The Prefects Bathroom

Title: The Prefects Bathroom

Category: Romance

Spoilers: Book six, mainly.

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Harry goes to the prefects’ bathroom expecting a nice, quiet soak in the tub. What he gets is something different altogether.

Disclaimer: These characters, settings, situations, etc. are so not mine, but I do love to borrow them. I don’t know why JK Rowling – ahem, the rightful owner – doesn’t have more fun with them.

A/N: This is a scene that should have been in HBP – er, well, if the books were smutty romances, that is – which I felt was necessary after Hermione’s glee that Harry’s Captain status gave him access to the prefects’ bathrooms. And for important fanfiction purposes, we will of course ignore that, naturally, there would be separate rooms for boys and girls, or at least a strong locking system.

~

Harry had to say, being the Captain of the Quidditch team had its perks. Instead of a short shower after practice, he could go up to the prefects’ bathroom and have a good long soak in a warm, soothing bath to work the kinks out of his tired muscles.

Tonight, Harry was soaking in golden bubbles that had a lovely fresh-baked smell about them, a warm smell that left his mind contently numb. The quiet was nice. It seemed all he heard anymore was Ron and Hermione’s bickering. He wished there was something that could put an end to it. Maybe if Hermione had someone to snog, she wouldn’t mind Ron snogging Lavender so much…

Just then, the door creaked open and a figure in a bathrobe appeared, silhouetted in the doorway. As the door swung shut again, Harry could more clearly see the form in the soft candlelight – a white terrycloth robe over a petite, curving figure; a light, crème complexion; and wild brown curls framing a heart-shaped face.

“Hermione?”

“So it is you,” she said, walking over to the large tub. “I wasn’t sure – I knew you came here sometimes, after practices, but I didn’t want to walk in on just anyone while they were bathing.”

“But you’re all right walking in on me?”

Hermione smiled, seating herself on a bench beside the edge of the tub. “Relax, Harry, it’s not as if I’m getting much of a show. I just…wanted to be with you.”

Harry frowned, shifting slightly in the water. Though he was covered in bubbles, it was still very odd to be naked with Hermione in such close proximity.

“So badly that you wouldn’t wait until I was done in the bath?”

For the briefest of seconds, she looked hurt…but then it passed, and she smiled in a melancholy sort of way. “I’ve been a bit lonely lately, now that Ron and I are off speaking terms again. It’s hard, trying to avoid him and still find time to talk with you. I miss you a bit, I suppose…”

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I hadn’t really thought about what this must be like for you –“

“Don’t apologize, Harry. You have far more important things on your mind than my pathetic love life.”

“No more pathetic than mine,” Harry replied, trying to lighten the conversation. “Less pathetic than Ron’s, if you think about it. You dated an international Quidditch star – whereas he’s found a girlfriend that says his name in baby talk.”

Hermione laughed. “You’ve got a point there. Shame that international Quidditch star doesn’t want me anymore.”

“What? But you’ve been writing to each other –“

“As pen-pals. After fourth year, when I turned down his offer to stay with his family in Bulgaria, he wrote to me saying that we should just be friends – he doesn’t think we would be able to make it work. And he’s right. Our lives are too different – he’s busy playing Quidditch, and I’m…well, I’m here helping you try not to die.”

“Nice of you, that.”

Hermione grinned. “You know it’s the truth – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Gee, thanks. Nice to know you wouldn’t want me to be out of mortal peril once in awhile.”

“You know what I mean, you git. But…anyway, my love life is fairly non-existent. Has been for a long time. I’m rather tired of it. I was hoping that this year, maybe there’d be someone interested in me.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Someone like Ron, you mean?”

“Oh – no, you’ve got it all wrong. I mean…yes, Ron…but…he was sort of a last resort more than anything.”

“…You mean you don’t actually fancy Ron?”

Hermione crossed her legs and fidgeted with her robe, giving Harry an unexpected but quite interesting view of her legs. He’d always secretly admired those legs. Hermione wasn’t tall, but those legs were long and lean, nonetheless. An image flitted unbidden across his mind of those bare legs wrapped around his hips as Hermione’s head fell back with a moan.

Oh, bloody hell – not now.

“Well, I mean…sort of. We are friends, and he does have his good qualities. But I think the only thing I really liked about him was that he seemed to like me. Does that make sense? I mean, have you ever liked a person just because you wanted to be with someone, and you happened to have a chance with that person?”

Ginny appeared in his mind’s eye, helping Mrs. Weasley with dinner at the Burrow over the summer. She’d smiled at him – in hindsight, he saw that the smile had been rather telling. Perhaps that was the moment he’d first wanted to be with her – because she wanted him, and she was living the life he’d always wanted…a normal life, aside from all of the bits that had involved him or Voldemort.

“Yeah. I know what you’re talking about.”

“I suppose I was so jealous of him and Lavender because she’d taken my one shot at having someone. That, and the fact that he chose someone with the mental capacity of a lab rat over me.”

“Hermione, don’t insult lab rats that way,” Harry said in a serious tone. To his delight, she laughed. It was a wonderful thing, making a beautiful girl laugh.

“Oh, Harry. Why is it, do you suppose, that nobody wants me?”

“Don’t be silly. Lots of blokes want you,” Harry said uncomfortably.

“Oh? Name one, Harry.”

“Well, um…”

“What about you? Would you want me?” she asked, leaning forward. Her robe opened a bit more and he could see a bit of her cleavage.

Dear gods, I hope she’s wearing something under that.

“Hermione –“

“Be honest, Harry. I want to know. I won’t get mad or hold your answer against you, whichever one it is. I promise,” she said with such attempted sincerity that he couldn’t help himself.

“I – of course I want you. I mean…have you seen yourself?”

Hermione said nothing as a faint blush spread across her cheeks and that little furrow in her brow appeared, signifying that she was plotting something.

“Harry…would you do something for me?”

That…is a dangerous question. “Um…I suppose.”

“Just close your eyes for me, will you?” she said with a patient smile.

Wondering what she could possibly want to do while he had his eyes closed – and letting his imagination run wild, at that – he warily did as she asked.

A faint rustling met his ears, followed by the gentle sloshing of water; he could feel the miniscule waves breaking against his chest.

No, don’t even think it – she isn’t…she wouldn’t…

But it was too late. Harry had thought it, and he couldn’t stop himself from hardening as his mind conjured up an image of Hermione, stepping gracefully into the bath….

“You can open them now.”

Oh, god, she is.

Hermione stood before him, her bare shoulders and the brown curls that clung to them slick and glistening until her body disappeared beneath a layer of bubbles that just covered the peaks of her breasts.

“H-Hermione –”

“Shh. I know this is crazy and impulsive and not at all something best friends do – but the thing is, from time to time…they do do this. They’re attracted to each other whether they should be or not…and sometimes they act upon it.”

“And you – you want to…”

“Yes – and before you ask, yes, I am sure. I’m tired of waiting for the moment to come to me, of seeing other people have their fun and never having any of my own. I want…I want to feel your hands on me. I want to know what that’s like.”

She’d moved closer, so close that her legs just brushed against his knees underwater. Harry didn’t know what was holding him back. Here was a beautiful girl offering herself to him, freely, willingly. He wanted to – gods, how he wanted to – and his fingers twitched with the effort of keeping them on the ledge he sat on. But it was Hermione, of all people, and he couldn’t help feeling anxiety at the thought of the ramifications.

“Harry…whatever happens tonight or after, I’ll never leave you. You know that, don’t you?”

And there, just like that, she had pinpointed his greatest fear and destroyed it with a few simple words.

“Promise?” he asked quietly.

“Of course.” She smiled and beckoned him closer with a single finger crooked in her direction. Harry complied willingly and stood, shivering as their bodies touched in subtle little places.

Shakily, he placed one hand on her hip and wound the other in her damp hair, leaning closer to touch his lips to hers. Hermione pressed her body closer and wrapped her arms around his waist, letting out a throaty moan that Harry quickly echoed as she deepened the kiss.

The feel of her slick body, those long legs and pert breasts, against his skin was amazing…absolutely, sinfully amazing. He wondered how he’d kept from fantasizing about this for so long, how he’d never imagined kissing her – and, cor, what a kiss. Cho’s kiss certainly hadn’t stirred his heart like Hermione’s did.

Hermione’s hands began to explore, slowly and deliberately, as though she were trying to learn him by heart, to memorize every part of him and every reaction he gave…as though she were tucking it all away for future reference, for the next time she might torture him this way.

Oh, please, please let there be a next time.

Emboldened by Hermione’s unexpected boldness, Harry began his own exploration. Dragging his lips away from hers to kiss down the column of her throat, he delighted in the feel of her fingers faltering against his chest and the sound of the breathy sigh that flew from her lips. He slid his hands upward to cup her full breasts, feeling her hardened nipples beneath his thumbs. God, she felt good, soft and slick with the soapy water, and it was mind-blowing…. He’d never been with a girl this way before, never tasted one’s skin like this or touched one in such a way that she trembled under his fingertips. It was all so new and exciting – very exciting – that he could hardly stand it.

Hermione seemed to be having similar feelings. Her moans echoed off the bathroom’s high ceiling, blocking out all other sound, save the sloshing of water around them as they stood in the middle of the bath on weak legs, too eager for each other to care about the mess or the noise they were making.

Harry let his hands fall lower, one of them down her smooth stomach, into the crevice between her legs. He slipped one finger further into the damp curls, across the silken flesh he met there. Head flying back with a moan of approval, she arched against him, asking with her body for more. Harry complied with a second finger, sliding the two inside her. She clutched his shoulders, and as he gently stroked her he watched the emotions flitting across her face. A fire was growing within him, a kind of fire he’d never felt before, and certainly not for Hermione. But somehow…it fit. It made perfect sense for him to want Hermione this way, for him to thrive off her pleasure, for him to need her in a way that was more than lust, in a way that tugged at his heart, as if his was tied to hers by a thread…and should he pull too far from her, the thread might pull his very heart from his chest.

Harry reached up his free hand to hold her head in place as he kissed her, her moans and whimpers becoming tingling vibrations against his lips. He loved this, enticing those moans from her, tugging them out through her mouth, her lovely mouth….

Panting, she pulled away and led him backward until she was pressed against the wall of the tub, trapped there by his body.

“Now,” she breathed. “Do it now, please.”

Harry could not deny such a direct command, and she made it easy for him, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips. He positioned himself carefully, his heart hammering all the while, and thrust upward in one smooth motion, burying himself as deeply within her as possible. Hermione gasped sharply and clutched at his shoulders, and though she quickly hid her face in the crook of his neck, he saw her grimace of pain.

Now he recalled those late night conversations in the dormitory, hearing that this very thing would happen during a girl’s first time, and he held Hermione closer, needing her to enjoy this before he could give in to his desperate desire to move – she was, indeed, heavenly. He’d never understood before what all the fuss was about when it came to girls or dating or sex, but now it was painfully clear. Her silken, damp heat all around him was the most incredible sensation he’d ever experienced.

Her lips pressed softly against his neck, a gentle nudge letting him know it was all right, telling him to continue. To further get her message across, she rocked against him, and he lost himself to the sweet rhythm she set.

Water sloshed over the edges of the tub, soaking Hermione’s robe, but that was only peripheral now. All Harry was really aware of was her – her sounds, the scent of vanilla in her hair, the feel of her slippery skin against his under the water, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and her warmth clutching him as he drove slowly into her, savoring each thrust.

“Harry…oh, Harry…” Her voice fluttered around his mind, echoing, tempting, and he moved faster, driving her cries sharper and sharper. Her breath came out in hot gasps against his ear and he couldn’t suppress a shiver.

The urge to forget himself completely and fall over the edge was overwhelming, but he was determined to take her with him. This had been her idea, after all…her desire. He’d almost forgotten that.

He thrust harder and faster, tense and shaking with the effort, until finally her walls clenched all around him and he came to the sight of her throwing her head back in screaming ecstasy.

After riding out the final wave of his orgasm with a shudder, Harry looked up at her to find her staring back at him…in a way she never had before. Not quite lust, not quite tenderness, but laced with a kind of awe he couldn’t figure out. Whatever that look was, it was beautiful.

Shakily, he eased out of her and let her legs fall from around him, but he didn’t relinquish his grip on her. For some reason, he wasn’t quite ready for her to move away from him. Beckoned by her swollen lips, he kissed her, needing…some kind of reassurance, he supposed, but of what, he did not know.

Winding her arms around his neck, she returned the kiss before pulling her mouth away and pressing her cheek against his. She trembled slightly in his arms.

“That was…amazing,” she said, and he was happy to hear the smile in her voice. “Thank you.”

“Believe me, it was my pleasure,” Harry said wryly. She laughed and kissed his cheek before she stepped away from his embrace. She seemed shy all of the sudden, nervous and tentative.

“We should get back. I’m sure there are people wondering where we’ve been…or why you were in the bath so long.”

Harry watched dumbly as she stepped out of the bath, affording him the view of her body he’d missed earlier. Water cascaded down her smooth back, running in rivulets over pert buttocks and down long, long legs. She turned to pick up a towel, and he took in her breasts – also pert – and her flat stomach, all leading back to those legs that had felt so good wrapped about him.

He nearly had to pull her back into the water with him.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, come on. You’re getting pruny.”

She busied herself with fastening the towel around her body, but nevertheless, he caught her eyeing him as he followed her out of the bath and reached for his own towel. Gratification, indeed.

Harry set about drying himself off, managing for the most part to keep his eyes off Hermione until he heard her utter a frustrated, “Oh, dear.”

He turned around to find her holding up her now dripping bathrobe in one hand, holding her towel in place with the other. She glanced at him. “I think perhaps coming in just the bathrobe was an overhasty decision.”

Valiantly, he tried not to laugh. “Um…do you know any strong drying charms?”

“No,” she sighed, “None that will work fast enough for me to wear it back…”

Harry wildly searched the room for some solution. His eyes landed on his discarded Quidditch uniform and the sleeping clothes he’d brought to change into.

“Here, wear these,” he said, tossing her the pajamas. “I’ll go back in my practice clothes.”

Hermione bit her lip. “Won’t someone notice I’m wearing your things?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Won’t someone notice if you walk in naked?”

“Right. Good point,” Hermione said, and she finished drying herself.

Once they were both finally, satisfactorily dressed, and Hermione had sent her robe down the laundry chute with their towels, they headed for the door. As she reached for the handle, however, something in him snapped and he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

She looked up at him questioningly.

He was inexplicably short of breath as he spoke. “I – I just wondered what this means. For us. Are we…are we going to walk out of here and pretend this never happened?”

Hermione looked away, a sign of her own insecurity. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” he said easily – too easily, and he waited tensely for her reaction.

“Good,” she breathed, bringing her eyes back to his with a relieved smile. “I don’t want that either.”

Harry grinned mischievously. “Looks like our love lives aren’t so pathetic anymore.”

“No, they certainly aren’t,” she chuckled before turning serious. “But…Harry, Ron isn’t going to take this well. Do you think we should tell him now?”

Harry shrugged, feigning nonchalance though he was terrified of what Ron would do when they told him. “I don’t fancy breaking the news to him anymore than you do, but he’s got to find out sometime…better sooner than later, I think. Besides, he’s got Lavender now. He has no claim on you.”

Hermione smiled weakly. “I don’t think that will stop him from punching you, but if you’re willing to risk it, then you’re right. We should tell him.”

Harry nodded his agreement and took her hand in his as they finally left the bathroom. Ron would just have to accept this, Harry decided, because this new relationship he’d found with Hermione was unique, powerful…it was worth more than Ron’s peace of mind. And nothing could persuade him to give it up.

The End

A/N: No, I don’t currently plan to continue this because if I do, I’ll have to rewrite the entire sixth book, which, although not a bad idea, might be a bit of a pain. So…if the inspiration strikes, more may come, and if it does not, you’ll have to be satisfied with this nice smutlet.