Harry came back to the room with bottles of Amaretto, vodka, sweet and sour mix and orange juice. She eyed them carefully as he juggled them onto the table. "Um, Harry? Are we throwing a party, or are you just really thirsty?"
He grinned, going into the bathroom to get a couple of plastic cups. "We've got a lot of time to kill, and plenty of time to sleep off the hangover tomorrow. May as well enjoy it, yeah?"
She winced. "Yeah, great." Hangovers weren't fun, she knew, although she had suffered only two in her entire life. Of course, she knew spells to take care of them, now, so she supposed it couldn't be too bad. As long as she didn't do anything really embarrassing--- "How'd you know I like Amaretto Sours?"
"Hannah told me."
She watched as he mixed her drink first. "Bit heavy on the whiskey there, isn't it?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. This is how the barman told me to make it. If you don't like it, bitch at him."
She eyed it carefully as he handed it over, then took a tentative sip. "Mph! Yeah, that's strong," she muttered, wiping a bit of it off her chin.
"Wimp," he chuckled, mixing a screwdriver for himself. "It's Amaretto. How strong could it be?"
She rolled her eyes at him, offering her glass. "You try it."
He took a swig, then frowned. "Ugh, that's nasty. I think I'll stick with the vodka." He flopped down into the chair across from her and grinned. "So, what now?"
She laughed, shrugging. "I don't know. You're the genius that said we should get drunk. I thought you could decide what to do when we get there."
She was three sips in and was already starting to get the warm-and-fuzzies. She watched as Harry drank half of his in one go. "Oh no. You can't expect me to have all the ideas. You're the clever one, right?"
She giggled. "We could play twenty questions."
He blinked at her, then laughed. "Boring."
"All right, then. Um, truth or dare?"
"With just two of us? And what are we, twelve? Come on, Hermione, something good."
"I'm trying," she sighed, chewing her lip. "Okay, I've got it. Lavender and Parvati used to play this game when we were in school. I don't know what it was called, but basically, it's like word association. I say something and you have to say the very first thought that comes to your mind. The very first, no hesitating. If you hesitate, you have to take a drink. A big one, not a sip. And then I get to go again. If you answer quickly, you do the same to me."
He smirked slightly. "I'll bet you heard some interesting things."
"You can find out if you play the game," she grinned.
He took another long drink, then nodded. "Yeah, all right. If it sucks, we can quit."
"Way to be positive there, Harry. Shall I go first?"
"By all means," he laughed.
"Okay, then." She took another drink, trying to think what to start with. "Snow."
"Yuck," he laughed. "My turn?" She nodded. "Telly."
"Documentary."
He laughed again. "Only you, Hermione."
"Yeah, yeah. Hush. My turn. Um, window."
"Eyes."
"Really?"
"Yeah, so?"
She shrugged. "Just--interesting."
"Right."
"Left."
"That wasn't my word, Hermione. I was sarcastically agreeing with you."
"Oh," she giggled. "Sorry. Go ahead."
"Left? That's the best you can come up with?"
"Shut up and give me a word."
He chuckled. "First."
She started to answer, then stopped herself. She had been thinking "kiss", but she didn't think that was the best answer at the moment. Finally, she stuttered out, "Born."
"You hesitated."
"I did not."
"Yes, you did. Drink. And I get another turn, right?"
She took a drink, still wrinkling her nose at the bitter taste. "Yes, fine. Go again."
"Touch."
Oh hell. "Feel. Green."
"Frog. Heat."
Erm, "Tropical Island. Bird."
"Hedwig. Friend."
"Loyalty. Carpet."
"Rug burn. Quidditch."
"Seeker." Oops. That just slipped right out there. She took another drink. "Um, drunk."
"Hermione," he grinned. "And don't say you aren't, because you most certainly are. Books."
She giggled. "Heaven. Oh, that's a good one. Heaven."
He smirked. "Flying. Sex."
She balked. "Is that your word?"
"That's a hesitation. Take a drink. And yes, that's my word."
She took a long drink, a very long one, trying not to panic. "Orgasm." Oh hell, did I just say that out loud? "Erm, oh, my cup is empty."
He quirked an eyebrow at her, but quickly made her another drink. She couldn't tell if it was as strong as the first or not, but she really didn't care. "It's still your turn."
"Right. My turn. Um, oh fuck."
"Is that your word?"
She frowned. "No. Of course not. But had it been, that was a hesitation."
"Doesn't count if that wasn't your word."
"Okay, so that's my word."
He grinned. "Often."
She giggled again. "I don't want to know that."
"Know what?"
"How often."
"That's good, because I wasn't telling you."
"Whose turn is it?"
"Mine."
"Well, go then."
"Impatient."
"Very. Oh wait, was that your word?"
He laughed. "Sure. Your answer sucked, by the way. Go."
"Oh, yeah. Trans--transfiglur--damnit. Transfiglurationin."
"That's not even a word."
She snorted, hiccupping at the same time. "You hesitated."
"How could I have hesitated? That wasn't even a word!"
"Drink, drink, drink!"
"Fine. Go again, then." He took another large swig, then set his cup back on the table. "Cheater."
"Butthead. That's not my word. Uh--school."
"Home." The smirk came back. "Breast."
She almost faltered. "Ch-chicken." Good save. Yay me. Her mind was almost too fuzzy to think. Chicken, chicken, chicken, chicken--- "Lamb!"
"Sacrifice." Another drink. "Dumbledore."
"Senile old fart." Hermione gasped, slapping her hand over her mouth. "Oh, God. Did I just say that? Oh, Harry, I'm sorry."
He grinned. "Nah, it's fair. He was. Still your turn."
"Oh, right. Um--Grlyf--Glyff-Grlylff--Ravenclaw."
"Cho," he chuckled, winking at her as she rolled her eyes. "Lips."
"Kiss." Damn it! "Erm, tongue." Grrr, he just had to lick his lips right then, didn't he? God, I'm so drunk.
"Taste. Suck."
Not fair. Sooo not fair. "Lick." Oh god, stop the game now! She cast about desperately for the least sexual thing she could think of. "Mother." Yeah, that worked.
His shoulders shook with laughter. "Fucker."
"Harry!"
"Hey, it's your game. I said the first thing to come to my mind."
"You're foul."
He grinned. "My turn. Parvati."
She didn't even bother trying to answer that one, just took her drink and waited.
"Hermione?"
"What?"
"I said, Parvati."
"I know."
"And?"
"You may as well move on because I'll get alcohol poisoning before I answer that one truthfully."
Harry's eyes widened slightly and he shook his head. "What? Why?"
She quirked an eyebrow at him, then finished off her drink.
"All right, fine," he said, rolling his eyes and starting to mix her another. "Minister."
"Pfft. Blowhard. Um, Seamus."
"Explosion. Wish."
"Desire." She took another drink, her mind working frantically to get away from that particular line of thought. "Hard."
And there was the Cheshire cat grin again. "Rough. Or should I say, Eager?"
"Same thing. Is that your word? Beaver. Uh, my turn. Anxious."
"Eager."
"No, now you can't do that," she insisted, shaking her head, then stopping quickly when it made her dizzy. "You have to use a different word."
"You never said that. You can't change the rules in the middle of the game."
"I'm not. It's just no fun if you use the same word that's already been used."
"We'd better stop now, then, because I'm running out of words. Not to mention, my brain is pretty well stopped on just one thought right now."
"Oh yeah? What--excuse me--ezackly is it that you're--ahem, thinking about?"
He grinned. "Well, for one thing, you certainly haven't gotten better at drinking. No more for you."
"I'm not drunk."
"Right. Try to walk a straight line and then tell me that."
She giggled. "All right, so I'm a bit--shl-shloshed. So are you." She wasn't sure about that, actually, but then, she wasn't sure of much of anything at that point. "I have to go potty."
"You'll never make it."
"Yesh, I will. Wash me." She heaved herself out of her chair and stumbled only slightly on her way across the room. It would have been a remarkable success had she not bounced off the doorframe on her way into the bathroom. "Oh shut up," she muttered at Harry as he laughed wildly at her.
She had just settled herself on the toilet when she realized she'd forgotten to shut the door. "Uh, Hermione?"
"I know. Hush."
It was irritating because he didn't even try to sneak a peak. When she finally managed to make it back into the main room, he was still sitting at the table, sipping his drink. "So, now what?"
She shrugged, flopping onto the bed. "I dun care. What do you want to do?"
He opened his mouth, then shut it again, smiling. "No idea."
She stretched, cuddling her face into her folded arms. "Where'd you learn to give massa--massages like that?"
He shrugged. "Katie Bell used to be good at it. She'd rub out sore muscles for everyone after a Quidditch match. I guess I picked it up from her."
Hermione heard herself groan, but didn't know why she'd done it. "You learned well," she muttered.
"Thanks. I try."
Her alcohol fogged brain managed to process one thought clearly and she grabbed it. "I'd like to have another one."
He didn't answer, and she turned her head to look at him. He was looking at her, eyes narrowed, and she wondered, blearily, if he was angry or just trying to think of a good response. "Right now?"
"Why not? We've got nothing better to do."
He shrugged. "All right."
"Great," she beamed, sitting up too quickly and nearly toppling off the bed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Lay back down, for one thing. You're dangerous when you're upright."
She frowned. "Don't I have to take my clothes off?"
He blinked, then rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose you could, if you want it that way."
She wasted no time pulling her t-shirt off over her head. "Where are you going?"
"To get some lotion."
She nodded, reaching around and unfastening her bra. Somewhere in her mind, her normal, somewhat prudish personality reasserted itself. What the hell am I doing? I can't let him touch me! I'm barely hanging on as it is. Her hands weren't listening. She pulled her bra off and dropped it onto the floor, then stumbled to her feet to get out of her pants. He's seen me naked once today. Big deal. It's just a massage. With me naked, and him touching me. Aaagh! Bad idea. Bad, bad. And yet, she continued to undress. She picked up her discarded towel from the floor and wrapped it around her.
He stepped back out of the bathroom and gave her a quick once-over, which made her heart thump unsteadily in her chest. "Um, where--?" she started, and he nodded toward the bed.
"Lay down here," he said, patting the bed and setting the lotion on the night stand. She moved cautiously, climbing onto her knees, then starting to lay down.
"How do you want the towel?" she asked, unable to turn and face him.
"It's fine like that. Open up the front and lay down." When she hesitated, he chuckled. "I'm going to lay it over you, Hermione, I won't see anything."
She sucked in a breath and opened the towel, fanning it out behind her. Then she somehow managed to lay down without using her hands. It was no mean feat, but she got herself comfortable while still keeping herself covered.
She felt Harry climb over to her and then, as if things couldn't have gotten anymore complicated, he moved one leg over her and straddled her hips, dropping his weight onto her. "Am I too heavy?" he asked.
She almost laughed. She couldn't very well tell him that it felt absolutely incredible to have him sitting on her bum, so she just shook her head. His hands came down on her neck first and she let her eyes slide shut. It was better than it had been before, maybe because all that was separating her from Harry was his clothes and a thin, little towel. She was starkers, spread out on a bed with him sitting on her, and God, he could use those wonderful hands.
He leaned over, picking up the bottle of lotion, tapping some out onto his hand and rubbing the lotion between his hands to warm it. Then he put both palms flat on her back. She groaned as he pushed his thumbs into her skin, and rubbed with a good amount of pressure. "Oh, damn, Harry. That's wonderful."
"I live to please," he joked, working first her neck, then her shoulders. He kept moving lower, first rubbing the lotion in, then using the heel of his hands and then his thumbs before moving on.
She felt him move the towel down some and fought hard to lay still. She could already feel it coming. His hands started up next to her spine, rubbing carefully, then worked their way out. He ended up with rubbing right at the outer edges of her back and his fingers rested just inches from her breasts. She wanted to lift up and give him access to them, just to see what he would do, but she couldn't pluck up the courage.
"Hermione, you're tensing up again. Relax." She couldn't help it, although she really did try. She wondered if he knew that he was working her up into a frenzy, then wondered if he would care. She wished she could just lay there and enjoy it, but it wasn't happening.
He pulled the towel down until it rested just below her waist and tapped some more lotion out of the bottle and into his hand. She was fine as long as he was working the middle of her back but as he moved out toward her sides, she jerked involuntarily. "Sorry," she giggled, as he sighed. "That tickled."
"Sorry," he said, though he didn't sound it. "I'll try not to do it again." He was so close to her bum now, and she felt so bare and vulnerable. It was hard not to writhe under him. "Want me to keep going?" he asked and she nodded.
"Like I'm going to complain," she said, sighing. "That feels so damned good."
She felt his weight lift off of her and she started to complain when he pulled the towel off of her completely. She almost gasped, but managed to bite it off. That's what he had meant by 'keep going'. She had thought he meant keep working on her back.
He knelt beside her and poured more lotion out on his hands, then laid them on her bare bottom. She had to bite back another gasp as he started to rub, kneading the skin with his strong fingers.
She felt the warm fluid actually seep out from between her legs and almost told him to stop. He was going to notice that, surely. There was no way he could miss it.
If he did, he didn't say anything. His hands never paused unless he needed to get more lotion. He moved them down from her butt to her thighs and started the process all over without stopping. She noticed, however, that he tugged her legs apart ever so slightly to rub her inner thighs. She blushed. He had to have noticed. He must have by now. What was worse, he had done more than just turn her on. He was actually working her toward an orgasm. It seemed impossible, but she could feel the tightening in her stomach, the tension spreading through her. She had to make him stop touching her or she was going to come, right here in front of him.
"Harry," she said, only she picked the wrong time to speak and it came out as a breathless gasp.
Now, his hands froze. "Hermione?" he asked softly, loosening his grip on her legs, but not taking his hands off her. "Are you okay?"
She let out a sigh that was half-relief and half-desperation. She could feel the burning slowly begin to recede, but she didn't trust herself to speak just yet. She nodded. She couldn't stand it. She had to have him. To hell with her rules and the consequences, she had to have him, right now. "Touch me," she pleaded, her voice coming out in a harsh whisper. "Please, Harry, please touch me."
"Hermione," he started, and his voice sounded calm, but almost cautioning.
"Harry, please," she said again. "Please."
He moved slowly, hesitantly, as though he expected her to change her mind. His hand slid between her thighs again, nudging them a little father apart. Then she felt his fingers brush over her, sliding between her folds. It was all she could do to keep from climaxing right then.
He touched her gently, so slowly it was painful. She bucked her hips up slightly, but he didn't change his touch. He worked her clit with careful, circling strokes, and she pushed back into his hand as much as he would let her.
He pulled his fingers back, drawing a groan from her and slowly slid them into her. "God, Harry," she moaned, again trying to push herself back onto him, to make him speed up the pace. He put one hand flat on her bum and gently pushed her back onto the bed, holding her there.
When she tried to buck again, he leaned over, whispering into her ear. "Lay still. You wanted me to do this, let me do it."
He pulled them out again, turning his hand to stroke her front wall, holding her down as she raised her hips again. He added a third finger as he slid them in again.
"Turn over for me," he whispered, sliding his other hand under her hip. She whimpered at the loss of contact as he took his fingers out of her and rolled quickly, hoping he would touch her again immediately. Instead, he bent over her and brushed his lips across her breast, causing her to arch her back toward him.
She realized that she'd been keeping her eyes squeezed shut, and forced them open again. She wanted to be able to see him. This was Harry, the one she had wanted to be with for so long, and she was determined to watch everything he was doing to her.
His tongue flicked out, running over her nipple so slowly it was torturous. "Ungh, Harry. Please, you're killing me."
He half-smiled at her, before turning his attention back to her breasts. He reached across her and cupped one in his hand while continuing the excruciating treatment on the other. Then, his hand skimmed back over her body, and he tapped a finger into her just once. She groaned, reaching down to run her hand through his hair.
He started to brush his lips down her body, spending little time on each bit as he passed, but making sure to catch every inch of the path he was taking. When he lifted up and climbed over, to kneel between her legs, she could barely contain herself. He lowered his face, parting her with his thumbs and sliding his tongue into her.
He moved his tongue to her clit, licking and sucking, as he slid his fingers into her again. She couldn't stop herself from bucking this time, and she wondered how he managed not to get cracked in the chin with her pelvic bone. The fingers of his free hand curled around her hip to hold her still, his tongue and other hand never breaking their rhythm. "Harry," she gasped, fighting the urge to grab a handful of his hair. Instead, she put her hand on his shoulder, scratching him through his T-shirt.
The tension in her stomach was building again, and she felt her toes start to curl. Her fingers scrabbled harder at his shoulder, her other hand clutching the comforter tightly. A screech escaped her lips before she could stop it, and her orgasm hit her, causing her to jerk and cry out even louder.
Harry didn't stop as she rode out the last little bit of her climax, and not until she let out a heavy sigh and went limp did he raise back up.
She didn't know how long she lay there, her breath still coming in sharp gasps, her heart pounding in her chest, before she opened her eyes to look at him. He was still in the same place, sitting back on his heels, watching her. She blushed immediately, remembering how loud she had screamed, remembering how pushy she had been, and worst of all, remembering how she had begged him to touch her. "Harry, I'm-I'm sorry."
He didn't answer, and his expression didn't change. He just kept those clear green eyes fixed on hers. Then, finally, he smiled slightly. "Must have been a long time, eh?"
"What?" she asked, frowning.
"Your dry spell."
"Dry-oh." Now she understood. Did she dare tell him? Was this something he really wanted to know? "Yeah, it's been-a while."
"No wonder you were so tense," he joked, the small laugh not reaching his eyes. "Do you feel better?"
She almost laughed. "Are you kidding? Did you even hear me a minute ago?"
"I'm thinking most of the inn heard you," he said, then waved her off. "I'm joking, Hermione. You weren't that loud."
"Yes, I was," she said, blushing deeper.
"Okay, you were. But if you feel better, it was worth it."
Why was he being so clinical about this? Had it turned him on, even a little bit? She sighed. "Yes, absolutely." She sat up, stretching. "Thanks, Harry. That was-brilliant."
"Of course," he smirked, fanning his shirt. "I think I stink."
She paused. "Huh?"
"I stink," he repeated. "I need a shower and some fresh clothes."
That was the first time she realized he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, the ones that had been soaked in the snow. "Oh, I didn't notice."
"I'm surprised you couldn't smell me." He climbed off the bed and stretched, running a hand over his face. "Do you mind if I jump in the shower?"
She shook her head. "Are you hungry? Do you want me to call for some dinner?"
He shook his head, moving over to his bags. "No, it's fine. Just relax for a while. Take a nap or something." He pulled his T-shirt off and tossed it on top of his bag. He went into the bathroom and shut the door, and she sank back onto the bed, unable to decide whether to laugh or cry.