Beautiful

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. The lovely and brilliant J.K. Rowling does, and I am making no money off of this in any way.

Author’s Note: This story is my response to the ‘Average Hermione’ challenge by billyvoodoo42 on the Portkey Forums. The exact wording of the challenge will be posted at the end of the story. HBP is disregarded in this fic.

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Beautiful

Eighteen-year-old Hermione Granger was currently seated at her writing table inside the Head Girls’ dormitory at Hogwarts. She was diligently researching for an Arithmancy essay that was due within two weeks, but being ‘the brightest witch of the century’ as many had called her, she found herself unable to enjoy a free afternoon knowing that she had any sort of work to accomplish, or at least that was what she liked to use as an excuse so as her two best friends Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter, who, in addition, had become her boyfriend at the start of term, would not worry for her. She had told them that procrastination was something she preferred to avoid, proceeding to tell them that she disapproved of their antics, for they often purposely chose to procrastinate as long as possible, until they were forced to stay up until well into the night working, the very night before the work was to be handed in. Harry and Ron had worried for her, claiming that she did not spend enough time relaxing, though being as stubborn as she was, they were unable to convince Hermione to take a break or to even allow them to keep her company.

Hermione sighed as she pondered the true motive for her having chosen to do her research as opposed to taking advantage of her free time and spending it with Harry and Ron. The truth was, that she simply wanted to put as much space between herself and her fellow female Gryffindors as possible, and she had wanted to go up to her dormitory to think. She had not wanted Harry and Ron to come up to her dormitory with her, only to find that she had burst into tears the moment she reached it.

Her peers had been particularly difficult to be around as of late. This was a result of their persistent comments that suggested that she was not quite good enough to be dating THE Harry Potter, also known as, The-Boy-Who-Lived, or The Savior of the Wizarding World. Harry’s publicity had gone up to a near overwhelming level following his defeat of Voldemort towards the closing of their sixth year at Hogwarts, and his fan girls had been particularly clingy as of late, which did not help any, for although she knew that Harry was honorable, and she knew that he was often annoyed by his fan girls, she could not help that part of her, which kept thinking that he could find someone better far for himself, that he deserved someone far prettier than she was.

Hermione had always entertained thoughts of her being not quite as beautiful, thin, or made up as her fellow female Gryffindors, such as Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny. That bit wasn’t something new to her. She had not expected, though, that the aforementioned girls would have been as cold as to point it out to her. She was overwhelmed by their cruelty, and the thought of it clutched at her heart painfully, because although she knew that she had two best friends who loved her, whether as a friend, or as more, and although she knew that whatever those girls said should not matter to her, and that their insults shouldn’t slow her down, Hermione also noticed that it was all far easier said than done.

‘Why did they have to be so cruel?’ Hermione had thought countless times, but of course this did nothing but upset her further, and this was the point at which her eyes filled with tears.

In truth, Hermione had a perfectly lovely and curvy feminine figure. Her breasts were shaped in the most beautiful of ways and were proportionate to the rest of her body. She was unlike the stereotypical beauty that Lavender, Parvati, or Ginny modeled; she was beautiful in her own way. She was by no means overweight either, but she did not have protruding ribs or hipbones, similar to what many girls thought was beautiful, and tried far too hard to achieve, often times jeopardising their health in the process.

Hermione was hindered in her understanding of true beauty, for she had allowed the insults and teasing to sink into her mind permanently, making her feel more self-conscious than ever. Hermione sighed, having paused in her schoolwork as the somber thoughts flooded her mind. The tears trailed down her cheeks as she recalled one particular incident that had occurred several nights prior while she had been reading in the Gryffindor Common Room, awaiting Harry and Ron’s return from Quidditch practice.

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Hermione was seated in her favourite armchair by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room. She had her feet tucked beneath her, as she curled up with a book, entranced in it and only slightly aware of her surroundings. She heard the soft padding of several pairs of feet heading from the girls’ dorms, down the stairs, and Hermione’s heartbeat quickened, though she quickly overcame it and within a moment she had decided that she would completely disregard it, until she heard the soft giggling, and the footsteps now headed in her direction.

Hermione looked up from her book, though she was unwilling to look into the girls’ faces for fear that she would she satisfied sneers, or excitement shining within their eyes, as a result of having the opportunity to mock her. She inhaled, filling her lungs with oxygen, which comforted her slightly, but did not work to appease the anticipation she was feeling. She knew that if these girls were to attempt to speak with her, it would only end in her running off her room, holding her tears off just long enough to safely lock herself in the Head Girls’ dormitory before they spilled.

“Hello Hermione,” Lavender smirked, sitting down on the coffee table that was before the couch and in front of the fire. Lavender crossed her legs elegantly, leaning back onto her hands.

“Hello,” Hermione mumbled, returning her gaze to her book, as she attempted to make it seem as though she was far more interested in it than she was in anything they might say to her, although what she felt was quite the opposite.

“How have you been? Brilliant I’m sure, seeing as you’re with Harry now,” Parvati sneered. Of course they would bring Harry up. Hermione was unsure of what to say in response, though she raised an eyebrow, as she kept her gaze on her book. She looked up for only a moment to find Parvati sitting on the couch, her legs to one side of her as she rested her elbow against the couch cushions, leaning on it. She was idly twirling a strand of her luxurious black hair between her fingertips. Ginny was sitting Indian-style beside Parvati, smirking, as her brown eyes shone in the firelight.

Hermione sighed in exasperation, forcing her gaze back down to her book.

“Come on, Hermione, you know what Parvati meant,” Ginny began, “Harry is, well, he’s Harry. I imagine he’d please you quite well,” she smirked, her face holding any expression of envy, though she attempted to hide it. “I remember the way it was when he was with me, brilliant it was,” Ginny murmured as an afterthought, though clearly saying it to spite Hermione.

Hermione pretended to have misunderstood.

“I’m not sure what you are speaking of Ginny. Harry isn’t any different from anybody else just because he survived an Avada Kedavra when he was one. What difference would it make if I had chosen to date your brother instead of Harry?” Hermione asked, trying to seem nonchalant, as she attempted to hold onto her last remaining strand of dignity.

“Oh, Hermione, surely you must even know of what we are speaking! And of course Harry is special. Harry is the most powerful wizard there is! Dumbledore couldn’t even defeat Voldemort! Surely he is just as… talented in everything he does,” Lavender told her.

Hermione couldn’t pretend she had misunderstood any longer.

“For one, I’m scandalized!” she exclaimed. “Do you girls think I’m some sort of harlot, do you think I would sleep with Harry just because he is famous? I’m sorry, but I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of saying such a thing and getting away with it!” Hermione continued exasperatedly. Luckily the Common Room was fairly empty, save a few much younger students, so she didn’t linger on the fact that she had most likely spoken too loudly.

“Now, now, Hermione. We aren’t suggesting anything of the sort,” Parvati began. Hermione could tell, from even just her tone of voice, that Parvati was mocking her. “Just that we assumed that since you and Harry are together now, that you’d have been with him in that way as well,” she attempted to speak matter-of-factly. “But I assume that you’ve wanted to, with him and all… I’m sure you just haven’t because he… well, you know, he must have figured some sort of excuse to get out of it,” Parvati whispered as though she was speaking of some sort of secret.

“What is it exactly that you’re implying, Parvati?!” Hermione yelled at her, now getting extensively aggravated, and unable to uphold her false calm demeanor any longer.

“What Parvati means, sweetheart,” Lavender began, speaking in a sickeningly sweet voice, “Is that, well, you being the way you are, perhaps Harry wouldn’t have wanted to… well, you see, Harry has been known to fall for girls that are much more, well elegant, and put together, and that take care of themselves… and you, well, sweetheart, let’s just say, you’re not quite his kind of girl,” Lavender finished, a clearly forced sympathetic expression written on her beautiful features.

What Lavender had said had been thus far, as far as Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny, had ever gone to hurt her. And hurt her they did. At Lavender’s words, Hermione felt her heart clench painfully. That wasn’t the first time she had thought along similar lines, though when Lavender had said it, it had shown that perhaps she had been right in thinking it to begin with. It now became obvious that she wasn’t the only one who had such thoughts, that she wasn’t just being ridiculous when she had considered not being Harry’s type of girl, or not being beautiful enough for him.

Hermione’s eyes began to sting at the thought. It was all beginning to get to her, whether she wanted to admit it or not, it was unquestionable. Hermione’s voice shook slightly when she spoke.

“I don’t care what you girls think. Harry loves me for who I am, and I know and understand him far better than any of those other girls did, and that is far more important. He isn’t shallow enough to care about what I look like!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, but Hermione, then explain Harry’s longing over Cho Chang, and what about me, Hermione. Harry was quite smitten, quite pleased, he was. He noticed Cho and I because we are beautiful, didn’t he?” Ginny asked, almost as if challenging her.

“He was fourteen around the time of the whole Cho fiasco, and Harry isn’t with you anymore for a reason, Ginny, so why don’t you step down from your pedestal! You should be ashamed of yourself, Ginny, your brother being my best friend. What would he think if I told him about the kinds of things you’ve been saying to me?” Hermione asked her.

“You wouldn’t,” Ginny smirked, clearly avoiding any sort of retaliation in regards to the subject of she and Harry not being together any longer.

“And what makes you think such a thing?” Hermione asked, a pained smile playing on her lips.

“Because, Hermione, you don’t want the boys to know about this,” Ginny had whispered, and that’s when Hermione knew she was stuck, and Ginny smirked, for she knew it, as well. Ginny really had a point there. She didn’t want to tell Harry nor Ron about anything she was feeling, for she knew that either, they would say she had gone mad to have been thinking such things, or they would simply confirm that she had been right all along in what she had thought, and that was a fear above all else.

Hermione looked briefly to Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati, who all had satisfied smirks plastered across their made-up faces, and although Hermione did not want to give them that satisfaction, she was at loss for anything else to say.

Just then, the portrait hole opened, and in came the Gryffindor Quidditch team, of which Harry was now the captain. The three girls shot Hermione one last look before standing up, and casually walking off, as if they had just concluded a perfectly pleasant conversation with her.

As the team stumbled in through the portrait hole, most of them headed straight for their dormitories to get changed and ready to shower, though Harry and Ron, seeing Hermione, and seeing that she had looked upset, hung back for a bit. Hermione watched a momentary exchange between Harry and Ron, in which she assumed Harry had told Ron that he should go ahead, for Ron went trotting off towards the staircase, and only when he was out of site did Harry make his way towards her, kneeling down before her and furrowing his brows slightly.

“Mione, is everything all right?” Harry had asked her, worriedly, as he reached up and cupped her cheek gently. Hermione was glad that the fire in the hearth was the extent to which the lighting within the Common Room went, for if it had been a bit brighter, Harry would have easily been able to see that she was desperately attempting to hold back tears, though she assumed Harry saw the way her eyes glistened with tears, nevertheless. He was never ignorant to these sorts of things.

“Y-yes, Harry. Thank you,” Hermione whispered in response, leaning into his hand, as he began to caress her cheek with his thumb.

“Love, it doesn’t look like you are okay,” he prodded gently, his tone caring. Harry removed the book from her hands and set it down on the coffee table behind him, as he took her hand into his, not moving his other hand from her cheek. He was so close to her now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and it did not help that he was so wonderfully sweaty following Quidditch practice. She was nearly positive that she would have swooned if she hadn’t been so upset.

His sweet and caring antics had only caused her tears to fall, followed by her chastising herself under her breathe, for she did not want Harry to see her crying now, especially seeing as it contradicted the statement she had spoken only moments ago in regards to her being all right.

“Mione,” Harry whispered softly. He nearly looked as though he was going to cry.

“Harry, don’t worry about it, it isn’t important,” Hermione told him, hoping that she sounded surer than she felt.

“Mione, you’re crying,” Harry breathed, brushing her tears away with his thumb. “Of course it’s important,” he told her.

“Harry, please, you don’t have to worry about this. Everything’s all right,” she pleaded.

“It’s not all right, you never cry over nothing. Why don’t you want to tell me? You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?” he reassured her.

“Yes, Harry, I know, and I love that about you… but I just, I don’t want to talk about this. I-I’ll tell you later on, all right?” she whispered desperately, in hopes that he would agree.

Harry, seemingly seeing that she was being sincere, nodded slightly.

“I love you Hermione,” he had told her, only to cause a small sob to escape her, before he kissed her tenderly, to which she had responded without second thought.

When they broke apart several moments later, Hermione stared into his shining emerald green eyes and could tell that he had meant it, but she wasn’t able to keep herself from thinking that perhaps he would still have been happier with someone much prettier than she.

“I love you too, Harry,” she whispered, dropping her forehead to his shoulder, at which Harry pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back comfortingly. He was damp with sweat, but she didn’t mind much, especially not at a time like this.

They sat that way, and neither knew how long they had been there, for neither of them cared, and once they broke apart, they shared small sad smiles, before making their way up to the Head Dorms hand in hand, where they separated to their individual dormitories.

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Hermione let her forehead drop onto her Arithmancy book, disregarding the fact that her tears gave way, staining it slightly.

‘Why do they have to be so cruel?’ she thought again, whispering it in unison with her thoughts.

“Hermione?” came a voice from outside her dormitory. It was Harry. She and Harry, being Head Boy and Girl were the only ones who had access to the Head Dorms anyhow, save perhaps Headmaster Dumbledore, or Professor McGonagall, she being the Deputy Headmistress.

Hermione quickly lifted her head from her Arithmancy text, wiping her tears and staring down at the textbook in attempt at making it look as though she had been reading unceasingly.

The door to her dormitory opened, and in walked Harry, just as she had expected. Not as though there were many other possibilities as to who it could have been.

He stepped in, closing the door behind him.

“Hello, love,” Harry said, walking over to her bed and sitting down on the edge, not yet noticing that anything was out of place.

“Hi, Harry, what are you doing here? I told you I was going to study,” Hermione told him, nearly failing to keep her voice steady.

“I thought you could use some company is all. It was difficult trying to have fun when I knew you were sitting up here all alone,” Harry explained.

“That’s sweet of you, Harry, but you know I’ll be all right. I’d much rather you go have fun then sit here by me while I study,” Hermione told him, attempting to make him leave, for she knew that if he stayed there any longer, he would realize that she had been crying, for her she assumed her eyes were slightly red and puffy at this point, as well as them continuing to glisten with tears.

“I don’t mind keeping you company, Mione,” Harry said truthfully.

Hermione sighed at this, seeing that it was no use trying to get him out of there. It was then that Harry stood up and moved to stand beside her, leaning against the edge of her writing table. Hermione turned her head away from him slightly, in hopes that he wouldn’t notice the tears that were newly welling up in her eyes.

Harry was now seemingly beginning to realize that something was less than ordinary about the way Hermione was acting.

“Mione, look at me,” he spoke quietly, a slight pleading tone within his voice. Hermione didn’t do anything to acknowledge what he had asked of her.

“Mione,” he pleaded again, this time reaching up and placing both hands on her cheeks as he kneeled down beside her. Harry proceeded to gently turn her head towards him, which Hermione did not fight with as much vigor as she could have.

Hermione caught a glimpse of the slight shock embedded in his handsome features, before she closed her eyes tightly in attempt at pushing back her tears, though it only made for them to fall quicker.

“God, Hermione,” Harry breathed, his voice barely audible, though the extent of the worry in his tone was quite evident. He leaned over slightly and affectionately kissed her cheeks where the teardrops had rested, only to have fresh tears escape from behind her closed eyelids.

“Harry, you don’t have to worry about me, it’s not important,” she told him, trying desperately to avoid having to tell him what was bothering her.

“Mione, you’re crying again, of course I’m going to worry… and of course it’s important. You’re important to me, and anything that is making you this upset is important. Mione, please tell me, please. You trust me, don’t you? You know can tell me anything. Maybe there is something I can do to help you,” Harry suggested desperately.

“Harry, this kind of thing doesn’t interest you. Truly, it’s not important. I’m perfectly all right,” Hermione told him, trying, but failing, to keep her voice steady and sure.

“Hermione, you don’t mean that, you’re only saying it so that I wouldn’t worry. Anything in regards to you interests me, Mione, and if something is upsetting you, it is important. Please, just tell me. I promise I’ll do whatever I can to help. You can trust me,” Harry told her.

“I know, Harry, I trust you, and I admire the way you are always so ready to assist anyone in need, but you simply shouldn’t worry yourself over me. I know you’d much rather not. You’re just trying to play the hero again, Harry, you’re preventing yourself from having a normal life by worrying yourself over me constantly, there are better things out there for you,” she finished in a whisper, her voice breaking repeatedly as she spoke, her tears now uncontrollable.

For a moment as she was speaking, it was clear to Hermione that he had gotten angry at her saying such things, but when she had spoken the last sentence, his anger ebbed away quickly, replaced by the sorrowful and slightly confused expression that etched into his handsome features.

“Hermione, what on earth are you saying? I love you! I love nothing more than to be spending time with you, even being in the same room as you is fabulous. You’re my best friend, and I’ve fallen in love with you, Hermione!” Harry paused momentarily, then lowered his voice slightly before he continued to speak. “Is this why you are so upset? You think I could be happier with someone else, is that it?” Harry asked her, his voice holding a hint of surprise.

Hermione inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with oxygen before she began to speak again. She was going to tell him.

“I – Yes,” she whispered.

Harry had readied himself to speak again, but she held her hand up so as he would listen without interrupting her. She needed to say it and get it over with before she lost her nerve.

“Harry, the thing is, I-I’m not beautiful like all of those other girls who chase after you constantly,” she began.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him once again.

“No, Harry, let me finish,” she told him.

Seeing him nod, she continued.

“I-I’m not beautiful, and I’m not – thin the way they are… and I’m just a bushy-haired bookworm, who can’t keep her face out of a book for more than a few hours at a time. I’m n-not good enough for you Harry. You deserve far better after all that you’ve been through. You should have the most beautiful girl in the world by your side for the rest of your life, and you could. You could choose anyone, and they would worship you. Heck, even Cho is better for you than I am,” Hermione said, speaking the name ‘Cho’ as if Cho were the most repulsive thing in the world.

“For God’s sake, Hermione!” Harry exclaimed, “How on earth could you say such things? How could you say you aren’t beautiful? How could you say that I’d be happier with someone else? I can’t even begin to imagine spending my life with anyone else but you, Mione, and I honestly mean that! To me, you are the most beautiful girl in the world. You think I’d be happier with Cho rather than you?! Jesus, Hermione, are you mad?!” Harry nearly yelled.

“Y-you’re only saying that to make me feel better, Harry. You just don’t want to hurt me because we’ve been friends for so very long. B-but, romantically, there are better girls out there for you, Harry… that can make you happy,” Hermione whispered, hot tears making their way down her delicate cheeks.

“Hermione, who are you to tell me what can make me happy?” he asked her calmly, speaking just as quietly as she had. He brushed his fingers over her cheeks gently as he spoke.

“I-I just… I know that I can’t make you as happy as some other girls can…” Hermione told him.

“Mione, you are the only girl who can ever make me happy. No other girl can even begin to come close to making me as happy as you do,” Harry breathed, his brows furrowing slightly as he watched her carefully.

“You don’t mean it,” she stated simply. At that, he nearly looked like he was ready to cry, which caused her to recall, once again, what had happened in the Common Room several days prior, when he had looked at her in just that way.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Mione,” he whispered, looking a bit hurt.

“I-I know, but I-I’ve been told that-,” Hermione paused, unsure of whether she should inform him of what Lavender, Parvati, and Ginny had said to her.

Harry understood nevertheless, even seeing as how little she had said in regards to the matter.

“Hermione, since when did you begin listening to what other people said about you? And since when did they begin to understand what could make me happy better then even I did. C’mon, Mione, they are jealous, you know that, don’t you?” Harry told her, his voice was soft and comforting, and he continued to caress her cheek.

“Well, yes, and I… well, I tried to forget about everything they had said the moment they said it, but it was difficult, for I knew that some aspects of what they said could easily be true,” she explained, sounding a bit like the know-it-all that she was.

“Which aspects exactly?” Harry asked. Hermione hesitated for a moment.

“They implied that I wasn’t beautiful enough to please you,” she whispered, swallowing nervously before she continued to speak. “They said that you wouldn’t want to be with me in that way… and I suppose, it could’ve been true, because there are so many thin, gorgeous girls that would give nearly anything to have you in that way just once,” she finished, her voice barely audible as she averted her eyes.

Harry didn’t speak for a few moments, his brows furrowing further. At this point, Hermione thought it just as well if she would have sunken into the ground, especially following what she had just told Harry.

“Hermione,” Harry finally spoke, and Hermione found herself holding her breath as a result of the anticipation she was feeling, for she so desperately wanted to know what his response to her confession would be.

“I don’t care about those girls,” Harry told her simply, before continuing momentarily, a thoughtful look crossing his features. “To tell you the truth, I think they try far harder than anybody should just so that they can think themselves presentable and appealing, as a result of their being far too insecure to appreciate their looks without knowing that they’ve thoroughly vomited following each meal and have smeared an endless amount of artificial anything all over their faces,” he said softly. Hermione was quite shocked to be hearing Harry say that, especially seeing as he had found Cho to be so appealing in their fourth year, and she wasn’t quite sure about what to think of his relationship with Ginny either. She supposed he wanted to give it a try since Ron was so keen on the idea, and Ginny was quite beautiful as well.

“B-but what about Cho, o-or Ginny?” Hermione whispered.

“I was fourteen, Hermione. No one should judge me based off of that, and Ginny, well, I never really felt much attraction towards her,” Harry said.

“What do you mean,” Hermione asked curiously. Ginny had always made the relationship between she and Harry sound like a big deal, and Hermione was no longer sure of what she should think. “In regards to Ginny, I mean,” she clarified.

“I’m not quite sure what it was. I suppose, everyone sort of expected Ginny and I to happen, her being my best mates sister and all, and nearly all of Hogwarts knew that she’s fancied me since she was ten. And Ron was real keen on the idea of Ginny and I as well, and I think I was a tad of an ignorant bloke at the time, so I gave it a try. It didn’t mean anything to me, anyhow, didn’t last any longer than a week,” Harry told her truthfully. This bit of information surprised Hermione slightly, because she had always been under the impression that Harry and Ginny had been together for far longer. Perhaps this was due to the fact that she and Harry had never spoken about Ginny much, and Ginny had always been sure to make it seem as though she and Harry had had such a wonderful fairy-tale like relationship. After her slight surprise passed, Hermione found herself reveling in just how right the reasonable side of her had been in thoughts regarding Harry dating Ginny, rather then her slightly unreasonable emotional side, which found it hard to cease believing that Harry was just like any other bloke who liked beautiful women.

“But wouldn’t you rather be with a girl who was in shape, who had a beautiful figure? Was womanly? Rather than… me” Hermione asked him, still unsatisfied. She spoke her final word far quieter than the sentence that preceded it.

“You are far more womanly than they are. Since when do protruding ribs and hipbones make a girl womanly? I’m not attracted to a girl’s bones, Hermione. A woman is curvy,” Harry told her sincerely.

“I-I just don’t know, Harry. I don’t think you’d be pleased with me,” she whispered.

“I know I would be. Mione, how could you possibly think that you aren’t beautiful?” Harry asked indignantly.

“I – because I’m just not. You would think me repulsive compared to other girls. I just know you would,” she whispered, repeating a bit of what she had said before although had already assured her it was not so. She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, “H-have you been with anyone?” she asked in the same whisper, though quickly regretted it for she thought it was not her place to ask. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, averting her eyes, “I shouldn’t have, it’s none of my business,” she told him, refusing to meet his gaze.

Harry shook his head slightly, running his hand through his dark, perpetually uncontrollable locks. “You’ve the right to ask,” he told her, speaking quietly. “You’re my best friend and girlfriend. You’ve the right to ask,” he repeated. His sentences all trailed off slightly. He looked thoughtful.

“You don’t have to answer,” Hermione whispered, a bit ashamed that she had said anything in regards to the matter in the first place.

“I do, I think,” he told her, continuing to look thoughtful. She understood him as meaning that it would be significant to them in some regard.

Hermione nodded slightly in acceptance. There was a pregnant silence in which Hermione felt a great deal of anticipation, and Harry seemed to be thinking of how exactly it would be best for the question to be answered.

“I’ve been wanting to save myself,” Harry told her simply. “Not until marriage or anything like that, just until I’ve found someone who I love and care for, and most importantly, trust.” He gave her a meaningful look.

“Y-you mean, you’ve never…?” she did not finish her sentence, but Harry understood what she meant.

“No,” he responded.

There was another silence, during which they felt much more content, though the anxiety of Hermione’s insecurities still hung over them. Harry sighed, standing up before her slowly, and removing his hands from her cheeks. Harry looked thoughtful for a moment as he ran his hands through his uncontrollable dark locks.

“Hermione, is this conversation… I don’t know, where is it going? W-We are talking about you pleasing me, and whatnot, but why must that be of importance now, seeing as I love you, and I’m happy just knowing that you are my girlfriend for now. I mean, are you ready to give yourself to me in such a way?” Harry asked her, “And please tell me the truth, whatever you say isn’t going to make me think any differently of you,” Harry told her. He was seemingly slightly nervous though attempting to push back his anticipation at speaking about the current topic with Hermione. The nerves came anyways, seeing as it wasn’t something they had really spoken about before, sans the question Hermione had just asked Harry, perhaps due to worry as to what the other would think.

“I – I am,” she whispered, averting her gaze from his once again.

“I don’t want you to think yourself inadequate anymore, Mione, especially seeing as you’re not,” Harry spoke softly. He paused for a moment, and then continued to speak. “Tell me honestly, Hermione, how would you feel if we were to… well, be together? I-I mean how would you feel knowing that I would be seeing and feeling all of you,” Harry asked her.

“I-I’d be nervous as to what you would think once you saw me,” she whispered, feeling terribly vulnerable.

Harry sighed. He then took Hermione’s hand, tugging on it gently to signal that she should stand up and come with him. Hermione furrowed her brows, unsure of what Harry was planning on doing, but she trusted him unconditionally, and therefore she stood up, following his lead, but was slightly surprised to find that he had led her over to the full-length mirror at the side of the room.

“Harry, what are you doing?” she asked him, thoroughly confused, as he gently took hold of her upper arms, positioning her before the mirror and standing behind her, looking over her shoulder at her, through the mirror.

“I’m going to show you that you are beautiful,” Harry told her simply, though his cheeks were slightly flushed, which Hermione took notice of as looking quite cute, but simultaneously, it made her a bit apprehensive.

“H-how do you plan on going about that, Harry?” she asked nervously.

“Well, it all depends on whether you, you know, feel comfortable enough to allow me to…” he trailed off, looking quite anxious.

Hermione trusted Harry more than she had ever trusted anyone in her life, save perhaps her mum, and she wasn’t even completely sure that she could trust her mum unconditionally the way she did Harry. She knew that whatever Harry was planning on only had the best of intentions behind it, and she would give him all of her without second thought if it came to that, but she couldn’t help feeling self-conscious and insecure, most likely because she had simply gotten used to thinking that way. It probably did not help much that she knew that Harry himself was very muscular as a result of extensive Quidditch training as of late, and because of his being too skinny than was healthy to start out with, she assumed that the muscles of his chest and abdomen would be particularly visible. She hadn’t quite seen it, but it was easy enough to tell that he was in fabulous shape, and her cheeks flushed slightly at the thought of him shirtless. Her mind then wandered to thoughts of what it would be like to feel those magnificent muscles of his beneath her fingertips, but once it got to that, she quickly broke out of her thoughts to look back up into the mirror, only to find that she was smirking and blushing scarlet. Her mind then crashed back down to reality, in which she realized once again that she had a terrible fear of what Harry would think once he saw her without her protective robes on.

“Harry…” Hermione whispered, having made up her mind.

“Hmm?” he murmured, seemingly a bit distracted.

“As long as you’re sure that you won’t be repulsed by me, you can do whatever it is you want,” Hermione told him, her voice soft, and although she sounded a tad nervous, she was sure.

“Mione, I could never be repulsed by you! B-but are you sure you’re comfortable with it?” Harry asked her carefully.

“I trust you Harry. The only reason we’re standing here now is because I’m uncomfortable with myself, but I trust you completely,” Hermione told him. She was still unsure of what his plans were, but she knew it had something to do with her showing him her body, for there was no other reason for them to be standing here while Harry tried to prove to her that she was beautiful, and attempt to make her become comfortable with herself, and once he had asked her if she would allow for him to do whatever it was he had planned, she was sure that her speculations had been correct.

Harry nodded, swallowing nervously. He then wrapped his arms around her from behind, stepping closer to her so that her back was flush again him. He rested his chin on her shoulder and for a moment they simply looked at each other through the mirror. Hermione heard the soft click that signaled the activation of a locking charm, and reveled in how expertly Harry had become able to do magic wandlessly and non-verbally.

Harry inhaled deeply before reaching up slightly to take hold of the clasp at the front of her robes, and unclasping it, he let it fall open. Beneath her robes, Hermione wore a pleaded gray skirt that reached to halfway down her knees, and a white, long-sleeved, button-up blouse. She wore white stockings that came to below her knees, but she was no longer wearing shoes, having taken them off when she began to study. Harry thought she looked absolutely stunning, especially seeing as her shirt what fitted and if he looked closely enough he could make out the feminine curve of her hip.

Hermione was terribly nervous, and as a result, she was forced to remind herself repeatedly of how much she trusted and loved Harry. She thought of wanting to get it over with, because even though whatever this was wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and Harry had promised that he would never be repulsed by her, not to mention that the only reason any of this was happening in the first place was because he had some sort of plan behind all this that would in some way make her believe that she was beautiful, she was still terribly anxious and was unable to stop believing that he would, in fact, be repulsed.

Harry then proceeded to gently push her robes off her shoulders, which caused them to slide down her arms, falling between their bodies. The sensuality with which Harry had done that only caused Hermione to be unable to put back thoughts of his expecting too much, expecting that she would be far more beautiful that she truly was, and she felt a slight sinking feeling as she thought of how disappointed he would be. He would never tell her so, though, and she was sure he would play it off quite well, but she so badly didn’t want him to be disappointed.

Harry paused in his actions, his hands hovering by her shoulders, rubbing them comfortingly. Hermione found herself reveling in how sweet he was, for she was sure that he had stopped because he had sensed the change in her and was attempting to calm her nerves before continuing. Hermione’s theory was confirmed when she saw Harry looking to her worriedly.

“Mione,” he said quietly, continuing to rub her shoulder with one hand, while the other alternated between caressing her neck and rubbing her shoulder.

“Hmm?” she murmured in question, not quite trusting her voice.

“Relax,” he whispered, inclining his head slightly to kiss her neck tenderly. At this, Hermione’s eyes closed of their own accord, as a sharp pleasured breath escaped her.

“If you feel uncomfortable by this,” Harry continued to whisper as he spoke against her throat, “I don’t have to do this,” he told her. Hermione immediately shook her head in response.

“No, Harry, you can do whatever you want with me,” she spoke slowly, her voice matching his whisper. Harry was seemingly taken aback by how sure she had sounded, and as she watched his expression contort to contain the slightest hint of surprise. Simultaneously, he seemed to be holding back the groan that threatened to escape him.

“A-are you sure?” he asked her huskily, clearly surprised by what her statement had been implying. Hermione nodded without hesitation, trusting him unconditionally and trusting him not to take advantage of what she had just allowed of him.

Harry looked far more nervous than she had seem him look prior to the present time, and she chalked it up to his probably feeling that he would be taking advantage of her if he took her up on her offer and truly did whatever he wanted to her.

“I-I won’t-,” Harry began.

“I know, Harry,” she spoke softly, and it seemed to consol him slightly, knowing that she trusted him and knew that he wouldn’t have done anything outrageous.

Harry nodded softly, before taking a deep breath and looking to her questioningly, as if asking her if he should continue what he had started. Hermione smiled slightly although nervously, before gesturing to her blouse, as if saying ‘go ahead’.

Harry returned her smile, the nervousness embedded in it mirroring Hermione’s exactly. Harry slid his hands down her shoulders, caressing her upper arms before moving his hands to the front of her blouse, and beginning to undo the topmost button, revealing more creamy flesh then Hermione would normally think acceptable.

Harry watched himself and Hermione in the mirror, his eyes darting between his hands and the skin that he was revealing. After having unbuttoned a second button, Harry hesitated for the briefest of moments, unbuttoning a third and revealing a hint of cleavage and the white lace holding it in place.

It was easy enough for Hermione to notice the way Harry’s breathing quickened in the slightest, as had her own. Harry then proceeded to unbutton the remaining buttons that held her blouse closed, his fingers trembling a bit, as his chest began to heave slightly. Once he had undone the last button, he pushed her shirt down her shoulders slightly letting it fall half way, as he averted his eyes from her body for a moment, concentrating on removing her shirt, as Hermione furrowed her brows in anticipation. Hermione’s shirt then joined her robes between them, and Harry finally looked to her body, his mouth falling open in the slightest as his eyes grazed over her, causing Hermione to feel terribly self-conscious.

“You’re beautiful,” was all Harry managed to say after a few moments, during which he seemed slightly overwhelmed, and Hermione seemed anxious.

Hermione blushed slightly. It was one thing when he told her that and hadn’t seen her, but it was another when they were standing there, with Harry watching her so closely.

“So you don’t find me repulsive?” Hermione asked uncertainly.

“Never,” Harry whispered, then looked back to her body, placing his hands on her waist carefully, as if testing the waters. Hermione was taken aback by how fabulous his slightly calloused hands felt against her bare skin, and Harry seemed to be having a similar epiphany.

Harry ran his hands up and down her sides, and Hermione found that her breath was quickening at a fast pace. Her heart began to thump loudly within her chest. She wasn’t sure that she’d ever felt this way before, and it was undoubtedly glorious.

“You’re lovely,” Harry whispered, “You feel fantastic,” he paused for a, sliding his hands down to her hips, “You hips curve in just the right way, so lovely,” Harry murmured, then bringing his fingers to the zipper of her skirt.

“May I?” he asked softly. He now seemed far less nervous, though his cheeks were continuously flushed, and she thought that perhaps if she listened closely enough, she would actually be able to hear his heart beating, for her bare back was so near his chest that she swore she could feel it.

Hermione nodded in response to his question, the smallest of anxious smiles grazing her lips. Harry carefully undid the zipper, once again averting his gaze for a moment as her skirt slid down her legs, pooling at her feet. Harry, continuing to avert his eyes, slid his right hand down her hip until he felt the lace of her knickers, which was matching that of her bra. He slid his hand under the band of her knickers, though keeping it at her hip as he rubbed the tender skin that connected her hip to her thigh, before moving further to touch her thigh, the band of her knickers caught at his wrist.

Harry finally took the chance to look up at her face through the mirror, and saw that Hermione was looking down at what his right hand was doing, rather than looking back at him through the mirror. Her cheeks were scarlet, as were his own, and her skin glistened slightly as a light sheen of sweat covered it. She was breathing heavily, as was Harry, though her increased pace in breathing was caused by his slightly rugged touch, and his was caused by the anticipation of how else he was to feel her that night and how fabulous all of her would feel, seeing as what he had felt of her skin as of yet felt so glorious beneath his palms.

Harry, not moving his right hand from its place at the side of her upper thigh, he slid his left hand over stomach and to her bra, where he cupped her left breast in the gentlest of ways, feeling her hardened nipple through the thin material, and nearly driving Hermione mad. Hermione found her left hand atop his within moments, pushing his hand down roughly onto her breast. His light touches were becoming exceedingly tormenting. Harry seemed a bit shocked by her actions, and it surprised her slightly when Harry began to speak again.

“Mione, look at yourself. Just look. You’re glorious. Your hips are beautiful, your thighs,” he paused for a moment to get his first proper look at them, “Your skin is so tantalizingly soft, yet firm at the same time,” he was murmuring, nearly becoming lost in his own fantasies of drowning in her, body, mind, and soul, and Hermione found herself blushing madly as she began to realize the extent to which he was worshipping her body.

Harry squeezed her breast gently, much to Hermione’s delight, who had nearly forgotten that she was standing in front of a mirror, nearly naked, with her best friend and boyfriend, who still hadn’t removed his robes. Harry slid his hand out from under hers and Hermione found herself feeling a bit cold as a result of the loss of contact. Harry moved his hand between them and to the clasp of her bra, pausing for a moment, and looking her in the eye through the mirror. Hermione was enjoying his touches far too much to even consider stopping him.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her voice soft, as she looked back at him with an intensity in her eyes that he had never known before. That nearly led to his undoing. Harry fumbled with the clasp of her bra for a moment, seeing as it was hard to access it without his moving away from her, which he so desperately did not want to do. Once he had successfully unclasped her bra, he removed his right hand from her thigh, sliding it out of the waste band of her knickers. He then pushed the straps of her bra forward and off her shoulders, letting it fall free of her arms and to the ground before her.

Hermione stood there, her nerves from minutes ago returning to her, not to mention that she felt terribly exposed. Harry’s eyes grazed over her breasts for a moment, but she had cast her glare at the ground before she was able to see what his reaction was. He rubbed her sides again, his rough hands adding to the pleasure before he moved them to her stomach, and began his journey toward her breasts, pausing for a brief moment at her rib cage before taking her breasts into his hands. Hermione arched against him slightly, dropping her head back and onto his shoulder. She had never been touched in such a way before and that made it feel particularly magnificent, especially seeing that it was Harry whom she was with.

“Your breasts are exquisite,” Harry whispered huskily, “So perfect.” For a few moments, Harry was unable to do anything but revel in how beautifully round and pert her breasts were.

Hermione could hardly believe what she was hearing, and as she looked up briefly into the mirror, she found the image before her terribly erotic, but thoughts far more enticing replaced those the moment Harry rubbed the slightly rough pads of his thumbs over her hardened nipples, causing millions of sensations to ripple through every nerve of her body. Her head dropped back to his shoulder as she moaned in sweet pleasure, feeling the wetness pooling between her legs, soaking her knickers. She realised only a moment later that there was something hard pressing invitingly against her bum, then took another brief moment to realise exactly what that something was.

“Sweet Merlin,” she whispered, breathlessly. She was shocked as the thought of the reason for his erection overcame her. It was because of her, it was all for her, because he had been feeling her breasts, because she had arched against him. She was nearly sure before they had begun this… she didn’t know what to call it… that she would not have been able to elicit any sort of reaction from him, that he would have been repulsed, as she had said many times. She found it overwhelmingly satisfying that he had reacted to her in this way, and perhaps, just maybe, she might really have been beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured, sounding terribly ashamed of himself, as he realised just what the reason for her exclamation had been. His face was now buried in the crook of her neck, and she could feel his hot breath upon her skin.

“Don’t be. Never be sorry,” she breathed, her voice barely audible, though Harry caught every word with ease, as he was so close, watching her every move, and listening to her every breath so intently.

As Hermione looked back into the mirror for a moment, watching his hands caressing her breasts, his fingers delicately rubbing her nipples, her own pleasure translated in the expression of pure euphoria embedded in her facial features, she couldn’t help but think that perhaps this, what it was she still could not be sure, was ready to become far more about them then just about Harry’s attempts to make her feel beautiful, intertwined with her allowance of his exploration of her body in ways he could previously only dream of. And after feeling the effect she had on him, she now knew that his promises of her beauty and his unconditional love for her were not only words but something more, and her ego finally allowed for her think that perhaps it was even possible that he could have dreamt something of the sort, rather than perceiving the idea of his thinking her attractive as preposterous.

“Harry,” she nearly moaned. The image of them was so erotic by her standards, seeing as she had never done such a thing before, that it made her far more aroused then she had previously thought possible. The knot in her stomach tightened as she throbbed against her knickers, the wetness increasing. Hermione again dropped her head to his shoulder, unable to keep her moans and erratic breaths from escaping her.

“Harry,” she breathed again after a few moments of desperately trying to gain control over herself. Then, to Harry’s surprise, she twisted in his arms, and reached for the clasp of his robes, undoing it quickly and pushing her robes off his shoulders, joining her clothing on the floor, pooling around their feet. Hermione then kissed him with a passion she didn’t know she had, no longer able to restrain herself. Harry, who’s erection was straining against his trousers and now becoming painful due to the restriction of space, momentarily responded to her kiss, deepening it desperately, as he assisted her in the unbuttoning of his shirt.

Once they had successfully accomplished that feat, Hermione was able to see that her speculation in regards to his physique being far better than average, were confirmed, and Hermione found herself wanting him even more as she slid her hand down his front, beginning at his chest and ending just above his the waistband of his trousers. She felt the pronounced muscles of his abdomen tightening beneath her touch as she ran her fingers over them, wanting to explore him and feel him in any and every way.

Hermione moved her hand to his belt, unbuckling it without second thought, and then proceeding to undo the button and the zipper, which held his erection captive. Harry felt a slight tinge of relief as Hermione pushed his trousers down and past his hips, letting them fall the rest of the way down his legs.

Harry pulled his shirt off completely, letting it join the rest of their clothing on the floor, and he was reminded of what had brought then into this situation in the first place, which was followed by the slight surprise and relief of seeing that Hermione was clearly no longer nervous, and seemed to have gained a bit of confidence in herself. Just as he was beginning to feel content at the thought that it was quite possible that she would no longer be self-conscious, his mind went blank as he felt Hermione’s delicate hand cupping him through his boxers, and he was unable to hold back his groan, much to Hermione’s pleasure, who was unable to cease reveling in how fantastic it felt to know that the reactions he was emitting were solely for her and because of her.

Harry cupped her arse with both hands, pulling her up and wrapping her legs around his waste. Although their undergarments caused a slight separation between them, Harry could still feel how wet she was, and that made him far more aroused then he had already been. Harry made his way over to the bed, stumbling slightly, for his trousers were still at his ankles, therefore, he was forced to stop momentarily to push off his shoes, followed by his trousers, with his feet.

Hermione began to roll her hips in desperate attempt of bringing herself as close to Harry as possible, for she was unsure of how much longer she could remain in control of herself. Harry finally deposited them on the bed, hovering over her as she pushed her hips upward, tightening the hold her legs had around his waist.

“Merlin, Hermione,” Harry murmured, beginning to kiss her neck, then proceeding to suckle on it gently. Hermione did not care if it left a mark, for she far too entranced in the sensations shooting through her body. Continuing his worship of her neck, Harry brought his hands to her hips, beginning to tug at her knickers gently, though with a slight undertone of impatience that neither of them could quite ignore. Hermione unwrapped her legs from Harry’s waist for a brief moment and allowed him to slide her knickers down her legs, whilst his lips traveled down her body, leaving sensual little kisses at every bit of her body that he could reach. He passed over the one area in which she wanted his touch most, and proceeded to kiss and suckle on her inner thigh. Hermione found herself desperately bucking her hips upwards in hopes of coming in contact with any part of him, though he wouldn’t have it.

“Harry,” she moaned, “Don’t tease me. Please, Harry” she pleaded and whined, as she tangled his fingers in his untamed though silky dark locks. The desperation in her voice brought all of Harry’s resolve in regards to continuing his teasing crashing down and breaking into an infinitive amount of small pieces, and he brought his lips back up to her mouth.

“Let’s get on with it then, shall we?” His voice was husky and filled with a lust Hermione had never heard come from him in the past, and that excited her to no end. Hermione brought her hips back up to his, and following his teasing, she found herself relieved at the contact, although it did not last long.

“Merlin, Harry, I need you so badly,” she nearly whimpered, causing Harry to harden further, which he hadn’t originally thought possible, at her statement. Hermione buried her face in the crook of his neck, as she reached down to remove his boxers. Once she had successfully pushed them down his hips, he assisted her in removing them the rest of the way, and then kicked him off his ankles and to the floor.

With all boundaries that had held back their parting, now removed, Harry looked to Hermione thoughtfully, though his emerald green orbs had darkened slightly and were overflowing with desire.

“Are you sure you want to do this, love? I mean, if you’re not, we can stop. I don’t want either of us regretting it in the morning, and I know that I could never regret it, but if you aren’t sure, then I would…” he was speaking slightly nervously, nearly resulting in rambling, as he reached up to entangle his fingers in her bushy brown hair. His emerald green gaze on her cinnamon brown orbs was intense, and Hermione found herself getting lost in his eyes.

“I’d never dream of stopping at this point, Harry. And like I’ve said before, I trust you unconditionally,” she whispered to him, moving a strand of stray hair away from his forehead and proceeding to brush her thumb over his scar lightly.

Harry nodded slowly.

“I love you, Hermione, and I know I always will,” he whispered, placing his hand gently over her abdomen, his brows furrowing, as Hermione felt the warm tingle that signaled the activation of the contraceptive charm radiating throughout her body pleasantly.

“I love you too, Harry,” she whispered back, “Just go slow,” she added as a bit of an afterthought, a slightly nervous tinge entwined in her voice. Although she was positive she wanted it, she couldn’t help but be nervous when her thoughts traveled to thinking about whether her first time would hurt a lot or only a little, and what would it feel like at all, and mostly, could she truly please Harry the way he seemed so sure she could?

Harry nodded in response, looking to her meaningfully, and waiting for her to signal to him that she was ready for him to enter her. Harry positioned himself carefully, as Hermione released the death grip her legs had on his waist, bending her knees at the sides of his hips.

Harry looked down at Hermione and found her to be so terribly enticing, as she looked up at him, biting her lip slightly, that it took nearly all of his willpower to restrain himself from thrusting into her roughly right then.

“You’re positive?” Harry asked her, slightly uncertainly, and Hermione could tell that he wanted nothing more than for her to answer in the affirmative, but simultaneously, she knew he wanted her to be completely sure about what they were about to do.

“Yes, Harry. Go on,” she whined, rolling her hips against him. She didn’t think she could wait another moment, and if he didn’t enter her now of his own will, then she would make him.

Harry hissed softly as he felt her against him, and, his eyes closing involuntarily, nodded slightly at her statement. He began to push into her as gently as he could, nearly causing himself to go mad, as he felt her warmth and wetness begin to surround him, and hundreds of pleasurable sensations overcame him. It was delightful feeling how tight she was around him.

Hermione was slightly overwhelmed by it all. The pain, entwining with the pleasure of feeling him inside her, and the excitement that the knowledge of simply knowing that he was entering her caused her. Hermione’s breathing was ragged, her eyes shut tightly as she bit her lip painfully, perhaps hoping to divert her attention from the other pain she was feeling.

“Mione,” she heard Harry whispering gently, and a moment later, felt him brushing a stray strand of hair away from her sweat-soaked brow. He had paused, not yet fully inside her, seemingly hoping that her pain would subside slightly before he was to continue. It took him all of the willpower he could muster to restrain himself from moving, and only the thought of how he wanted the experience to be as pleasurable for her as it would be for him, allowed him to accomplish his feat.

“Mione, love, I’m so sorry,” he apologised, stroking her hair gently. Hermione shook her head slightly, though not opening her eyes, nor releasing the tight hold that her teeth had on her lip or that of her nails on the flesh of his shoulders, which caused Harry to wince slightly, though he disregarded it for he knew that whatever pain she was feeling was far worse than that of what her nails were inflicting on his shoulders.

“Don’t be,” she whispered, her voice slightly shaky, “Never be sorry,” she said, repeating her earlier words.

“Are you all right?” she asked her, worriedly.

“Go on, Harry, it’ll feel better in a moment. Just keep going,” she told him, and Harry, though slightly uncertainly, entered her further, burying himself inside of her fully, and he found himself groaning huskily as he buried his face in her the crook of her neck, kissing her skin tenderly.

Hermione rolled her hips desperately, wanting to feel him move inside her, despite the lingering pain that had been a result of the loss of her virginity. At that, Harry found himself unable to hold back any further, and he experimentally pulled out of her partly, and slid back in, eliciting a groan from both himself and Hermione. Harry again pulled out slightly, though this time, he cupped her bum in his hands, and pushed into her a bit more roughly. Hermione gasped in pleasure, the pain still a remaining factor, though now far easier to ignore, as a result of the sensations reverberating throughout her body.

“Harry, move,” she breathed, and at that, Harry began to thrust into her, pulling out and thrusting in all over again. Her hips met his in sweet harmony, as they found a rhythm that pleased them. Hermione’s pain ebbed away quickly enough, replaced by her pleasure, as she tangled her fingers in Harry’s dark locks, pulling his lips down onto her own. Harry slid his tongue into her mouth momentarily, much to Hermione’s excitement. The thrusts and movements of his tongue were matching to that of his hips.

They moved as one, their hearts beating in sync, as they desperately clutched to one another, bringing the other further with thrusts of hips and entwined dueling tongues, each desperately wanting more, as they neared the edge. Both were sweating, and each found it terribly exciting knowing that they were covered in their lover’s sweat as much as their own. They were so near to each other, desperately wishing they could be closer, although there was no closer. They were now unable to tell where one ended and the other began. It was sweet harmony, sweet euphoria. And they were beautiful, Hermione having long forgotten her previous thoughts in regards to the matter of beauty. They were both beautiful. She was beautiful.

Hermione climaxed first for she had already been so aroused to begin with that she knew she wouldn’t have lasted long. Harry had clearly held back a bit for he wanted her to feel as much pleasure as was possible given that she had felt pain when they had begun. Her juices covered him, her muscles tightening around him, and he could hold back no longer. He came, spilling into her, as each moaned and breathed their lover’s name, a sweet melody of breathes, moans and voices filling the chamber.

They came down from their high, Harry’s weight collapsing onto Hermione, though she thought it quite pleasurable.

“Am I too heavy?” Harry breathed, his voice quiet, as he spoke between panting breaths. He had buried his face in the crook of her neck, his fist tangled into her hair, grasping it relatively gently. He was still seethed within her, partly being a result of his thinking it was far too much work to pull out, and partly because he despised the thought of having to leave her warmth. Hermione was somewhat glad for this.

“No, Harry, I – I like it,” she murmured. Harry didn’t respond. He simply remained where he was, though he placed a bit more of his weight onto his forearms in attempt at keeping it off of her. A moment later he spoke.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, his breathing far closer to normal then it had been before, and he chose this moment to roll off of her and lie beside her, receiving a groan of slight protest from Hermione as a result of the chill that overcame her at the lack of contact, although she found that it was far easier for her to breathe after the weight of his body was no longer atop her. Harry pulled her to him gently, wrapping his arms around her, and resting his chin atop her head, inhaling her scent, as the beating of their hearts return to regular rhythmic beats. Harry pulled the blankets over them as Hermione snuggled into him, turning to lie on her stomach, a small portion of her upper body resting against his torso, as she laid her head onto his chest.

She nodded in response to his question, before speaking.

“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

“For what?” he asked her, slightly confused as to why she was thanking him after having shown him such pleasure.

“For making me feel beautiful,” she responded, her voice soft, as her breath tickled his chest.

“I’m glad I did,” he told her, running his fingers through her hair, having released his grip on it. A comfortable silence overcame them for a moment.

“You’re amazing,” Harry murmured tiredly, “You – It felt so amazing.”

“It did,” she whispered sincerely, before sleep began to overcome them. Both reveled in how wonderful the other felt beside them, as they held each other in their arms.

They were beautiful. Hermione was beautiful. She now knew it, and believed it to be true.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Note: So here it is. Here is the challenge in case anyone is interested…

“Hermione has horrible insecurities about her weight/looks. She's an average girl with a womanly body. Image a size 12 with a size C cup? the average size of a women and the most beautiful size I THINK! RIGHT GIRLS?
She finally gets together with Harry, but once she realizes that he is going to see her without her protective robes on she freaks. Harry however shows her how beautiful she really is by holding her in front of a mirror and almost gropingly demonstrates how she really is more beautiful than anyone he's ever seen.

I would prefer this to be rated PG-13 to R for sexual content... if you get my drift.
Some teasing from whatever girl character you despise the most would be very enticing as well.”

Anyhow, the rating is a bit past R, I think, but I got caught up in their moment, and figured that whole scene added to it all a bit more, and, in my opinion, made it a bit more of an interesting read then it would have been without it. Some feedback from you guys would be brilliant, so as I could know what you all think.