Is it . . . you know . . . safe? My wand is in the other room so I can't perform any spells on myself but I can go get it or you can . . . what I mean to say is I usually do these things myself to guarantee . . . but with you, it's different," he said, mumbling a bit.

"Oh, no. It's all good. I found something that only has to be done twice a year so no worries there," she said and he sighed with relief before returning his focus to her body.

This was all going so fast and Hermione's head was spinning so much she had to close her eyes. He moved a hand down between her thighs and she let out a soft sigh when he found her clit. She had always wondered what kind of a lover he would be and now she was finding out. Opening her eyes, she found him staring into hers once more, looking for reassurance that he was doing this right. As if he could do it wrong.

He stroked her in time to the rain coming down on the roof and she moaned, letting him know just how happy she was. All the while, he didn't take his eyes off of her and that, along with his touch, made her melt into nothing quickly. She came faster than she ever had before in her life. Her body twitched under his fingers and she didn't take her eyes off of him as she rode out each shock of pleasure he gave her. When it subsided, she was slightly disappointed that she didn't hold off just a little bit longer but then she saw the look in his eyes and knew she'd be doing it all over again soon.

She pulled him until he was on top of her, fitting perfectly between her thighs. His sex brushed against hers and it was incredible now that they weren't separated by swimsuits or clothing. He skin was incredibly hot against hers and she slid her hand between their bodies, seeking him out.

"I like that you aren't shy," he said with a wicked grin as she wrapped her hand around his erection, stroking him a few times.

"You're right -- I do know you. I knew you before your voice broke and before you even had a clue what a Snitch was. I knew you before you could take on dragons and the worst evil our world has ever seen. I know most everything about you . . . except this," she said, guiding him into her body. Her muscles strained around him as he pushed in as far as he could go, filling her completely. It felt amazing just like she knew it would. "And now I know this."

So, this is what it was like. Hermione looked up at him, feeling him inside of her and she couldn't help but smile.

He didn't say a word or even make a sound at first as he thrust into her, going faster and faster with each passing moment. She wanted to cry out or call his name but then she remembered that they never cast a sound proofing charm on the room and without it, Ron would be able to hear what was going on.

Oh, fuck Ron.

Hermione cried out, making as much noise as she wanted to, hoping that Ron was too drunk or the rain was too loud for him to notice. Harry noticed, though, and his eyes widened at her reaction to what he was doing to her.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice huskier than she had ever heard it before.

"Oh, yeah . . . but I want to come again. I want to come with you inside of me," she said and he nodded.

With the same perfect ease he had when gliding through the air, he turned them over so she was now on top. After she got over her surprise at his sudden movement, she settled down as far she could take him in.

"Lean back a little. That's right," he instructed. She did as he said, her hands ending up on his muscular thighs while his fingers ended up on her clit again. She wanted to move -- to slide up and down his length -- but found she couldn't once he started stroking her. All she could do was feel her body around him and his touch and . . . it was amazing.

Since she wasn't moving, he'd thrust up into her as much as he could, rocking his hips beneath her. Hermione closed her eyes, just wanting to hold onto this moment. He pressed harder, using his thumb to circle faster against her clit while his other hand moved up to her mouth. He brushed his fingertips against her lips and she flicked her tongue out against them, tasting herself from earlier on his skin. She took one of his fingers into her mouth and he moaned at the sensation as her tongue got past the taste of her and down to the taste of him. It was a combination of leather and wood and grass and . . . him.

He moved his now wet finger from her mouth and down to a breast, stroking an already hard nipple. Her body was still sensitive from the first time she came and now she was positively tingling. Knowing how powerful he could be even without his wand now, she opened her eyes, thinking perhaps there was some sort of magic involved in what he was doing but there wasn't. Everything she was feeling was something he was doing with his own hands.

She was on the edge again, so close to going over. When she finally did, she called out his name, falling forwards against him as her body quaked around his. Harry moved his hands to her waist, holding her until the room stopped fading in and out. She pushed herself up, placing her hands on his chest and for a second she couldn't help but wonder if it was this good for all those other women. Did he care if they were happy or did he just do it to please himself?

"Hermione, I'm dying here. I want you to move. I *need* for you to move," Harry said, shaking her out of her thoughts.

Without saying a word, she moved, sliding up and down over him as fast as she could. His hands moved from her waist to her breasts, cupping them as they bounced. All the while, he never took his eyes off of hers or at least until she sank down one last time, clenching all her muscles around him. He moaned and then gasped for air as his eyes fluttered shut.

She felt his body jerk underneath hers as he came and she clenched even tighter, wanting him to never forget this moment. She didn't want to forget it either and she watched his face closely, memorizing every detail of Harry Potter in complete ecstasy. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and his nostrils flared, desperate for air now. His mouth twisted up into a little grin and Hermione was quite pleased she was the one who brought him to that point.

His hands sought out hers, their fingers entwined as he opened his eyes. He looked up at her, appearing to be quite content. His hair was sticking up all over the place, like it usually was when he'd wander into the kitchen in the morning. The only difference was she found it cute this time. She sighed when she finally slid off of him, missing the feel of him inside of her already. Still holding onto her one hand, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. The rain was coming down harder now and it was the only other sound in their room besides the sound of them breathing.

Her thoughts started to drift again to others who had been with him before her and she mentally kicked herself. They didn't matter. That was only sex. This was more and she wasn't going to let herself get intimidated by women whose names he couldn't even remember. And it wasn't as if she was all virginal until tonight. They both had pasts but none of that mattered now that they were together. Harry was quiet as he played with her fingers and she could tell he was pondering something.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, a little fearful of his answer. Would she be able to take it if he regretted this now? She wasn't sure. At least she'd have Ron to comfort her in her misery. Except she didn't want Ron's comfort. She wanted Harry.

"I'm thinking that for the first time in a long, long time, I want the person in bed with me to still be there in the morning. And then the next morning and every morning after that," he said, giving her a squeeze. She relaxed, letting any fear she still had wash away.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that. I will be," she said, cuddling up beside him as they both drifted off to sleep.

The End