Cravings

H_HrFan

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 08/11/2006
Last Updated: 08/11/2006
Status: completed

Harry/Hermione and Halloween. Meant to be taken VERY lightly. Upped the rating to PG-13; might be considered low-R for sexual implication. I apologize to those who felt it should be higher.

Chapters

1. Cravings

1. Cravings

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, but a lot of fun to play around with.

A/N: I wrote this story a month ago for a Halloween Challenge on another forum. There was voting in progress, so I couldn't post it here until now.

There were challenge words - Pumpkin, Ghost, Costume, Bat, Cemetery, Dracula, Werewolf, Midnight, and Spider - that had to be incorporated into the story so if things seem a little `odd' that's why.

Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this - a lot of laughs, too. I really hope you enjoy it. Please, let me know what you think.

Take care!

Terri

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“Harry, what is that you're wearing?”

Harry looked down at his bright orange attire. “It's my pumpkin costume, why?”

Hermione shook her head and faked a yawn to stifle a giggle. “Since when do you dress like a pumpkin? Shouldn't you be something scarier like a bat or a ghost or something?”

Harry looked up at her and smirked. “Well, I had thought about going as Nearly Headless Nick but a blunt axe to the neck didn't sound like much fun,” he shrugged, “figured a pumpkin would mean less mess.”

“Thanks, I would've hated to have to clean up the blood,” she responded drolly.

“So what about you?” he asked. “What're you dressing up as?”

Hermione gazed at his pumpkin costume with an appraising eye. “I don't know, a candle maybe?”

Harry sidled up to her and nudged her with his hip, bumping her with his costume. “Well you do light the fire in me, baby,” he drawled playfully.

Hermione laughed and pushed him gently away. “I think after that one I might just have to dress as the carving knife,” she scoffed, swaying her hips dramatically as she sauntered off to their bedroom.

****
Twenty minutes later and tired of standing for his inability to sit in pumpkin form, Harry unzipped the costume and slid it off. He tossed it to the side and sat down to wait for Hermione to finish dressing. He laid his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes and sighed; allowing his mind to drift.

He was just getting to the good part of a fantasy - featuring a dark winter's night littered with softly shining stars, a bottle of bubbly and a half-naked Hermione with a wicked gleam in her eyes - when he was abruptly awakened by a sudden, shrill noise.

He jumped up from the sofa, momentarily at a loss for where he was as he spun around in a daze. “What the—”

He jerked his head up and was finally able to focus his gaze on Hermione. Tears were streaming from her eyes, her face was a deep shade of red and she looked like she was having trouble breathing.

Harry's hands went to his waist and he shuddered. “Bloody hell, Hermione! You about scared me to death.”

“I-I'm s-s-sorry…” she stammered.

“What the bloody hell's so funny?” Harry demanded, his heart still hammering in his chest.

Hermione took a few deep, shaky breaths and cleared her throat as her laughter trailed away into shorter, softer fits of giggles.

Hermione pointed at him and he looked down. “I'd ask if that was a carrot in your pocket or if you were just happy to see me - if you hadn't deflated so quickly.” Her eyes were alight with mirth; something Harry found endearing, despite his manhood being the reason for it. Her body trembled slightly as she fought to hold back another fit of giggles. “And I don't think you could putpocketsinthatthinganyway!” she shouted before once again howling with laughter.

Harry's cheeks turned a bright, blazing red and his shoulders shook as he tried in vain to suppress his own laughter as he stood watching her. “Think it's funny, d'you?”

Hermione's brow crinkled, her eyes glistening with tears. She bit her lips together and nodded her head with a soft, “Mmhmm.”

“So what're you saying?” he asked, taking a step closer to her. “You don't appreciate a man in orange stockings?”

Hermione's expression didn't change as she shook her head. “No, I—” her voice was high and she swallowed hard, a tiny squeak escaping her. “I think you look brilliant in your orange stockings, dear…” she couldn't hold it any longer and laughter burst forth again. “Simply smashing!”

Harry closed the gap between them and put his hands on her waist, thrusting his hips forward and moving against her suggestively. “You were right, Hermione, no pockets,” he said, his voice a sort of low growl he knew was sure to rile her up, “I'm just really happy to see you.”

She felt his erection against her stomach and her laughter died away, replaced almost immediately by the shallow sounds of her breathing. She felt a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and her stomach flipped in anticipation. Her hands wrapped around his stocking-covered bum and she pulled him closer. “Does this mean no carrots?” she asked, blinking demurely. “I was so looking forward to a midnight snack.” She leaned forward and nipped his ear, Harry growled deep within his throat.

“Mmmmm…” he muttered as gave her a chaste kiss and backed reluctantly away. “Vixen.”

“No, Bride of Dracula, actually,” Hermione quipped as she shoved pointed plastic teeth into her mouth.

Harry stepped back into his pumpkin and zipped it before eyeing her appreciatively. “Maybe I should've gone as Nick…” he said, chucking her lightly on the chin, “you could've just bitten my head off.” He leaned in and planted a kiss on her neck, whispering a suggestive, “I think I might've liked that,” into her ear.

Hermione raised her eyebrows and smirked. “I don't think the head I want to bite is what nearly got Nick into the headless hunt.”

Harry nearly choked.

“You're an evil, evil woman, Hermione!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “I need to get you out of here before you make me start to do things we really don't have time for.”

“You know, maybe I should change my costume,” Hermione said, looking down at what she was wearing with a frown.

Harry stopped and turned hesitantly to look at her. “To what, pray tell?”

Hermione cocked an eyebrow as she pulled out her fake teeth and licked her ruby red lips. “Well, I could be a spider—”

“Ron would love that!” Harry interjected.

“…and trap you in a web—”

“Sounds sticky.”

“and do all kinds of dirty little deeds to you—”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I don't think spiders are too much in to pumpkins,” he stated, chuckling lightly at Hermione's petulant glare. “Come on, we're late. Everyone's probably looking for us.”

Hermione pulled him back and kissed him once before popping in her vampire teeth and taking a step toward the door. “Come on then, you're probably right,” she huffed, pulling him with her.

They walked out of their flat in silence until Hermione looked at him and clucked her tongue. “You know, we could've been there twenty minutes ago if you hadn't taken off that costume…I'm telling Ron it's your fault we're late.”

“My fault?” Harry exclaimed. “It took me all of two minutes to put this thing back on. You're the one talking about carrots and happy to see you and getting me all, well…you're just lucky you aren't coming as a rabbit. I could've transformed that costume you know. Then everyone would be wondering about—”

“Everyone ... huh! ... probably both lucky I'm not a rabbit...” Hermione grumbled. “Then where would we be? Probably would've bitten first that would've...”

She continued to prattle on; completely unaware that Harry was watching her with a bemused expression.

“asked questions later...”

In a last-ditch effort to calm his sexually frustrated wife, Harry abruptly stopped walking. Hermione was jerked backwards mid-stride as he squeezed her hand and pulled her to him. He caught her in his arms and turned, guiding her until her back was against the wall. He pressed against her, as close as he could through his costume, and brought his lips to her ear. “I love you,” he breathed. “I can't wait to rip this thing off you…” his hands splayed against her waist and he showed little restraint as they moved up and down her ribs and along the sides of her breasts. He kissed her neck and nipped at her earlobe, his breath hot against her skin. “Say the word Hermione,” he said huskily. “Say the word and we can turn around and blow this party—”

Hermione shivered, her knees weakening slightly. She shook her head and pushed him weakly away. “Okay, all right,” she acquiesced, raising her hands into the air as though surrendering. “I'm being stupid, I know. But god, Harry…” she shook her head again, “the things you do to me…it's just not fair.”

Harry grasped her hand tightly in his and they resumed their walk down the hallway. “You can't possibly think I'm unfazed by you, Hermione,” he said incredulously.

She gazed at him coyly from the corner of her eye. “You always exert such control that it's hard to tell sometimes,” she shrugged, baiting him.

“Well now you're just fishing,” Harry laughed.

They came to the door to Ron and Luna's flat, four doors down from their own, and he turned to face her. “Sometimes I feel like I could die for not touching you, Hermione. Control is something I had to learn a long time ago as a way of defense. It just happens to come in handy every now and again when you, my dear wife, get sexually frustrated at a most inconvenient time.” He raised his hand to knock and the door swung open seemingly of its own accord. He smiled down at her as the boisterous sounds of the party reached their ears. He bent close to her and proffered a quiet, “like now.”

Hermione smiled. “Yeah, okay, I get it,” she said. “Let's go find Ron.”

They stepped through the door and paused to take in the decorations. All around them the flat was shrouded in near darkness. Fog appeared to hover just above the makeshift cemetery and bluebell flames, placed strategically around the room, gave everything an eerie, almost ominous glow. They walked slowly into the magically enlarged room, attempting to take in everything all at once.

“Wow!” Hermione breathed in quiet awe. “They really went all out, didn't they?”

At Harry's silence she looked up, wondering if it might be too much for him after his previous encounters with cemeteries…even if this one wasn't real.

“Harry?” she said tentatively. “You alright?”

Harry looked down at her with laughter in his eyes. “Did you see these headstones?” He pointed out the nearest one. “Check it out…”

Here lies Ron:
Died Happy ... Died eating

“Sounds like Ron,” Hermione laughed. “I'm sure he wouldn't have it any other way.”

They looked around some more and they both pointed to Ginny's at the same time…

Here lies Ginny:
Strangled ... By her own hair

“I can see that,” said Harry, nodding.

Here lies Hermione:
Buried ... Under an avalanche of books

Harry put his hands on Hermione's head and kissed it. “Under an avalanche of books, bet that...”

“I'll kill him!” Hermione suddenly growled.

Harry looked around and she pointed to another headstone…

Here lies Harry…
Found on Hermione ... Apparent cause of avalanche

Harry burst out laughing and pulled her to him. “I can't think of a better way to go. On top of you…”

Hermione looked up, her expression an odd combination of wonder and disgust. “That's quite disconcerting, Harry…” she said before turning away and mumbling, “yet oddly arousing.”

“And how might the two of you be this fine evening?”

Hermione jumped at the sudden intrusion and nearly fell into Remus Lupin; his hands immediately shot out to steady her. “Sorry about that. Didn't mean to frighten you, must be the costume.”

Hermione steadied herself and gazed at him strangely for a moment then shook her head. “You're not wearing a costume, Remus.”

“Ah, but I am,” said Remus, shifting slightly closer and whispering almost conspiratorially. “I'm a werewolf.”

“But you're…” Hermione began, pointing at his attire.

“Yes, in my human form…” Remus laughed. “Ingenious, isn't it?”

“No costume, eh?” quipped Harry, laughing.

Remus shook his head and took a good, long look at Harry. “Nope, got nothing. Of course, not all of us can pull off ... orange stockings...” he raised a questioning eyebrow, “quite the way ... The Chosen One can ... now can they?” How he managed to say it with a straight face was anyone's guess and Hermione chuckled.

“Can it, Lupin!” Harry cracked. “Someone needed to be the joke of this party ... figured it might as well be me.”

Hermione leaned close to Remus and whispered loud enough for Harry to hear, “I think he just likes the attention.”

“It has been a while, I would assume ... and his ego does need the occasional—”

“All right, you two,” Harry interceded. “That's enough talk about my ego.”

He grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her back to him. “There's only one person here who's attention I'm interested in seeking...” he looked up at the sound of his name and smiled against her cheek, “and there he his...” He smirked at the small `o' she made with her mouth.

“Hey Ron!” he called out, carefully stepping away from Hermione to shake Ron's hand. “Great party.”

“Er...thanks,” Ron muttered as he openly stared at his best mate in his costume. “What the bloody hell happened to you? Lose a bet?”

Harry looked down and smiled. “I'm a pumpkin.”

“No shite, Harry,” Ron retorted. “The question is ... why?”

“Want the real reason or the excuse I made up gettin' dressed?” Harry asked, quickly glancing at Hermione who was watching him with great interest.

Ron looked between the two of them and his mouth twitched as he tried to work out which choice he wanted. “I'm guessin' the real answer's something sappy to do with Hermione ... just lay the excuse on me.”

Hermione smacked his arm and tutted and Harry laughingly replied, “If `The Chosen One'” - he rolled his eyes - “can make a fool of himself like this,” he gestured toward his costume and raised his eyebrows at Ron as if to say, “Need I say more?”

“Yeah, yeah...” Ron muttered, obviously still in a bit of shock. “I see what you're saying. Still think you look—”

“Adorable, Ronald,” came Luna's voice from somewhere behind them. “Harry looks adorable. Hello Harry, Hermione…glad you could make it.”

“Couldn't have missed it for anything,” Hermione muttered, Harry smiling beside her; understanding full well her hidden meaning. “It's...” Hermione looked around the room, “lovely?”

Luna laughed lightly. “I'm not sure I'd call it lovely, but I understand what you mean.” She looked around the room, examining the floor and walls. “Watch out for the pepper nymphs, though ... they're particularly nymphy this evening.”

“Sure. Thanks for the warning.”

Hermione looked around the room, her eyes squinting in the low light as though she was looking for something. “Where's your headstone, Luna?” she asked curiously.

Luna shared a look with Ron before rolling her eyes back to Hermione. “Oh, I don't have one,” she said airily.

“Why not?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.

“Because I won't need one,” Luna said as though it should've been quite clear from the start.

Hermione opened her mouth to ask what she meant and Ron held up his hand. “No, don't,” he warned. “Don't even ask.”

Hermione closed her mouth and looked from Harry to Ron and Luna. “Okay, so,” she said, rocking back and forth on her heels and toes, “anyone wanna dance?”

Both men groaned as the women grabbed their hands and pulled them onto the dance floor. Only a short minute later the music turned slow. Harry pulled Hermione close and she laid her head against his cushiony chest. “Thanks for keeping me straight,” she said with sincerity. “I'm glad we're here.”

Harry kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek against it. “Me too, Hermione,” he said quietly. “You getting hungry yet? There's a buffet table set up in the corner. It's Ron's party, so you know there'll be a lot of food on it. Let me know when you're ready and I'll get you something.”

Hermione raised her head and smiled as she looked into his eyes. “You know,” she said slowly, as though weighing each word carefully. “I have an insatiable craving for carrots” - she eyed the table then looked up at him again - “and unless you plan to crawl up there, I don't think that table can assuage it.”

Harry rolled his eyes and released a low, drawn-out growl as he pulled her closer. “Thirty minutes, sweetheart,” he mumbled into her hair. “Thirty more minutes and we can both satisfy some cravings that table can't assuage...and we've got all night long to do it.”

Hermione smiled into his chest as the seconds began ticking down in her head. 1800...1799...1798...

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