Author's notes: I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to all the wonderful reviews (though I've read every single one); I've had to work the last few days, which has left me little time on the computer. So this is a special note of gratitude to each and every one of you who has reviewed. I'll never forget your kindness and generosity to a nervous new writer.
This is the next to last chapter; a few reviewers seemed to think that four was the last. I've still a little bit left to say, so hang in there. And for those who're worried about Harry's eyes, I've got to leave some room for a sequel, now don't I?
Also, this chapter is rated NC-17.
---Chapter 5
"Harry," Hermione said breathlessly as she pulled away from his lips. "We need to talk." His heart, which had been trying to pound out of his chest while they kissed, dropped to the ground and crashed into a thousand pieces, though he didn't let it slow him down.
"Yeah, I guess we do," he answered as his lips found her jaw and left small kisses all the way down her throat to the little notch at the junction of her collarbones.
"What happened between you and Ginny?" As usual, she jumped right in, though she sounded slightly distracted by his ministrations.
"We broke up at Dumbledore's funeral," he said as he moved to nip at her left shoulder.
"And?" His hands were acting completely of their own volition, following the path his mouth was taking.
"And what?" What more is there to say about it, he wondered as he fingered the straps of her shirt.
"And how do you feel about her?" He stopped kissing her and his hands fell to the bed from her shoulders. He rested his forehead on her upper chest while he tried to figure out how to put his thoughts and feelings into words that would make sense.
"The Harry who dated Ginny is a part of my past, a part of my childhood. And I feel like I'm so old now that I can't remember what it was like to be a child. I feel like a completely different person from who I was before Dumbledore died. I'm not sure it's physically possible to be as different and still be the same person, but here I am."
"When did you start to feel this way about me?" she asked as her right hand found the back of his neck and started combing through his hair, causing goose bumps to dot his already oversensitive skin.
"When I realized you and Ron had finally gotten together. When I was at the Dursleys' last summer, knowing you and he were together, alone, at Grimmauld Place." He didn't move from his position, even though he was practically speaking to her lap.
"But, why?"
"I'm not really sure. I remember hearing someone say once that the most attractive person was the person who was taken. It might've been realizing that I'd missed any chance to be with you, I just don't know. I've been thinking about it ever since the summer, trying to figure it out. I just know that whatever this is, these feelings I have for you, they feel right and I don`t want them to go away."
Hermione jostled around on the bed, and took his left hand in both of hers as she got settled facing slightly away from him.
"That's because they are right, Harry. I've been going crazy trying to figure out how to get things the way they were supposed to be."
His heart thumping at the implication of her words, he raised his head back up to face her and tried to settle on one of the million questions buzzing around his head.
"What about you and Ron?" he asked even as he moved his hand that wasn't in her grasp to her knee, where he felt nothing but smooth, soft skin.
"We broke up the day you killed Voldemort."
"What happened?" He started massaging her leg slowly, enjoying the extraordinary feel of her skin under his calloused palm.
"It was a combination of many things, I think. The arguments, the lack of direction in the relationship, the fact that I had feelings for you. And I think Ron knew all that, too."
"Yeah?" He knew he should be paying closer attention to what Hermione was saying, but it was difficult when his thoughts were consumed by how far his hand was now up her leg, and he was yet to find any material covering it.
"Yes," she said with a breathy sigh as he turned his hand and raked his nails across the skin of her upper leg. "I think it was just something we needed to get out of our systems. If Ron had asked me to the Yule Ball in fourth year, I think it'd have been over with before the end of that school year."
"So... you're not in love with him?" His hand had finally found material, caught up in the crease where her leg became hip. He wondered crazily if she was wearing just a bra and knickers, but a memory of her getting out of her bed in a tank top and pajama bottoms at Grimmauld Place flashed through his mind. His thoughts were still buzzing, but not with questions anymore. Arousal, pure and hot, shot through every inch of his body like fire.
"No, Harry, I'm not in love with Ron. We work much better as friends." She punctuated the statement by leaning down to place a kiss on his unsuspecting lips.
"What about me, then? Do you think you might ever be able to fall in love with me?" He was amazed he was able to think, let alone speak. He could barely even hear over the roar of blood in his ears.
"I think I might already be in love with you, but it'll require a lot of tests and experiments to make sure," she said as she laid back on the bed and pulled him with her. He ended up on his right side leaning over Hermione, who was laying on her back. Neither of them moved for a moment, other than breathing fast and heavy. Harry had been aroused since her little declaration on the couch, but her words had ratcheted everything up several notches. He was trying to keep his lower half from connecting with hers, but it was nearly impossible the way they were laying.
"Experiments, eh?" he asked as he leaned down to kiss her again.
He ran his hand up her hipbone through the curve of her side towards her ribcage. He was thrilled by the way he could feel her muscles twitching and tensing through her thin, sleeveless shirt and knickers. It was a warm night, she must've removed her pajama bottoms to sleep, he thought. He'd been taking his jeans off to sleep in his T-shirt and shorts, but it hadn't occurred to him to wonder what Hermione was sleeping in. Nor had he taken the time to remember that she'd been in her pajamas when they'd used the Portkey. It was a good thing he hadn't been able to see what she'd been sleeping in the past few days, or he'd have been wandering around with a perpetual hard-on.
He was aching to touch her breasts, but she opened her mouth to his at that moment, distracting him thoroughly. Their tongues fought and twisted with each other for long moments where Harry was sure the entire world outside of Hermione's lips had ceased to exist.
He and Hermione were both panting hard and he thought he was speaking to her, but he was no more conscious of what he was saying to her than he was of the time of day in New Zealand. His tongue had had a direct connection to his subconscious mind the last few days and it wasn't stopping now.
His dreams were all coming true; he felt fate was finally paying him back for all the torture he'd been through in his life. Life couldn't get any better than laying beside Hermione and kissing her. At least that's what he thought until she pulled him on top of her and groaned when she felt him hard against her. He thought he was going to either die or come right there, but somehow he did neither. Instead, he held himself up with an elbow on either side of her and ground into her center, where he'd fallen naturally. She might get angry at his forwardness, but he'd have one hell of a memory to fuel fantasies for every night he'd spend alone for the rest of his life.
To his surprise though, Hermione just threw her arms around him and kissed him again. He wasn't going to argue with her, he was going to enjoy every little thing she'd let him get away with before she realized what was going on and put a stop to things. He expected it to happen when he finally got the nerve to touch her breast through her shirt. Or when he ran the same lucky hand up under the shirt to discover she wasn't wearing a bra. He wasn't expecting her to start scrabbling at his shirt to pull it off of him. He wasn't expecting her to take hers off next, either.
He stopped thinking when the hard points of her breasts touched his chest, he wasn't capable of thought anymore. He was flying on auto pilot, his senses overloaded. So when she started pulling his shorts off, he didn't stop to question her, he just helped her get rid of them. He didn't wait for her to start on her panties, he just went to work on them next. His lips had found her breasts and he was kissing and laving every bit of warm, firm skin he could reach while he removed her last piece of clothing. He wanted to take the final step slowly, in case she decided to stop him.
When they were both completely naked, he nestled down into the vee of her open legs and thanked all that was good for getting him to this point in his life. Hermione let out a deep breath as his erection brushed against her center and he kissed her lips again, thanking her for letting him be there, even if they went no further. He wanted her to know his heart somehow, and the only way he could think of was showing her.
Her hips rolled under his, and he felt he was close to where he wanted to be, but he was nervous, scared of what was to come, though he wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything.
"Hermione...? I, uh… I`ve never…." He could feel her heat and wetness, but he just had to be sure she didn't want to stop.
"You've got it, Harry, just --" Instead of finishing her thought, she linked her legs around his ass and pushed him forward into her in one swift, strong stroke. She apparently didn't want to stop, he thought once he was in her as deep as he possibly could be.
He wasn't sure what kind of reaction he'd been hoping for, but a flinch he felt with his whole body wasn't it. He was in bliss, but she was obviously in pain. He hadn't thought about her being a virgin, it hadn't even crossed his mind. But now that he thought about it, he was glad that their first time together was the first time for both of them.
Resting his head against her shoulder, he took a deep breath and tried his damnedest to stay in control of himself. Her legs were holding him too tightly to allow movement, so he tried to distract himself by kissing his way up her neck to her mouth. Their kisses had been full of passion and desperation up until that point; this time it was a languorous, melting kiss that he hoped told her how good it felt to be inside her.
With every second he worshipped her with his lips, he felt the tension in her body slowly dissipate, till she finally relaxed enough to allow him to move. Though he wanted to, he couldn't kiss her and thrust at the same time. It required more concentration than he could muster up, so he rested his cheek to hers and just let himself feel her body as he moved within it.
She was so wet where they were joined and with every movement seemed to get wetter. He hoped it was a sign that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and felt pretty sure it was. If he'd had any doubts though, they were soon dispelled by her hands. They were everywhere at once, it seemed; in his hair, roaming up and down his back, squeezing his ass, grasping his shoulders. She didn't speak with her mouth, but her breath puffing little whimpers against his ear told him more than words ever could.
Much sooner than he wanted, he felt himself climbing the peak to his climax, but he could sense that Hermione was far from hers.
"Hermione, are you going to..." His sweaty skin was making a wet, slapping sound as it met hers with every push forward, and still he couldn't say such impolite words to her.
"No, I don't think so. Go ahead, let go, I know you're close."
He stopped moving entirely at her words, though it was quite possibly the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do. He was not about to take care of himself and ignore her, it just wasn't right.
"Is it because I hurt you? Am I doing something wrong?"
"No, that's gone now. You feel so good, but I just can't let go of my thoughts."
He tried to pull out, but her clenched legs held him in place. "Ron?" he asked even though he was pretty sure he didn't want to know.
"What? No!," she exclaimed as she pushed his chest away with her hands, yet kept them connected with her legs. "Do you really think I don't know myself better than that? I'm a big girl, Harry. I know what I want, and I know who I want it to be with."
Once Harry thought a moment, he realized that he knew and trusted Hermione enough to tell him the truth. It still hurt him, however, to know he couldn't make her feel as good as she was making him feel. He let his weight back down on her when she relaxed her arms, bringing their faces close enough to kiss.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," he spoke against her lips. "Do you want to tell me what you're thinking about? Maybe it'll help." He caressed the side of her face.
"I don't think it will," she said softly as she placed a kiss on his lower lip. He wasn't expecting it and jerked forward once in surprise. Hermione responded with a quick inhale and exhale of breath.
"I'll do anything for you, you know," he told her as he placed quick, light kisses on every part of her face he could reach. "Whatever it takes, it's yours. You just have to tell me." He raised up a little higher on his elbows in order to kiss down her neck and towards her breasts, causing her to hum with pleasure.
"I just want to be able to tell you how I feel without words, Harry."
"What do you mean?" He moved back up as if to meet her gaze; it was still a habit.
"I want to look into your eyes and see you looking back at me. I want to know you can see what you do to me, how happy you make me just by being here, by wanting me like you do. I want to be able to show you the feelings I can't find words for."
He couldn't help the smile of relief he knew he was displaying. That was all she was worried about?
"Hermione... your whole body is telling me these things. It doesn't require sight." He could feel her confusion. "I can see you, every bit of you, in here." He found her hand and pressed it to his chest over his heart. He was being unbearably sappy, but it was the only way he knew to tell her how wrong she was. "And you're so beautiful, Hermione."
Her breath huffed out quickly in what might've been a laugh or might've been a sob.
"I know your hair is everywhere, just like it always is," he said as he released her left hand from his right to touch her curls splayed out on the pillow. "It's shining in whatever light is coming through the window, I can feel it. You're biting your lips whenever you're not talking, 'cause you do that when you think too much."
A definite laugh escaped her at this, causing her body to clench him powerfully for a split second. Their breathing, which had slowed slightly while they'd been talking, sped up again.
"I can hear your heart pounding in your chest, and I can feel it in every place we're touching, but especially here," he indicated with a powerful thrust into her.
She responded with a low, almost-silent whimper that shot straight to his groin.
"I can smell your hair, and your skin, and the scent of *us*," he thrust again.
She moaned for the first time that night, a sound he didn't know he'd been longing to hear her make.
"That was the most mind-blowing sound I've ever heard in my entire life," he said, a steady, powerful pace taking over his body. "And the way you taste, my God, I'll never get enough of how you taste. I'll never forget it, yet I'll have to remind myself of it every second of every day by kissing you again and again." He sought out her lips with his own and she kissed him back more passionately than ever. When his body was screaming for air, he finally pulled away from her; they were both breathing more heavily than ever.
"And when you breathe," he said with an especially hard thrust, causing her to moan again. "You're breathing exactly in time with me."
"Harry," she moaned on another thrust.
"Yes?" His voice was strained; his arousal had slacked off a bit when he'd stopped moving, but he'd rapidly regained all the ground he'd lost and then some.
"I lo--.... Oh, I'm gonna come," she moaned Her words sent a jolt of heat from his gut out to his extremities and straight back to his cock. He had no idea where the knowledge for his actions was coming from, other than instinct. He was driving in and out of her quickly, and she met his every move with one of her own.
He tucked his face into the crook of her neck, so he felt her breath hitch just before her entire body tensed, arched and she cried out her release. It was the most amazing thing he'd ever experienced, without a doubt, and it pushed him off that highest peak into an uncontrollable free fall. His thrusts became uneven and almost spastic as he lost control of his body just before he came with such intensity that he felt it in his teeth.
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