Disclaimer: JKR's Potterverse. Not mine. Quit rubbing it in.
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Harry stared at the bed, trying to figure out why he was supposed to wear what Hermione had set aside for him. She'd taken a few packages and headed for the bathroom, leaving him to figure out the clothing on his own.
There was a grey suit laid out, made of fabric so dark it was nearly black. A scarlet dress shirt was laid on top of it, but Hermione hadn't left him a tie to wear with it. He surveyed the massive number of packages from Harrods, and decided it would be too much effort trying to find one to go with the shirt. He noticed with a touch of embarrassment that she had also set out some new underwear for him. He didn't remember her picking these up, but then again he hadn't been paying much attention to the things she was throwing across his arms.
He quickly shed his shrunken jeans, and the old, greying pair of underwear he'd been hiding underneath them. Harry pulled on the boxers Hermione had left out. The silky fabric felt good against his skin, so he didn't mind the embarrassment so much. He donned the suit pants, and realized that he couldn't wear his ratty old trainers with them.
Harry began to poke around in the packages, finding several shoeboxes. Hermione had really thought of everything, not that that was any surprise. He found a pair of comfortable and stylish black leather dress shoes. Slipping them on, he went back to his bed to exchange his t-shirt for the deep red dress shirt. He tucked the shirttails into his pants, and left a couple of buttons undone at the throat. Shrugging into the suit jacket, Harry turned to survey himself in the mirror mounted on the hotel dresser.
Harry was shocked to see his appearance. Sure, he'd seen himself in Wizard's dress robes before, but that was nothing compared to what he looked like in a Muggle suit. A flutter of black appeared over his left shoulder in the mirror. He turned as Hermione exited the bathroom.
If Harry was shocked to see his own appearance, he was about to give himself a heart attack looking at Hermione.
She had fiddled with her hair, using the permanent effects of the Sleekeazy potion to her advantage. Her hair now hung about her face in small curls, and her face was shining. Her eyes stood out; she'd used some mascara and black eyeliner to make them a tad more noticeable. Harry was beginning to see more green in her eyes than he had before, and he didn't need the light to hit her in a certain way to see it.
Her dress was black, halter style with a very deep neckline. It hugged her body tightly until it flared out at the hips, resembling a white dress that Marilyn Monroe had made famous years prior. It was cut just below the knee, showing off Hermione's tanned legs encased in black stockings. She wore black high heeled sandals that tied around her ankle.
"What's the matter, Harry? Crookshanks got your tongue?" she asked, smiling.
The mention of Hermione's pet, half-Kneazle half-cat, snapped Harry out of his reverie. "Hey, where is Crookshanks?" he asked.
"I could ask you the same thing about Hedwig," she said.
"I left her with Hagrid when I went back to the Dursleys. They always complained about her, and I wasn't planning on owling anyone, so I figured she'd be happier at the castle," he explained, doing his best to keep his eyes above shoulder level. Hermione's dress was very revealing, practically inviting him to drool over the cleavage he'd surreptitiously admired in the bank.
"Crookshanks is at the Burrow," Hermione noticed his deep concentration as he looked in her eyes. "When I left, I was planning on coming back. I suppose Ginny is taking care of him now."
Harry nodded, transfixed at the sight of her. His eyes kept travelling the length of her body; Harry was having an internal struggle with himself in his attempts to remain focused.
"Harry," Hermione giggled, "It's okay to look, you know. I wouldn't put them out there if I didn't want you to."
It took Harry a second to register that by 'them' she meant her breasts. It was all the invitation Harry needed, and he suddenly felt more comfortable. He gave her a full, appreciative look as his eyes moved from her feet to the top of her head.
"'Mione," he began, noticing the intense amount of green in her pupils, "what's with your eyes?"
"What are you talking about, Harry?"
"Well, they've always been brown, haven't they?" he asked.
Hermione nodded.
"They're starting to turn green." He said, turning her towards the mirror. Hermione leaned forward, and gasped in surprise. "Merlin, you're right, Harry! I didn't even notice it before!"
"Any idea why?" he asked, staring deep into the flecks of green.
Hermione shook her head. "I know some people's eyes can change shades and colour tones from light to dark, or blue-green to blue or green, but my eyes have always been brown."
"Think it might have anything to do with the diamond?" he asked, giving it an appreciative glance where it lay in its usual resting place.
She shrugged. "Maybe, but I've never heard of that. Who knows, maybe I'm turning into you!" she laughed.
Harry decided he should change the subject before she would want to go off and do research about her eyes. "So where are we going?"
"It's a surprise, Harry." She winked. "Now, I've never done side-along Apparition before, so I'm going to need you to hang on to me and still try to Apparate yourself. Just concentrate on moving your body, not the destination. You've never been there anyway."
Harry was confused, so he just did as he was told, and wrapped Hermione in a hug.
"I said hang on to me, Harry, not hold me," she scolded lightly.
He shrugged. "I figured this would be more fun."
Hermione concentrated all of her thoughts on their destination, and they disappeared from the hotel room without a trace.
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Hermione had carefully concealed her wand, keeping it along the underside of her arm in her wrist holder, which had been Transfigured to look like a much more fashionable bracelet. She was growing angry with the man at the Jules Verne restaurant. She had called earlier that afternoon from their hotel to make reservations, but he was unable to find their name. Perhaps it had something to do with how difficult it was to get a reservation at the Jules Verne, and they'd simply treated her call as a joke when she'd asked for a reservation for that night.
She pointed the tip of her wand, hidden under her palm and fingers, at the man's foot, and thought of the Memory Modification charm in her head. The man's eyes glazed over for a second, and then he picked up two menus and motioned towards the entrance to the restaurant.
"Right this way, Mademoiselle, Monsieur," he said in a clipped French accent.
Harry was still having trouble believing their location. Hermione had Apparated the two of them directly to the base of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France. The waiter interrupted his thoughts.
"Your table," he said. They were at a small table for two overlooking the Paris skyline. The lights were glittering in the night, and the view was breathtaking. "Your waiter will be along in a moment. He will be bringing you a complimentary bottle of champagne to make up for our losing your reservation." The host turned and left, leaving the pair alone in silence.
Hermione turned to Harry. "I believe I told you earlier in Harrods that we would talk tonight about how Ron treated me?" she said, giving Harry the chance to say he'd rather not know.
"Was it really that bad?" he asked in disbelief.
"Well, you saw how he acted with Lavender Brown all year," Hermione began. "Snogging everywhere they could find, and doing not much more than snogging."
Harry nodded. It had been strange to see his best friend acting like that.
"Apparently that's Ron's idea of a real relationship. When I wanted to talk, he ignored me. When I wanted to go out and do something, he'd sulk and whine about staying in. If I tried to hug him he'd try to see what my tonsils taste like. I kept telling him I didn't want to be so physical, with his tongue shoved down my throat every five seconds, and he got mad at me. Said something like 'Lavender didn't mind,' under his breath. I pretended not to hear him, and give him the benefit of the doubt because, at that point, I'm sure he was having some reactions of his own that he needed to deal with." Hermione took a deep breath, steeling her nerves.
His face darkening, Harry opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off as Hermione continued.
"The day after that he tried again to get me alone in his room and snog with the door locked. I figured maybe if I went along with a bit of kissing he'd cool off, but he kept pushing and trying for more. He got mad at me when I made him stop, and then later that afternoon was when we all fought about you."
Harry's mind was having trouble taking in these thoughts of Ron. He could easily believe that Ron and Lavender would've done this, but Hermione? He could see why she was mad at him. "And that's when you smacked him," he said, with a trace of a smile.
Hermione nodded. "I couldn't believe the way he'd been acting towards me. It was so… rude, and disgraceful. I tried to make excuses for him at first but I'd had enough when he said he wanted to leave you in Privet Drive for a while."
"I think he knew I'd hex him into oblivion if I found out the way he was treating you," Harry said.
She looked at Harry. "You would?"
"Damn right I would! I don't let anyone treat the people I care about like that, even if it IS one of my best friends doing it." Harry reached across the table and grasped Hermione's hand.
I wouldn't let anyone hurt you, 'Mione. Ever.
Hermione felt warm and tingly at Harry's touch. She smiled. I know you wouldn't.
They continued to enjoy the rest of their dinner, and the 'complimentary' champagne, which Harry was positive had been part of Hermione's Memory Modification charm.
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Later that night, after they had Apparated back to their London hotel room with quite a load of difficulty and a few near-splinching experiences, Harry and Hermione found themselves relatively inebriated. They had somehow managed to finish nearly the entire bottle of champagne, clearly enjoying the tickle of the bubbly liquid as it slid down their throats. When they finally appeared successfully in the room, they fell back onto their beds, giggling. Their heads were spinning from the effects of the alcohol, and to Harry he felt as exhilarated as when he was riding on his broom during a Quidditch match. Hermione just felt giddy.
"'Arry," she spluttered, "I think we're a bit…"
"Smashed?" he finished as she trailed off. For reasons known only to them they found that thought quite hilarious, and began to giggle hysterically again.
Hermione stumbled across the distance between their beds, trying to get to Harry to hug him. She tripped on her own feet and landed unceremoniously on the bed with him, her legs and arms splayed in every direction. She raised her head to look at him, and immediately stopped giggling. Harry had the same look in his eyes as he'd had when he'd knocked her to the floor.
"'Arry?" she said again, with some difficulty, "what's wrong? What are you thinking about?" However, due to her drunken state, Hermione's words came out a bit more like 'whas rung? Whaa ariou thinning 'bout?'
Before he could answer her words, Harry's body answered for him. Hermione was pressed rather closely to Harry's body, having landed directly on top of him. His hands went to her hips, pulling her even closer, letting her feel for herself what he was thinking about. His hard length pressed against her stomach, and there was absolutely nothing Hermione could mistake it for.
Hermione flushed, turning a colour close to that of Harry's scarlet shirt. His suit jacket had fallen on the floor and his shirttails had come un-tucked when they landed, giving him a slightly dishevelled and yet still handsome appearance. Hermione's hair was wild about her face, and her skirt had begun to ride up her legs.
Without warning, Harry flipped her over onto her back, and held her there. She looked up at him, questioning him with her nearly emerald green eyes. Since their return from Paris her eyes had become greener. Harry still wondered why, but he was too drunk to care at that point.
Hermione could sense the apprehension Harry was feeling. Clearly he wanted to kiss her again, but he didn't want to intrude on the boundaries of their friendship. After all, she had admitted her feelings, for the most part, but Harry had not given her any clear response as to what he felt yet. For all intents and purposes they were still just friends: friends who were about to cross the line into becoming more.
Harry, I swear, if you don't kiss me right now I'll-she thought, but she was quickly cut short as Harry's lips came crashing down on her, devouring her mouth. He probed and teased with his tongue, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the sensations she was feeling from the touch of his tongue could be from his Parseltongue abilities. Seeing as snakes were able to flick and dart their tongues about quickly while they were hissing, which was what Parseltongue was to Hermione, she was willing to bet that his tongue was more capable of driving her wild.
Seconds later, Harry sensing her thoughts, he began to kiss his way from her lips to her ear. He whispered in Parseltongue to her, tickling her earlobe and neck with his tongue. Hermione had no idea what he was saying, but it felt great.
Harry decided to translate his Parseltongue for her, so as he moved further down her neck, nibbling and licking lightly, he thought in his head what he was whispering in the snake language.
/You're beautiful, 'Mione. You've been trying to torment me all yesterday and today with just how beautiful you are. That brief glimpse of your bum as you went into the bathroom to shower, leaving your clothes all over the floor… Mentioning what you were and weren't wearing under that dress in Harrods… and this dress… Merlin, this dress is enough to drive a man wild. When I first saw you in it all I could think about was what you'd look like under it./
By that point Harry had made his way down the centre of Hermione's chest, his eyes level with the Glitra diamond around her neck.
Hermione pushed Harry back and sat up, preventing him from going any further. Harry looked confused. Did she want him to stop?
His unasked question was quickly answered as Hermione stood up and her hands went to the back of her neck. She reached under her curls for the clasp of her dress, and with a flick of her fingers her dress glided gently down her body and onto the floor.
Harry swallowed, taking her in. Underneath her dress was the black lace lingerie he'd bought earlier that day. He'd intended on saving it for a while, seeing where things led with the two of them. If he did indeed have the feelings he thought he did for her, he was sure that there would be no trouble whatsoever in convincing her to wear it for him. He hadn't counted on her finding it before he could take it out of the massive number of packages and stow it away in his trunk.
She twirled slowly, allowing him to stare. The bikini top accentuated her cleavage, nearly causing Harry to drool. His eyes followed her flat stomach to the lace garter skirt, which held up the matching black stockings.
His temperature had risen about twenty degrees in the last ten seconds.
Do you want me, Harry? She asked tentatively. In her current drunken condition, Hermione was having just as much trouble staying upright in her heels as she was with listening to her heart and her body. Her heart was telling her that he didn't love her, and she was only going to get herself hurt. Her body was crying out to be touched and loved.
She saw the hungry look in Harry's eyes, and temporarily threw her heart out the window. She'd wanted to be with him for so long, and if this would make him realize his feelings for her, then she was willing to do it. She'd heard Lavender and Parvati giggling about it in the girls' dorms, but she never thought that she would be the next one to experience it.
Harry was having trouble with his own feelings. His body wholeheartedly agreed with Hermione's, and was begging to touch her. His mind and his heart were screaming out that it wasn't right, but the intoxication he was experiencing was causing his mind to go fuzzy.
You don't have to do this, Harry gave her a chance to back out.
Rather than answer, Hermione took a step closer to him, and began to unbutton the rest of his shirt as she dragged him
into a standing position..
Harry was drunk, but not drunk enough to forget to use a protection charm, just in case. Hermione had discreetly used the Muffliato incantation in combination with a Silencing charm when Harry wasn't looking, ensuring their total privacy. They had finally crossed the line from friendship to relationship. It may not have been under the best circumstances as neither of them was completely aware of what they were doing and their judgement was off due to the champagne, but they both knew deep down that they wouldn't have done anything they didn't otherwise want to.
As Harry's shirt fell to the floor, followed shortly by his trousers, he found himself in uncharted territory. He was faced with a beautiful, scantily clad woman who just happened to be his best friend of six years. Clearly she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but even in his inebriated state his brain was telling him that this was not something to be taken lightly.
Stepping ever so slowly, Harry closed the miniscule distance between them until their bodies were flush against each other. Dipping his head, he captured her lips, pouring his emotions into her through their connection. His hands circled her waist, pulling her in as tight as he could.
Hermione's mind was overloaded with images and sensations from Harry, showing her just how much the young wizard cared for her. She knew that he loved her, but she still hoped that one day he could fall in love with her. The feelings she was experiencing from him at the moment were mostly lust and basic human need, but she could feel something underneath them all. She hoped with all her being that it was love, but until Harry came right out and said it, she couldn't be sure.
"Stop thinking, Hermione," Harry murmured against her lips, moving ever-so-slightly to nibble at her earlobe as his hand began to caress the elastic waistband of her garter skirt.
At the feeling of a question that caused Harry's brain to tingle, he pulled back just enough to fix her with a pleading look.
"Please," he whispered, his eyes flickering with desire.
When Hermione offered no resistance to his demand, he nuzzled her neck, nipping lightly at the smooth skin with his teeth.
Inhaling sharply, Hermione barely managed to find her voice. "Why?"
Why stop thinking? Harry's thoughts asked her. Apparently, no matter how utterly drunk he was, his mental voice always came across clear. You'll over-analyze this. What's happening between us. You'll break it down into little compartmentalized feelings and sensations that you can't name, and you'll be too busy trying to figure it all out to enjoy it.
To enforce his point, Harry bit down harder than before, sending shivers down Hermione's spine.
Realizing he was right, Hermione convinced herself not to argue any further and began returning Harry's attentions with a dedication he'd only ever seen from her in the library. She matched him bite for bite, kiss for kiss, and gladly tangled her tongue with his. When his fingertips began to dip into the waistband of her garter skirt her hands began to offer Harry the same torture, languidly playing with the elastic of his boxers.
Harry let out a guttural moan as her fingers traced over his hips, causing them to involuntarily push against her. Pleased with the reaction she had elicited from Harry, Hermione began to wade into dangerous territory. Slipping a hand into his boxers to cup his arse and pull him closer to her, she had unknowingly given Harry permission for his own hands to travel further.
Taking the invitation, he promptly removed her lacy barely-there top, and reached up with one hand to gently massage her breast. Hermione gasped in surprise, arching her back to lean into Harry's palm. Feeling a sense of power, Harry boldly dipped his head to replace his hand with his mouth.
The shock of the pleasurable sensation sent Hermione reeling backwards onto the bed, bringing Harry tumbling with her. As Harry's head began to move from one breast to the other and then gradually further down, Hermione's mind was spinning. True, it was partly from the lingering effects of the champagne in Paris, but she knew that it was mostly Harry-induced. As Harry found his intended destination, Hermione let out a cry that, had the Silencing and Muffliato charms not been in place, would have most definitely been heard stories below in the hotel lobby.