Wine

Disclaimer: Not mine and probably never will be. No money being made though I wish there was.

Wine

Wine would forever be Harry’s favourite drink. It was one of the few abstract things that reminded him of Hermione’s hidden passion that Harry and Harry alone was allowed to see. Just thinking of the tiger she could be generated sweat on his brow and a tightening in his trousers.

Hermione being the closet wine connoisseur that she was somehow smuggled it into the Common Room. The whole of Gryffindor Tower was empty except for Harry and Hermione for Christmas break. They had been dating since that summer, secretly of course, so the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, or any other news sources wouldn’t make their relationship public. During their little time alone with each other, one or the other would bring or do something special in which they could save something for the memory. So far they had saved pressed rose petals from their snogging session in the Granger rose bushes, the receipt for their first date at Florean Fortesque late at night, a strip of leather backing from the seats in the Hogwarts Express, the first autumn leaf that had fallen into Hermione’s hair during one of their frequent walks around the lake, and the first mistletoe they had shared a kiss under, picked with gentle hands. Now the cork from the wine bottle would join the growing collection.

Harry had been sitting nonchalantly in front of the fire, resting from the afternoon of heated kissing in a broom closet. The portrait hole creaked open and there was a tiny giggle and the padding of light feet towards him. He smirked as a small, ink-stained hand plucked his glasses from his face and another covered his eyes. She could never fool him, for her hands were slightly callused in the places where her quill rested for hours in between her fingers and she smelled of the spice of well-aged books that she continuously delved through.

“Hello, luv,” he said, taking the hand that covered his eyes and kissing each tip of her fingers. Oh, he missed her when she went off to discuss something private with one of the Professors. Normally he would have trekked to the library where her scent was all around him, but Hermione wanted him to go back to the Common Room with promises of a surprise. “I missed you so much.”

She giggled again, a lovely melodious sound. “Oh dear Harry, I was only gone for an hour.” Hermione ran her hands through his hair, messaging his scalp with every pass. “But I missed you too, every breath of fresh air that I took that came from an open window set my thoughts to you.” Her lips brushed his scar, but before he could pull her down to kiss her, she dodged away, giggling as if she was drunk. He got up and watched as her foot disappeared behind one of the desks.

“Bit playful are we, dear? he cooed.”Come out and give me my promised surprise.

There was a thump from underneath the desk and Hermione tumbled from beneath it, clutching her head. He rushed to her and kissed the developing lump on the top of her head.

“Sorry Harry, I was so happy that I forgot to give it to you.” Hermione rubbed her head and crawled over to her discarded bag near the portrait hole, giving Harry a nice view of her jean clad arse. He gulped as the blood in his body ceased its regular voyage and made a trip south.

She rummaged in her bag and brought out a bottle of wine and two crystal flutes that shimmered gold in the waning firelight. He saw a hint of her smouldering passion within her eyes, her dark eyes filled with cryptic lust that held so much more than primitive needs and undying love. It went beyond needing and wanting with the two of them and they held out on it for far too long.

Now was the night to tie one of the two final strings in their relationship.

Harry took one of the flutes and watched as the reddish liquid flowed into it. He met Hermione’s eyes as she filled her own and he knew that she was seeing the same thing he was seeing. No wishes to turn back, none to wait longer. They both were ready; they both wanted and needed more than any other mortal could. They knew that this was the only move they could make and they had braced themselves long ago since that first accidental kiss in the backyard of her parents house.

They raised their glasses and in a silent salute to the two of them, touched the rims of the flutes together and over entwined arms, sipped the wine with welcoming lips.

That was his undoing, watching the cerise liquid disappear from the glass, watching a solitary drop falling purposely from the corner of her mouth and onto her slender throat. She was a wicked, evil, sinful little woman, making him so hard that it was painful.

Unable to take it anymore, he pounced upon her knocking the half-full flutes from their hands and kissing her with all the passion he had. Their tongues fought for dominance and he relished how hers seemed to gain the lead. Remembering what had driven him in the first place he nipped her lower lip and trailing his tongue down her throat along the trail the drop of wine had left. She shuddered, her body flushing as he teased the place only he knew of relentlessly with sucking bites.

Her hips ground against his. This slight action was enough to bring them both to reality with a jerk. Harry shook his head and stared into her eyes. He could tell she was a bit apprehensive, frightened about what they were going to do, but she wanted it and was ready, he could tell that as well. Softening his gaze, he lowered his lips to hers in a sweet kiss that promised that he would be as gentle as she wanted.

Hermione, feeling a bit more confident, lifted his shirt a little and traced delicate patterns on his stomach and chest. The clothing was growing a bit tedious to be honest and it was keeping their skin from making the contact that they so craved. Harry unbuttoned her shirt and pushed it over her shoulders, making sure to rub his palms over the sensitive skin that the cloth so generously exposed to him. They lifted their shirts from each other in one, clumsy movement and tossed them to the side. Their pants were more difficult and they had to tear their lips apart for several more seconds than they would have liked. Soon they were left in nothing but their undergarments.

She gazed at him with appreciative eyes, drawing them down his lean Seeker body until reaching the one part of him she had yet to see. It drove her mad and she had to keep all of her dazed wits about her to restrain herself from ripping the tented boxers from his narrow hips and taking him within her.

He was having similar thoughts, but he did something more practical about it. With a quick meaningful look into her eyes, he reached around her and fumbled with Man’s Bane for about two minutes before it finally came undone. His eyes surveyed her breasts and he covered them tentatively with his palms, finding they fit perfectly within them. She wriggled against him, biting her lip and rubbing her hip over the tip of his erection. Harry moaned deep within his throat.

Hermione moved her hips upward as his hands slipped her knickers from her slight figure and tossed them into the large pile of clothing. He was about to touch her folds when she caught his hand.

“No,” she purred, the corners of her mouth twitching to form an aberrant grin. “No foreplay, Harry, just make me yours, NOW!” The kisses burned him like acid and her inexperienced touch making his blood roar.

Spreading her folds a little he place himself at her entrance and held her close. He slowly pushed himself into her wetness, eliciting moans from their bruised mouths. When he came upon her maidenhead, he stopped. Irritated, she growled in feral tones and took him all the way in with a pained gasp and a few reluctant tears springing from her eyes.

Harry kissed her and nipped her lip to ease the pain a bit. The pain lessened after long moments and she moved against him to let him know he could continue.

His long thrusts were inconsistent and delightfully clumsy. They sound found themselves panting heavily within each others mouths, prompting the other to go faster, for the feeling was beyond all imagining.

For Harry, the uncertain clenching of her walls ended him much too quickly. He pounded into her once more and emptied within her, his head thrown back and muscles quivering.

He fell upon her, exhausted, kissing her neck in silent apologies. Apologies that he had not made her come too. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him, forgiving him, telling him that it was all right. She had enjoyed what she had felt and made a silent promise that they would get better so that they could fly in ecstasy together.

The cork from the bottle of strawberry wine had a special place in their memory box, a material reminder of their first time. And when they had their final round of lovemaking over a century later they ending with the same modest flutes and the same year of wine they had that night.