Thunderstorms and Other Confessions

Rylee

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 24/06/2006
Last Updated: 24/06/2006
Status: completed

Harry and Hermione take a break from the serious to learn some new things about each other.

Chapters

1. Chapter 1

1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don’t own them. :D

Author’s Note: This is just a little one-shot that I came up with the last time it stormed here. :D At least, I think it’s going to be a one-shot. If I decide to write more, the rating will undoubtedly go up. It’s basically just a little Harmonious scene that has no bearing on anything, it just wouldn’t go away. :lol: Hope you like it!

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Harry took a sip of his coffee, propping himself against the foot of the chair. “Can we stop for tonight?” he asked, sparing a cautious glance at Hermione. “I’m tired of reading.”

She glanced up and smiled slightly. “Well, I suppose we could. I’m frankly amazed that you’ve stuck with it as long as you have today.” She shut her book and set it on the couch next to her. “So what do you want to do for the rest of the evening?”

Harry shrugged, leaning his head back against the chair. “I don’t care.” He turned his eyes to the window as lightning flashed across the sky, and frowned. “Another storm? I’m beginning to think it’s never going to stop.”

Hermione glanced at it as well, her face paling slightly. “It doesn’t seem like it will, does it?”

He frowned, staring at her over the rim of his cup. “Are you all right?”

She shook herself, forcing another smile. “Oh, yes. I’m—fine.” When he continued to stare at her, she sighed. “All right. Do you want the truth? I’m—terrified of thunderstorms.”

He tried not to act too surprised by this. “You are?”

She nodded, blushing. “I always have been. When I was little, I used to go crawl into bed with my parents when it would storm. And when I got older, and was too big to actually sleep with them, I’d take my blankets and pillow and sleep on their floor.”

Harry smiled slightly. “Why didn’t I ever know this?”

“Because I never told you, I suppose. I was all right at Hogwarts, because there were always other people in the room with me when I was sleeping. That’s the only time they really bother me. When it gets dark and I can’t see how bad it is, it’s harder. I can still see the lightning and hear the thunder, but I can’t actually see the clouds, you know? It’s silly, I suppose, especially since a Gryffindor is supposed to be brave but—well, there you have it. I can’t sleep by myself during a thunderstorm.”

Harry gave a soft laugh. “You’re brave when it counts, Hermione. That’s what matters. And, since we’re sharing secrets--.” He broke off, shaking his head. “No, never mind. It’s nothing you’d want to know.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Oh come on. I told you my secret, now you should tell me yours.”

He blushed slightly. He had no problem telling Ron things like this. It was guy talk, and he could get a bit raunchy with Ron without having to worry about offending him. Hermione was different. Sex wasn’t something that they ever talked about, save the occasional teasing about Viktor Krum and Cho Chang. He hadn’t told her about his experiences with Ginny; he hadn’t told Ron either considering he wasn’t anxious to tell Ron just how far he’d made it with Ginny, and how quickly, for fear of being jinxed into oblivion. This was especially likely given that he and Ginny had been officially split up the first time that they’d been—together.

Hermione never told him about her short time spent with Ron, although Ron hadn’t spared him any details in his own description of it. Not that there were many details; Ron had complained loudly and often that Hermione wasn’t willing to go past a bit of light petting with him.

It made him more than just embarrassed to consider telling Hermione something this personal. It made him feel—afraid. He didn’t want her to think any less of him. He really didn’t want her to think any less of him. This, painfully, was a new development. He had always wanted to have her respect, but now, more than ever, the need to keep said respect was a higher priority than it ever had been before. And if she ever knew--.

He cleared his throat, giving her a tight smile. “No, I—erm, I really don’t think we should go there.”

She looked bemused for a minute, and then her face broke into a grin. “Ah, I get it. It’s about sex, isn’t it?”

He blinked at her, feeling his face begin to burn. “What?”

She giggled. “Come on, Harry. We’re adults, right. I don’t know why, after all these years, you can’t be comfortable enough with me to talk to me. I might be a girl, but I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were,” he muttered, taking another drink of his coffee. “But it’s something we’ve never talked about before.”

“Which is silly,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sure that you and Ron have talked about it, and I know that Ginny and I have discussed it, quite a lot in fact. Why the four of us can’t talk about it together, I don’t know.”

Harry gasped. “You and Ginny—you’ve talked about it?”

“Well, yes, of course. Granted, Ginny did most of the talking, because she certainly has more to share than I do, but I’ve shared a bit with her as well.”

Impossibly, Harry’s blush grew. “Did she, erm—she didn’t say anything about—me—did she?”

Hermione laughed. “Of course she did. You were her Holy Grail, weren’t you? She went on about you for hours.”

“Oh gods,” he mumbled, feeling his stomach churn. “Can you dig a hole for me, because I’d really like to crawl into it now.”

She giggled again, rolling her eyes. “Oh please, Harry. There’s no reason to be embarrassed. You’re a typical man, right? You’re going to be interested in sex. I’d be more worried about you if you weren’t. I’m, frankly, quite happy that you’ve done so well for yourself in that department. You deserve it.”

He groaned. “Can we stop talking about this now? I’m properly mortified already.”

“Why?”

He stared at her, incredulous. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why would you be embarrassed? Sex isn’t supposed to be embarrassing. I honestly don’t know why people are so uptight about it. It’s a very sweet and natural thing. Even when it isn’t necessarily sweet or natural,” she grinned. “Ginny said you were quite—um, how do I put this?”

Harry dropped his head into his hands. “Please don’t put it any way. I—I can’t talk about this.”

Hermione laughed softly. “All right, Harry. I’ll stop. But she was very complimentary.”

He peeked at her through his fingers, his curiosity warring with his humiliation. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

Curiosity won out, as he was certain Hermione had known it would. “What—did she say?”

Hermione smiled slightly, turning in her chair to summon the coffee pot from the kitchen. It landed neatly on the table beside her, a trick which Harry was yet to learn. “Well, she said you were wonderfully attentive and unselfish—passionate. She said that the way you looked at made her feel more beautiful than she ever had in her life. She said that she was amazed by how—considerate and loving you could be, even at the most intense and intimate moments.”

Harry felt a surge of pride and fought back the urge to let out a whoop. “She said that?”

“Well, more or less. She was much more detailed about it, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear that.” Hermione grinned almost slyly. “I have to tell you, Harry, if you were at Hogwarts this year, you’d probably have girls crawling all over you. I know Lavender and Parvati were green with envy when they heard what they’d missed out on with you. Lavender said she couldn’t imagine having someone be that—incredible. Apparently, Ron--.” She blushed, chewing her lip. “Well, apparently he was something slightly—less than that.”

Harry guffawed. “Yeah, I kind of figured as much. To hear him tell it, it was mind-blowing, but you could tell that Lavender didn’t feel the same.”

Hermione snickered. “See, I knew you’d talked about it. You’ll talk to him but you won’t talk to me. Why is that?”

He shrugged. “I just—didn’t think you’d want to hear it.”

“I wouldn’t have listened to Ginny talk about it if I didn’t. Not to mention, I couldn’t have lived with Parvati and Lavender for so long if it bothered me. I really sort of got used to it.” She smirked. “I had to live vicariously through all of you for a long time.”

“So, you—you’ve never--?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m still a virgin. Sometimes, I wish I wasn’t, but—better no one than the wrong one. That’s what my mother always said. I reckon she’s right.”

Harry frowned. “What about Ron?”

She raised her eyebrows, blinking at him. “What about him?”

“Well, he wasn’t—I mean, I know you two aren’t together anymore, but—you didn’t think he was the right one? At the time, anyway?”

She laughed. “No. I knew better. I liked Ron, you know, and I’m not sorry that we gave it a shot, but—we’re too different. And there was no—spark. There’s supposed to be a spark, right? I’m not being silly thinking that it actually exists?”

Harry thought about it for a minute, and then shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, did you feel anything with Ginny?”

“You mean, other than a desperate need to get into her pants?”

Hermione snorted, chuckling wildly. “Well, yes. Was that all it was? Just—lust?”

He glared at her. “I didn’t say that. I cared about her.”

“That’s not what I meant, Harry. I’m not saying that you used her. I just—aren’t you supposed to feel something, I dunno, more than just passion? Aren’t you supposed to know that you’re—in love?”

Harry stared at her a minute, incredulous. He’d thought this same thing so many times before, and still had no answer. His problem was that he had cared about Ginny. He’d cared about her a great deal. And he’d been attracted to her, more than he had ever been with anyone else. The fact that he was more attracted to her when she had her hand down the front of his jeans, however, had made him wonder exactly what he was in it for. He’d broken up with her on the excuse that he didn’t want her to get hurt, but that wasn’t the entire truth either. Whatever Hermione was talking about, it hadn’t been there with Ginny.

Finally, he sighed. “I think so.”

They were quiet for a long moment, and then Hermione cleared her throat. “Ginny, erm—she knew.”

His head snapped up. “What?”

“She knew that you weren’t in love with her. She told me as much. She said that you were very kind to her and that she appreciated her time with you, but that you wouldn’t be with her forever.”

“But—how did she--?”

“She’s really quite clever, Harry. She reads people very well. She could tell that what was in your eyes when you looked at her wasn’t love. Not that kind of love, anyway. I thought she was wrong, but—she wasn’t, was she?”

Harry swallowed hard. “No,” he admitted quietly. “She wasn’t.”

“Well,” Hermione said, chewing her lip nervously. “Then, I suppose it would be all right for me to—ask you something. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but—well, it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Ask what?”

She flushed slightly, fiddling with the edge of her book. “Have you ever—thought about—erm, kissing me?”

Harry was too stunned to even gasp. Had he—had he thought about it? Oh, Gods there was irony in that question that was too deep to even laugh at. He had thought about it so much that he was having trouble of thinking about anything else when she was around. And, he’d thought about more than that. Often. Every night, in fact. Especially on nights like this when she was sleeping under the same roof as him. Especially when it was storming outside. He couldn’t tell her that, though, could he? Did she really want to hear that he’d touched himself over and over again while thinking about her? That he had climaxed night after night with her face in his mind and her name on his lips?

“Harry?” she asked softly, nervously, when he didn’t answer her. “What—are you—all right?”

He almost flinched. Part of his brain was screaming at him to tell her the truth, but the other, less Gryffindor part was saying that he’d lose her if he did. But, what if he did tell her and she didn’t run? What if it went the complete opposite direction and his fantasies of her turned into reality? She was asking, after all. And she wouldn’t be asking if she hadn’t thought about it too. Would she?

He made up his mind, and braced himself for everything to fall apart. “I’ve thought about it,” he said softly. “Definitely.”

Hermione sighed in what he hoped was relief. “Me too.”

They were quiet for a long moment, before Hermione stood and came to sit next to him. When he looked at her questioningly, she smiled slightly. “It’s kind of silly not to try it, don’t you think? I mean, it couldn’t hurt just to—see what happens.”

“It couldn’t?” he muttered, incredulously. “Are you quite sure of that? What if we do it and it goes wrong? What if there’s—nothing there?”

She shrugged. “Then there’s not and we’ll just move on.”

“And if there is something there?”

Hermione smiled shyly. “Well, we’ll just—deal with that too, then. So—should we?”

There was no way he could say no. Despite the risks, he wanted her. And at least now he would know if she wanted him as well.

He shifted, turning so he was facing her, and rested his arm on the seat beside him. She turned too, sitting up on her knees and scooting forward until their faces were closer than they’d ever been. They stared at each other for a minute, as though daring the other to back out, and then, finally, he leaned forward. His heart was pounding, his palms sweating, and he realized, vaguely, that he felt like a virgin all over again. Her breath was warm as it mingled with his, and he noticed that she was panting softly, her eyes slightly glazed.

His lips brushed hers, just once, testing the waters. It seemed, at first, to have all gone wrong. There was no spark, nothing that made him think that there was any need to carry this on. It nearly broke his heart, thinking about it.

Then, she reciprocated, equally as softly, but with a slight linger and he felt his heart skip in his chest. More! his brain cried out and he almost laughed. Something was different. Whereas kissing Ginny had only served to stoke his need to go further, kissing Hermione, even just the two little ones they’d already shared, left him feeling—satisfied. He wouldn’t have stopped her had she pushed it further, certainly, but he wasn’t in any hurry to get there. He liked kissing her. He had the indisputable feeling that, had she wanted to do nothing more than just kiss him, he’d happily go along with it, for as long as she liked. Forever, if necessary.

He kissed her again, more deeply this time, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. She sighed heavily against his lips and he felt his heart skip again. Definitely not a fluke. Each kiss, while arousing, didn’t feel like it was necessarily building up to something more. It felt perfect, as though they were made to do just this.

She must have agreed, because she sank further against him, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. Her mouth opened against his and he took her invitation with relish.

It was several minutes before they pulled apart, breathing hard and staring at each other in wonder. “Harry, did you—I mean, is it just me or was that--?”

“Incredible?” he grinned.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say incredible. I was going to say—okay, yes, incredible fits quite well. So, it was, then? You thought so too?”

He laughed, nodding adamantly. “Absolutely. So, what does this mean?”

“I dunno,” she said, giddily, “but I think we should keep doing it.”

Thunder rumbled overhead and she jumped slightly. He chuckled. “I still can’t believe I never knew that you were afraid of storms.”

“Well, I’m not when you’re around. I mean, I am, but I can handle it, as long as I’m not alone. By the way,” she said, shifting so she was leaning against him. “You never told me your secret.”

“Oh,” he smirked. “Well, the truth is—thunderstorms, erm—they turn me on.”

She gasped, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

“No. It’s been that way ever since I hit puberty. The rougher the storm, the worse it gets.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “And it’s been storming a lot lately…”

“Too much,” he confessed, blushing. “I’ve been spending a lot of time in my room with a towel and a bottle of lotion.”

She giggled. “Now I can see why you didn’t want to tell me. So, how are you right now?”

“Wired,” he admitted. “Completely and totally. I think I’m going to need some more lotion very soon.”

Hermione cackled wildly. “Oh God, Harry. I can’t believe you just said that. You’ve never told me anything like that before.”

“Well, I guess things have changed a bit, haven’t they? I like being able to tell you things. It’s—nice.”

She beamed, leaning back to look at him. “So, you’d be willing to tell me—anything?”

He hesitated, unnerved by the glint in her eye. “Erm, well—yes, I suppose.”

“You said you’d thought about kissing me?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Have you ever thought about more?”

“Would I get hit if I say I have?”

“Nope.”

“Then, yes. I have. Often, in fact.”

“Me too,” she said, shivering slightly. “When Ginny was telling me what it was like to—be with you, I—I had this wild thought pop into my head that I would desperately like to find out. And I was surprised by it at first, but—well, I’ve never been able to stop thinking about it. She went into so much detail, you know, every step, every feeling; she described how it felt to have your hands on her and how good it felt to have your warm breath on her neck and—well, I was actually jealous of her.”

“You shouldn’t be. I—I don’t love her, you know. She’s not—she’s not the one for me.”

Hermione tensed in his arms. “Am—is it possible that—maybe I am?”

He flinched. He’d just found this with her; it was still brand new for him. He couldn’t tell her, with any certainty, that he was in love with her. Something was there that hadn’t been with Ginny, that was true. But was he ready for any grand declarations of love just yet? “I, erm—well, I don’t know yet,” he said truthfully. “It’s possible, I suppose.”

She laughed softly. “Well, that’s good then. I—I think we’re on fairly even ground there, because I’m not completely sure what I feel for you either. Is that—you’re okay with that, right?”

He grinned. “Yeah. I think it’s good that neither of us knows what the hell is going on. That way, we can find out together.”

She leaned up to kiss him again, wrapping her arm around his neck. Her tongue slid against his, causing them both to groan again, and he was more than a little surprised when she tugged his shirt, laying back and pulling him down on top of her.

He pulled back, looking down at her. “Hermione, I--.”

She smiled up at him, taking his face between her hands. “Don’t, Harry. Don’t worry about it. Let’s not plan this, let’s not worry about where it’s going. Just—kiss me, please?”

He nodded, wondering how she could have known what he was going to say. He wasn’t going to argue, though. There was nothing more important right now than that her lips were on his. When she was kissing him, there was nothing else that mattered.