Love Like Winter

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor am I an AFI band member.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Note: This story was inspired by AFI's “Love Like Winter”. I actually wrote this last summer, but I lost it. However, since I didn't go to school today, I decided to give it a go and try to remember. It's sort of like the first draft I wrote, but it has changed. I think this one is better.

Thanks to my Beta, Rachel. She's awesomeness.

Love Like Winter

She was dancing for him. Her hips swayed at the bit of the melody. Her scarf remained forgotten on the floor. She moved her hand to her stomach and started to lift her sweater slowly and sensually. He thought he was losing all of his blood, going to areas which he would have to deal with later, unless she did it for him.

“Harry.”

It was barely a whisper.

“Harry!”

He woke up. Dammit. It had happened again. Those dreams that always came to him. The dreams that never showed their conclusion. The dreams that always left him aroused. He didn't dare look downwards. “Hermione?”

“It's time to wake up,” she blushed, trying to avoid his eyes.

Had she seen it?

“I-uhm-ok, thanks.” He took his glasses from the nightstand and put them on. “I'll be down there in a few. I just need to-”

“Oh, right. Well, I'll go wake Ron up, you know how he is.” She literally ran away from the room.

He got up and walked to the bathroom, wanting to get rid of any evidence from his dream.

He was walking down the stairs, when he brushed against Hermione.

Warn your warmth to turn away.

“Sorry,” her shows seem to be far more interesting than looking at him. “You know how clumsy I can get.”

“Yeah- I mean, no, it's okay. I was- I'm cold.” He wanted to smack himself on the head for being so stupid. Where did the temperature of his body come into the conversation?

But she laughed, it was a beautiful laugh, he noticed.

“Well, Harry, it is December and we are in a cabin, with hardly any heat,” she rolled her eyes.

Here is December, everyday.

To anyone, it would seem that she was making fun of him or probably making him look absurd, that he was a child. But to him, she was being his Hermione. She always gave the facts and wasn't afraid of her knowledge. She wasn't afraid to tell him when he needed to get his feet back on the earth.

At that instant, when she was being frank and truthful to him, he started wondering if maybe his eyes had been cheated by some spell because in front of him stood a goddess. She looked like the perfect replica of a sculpture he used to hear about in Professor Binn's class. He wanted to press his lips to hers. To never move and just kiss her.

Touch your lips to the sculptures and surely you'll stay (love like winter).

He wondered what she would taste like. Probably something sweet. Like Pumpkin Pie? That was her favorite, after all. It didn't matter to him because he knew it would calm the coldness in him. It would make him complete.

For of sugar and ice I am made, I am made.

It was a sudden wave through all of his body that made him realize what was going on. All those dreams, touches, feelings, whispers. Maybe it had taken him forever to learn the truth because it had always been there. He was just too daft to notice what this new feeling was. Harry was in love with Hermione.

It's in the blood

I met my love before I was born.

And he wanted to hold her then. He was closing the little space that was between them. Two forces of attraction coming together. Attraction is magnetic, she had once said on one of her episodes where she could not resist herself and had to tell someone about the knowledge she held.

“Oy! Get off me!”

They both turned to the sound of their mutual best friend.

“Hermione!”

“We better see what he wants,” Hermione didn't wait for him as she was soon on Ron's door, scolding him for whatever mess he had done this time.

He didn't go to them as he would usually do. Instead, he kept walking down the stairs to the kitchen. Maybe some hot chocolate would help him clear his mind.

O_o

“Ron, what in Merlin's beard did you do this time?”

“I was trying to turn this thing on,” he motion to the television. “This tavee it's not working.”

“First, it's a telly or television and second, how could it work when you just kicked it?”

“But I wasn't kicking it before!”

“And pray tell, what did you do before?”

“I was pushing this button,” he had the remote control in hand and showed her the power button. She was surprised he actually knew what to press.

“Well, hand it to me,” she tried turning the telly with the remote, but it still did not work. She turned it around and opened the little opening it had, where it kept the batteries. She looked inside and there were none there. “Of course, it needs some batteries.”

“Batty-what? Do vampires know about this?”

She shook her head. “Never you mind, now let's go to the kitchen and have some breakfast.”

“You're bleeding.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your lip, it's bleeding.”

It was then that she realized she tasted a warm metallic liquid. Blood. She had been biting her lip when she and Harry were on the middle of the stairs. It had been his piercing eyes that had made her tremble inside and make her feel dizzy and nervous at the same time. For a moment, she had actually thought that she was going to kiss her best friend. That the look that he was giving her was of pure wanton, need, and lust. Maybe love? No, it was too much to hope for.

But, she had desired him then. She hadn't acted rational and was about to act on impulses rather than reason. Yet, it hadn't matter to her then because she had desired to have him kiss her senseless and make her forget about the world.

He wanted love, I taste of blood.

He bit my lip and drank my war

From years before, from years before.

“Let's go downstairs.”

This time, Ron and his stomach listened to her.

O_o

Hermione was avoiding him. It was a fact, he had fucked up. He shouldn't have scared her. Now, she probably thought he was playing with her. But nothing had happened and that bit of information was the one thing that annoyed him the most. Nothing had happened.

“I'm done for the night. G'night.”

She stood up to do her usual routine before bed where she kissed both Ron and him on the cheek. When it was his turn, however, she was hesitant, but kissed him nonetheless. He caught her aroma and closed his eyes, maybe this way he could remember it forever. She smelled sweet, just as she most likely tasted, he thought.

She exhales vanilla lace.

He went to bed not so long after her. When he lay on his bed, he remembered the dream he had had the night before. It had been too short. But, more pleasurable than the other dreams he had. This time, he had been able to see the face of her seducer. He always noticed the hair, but never saw the face. When he had seen her, however, he wasn't surprised. Maybe he had been expecting it all along.

I barely dreamt her, yesterday.

Harry got up from bed and opened his closet. It was too early in the morning (or very late at night), but he reckoned he wouldn't get much sleep anyway. Something was written on the inside mirror. He traced the word with his forefinger Forever. He knew that handwriting. It was Hermione's.

Read the lines in the mirror, through the lipstick trace, “Por Siempre.”

“I had to see you.”

He turned around, alarm that someone else was in his room. She was standing by the door.

“I- This morning, well, yesterday, really,” she began, “I think something happened. Well, at least I want to believe that. I really wanted—I really wanted to be with you Harry. There, I said it,” she started playing with her hair and he wished that was his finger instead of her. She smiled and moved forward, gaining more confidence in this new territory. “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to hold you. I wanted to love you.”

He stayed quiet. He was dumbstruck! How could it be this easy? Maybe he was having another dream. It shouldn't be this easy. It was too wonderful to think this was really happening. It had to be another dream.

“Harry, are you even listening to me?”

She said, “It seems you're somewhere, far away,” to his face.

Her eyes became heavy. Suddenly, she realized that she wasn't meant to be there. Hermione made a move to the door, but a strong hold held her back. But he didn't say a word. Hermione looked up at his flaming green eyes and she suppressed a sigh as he traced her face.

“You're really here.”

With those words said, he finally kissed her.

It's in the blood, it's in the blood

I met my love, before I was born

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I was actually thinking if I should write the love scene for some of you. I wasn't sure. So I guess it is up to you. I hope you guys enjoyed it.

Authors love reviews.

/noise and kisses/

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor am I an AFI band member.

Rating: NC17

Author's Note: Here is the love scene. The title for chapter two was meant to be like that; it's not the title of the song.

Love In Winter

Hermione welcomed the tingling sensation his fingers had as he traced her face. She didn't resist the soft sigh or the moan that emerged. She let her eyes flutter open.

“I've been waiting all my life for this.”

“I'm here now, Harry. Always.”

That had been an incentive to hold her closer and claim her lips as his. They explored the new territory that was now them. He parted her lips, seeking more of her taste. It was not a sweet kiss, but one of salvation and desperation. To let them taste the reality of their new found love.

Cautiously, Harry pulled her towards his bed. She had no idea as to what they were doing or were about to do. Would it ruin their friendship? For the first time in her life, Hermione told herself not to think. She had to feel. That's how love was after all, wasn't it?

“Stop thinking.”

She should have been offended by what Harry had said. However, she knew that he didn't mean it as a rude remark. He was only trying to help.

“You're over analyzing this, us,” she noticed she really liked the sound of that when he said it. “Nothing bad is going to happen and even if something were to, I will never regret this. I promise you that. Hermione, you are the most important thing in my life and I really can't imagine a day without you being there.”

She smiled, holding her tears back. It would be too girlish if she had started crying and it would have freaked out Harry; probably making him think that he had done something wrong. Now, she didn't know what to do next. “Harry?”

“Yes?”

“Are we really going to do this?” She knew it was a rhetorical question. Hermione obviously felt the growing bulge poking her stomach. She jumped a little inside knowing she had been the cause of his reaction.

“Only if you really want to and know you're ready. I-I don't want to pressure you or anything. I can wait, I swear I can. You don't have-”

“I want to.”

He smiled genuinely. “I want to too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded reassuringly. “We should probably go to the bed.”

“We should.”

They climbed the bed and even though they were sure they wanted to do this, they were still shy about it. Hermione thought that she should act first and started to unbutton her shirt.

“No.”

She wanted love, I taste of blood.

She looked up startled. Maybe Harry had realized that he didn't want her, after all. “Le-let me do it.” He was careful in the process and she loved him for it because it gave her time to grasp the idea and forget about her shyness. Suddenly, she became very aware of her body. What if he didn't like the way she looked? His expression told her otherwise.

She didn't know she could get so aroused by the touch of his fingers just tracing the patterns of her bra. “How do you work this thing?” She took his hands and helped him unclasp her bra.

“I'll get better at it.”

It was a promised for future times. For other times.

The fabric fell from her shoulders onto the mattress. She wanted to see his expression, but he was looking down at them. Did he think they were too small? Too big? And what of her scar? Did he think it was ugly? Harry!

“They're perfect,” he traced the scar and smiled at her, “you're perfect.”

And he meant it by the way he took hold of them and started to caress her skin like a special silk.

She moaned and threw her head back, savoring the moment. His lips were on her once again. She didn't know how strong she had missed the pressure on her lips. He pushed her down to the bed. Slowly kissing her way down her body, Harry started pushing her pajama pants.

Hermione started to pull Harry's shirt. It wasn't fair for him to be the only one enjoying the view. Once off, she marveled at the way his scars seemed to hug his body. She found them fascinating, as if every single one of them was meant to be there for her fingers to worship.

“Make love to me, Harry.”

She bit my lip and drank my warmth from years before.

Despite the temperature of the room, Harry felt warm in her arms. He pushed his pants down along with his trousers.

Hermione didn't have to look down to know it was big, not horrendously big, but it was. She couldn't control herself, she had to touch him.

He grunted at the touch. “Please don't.”

She looked confused. Weren't men supposed to like that?

Harry laughed despite the situation. Her face was priceless; she looked like she was analyzing an Arithmancy problem. “I really liked the feel of that,” he blushed, “but I'm afraid that if you continue that, we might not go far behind.”

“Oh,” Hermione's face illuminated with knowledge. Any sort of information given to Hermione was powerful knowledge. “Okay.”

“But, I mean, we can work on it later so I can improve as well. I reckon if we practice, it won't happen.”

“You're a smart man, Mister Potter.”

“I'd like to think the woman I love is smarter than me.”

“Well said,” she pulled him towards her for one more kiss. “I'm ready.”

Harry removed her cotton knickers, slowly sliding them down her legs. He positioned himself at her entrance and pushed.

He hated this waiting. She was tight, warm, wet, and Hermione. It was odd to think this new sensation was familiar. He saw Hermione and waited for her to get used to him inside of her. She shifted under him and it only made it harder for him to not just push himself all the way into her.

“Okay.”

He pulled himself away from her to go in deeper. Her moans just gave him more confidence to push her barrier and drive deep into her.

“Harry!”

He was close, but he wanted to bring her to her climax first. He kept pushing deeper and before he came, he took one of her hands and placed them between them. “This. Is. Us.”

“Harry,” it was a sigh and he felt her body trembled when she came. He didn't bother on the fact that she was pinning on to him, or that her nails were hurting his back.

Soon after, Harry followed her, “Hermione!” He deprived her of oxygen, as he claimed her lips in a furious kiss of completion.

In the early dusk of a December morning, they became silhouettes.

Love like Winter

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/hides/ I know! It was a love scene. If you want something more, then check my other story. Now there you can find more than love…er.. yeah.

/noise&kisses/

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