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I May Hate Myself in the Morning
Mei Queen
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Summary: Hermione Jayne Granger may hate herself in the morning…but after a few rounds of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, she's gonna love Harry Potter tonight.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, really. The plot is an evil little bunny that wouldn't leave me alone…forcing me away from my current four amusements towards a new step in the world of fanfiction- yes, folks, this is my first-ever Harry/Hermione. But back to the disclaimer- JKR owns everything, and the title belongs to Lee Ann Womack, who wrote this fabulous song of the same name. (Sigh. It reminds me of my ex, but I digress.) Title of this chapter belongs to Jimmy Buffett, who wrote the song of the same name (that I frickin love!) Oh, and Meg Cabot owns the term "modelizer", as far as I know. If you haven't read her work, it is fabbity fab fab, in the words of Georgia Nicholson (who is owned by Louise Rennison)…oh dear God I'm bordering on copyright infringement here, so I'm just going to shut up....
Authoress' Note: I basically said it all in the disclaimer, but this is my first-ever H/Hr…so please don't burn me alive with flames. Thanks so much. But review. So review, but be nice. Okay. That said, here we go…
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Chapter 1: Why Don't We Get Drunk (and Screw)
It had started innocently enough. I, Hermione Granger, sent an inter-office memo to one of my best friends, Harry Potter, asking him if he'd be willing to meet me for a drink that I desperately needed after work. I had just gotten out of a relationship a week ago with a "modelizer". I know you know the type. He's with you, and you're lovely, but his eye can't stop straying. In fact, you wonder where his eye is entirely until you walk home, and catch him with a size 2 blonde who looks like she just finished her difficult day of posing for a Calvin Klein ad, going at it like there will quite possibly not be a tomorrow. In your flat. In your bed that you two had shared for a year. Fucker.
I looked down to see my hands balled into tight fists, the knuckles turning white from the tension. I need to think about something else. I really hope Harry's free… Ron's not picking up back at their flat. I taught him how to use a telephone in-depth the other day; he must honestly not be home. Maybe he's touring again.
Ronald Weasley, my other best friend, was the Keeper for the Chudley Cannons, his favourite Quidditch team in the universe. They often had away matches; Ron just usually remembered to let me know that he'd be out of town when they did. I liked to know where my boys were at all times, thank you very much.
Just as I was pushing my hair out my face, my whole being frazzled with exhaustion and tension, a reply to my memo came whizzing through the door in its full paper-airplane splendour. Opening it eagerly, I found just the reply I was hoping for.
Tonight. 7. Leaky Cauldron. Stop thinking about that asshole.
Love, Harry
The part of me that had been bordering tears all day seem to unclench slightly as I read over his note the third time. It was really reassuring to know that no matter what bind I got in, Harry and Ron were there for me. Harry with understanding and sympathy, and Ron usually with brute force. Even though Ron is normally the violent one, they had both wanted to pound my ex's face in when I told them what had happened. However, they grudgingly agreed to just let me sleep on the couch and let the thing go. And I don't plan on being on their couch forever, honestly. It has been a few days, yeah, but finding a flat in today's market isn't always easy! Well, when you're a single girl who doesn't exactly make a bundle working at a thankless desk job in the Ministry of Magic it's not easy to find a flat, anyway. Not that Harry and Ron didn't try to help me in the money area too, because they did. Harry, especially. He actually volunteered to pay my rent with his savings. How sweet is that? See, now if only I could find a boyfriend who would help with the rent when he was living in the place, I'd have it made. Naturally though, I declined the generous offer.
But while I spend my time at a cramped and messy desk campaigning for half-breeds the world over, usually completely out of the public eye, Harry is a famed auror, and spends the majority of his time with a large fan club following his every move. Recently, much to my amusement, it has made it fairly difficult to plan strategic raids, because the fifty-member fan club tends to give away the secret pretty fast…but I digress. However, at the end of the day, Harry loves what he does, even though he could have easily been signed as a seeker to any Quidditch team in the area. He is that good. But Harry is really dedicated to the safety and protection of the wizarding community, a responsibility that had been bestowed upon him at the tender age of one when the darkest wizard of the age, Voldemort, had sought him out for a showdown. He'd won that day…and many others after, garnering him the well-earned title of "The Boy Who Lived". Although, now, at 23, he is more rather "The Man Who Lived"…or if I were to be perfectly honest, "The Most Gorgeous Man Who Lived…Ever".
But he will never know I think that. Thank Merlin.
I stretched my neck as I turned to check the time, desperately hoping to see that it was time to leave. Yes! 6:21 pm. Not technically 6:30, no, but close enough that if I moved slowly enough putting things away, by the time I was done, I could exit with no smart-arse remarks from the interns. I began to leisurely move my paperwork for the day into neat little piles and to tidy up my desk as much as possible before eagerly packing up my briefcase.
Walking out through the Muggle exit to the Ministry, I found myself a few blocks from Diagon Alley with about twenty minutes to kill until Harry arrived. I might as well walk, the exercise can't hurt me any, I thought reasonably. Transifiguring my briefcase into a cute, light evening purse, and after quickly muttering a few choice words, my outfit had changed too. I decided to go from my black pinstripe skirt suit (awfully Muggle, yes, but old habits die hard) to a pair of dark jeans and a tight white tee shirt, remembering to change my blazer into a simple hooded sweatshirt for later.
I hope this cheers me up, I thought morosely as I watched my heeled feet step carefully over the puddles on the sidewalk. This is the only thing I could think of to make me feel better. My boys are sometimes the only things in the world that make me feel happy. Being cheated on is such crap. Honestly, if they can't keep it in their pants, they should have the decency to break up with you, then screw someone else, yeah? What is wrong with men today?!
I was so lost in my little rant that I almost missed the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, which was, as always, cleverly and indiscriminately hidden between Muggle shops. A little bell tinkled softly as I pushed open the door.
The place was hopping. The after-work crowd was swarming, in fact, it seemed like half of the Ministry had my same idea! There was Tom from the Unspeakables, Katie from Payroll, oh, and was that Mildred from the Wizengamot? I thought she had been killed by a Lethifold. That's what Katie told me. Wow. Shows how reliable office gossip can be.
There were no tables free at all in the busy pub, but there was a pair of seats free at the bar. I hate sitting at bars. Really. It just encourages me to drink more because the bartender is right there to refill my drink. Looks like I'm going to spend tomorrow morning getting to intimately know the toilet, I thought grimly as I sat down on the left barstool, putting my purse on the other to save it.
"Hey, 'Mione," I heard a voice whisper in my right ear a moment later, causing me to shiver involuntarily.
Smiling as I looked up, I saw one of my best friends. It looked like it had been as long day for him too, I noticed. His normally messy hair was unusually disorderly, his green eyes seemed weary, and his clothes were rumpled.
"Bad day?" I asked curiously, my eyebrows rising as I asked, simultaneously reaching an arm out to get a hug while I spoke.
"A bit," he replied grumpily, hugging me tight to his athletic frame. "You?"
"Couldn't concentrate on a damn thing all day. I think I might have accidentally signed at the wrong spot on a 'Werewolves in the Workforce' proposition, I spilled coffee all down my front first thing in the morning, I spent half the morning searching for my reading glasses…and they were in my hair the whole while."
Harry snorted. "Only you, sweetheart," he said teasingly.
"Hah hah, you're so funny, Potter," I said, dripping sarcasm from every word.
"Glad you noticed, m'dear," he replied, not missing a beat. I loved his crooked grin. In my opinion, it was one of his most flattering features. And right now, as I was the lucky recipient of it, I felt like I owned the world.
"How could I not?" I deadpanned quickly. "So…how pissed do you think I'll be by the end of the night?"
Harry snorted, but tried to quickly cover it with a cough. "Um…remember that night Ron and I had to drag you out of the karaoke bar while you sang very off-key Muggle Spice Girls songs?"
I nodded. "What about it?"
"Drunker than that."
"No way," I disagreed firmly. "I had about ten margaritas that night."
"And you will have that same amount of alcohol in you tonight, if I have anything to say about it."
"Are you kidding? That's a lot of drinks," I replied incredulously.
"No worries. I got you. Hey, Tom! Can I get a round for me and 'Mione over here? I'm thinking something special…how about firewhiskey?" he asked me with a sly grin, tilting his head challengingly.
"Harry, you know what that stuff does to my stomach," I said, protesting.
"Yeah, it usually causes you to bare your stomach full-force. If I remember correctly, the last time you, me, and Ron had a firewhiskey night, by the time Ron and I got you in bed, you had nothing but a bra and knickers on. Black lacy ones, if I remember right," he finished fondly, scratching his chin with his index finger thoughtfully as he finished.
My face flushed with embarrassment. "Oh sure, rub it in, why don't you?"
"I think I will. You look very nice in your underwear, Miss Granger. You should show them off more often," he whispered playfully.
Tom plopped our shot glasses down on the counter in front of us with a smile. "I'll start a tab for you and the lady then tonight, Mr. Potter?"
"That'd be great, Tom, thanks," Harry replied, smiling up at the older man, before turning his gaze back to me attentively.
I lifted my glass happily, meeting the eyes of a very handsome man. Tonight, I wouldn't question things. Tonight, I was going to have a great time with a man I had always been physically attracted to, and who, tonight, was all mine. Tonight was going to be fun. "To the hope that firewhiskey has its effects once more," I said with a giggle.
Harry lifted his glass and, smiling, he said, "To the hope that Hermione will be in knickers or less by the end of the night!"
My face blushed even more, but as the warm, comforting liquid slid down my throat, I began to rapidly lose my embarrassment and self-consciousness along with all the problems I had carried around throughout this ridiculously long day, instead, concentrating on the night…and its possibilities.
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I felt my heartbeat quicken as he took my hand, leading me into the bedroom. We stumbled down the hallway, giggling quietly to ourselves.
Harry Potter put a finger over his mouth, indicating that we should be quiet. "Ron might hear," he whispered with a grin. It actually wasn't the real volume of a whisper. Harry and I had had so many drinks that we didn't really know how loud we were being anymore. If anyone was home, they would have woken up within the first few minutes of our stumbling into the flat. We were that loud.
"I think he has an away game today," I replied in my own stage whisper.
"We have the place to oursellllllvesss?" Harry asked, stumbling over his own words.
"I thiiink?" I asked. My head was starting to hurt. But my headache was going to have to wait…I wanted to see where whatever was happening with Harry was going to lead. Smiling to myself, I imagined how many witches would die to be in my shoes right now…drunk and more than likely to have wild and completely uninhibited sex with Harry Potter.
Wait…sex? Do I want to have sex with Harry? Won't that wreck our friendship? Hah. That didn't stop you from screwing Ron back in 7th Year, my mind retorted sarcastically. But that was different, my mind protested. Ron and I had a relationship for almost a year! And yet, he never seemed to completely understand me. That's probably why we broke up. Harry always deals with my emotions, Ron comes for hugs and to deliver physical threats to anyone that has hurt me, and I love both of them for it. But it's hard to have a relationship with someone who you know will just be leaving to immediately go ask Harry what I meant by whatever it was that I said.
My dismal and altogether confused thoughts were distracted by the feel of his lips, kissing up my neck passionately before capturing my mouth in a long, electric kiss. I moaned softly at the touch. Harry's lips were warm and insistent upon my own. His hot tongue darted out to run along my bottom lip in a silent plea to open my mouth and deepen the contact. Willingly I conceded, opening my mouth to him and tangling his tongue with my own in a fierce battle for domination, my hands entwining in his messy jet black locks. Why did we wait so long to do this? What have I been missing here?
He was simultaneously trying to steer us down the hallway without breaking the kiss, keeping my body firmly pressed up against his the whole while with his roving hands, one of which was hovering dangerously close to my bum.
I could feel Harry's hand squeeze my arse as he clumsily fumbled with the doorknob to his room. Finally twisting the knob, the door creaked as it swung open, revealing a smallish room that was extremely cluttered. When my gaze fell on a pair of inside-out plaid boxers lying in a heap on the floor, my heartbeat quickened again. If I hadn't drunk that last shot of firewhiskey, I'm almost positive that my conscience would be kicking in right now. At least, I'm pretty sure it would be, anyway. I had always found Harry attractive, naturally. I wasn't blind, for Merlin's sake. But I don't think I would have ever entered into anything physical with him sober, it would have endangered our delicate friendship too much. But, tonight, I wasn't sober; I had drunk that last shot…which had followed the first eight. I had downed them playfully in my attempt to drink Harry under the table- an attempt, I now noticed ironically, that had gone rather unsuccessfully, not that I minded in the slightest. As I walked towards his bed, he gently shut the door behind us.
Harry quickly crossed the room, and pulled me over him so that I was straddling him on the bed. One of his hands was back to quite enthusiastically touching my arse, while the other had taken to running through my bushy brunette locks. Meanwhile, he continued his attentions to my neck and the bit of my chest that was bared by the scoop neck of my shirt. Desperate for more warm skin for which to give his ministrations, he anxiously pulled my shirt up over my head.
With my help it came off quite easily, leaving me in nothing but a cream lace bra between him and my 34Cs.
Harry smiled as he looked at me nearly topless, for the first time actually allowed to look and not do the friendly duty of averting his eyes. From the growing hardness I could feel from my prime straddled position, he seemed to like what he saw.
"You have toooooo much clothing onnnn," I slurred, panting slightly while I met Harry's eyes, which lit up with a smile.
"Well, we'll justtttt have to do somethingggggg about that, won'ttttttt we?" he asked with a grin, slurring his words slightly as well, easily flipping me so that I was lying down on the bed. He removed his shirt and straddled me before resuming his kisses.
There is something about kissing bare-chested that is just so…hot. Even though I had the bra on, every bit of me felt the difference. It's the extra warmth on your skin, the added friction, the feel of hard male muscle versus the soft feminine curves. Everything about it is sexy. While my tongue continue the endlessly enjoyable dance with Harry's, my hands eagerly explored his chest (toned from practicing Quidditch with Ron to get Ron ready for matches), wandering up and down, further down each time, until my hand collided with his belt.
Reaching down quickly, I undid Harry's belt for him before undoing his jeans and sliding them off of his lanky frame. Now he was in nothing but blue plaid boxers, and I could see a considerable erection in his boxers already, much to my excitement.
Looking slyly down at me, he leaned to huskily whisper in my ear, "Nowwww who has too much clothessssss?"
I got a shiver of excitement as he said it. I was starting to get goosebumps on my arms because of the cold temperature of the flat. Harry's weight was slightly suffocating, too. But I realized with great surprise that I really didn't care. I was so turned on by the alcohol, how Harry had gone out of his way to make me forget about that modelizer of an ex, how fantastic of a kisser Harry was, what a wonderful sculpted chest he had, what a promising bulge that was in his boxers… nothing could ruin this for me.
I reached up to grab the back of his head, crushing his face to mine in an extremely passionate kiss while Harry helped me out of my jeans. "Well, whattttt do you knowwwwwww?" I said softly. "I ended up in my underwearrrrrrr, after alllllllll."
"You're goinggg to be in lessssss than thattt if I have any sayyyyy in it, missssssyyyy," Harry said sternly, kissing down my jaw line, trailing down my chest, and ending up and the perky tops of my breasts. Proudly pert through the flimsy lingerie, my rosy nipples were quite obviously hard. Harry brought his hand up to explore my breasts. Running his fingers lightly over them in a soft stroke, they quickly stood to attention.
Honestly, I'm not usually a "boobs" girl. When I guy touches my breasts, 95% of them are just hurting me and I just don't have the heart to tell them so. But…Harry, whew. He knew how to push a girl's buttons. Instead of going straight for attempting to use my breasts to knead spare dough for his kidney pies, he went for the gentle caress route. If he only knew how mad he was driving me by gently flipping his finger over my nipple, back and forth, slowly, softly, languorously, lovely, just like that…
Harry Potter was driving me insane. Insane with lust, at least, my thoughts deadpanned.
And it was completely true. I don't think I had honestly ever been as turned on as I was then in my entire life, which is truly amazing seeing as all we really did so far was make out and remove some clothing. There was no real petting or oral involved! I don't even know if where Harry and I were right then physically would qualify for "second base", but the pooling of heat between my legs suggested that it didn't matter in the slightest.
He was now reaching behind me to unclasp my bra. In one deft movement, he unclasped and removed the offending piece of cloth, throwing it towards the pile of clothing we seemed to be amassing on his already messy floor.
My breasts sprang up, relieved to be free of their uncomfortable cage.
Harry sat up to carefully take me in, seeing me completely topless for the first time. "Yooou're beeeautiiifuulll, 'Mione," he slurred softly.
I smiled through my haze. "Thaannkkss…youuu'ree not so bad yourrrselfff."
His hands reached down to eagerly palm my breasts. But instead of kneading like so many failed Don Juans before him, he took my breast in his hand, and began to make decisive strokes near my sensitive nipples with his probing fingers. Leaning down, he captured my right nipple in his mouth, suckling it gently as his other hand ministered to my left breast, now rolling the left nipple between his fingers.
"Ohhhh, Harrrrrrrrrryyy," I found myself moaning softly, arching my back slightly. This was one, possibly the veritable first, time on record that someone besides myself had actually successfully managed to turn me on with my breasts and kissing alone. This was amazing.
Running my hands down his back as he continued suckling my breasts enthusiastically (he was now alternating from one breast to the other so that each got an equal amount of attention), I found the waistband of his boxers and began to pull them off, squeezing his arse in the process.
"Mmm, 'Mione…" I heard him say quietly, panting the whole while.
Reaching my hand around to his front, I boldly grabbed hold of his penis, wrapping my hand around his shaft. "You'rrreee big," I had gasped with excitement, beginning to pump his shaft.
Harry hadn't answered, just stopped suckling my tits to reach his hand down to my underwear, cream lace boy-shorts. "Theeeesee are sexxxxxxxxyyy," he whispered excitedly, putting his other hand so that his hands were on my hips, fingers looped in the delicate fabric. Meeting my eyes and enrapturing my lips in an intense kiss, he pulled them down over my legs while I moved to cupping his balls slightly while pumping his shaft.
"Glaaaaadd you thiiink sooo," I replied quietly, pushing Harry back down on the bed so that I could have a proper look at his member.
Satisfied at the definitely above-average cock that met my sight, I leaned down to capture his penis in my mouth. Slowly taking in the whole long shaft, I found myself choking slightly as I moved up and down on it, my bushy brown hair getting slightly in my eyes as I did so.
"Fuuuuuuckk, 'Mione. Ohhhh, fuuuuck yes," Harry panted, running his hands through my hair as I continued to enthusiastically suck his cock.
After a few minutes of licking, kisses to the head, and deep-throating the shaft (not forgetting to play with his balls a bit, naturally), he said, "Mmmm…Mione, you better stoppp or I'm goinnnggg to cum…and I haddd such a looovely surpriiiise in store for youuu."
At the mention of a surprise, I stopped immediately, getting up so we were now looking at each other placidly. It was almost surreal. I was sitting on a bed across from my best friend, both of us completely naked with his penis completely hard and leaking pre-cum onto the white comforter.
The surreal moment was abruptly ended as Harry eased me back on the bed so I was lying down, kissing me passionately as he did so. Kissing his way down my body, he circled my belly button with his tongue before moving further south. Finally arriving at the apex of my thighs, he looked as if he was about to simply start to lick me…before changing his mind and starting to kiss my left calf and moving upwards…
Closer…just a little closer, Harry¸ my brain was shouting as he continued his cruel teasing. His playful eyes met my desperate ones as he kept it up. I could tell he was waiting for something. If only I knew what.
"Harry…please…"I begged quietly, my voice aching with dissatisfaction.
"Please whaaaaat, 'Mione?" he asked simply, his green eyes betraying a certain humorous take on the situation I wasn't entirely sure that I appreciated.
"Pleeeaseee…" I trailed off. This seemed so vulgar to say. I had never said it, especially never asked a guy directly to do it…except in my wildest fantasies. But those don't count. Those fantasies usually involved a tied-down, squirming, gorgeous man (who looked suspiciously liked Harry, now that I thought about it) and an endless supply of whipped cream. But this was real. "Please…um…"
"Please whaaaaaaaaaat, baby?" Harry cooed softly, his hands trailing up and down my leg that he was now holding up at an angle, each time dipping closer…and then even tantalizingly closer to my hot wetness.
"Fuck me?" I supplied weakly, meeting his eyes.
Harry knew what I really wanted. I knew what I really wanted. He looked slightly disappointed in me for not being able to honestly ask for it. "Mione, it's just me. Yooou can tell my anythiiing."
"Fiine. Pleeasee give me oral, Harrrry."
"Yooou mean eat you out, riiiight?"
I sighed. I should have known he would make me say it in the crudest way possible, if nothing else than just to force me not to be afraid or embarrassed by a few words. Grudgingly, I repeated, "Yesss, pleeease eat me out."
Harry finally grinned. "Be happy to."
It was fantastic. I wish I could give it justice through words…but that's supremely difficult. The adjectives 'tantalizing', 'hot', 'amazing', 'sexy', and 'bloody awesome' don't even start to give justice to how well Harry Potter can give oral. I was really blown away.
"Mmm…Harrrrrryy!" I gasped as his tongue darted around my sensitive clit, and then languorously drifted down my slit to push his tongue into my hole enthusiastically. Bringing his hand up to my pussy, he replaced his tongue with two fingers inside my hole, gently fucking it, tickling my g-spot in just the right way.
"Oh, God!" I yelled, panting as Harry's tongue went back up to suck my clit, one of his hands enthusiastically fucking me, the other reaching up and tweaking my right nipple. "I'm cumming, Harry! I'm cumming!"
Harry smirked in self-satisfaction, his rapid strokes on my clit turning into slow lapping motions to let me ride out my orgasm.
"Oh, holy fuck," I said, panting softly.
He just smiled at me, before pointedly looking at his still-hard cock, sitting helplessly in his lap.
"Ohhhh, come here, Harry," I said with a smile, lying back on some pillows.
He stood kneeling over me, his hard cock jutting out proudly. Putting my hand to his cock, I guided it to my slick hole.
Harry's eyes met mine as he slowly pushed into me. I was no virgin, make no mistake, but Harry really filled me up completely. I even felt more complete when he was inside me. It was lovely.
Panting slightly as he slid his cock through my wetness up to the hilt, he leaned down to brush a kiss on my forehead.
"I lovvve you, 'Mione," he said softly.
"I love yoooou, Harrrry," I slurred, brushing a curl away from my face. "Buuut Harrry?"
"Yeeeeahh, baaaby?" he asked curiously, probably because this was such an awkward time for talking…ready for sex and all.
But I only wanted to say one thing.
"Fuuuucck me harrrrd."
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Authoress' Note: I'm not normally a smut writer, as I'm sure you all can tell. And sorry that the drunk-talk was annoying to read, trust me, it was annoying to write. But it's absolutely essential that everyone remember they were drunk off their asses in this chapter, so I saw no harm in reinforcing the point. Review and let me know what y'all thought! Thanks for reading!