Disclaimer: See Part 1.
Author's Note: Thank you, everyone, who's read and reviewed this story so far. Part 3 of 4; Enjoy!
A Summer Fling
Part 3: Touch Me, Touch my Heart
She had no idea how she survived the rest of the day.
Hermione excused herself for the night early, while Ron was still lingering over his bottle of butterbeer and chatting idly with Harry about the upcoming Quidditch season.
She stood up, pretending to yawn. "I think I'm going to bed now. Good night, you two."
She caught Harry's eye and saw, with a now-familiar flare of heat in the pit of her stomach, that he would be joining her soon in the intensity of his gaze burning her.
She felt keyed-up, almost jittery, all her senses on alert and sensitized, as they had been for most of the day since that moment in the water.
Even now, hours later, she only had to close her eyes and she could see his expression as it had been then when he'd stared at her, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes dark with an expression that had made her skin heat and tingle and then set her heart to beating rapidly in her chest. She knew the look, recognized it, even though she had never seen it before in Harry's face, had hardly even hoped to see it-but it was there now, clear and unmistakable. Desire.
And then, to her amazement, he had come closer, his hands settling on her waist and she didn't know how it was possible that such a simple touch could make her entire body seem to go up in flames but it did…
And she knew she would remember for the rest of her life the sound of Harry's voice when he said she was beautiful and the sexiest woman in the world, that husky tone, combined with the look in his eyes that made her feel as if she really might be beautiful and sexy and all those things she had never thought she was…
He hadn't touched her after Ron had joined them, avoiding even the most platonic of touches-but every once in a while, she would catch him looking at her, his eyes dark with unmistakable desire-and for a moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist and she stopped breathing, could only stare back at him and will the day to go by faster.
And now the day was finally over.
Later had become now.
In her room, faced with the bed that symbolized everything she expected- hoped- was going to happen tonight, she was suddenly filled with nervousness.
She looked down at herself, at the t-shirt and shorts she had changed into when they returned from the beach before going out to dinner, and suddenly she couldn't quite believe that Harry could really intend to come here, could really want her in that way…
But if he did… she should be preparing-doing something to get ready-shouldn't she? God, she didn't know. It wasn't as if she'd ever done this before, wasn't as if she was prepared.
She put up a Sound-proofing Charm-just in case-and said a mental prayer of thanks for the contraceptive spell she had found that regulated her courses and only needed to be cast once every six months.
That done, she felt another wave of nervousness swamp her. She didn't have anything approaching sexy underwear. Wouldn't he want that, like that? All her underwear was very plain, practical.
Should she undress, she wondered, and felt herself blush just at the thought. She couldn't possibly… maybe another girl, more confident than she was-Ginny probably could undress and wait for a boy in just her underwear, she thought-but not her. Not that she had sexy underwear to wait in. She was still wearing her bikini underneath her t-shirt and shorts, not having bothered to change into normal underwear earlier because Ron had claimed to be starving and so she'd simply hurried out of her cover-up and into the easiest clothes she had at hand, when they had gotten back from the beach.
For a fleeting moment, she wished her bikini was scantier, more like some of the other bikinis she had seen other girls wearing at the beach today, more string and less actual cloth. But then she mentally shook herself. Who has she kidding? If she'd even bought such a skimpy bikini, she would never have managed to bring herself to wear it in public.
What was she supposed to wear?
She made a mental note to invest in some more seductive knickers and bras once they got back home-that is, if this wasn't just a summer fling. Maybe it had just been a fluke, an automatic reaction to seeing her for the first time in a bikini and nothing more. Maybe it had just been the natural reaction of a healthy, teenage boy seeing a girl in a bikini and meant nothing… Maybe it wasn't really her he wanted, so much as it had been a fleeting effect from her bikini-and she'd been imagining the look in his eyes just now because she wanted it, hoped for it, so much…
~~~
Harry stopped outside of Hermione's door, Ron finally having gone to his room, and hesitated. He couldn't believe he was here, about to knock on Hermione's door and do… what he thought they were about to do.
God, what was he doing? He loved her; he wanted her-but what if she didn't love him too? What if it was just desire for her and all she wanted was some sort of summer fling? (Would she-could she-just want a fling? He didn't think she was like that-but then again, how would he know?) What if-what if this ruined their friendship and made things really awkward? Could he live without Hermione as his best friend?
Before, he hadn't allowed himself to think about what he was doing-hadn't really been able to think clearly anyway, his brain turned to mush at the sight of Hermione standing there, wet, in her bikini. Now, he could think-and he was suddenly filled with trepidation.
He couldn't believe he was doing this. Was he mad? He must have lost his mind, had too much sun, his brain addled by the sight of Hermione's bare skin…
But he wanted her-could still see clearly the way she'd looked earlier, water gleaming on her body and that flicker of desire in her eyes…
At the thought, his hand lifted almost of its own accord and knocked.
"Hermione?"
Then he heard her voice saying, "Come in," and he swallowed hard, his heart already pounding madly in his chest, and opened the door and stepped inside, shutting the door carefully behind him, before he looked at her.
She hadn't changed, he noted, was still in her t-shirt and shorts-and he wondered how it was possible for her to still look so alluring, even seductive, in such a casual outfit. He'd seen her in shorts before and not particularly noticed-but now… Now that he knew just what the shirt and shorts disguised, he didn't think he'd ever be able to look at her again and not see the beautiful figure he knew she had.
She had stood up when he entered, was still standing there, staring at him and he finally noticed that she looked… nervous, uncertain.
And strangely enough, knowing that she was nervous too took the edge off of his own nervousness and he somehow managed to move, closing the distance between them in a few slow steps.
"I- er- I don't know…" she faltered and then trailed off.
He felt a small smile curve his lips, even though just a few minutes ago, he wasn't sure he'd been able to smile. This was Hermione, his best friend, the girl he wanted, the girl he loved-and even if he still didn't quite know what he was doing, he knew her…
Slowly, he lifted one hand to first cup her cheek, seeing her slight intake of breath at the first touch, and then he slid his hand around to cup the back of her neck, his fingers tangling into her hair. And slowly, very slowly, he bent his head until his lips touched hers, kissing her gently at first, just learning the feel of her, the taste of her…
He hadn't kissed any girl since Ginny, whom he'd last kissed months ago, the last time he had seen her before the final battle when she had startled him by throwing herself at him and kissing him fiercely-and he'd started back, recoiling a little. And he'd told her it couldn't work, even if they survived the final battle. He'd changed too much, seen too much, grown too much-and she was part of his past; he associated her always with those last carefree (or so they seemed in retrospect) days of his sixth year before Dumbledore had died. And he had moved on since then, knew he couldn't go back to her. She hadn't been happy, had even been a little angry at him, he knew, along with being hurt-but by the time he saw her again after the final battle, he could see she was over it.
Kissing Hermione was… was different… Ginny had been like cinnamon, he had always thought, a little spicy, exciting-and always passionate. Hermione was- was sweeter, softer, gentler…
She gasped slightly against his mouth and slid her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, her tongue lightly caressing his, teasing his, until he groaned deep in his throat and kissed her harder, wrapping his arms around her until she was pressed against his body from shoulder down.
Kissing Hermione was, he thought fuzzily, like coming home… She tasted like… she tasted like forever…
He finally ended the kiss, tearing his mouth from hers with a gasp, when he was beginning to feel a little dizzy from lack of oxygen (and from her kiss). "Hermione…"
Her lips were slightly swollen from his kiss, her face flushed, her eyes dark-and he thought that the sight of her like this, aroused because of him, was worth the entire universe and more…
He hesitated and then his hands went to the hem of her shirt, untucking them from her shorts. "Can I- I want to see you," he rasped out.
She nodded. "Yes."
Quickly, he lifted her shirt over her head and discarded it on the floor, his breath catching in his throat when he saw that she was still wearing her bikini underneath.
Slowly, a little tentatively, he lifted one hand to cup her breast through the cloth of her bikini. Her head fell back with a soft gasp and he took advantage of the position to kiss the little hollow of her throat, his tongue darting out experimentally to taste her skin and thrilling at the shiver that went through her and the gasp she gave. His lips moved down to feather kisses along her collar bone and up to her shoulder and along the line of her chin, learning her familiar features with his mouth. And all the while, he kept his hand on her breast, cupping, squeezing lightly, caressing, delighting in the fact that he could feel her nipples harden through the fabric, loving all the little gasps and tiny moans of pleasure coming from her mouth.
His other hand dropped down to the fastening of her shorts, undoing it and then pushing it past her hips until they slid down to pool at her ankles.
And then he paused to stare at her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her in just her bikini again, the sight that had tormented him since he'd first seen it.
"God, you're gorgeous…" he breathed.
The color in her cheeks deepened as she blushed hotly, one hand moving instinctively to try to shield her scar from his gaze but he caught her wrist lightly, preventing her.
"No, don't," he said softly and then he did something she had never expected, never even dreamed he might do, and fell on his knees in front of her, pressing his lips to her scar.
Harry wasn't sure what drove him to do it but something about seeing the scar and the self-consciousness in her move to try to cover it sent a wave of tenderness through him, momentarily nudging aside the lust fogging his brain. And so he kissed the scar that marred the otherwise perfect skin of her stomach, tracing the length of it with his lips and then his tongue.
And though she wouldn't have thought it possible, Hermione thought she had never loved him more than she did at that moment, seeing him kiss her scar so tenderly. At first, she could tell, he didn't mean the kiss to be particularly sensual; it was only later when he allowed his tongue to touch her skin that the gesture became arousing, sending heat shooting through her stomach to pool in the wet spot between her legs.
He heard a small mewling sound come from her lips and smiled slightly as he slowly stood up again, his lips leaving a trail of slightly damp kisses up her stomach and between her breasts before they veered off to the side so he could take one nipple into his mouth through the cloth of her bikini and then moving over to do the same to the other side.
Her hands found their way to the hem of his shirt and tugged upwards until he helped her and quickly pulled it over his head, taking off his glasses as he did so and dropping them blindly onto the floor on top of his shirt. He quickly stepped out of his shorts but kept his boxers on for the moment, suddenly unsure.
And it was her turn to explore his body with her hands, as she first flattened them on his chest and then ran them down lower, feeling the way his muscles leaped and tensed at her touch, and then up again to his shoulders and down his back. She touched her lips to his chest and he shuddered; then she deliberately flicked her tongue against his flat nipple and he groaned.
Her hand paused where she could feel his heart beating madly inside his chest and for a fleeting moment, remembered those endless hours in St. Mungo's after the final battle when she hadn't known if Harry would live or die, had watched his chest rise and fall with every breath and simply prayed, please… And he had lived, was here now, and she could feel the palpable evidence of his life against her fingers. She was suddenly filled with a wave of sheer gratitude and impulsively she pressed her lips to the spot above his heart, her lips lingering there as she closed her eyes. There was only one word that repeated in her mind and heart: thank you… And she wasn't sure if she was thanking the Fates or the healers at St. Mungo's or him for surviving.
His mouth found hers again and this time there was no initial gentleness or uncertainty; it was a hard melding of lips and tongues as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth, nibbling ever-so-lightly before plunging his tongue deep into her mouth, tasting her, savoring her.
His hands skimmed lightly over her body, keeping his touch gentle, before he found the clasp of the bikini top and undid it, letting it fall off her until he could feel her bare breasts pressed against his chest.
And, holy God, but that was the sexiest thing he had ever felt, the hardened points of her nipples against his skin… He was on fire, burning, dying… He had thought he wanted her before-now, he realized, that that desire had only been a pale shadow compared to the lust raging through him now.
He released her mouth only to feather light kisses along her cheek, to the little hollow just before her ear, her eyes, her eyebrows, the tip of her nose (making her smile).
And he had no clear recollection of sliding her bikini bottom off of her and down her legs or of taking off his boxers; he just knew that one moment they were suddenly both completely naked and she had lifted one leg to wind around his hip to bring herself even closer to him, so he could feel the hot, wet warmth of her against him…
And he thought he was going to die.
His heart was pounding so fast he was quite sure it would pound its way out of his chest; his breath was coming in quick, short gasps and he was so aroused, he could hardly breathe and it almost hurt… He was going to die, he thought-but oh, this death would be a beautiful thing…
Then she was stumbling backwards, tugging him with her, her lips still on his as she kissed him, her fingers tangling in his hair, as he followed her blindly until they both tumbled onto her waiting bed.
He stared at her as she lay there, looking up at him, her eyes wide, dark and dilated with desire and need, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming in shallow pants-and he thought she really was the living embodiment of every erotic fantasy he had ever had and then some.
God, he wanted her…
His hands reached for her, then he hesitated, a sudden thought occurring to him. "I-er- do we need to do some sort of charm to protect you?"
Her eyes softened, her lips curving as she shook her head slowly. "It's okay." And then she reached for him, her hands winding into his hair and tugging him down to her.
He kissed her, his tongue sliding along her lips caressing them before moving inside to rub against her tongue.
His hand slid down from her breast-her perfect, beautiful breast-down her stomach until he touched that most secret part of her body, exploring, learning, the heat of it, the wetness of it, with his fingers until she was moving her head back and forth on the pillow, small cries escaping from her lips. "I… want… I need…" she half-whimpered and the sounds of her aroused him even more.
He moved his hand until he was pressed against her, until the tip of him just slid into the tight hotness of her-and though in some small part of his mind, he was very vaguely aware that this was probably her first time and he should-shouldn't he?-move slowly or do something-but God, the feel of her… And just then she clutched at his shoulders, her hips writhing a little under his, and any thought of it being her first time or of gentleness evaporated and he plunged inside her, until he was fully buried.
She stiffened, crying out in pain this time and not arousal-and the pain in her voice broke through his fog of mindless lust and he stopped.
"Hermione, I-are you okay?" he managed to croak and thought that he might die if she said she wasn't.
She opened her eyes and he felt a pang of guilt arrow through him at the sight of the tears sparkling in them.
"Oh, God, Hermione, I'm sorry; I--" he croaked out.
But she cut his apology off with a quick kiss and managed a slight smile, even through the tears he could still see lingering on her lashes. "It's okay," she said softly, and then, amazingly, he felt her muscles tighten around him as she encouraged him to move.
And with a strangled groan, he did, his jaw clenched as he tried to go as slowly as possible.
Until she slid her hands down from his shoulders to cup his butt, wrapping her legs around his to push him deeper…
He caught her face between his hands, kissing her hard, with every ounce of feeling in him-until she tore her mouth from his with a cry, her muscles clenching around him.
And the feel of her tightening around him pushed him over the edge which he'd been hovering at and he exploded inside her, as the entire world grayed out around him and all he was aware of in the world was of the tight, hot wetness of her surrounding him, tightening around him…
He was unaware of her name being ripped from his throat in a groan, unaware of the fact that her nails were digging into his back, unaware of her own cry of release, unaware of collapsing on top of her, as if every bone in his body had turned to water…
Awareness seeped into his mind slowly, gradually, to hear her gasp and feel her try to shift and he realized he must be crushing her and pushed himself off of her and onto his side.
He was filled with lassitude, feeling too sated and content to even contemplate moving as he lay there, studying her familiar features in profile.
She was still flushed, her eyes closed although he knew she was awake. His gaze rested on her face for a few moments before moving down, irresistibly, to her body which he had only just gotten to know. Her breasts topped with rosy nipples, the curve of her side down to her hips, the triangle of chestnut curls covering that most secret part of her body…
He stiffened sharply as he saw… blood on the inside of her thighs.
Oh God…
"Did I- did I hurt you?" he managed to croak, trying to speak past the sudden lump in his throat.
She opened her eyes to meet his. Slowly, she shook her head as the ghost of a smile curved her lips. "No. It was-it was… perfect."
He relaxed slightly, his gaze drawn automatically down to the stretch of roughened skin that was her scar and felt a fresh wave of tenderness and affection well up inside him. He lifted one hand to touch her face, skimming lightly over her nose, her eyelids as they fluttered closed, her eyebrows, her temple in a caress as light as a butterfly's, before cupping her cheek gently.
He didn't say anything, wasn't sure what he could say, so he simply looked at her, until he saw the color deepen in her cheeks and for a moment, her eyes faltered before his.
"I- um- what was this?" she finally began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Was it- was it only a summer fling because you'd never seen me in a bikini before, or-or something?" She hesitated, her blush deepening even more, as she rushed on, the words now spilling out of her, her eyes avoiding his. "I mean, it's okay if it is; it was- it was wonderful. I- I just want to know what happens now; will this change everything… Is this just a summer vacation thing?"
A summer fling?
Amazingly, and he wasn't sure where it came from, he found himself smiling and then laughing a little, quietly, as her eyes shot up to stare at him, completely nonplussed at this response to her questions.
He promptly forced himself to sober-and the flicker of hurt in her eyes made it easy as it ensured his amusement died as quickly as it had arisen. "Do you really think that I'd risk our friendship if it was just a summer thing?" he asked softly.
"No?" She didn't sound very certain and his heart pinched a little at the uncharacteristic vulnerability in her voice and her eyes. Hermione, who he always thought of as knowing everything and who was so smart and generally sure of herself, was, he realized, entirely out of her depths with this, something that was completely out of her experience and could not be picked up from any book.
"If it had just been seeing you in your bikini-you did, you do, look amazing-I don't know if I would have done anything, no matter how much I wanted you. I'd have been too afraid of risking our friendship to do anything. But this isn't that; it isn't just a summer fling. It's…" he hesitated for a moment and then met her eyes once again as he said, simply, "I want this to be- more than that. I want us to be more than that." I want us to be forever…
Her smile was like the sun breaking through a bank of clouds. "I want us to be more than that too."
He lifted his head to kiss her, his lips lingering on hers gently, savoring her response.
The kiss ended on a breathy sigh and afterwards, she shifted closer to him to rest her head on his shoulder as he put his arm around her.
And he drifted into sleep, a slight smile on his lips, and knew that he would, as perhaps in some odd way he always had, dream of her…
To be continued…