A/N: I'm back! It must have been a year since I last wrote a fic, but this plot just came to me in work today and wouldn't go away, and the more I thought on it, the more it drove me crazy. So in the end, I had to write it, for my sanity.
Again, it's been a long time since I wrote, so if this isn't up to standards, that's why. I know this chapter is short, but I don't believe in forcing long-winded chapters out of myself if they don't want to come.
I'd like to know your opinion on whether or not I should try my hand at an NC-17 fic. I'm debating with myself whether or not I'd be any good at it. Meh, depends on what reviews I get. *wink wink* *hint hint*
Well, anyways, enough waffling.
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`Right, so a dyslexic man walks into a bra…'
`Ron, that's the worst joke I've ever heard. Plus it's probably offensive.'
Hermione rolled her eyes at her red-headed boyfriend and sighed, smiling. As daft as Ron was, his jokes never failed to make her smile. It was a pity that this was a rare occasion. When they had first gotten together at the end of the sixth year, everyone had said it was inevitable; what with all the sexual tension they seemed to have. All those fights and arguments were just their way of flirting, so it seemed.
However, it was now the end of the summer. They had been going out for almost two months, and the arguments and fights had gotten worse. Ron seemed to enjoy it. Hermione assumed that he thought she liked it too. She didn't.
Aside from the fighting though, Ron was a good boyfriend. He was sweet, (again, when they weren't fighting), and he made her feel special. He was everything a girl could want and more, which made Hermione feel awful.
She felt, and had felt for a while now, that there was something about the relationship they had that just wasn't doing it for her. She thought perhaps maybe if they took their relationship to the next level and went all the way, the feeling would go away, but there was always something stopping her.
She stood up and walked to the door, her smile fixed on her face, more to show Ron that she did actually care what he was saying than anything.
`Hey, Hermione.'
Ginny suddenly appeared in the doorway, holding a glass of butterbeer and looking glum, as was usual these days. Her break-up with Harry at the end of last year seemed to have affected her more so than it did him, at least outwardly. Since school had ended, Ginny was to be seen plodding around Grimmauld Place everyday, looking sulky. Her long velvety red hair was always falling around her pretty face, making her seem even more miserable. The only times that she was cheer up were when Harry entered the room; she would sit up, toss her hair back and pretend that she was fine. Breezy. Great.
Hermione had to hand it to her. They were all miserable over the summer, with the thought of no Hogwarts to go back to, Dumbledore gone, and Voldemort steadily gaining power by the day. The future seemed very bleak indeed. It was very considerate of Ginny, Hermione thought, to put on a brave face for Harry even though she was going through a tough time herself.
However, nobody really knew how Harry felt about the whole situation because he was never around. He dealt with his own grief and misery by shutting himself in his room, all day, everyday. He had been given his own room; Sirius' old room, and he took advantage of his new privacy by playing music for hours on end, only stopping to come down for food, or to go to sleep. No one minded it though, Harry had a right to be difficult, and he would talk to them when he was ready.
`Hey Ginny. Feeling any better?'
`A little.'
She walked to Hermione's previous seat and flopped into the chair with a dramatic sigh. Ron looked sympathetically at her.
`Don't worry, Gin, he'll come round.'
`No he won't, Ron. He's making out like it's for the best, in case You-Know-Who ever finds out about me, but I'm sure it's just his way of saying "I don't like you like that anymore"…'
`Sometimes it's better that way, Gin,' Hermione stuck her head around the doorway to speak to Ginny before she walked away. `He's not the type to just dump you, is he? If he's doing what you think he is, wouldn't you prefer it this way instead of him actually telling you that he doesn't like you like that anymore?'
`Hermione, that's not…' Ron gave her a funny sort of `don't you think that's a bit insensitive' look, and she shrugged.
`I'm sure that's not the case at all, but if it is, maybe it's for the best?'
Ginny nodded miserably and took a swig of butterbeer. Hermione smiled at her sympathetically and turned out of the room.
She walked slowly down the hallway, thinking about what Ginny had said. Did Harry really not like Ginny like that anymore? No, she thought. He hasn't said that, we shouldn't just assume…
But what if he has? She carried on towards the end of the hall, towards her own room, which was right next to Harry's. She could hear the dirty sounding drum beat of one of Harry's favourite songs and smiled. Who knew Harry would like grungy, heavy rock?
She reached her own door, her head swimming with her thoughts, and glanced at Harry's door, noticing that it was open a crack. Hesitating slightly, she reached out and pushed his door gently. It made no sound as she stepped quietly into the room. Her jaw dropped.
Harry was sitting at the desk in the corner of his room, shirtless, drawing something on a roll of parchment. His hair was wet; obviously he had just had a shower, and had pulled on a pair of black jeans. He had changed so much over the summer, finally being able to do what he wanted after leaving the Dursleys and had exercised this by getting a tattoo and a piercing. Hermione remembered hers and Ron's shock of seeing him with a ring through his lip and a tattoo of a star poking out of the back of his t-shirt. It sat on his shoulder, which at the moment was glistening with water still from his hair. He was nodding along to his music, and mumbling along the words with a quiet husky hum.
And in that moment, with the music playing, and Harry shirtless and wet, Hermione had never wanted anyone so badly. Not even Ron.
Harry was sexy. Completely and utterly, mind-blowingly sexy.
She stood rooted to the spot, gazing at him hungrily while he scribbled, not noticing she was behind him. Her eyes travelled over his lean shoulders, and the muscles down his back that were certainly a by-product of many years of Quidditch, chores and adventures. He had a few scars here and there that were obviously gained from battles with different people and monsters, but they only added to the smoulderingly sexy-ness of his body. He had taken his glasses off and although his face was turned away from her, what she could see of his face told her that this made a lot of difference. He looked older, more confident for some reason.
He raised his hand and ran it slowly through his hair absent-mindedly. Hermione couldn't control the small `uhhhhhhh' noise that came from her mouth.
He spun around in his chair and stared at her, blushing.
`Oh… sorry Hermione, hold on, I'll go find a shirt.'
`No…'
He stopped and raised an eyebrow at her, obviously noticing her strange behaviour but she didn't care. She was acting on what could only be called animal instinct. She was completely on autopilot. She didn't even realise what she was doing. All thoughts of Ron and Ginny, or of anything else for that matter were wiped from her mind as she gazed at his bare chest, admiring the small black stars he'd had tattooed onto his stomach. He lowered his head to catch her eye questioningly.
`Hermione… are you alright? What are you- mmf!'
She had grabbed his face and kissed him. Hard.
This was what she needed. This passion. She'd never felt like this before for anyone, and it was amazing. She felt Harry's tongue brush along the bottom of her lip and immediately let him in. Wait, he's not pushing me away?!
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing her fingers into his unruly black hair, feeling the dampness between her fingers. There was a soft moan, who from, she couldn't tell. Her throat was so husky and deep with desire that it could have been anyone's. It was as if someone had lit a fire in her belly, and there was only one thing that could placate it.
She pushed him roughly over to his bed where he fell onto it, taking her with him. Taking charge, he flipped her over deftly and kissed her harder. Hermione had never understood the appeal of being rough with your partner, Ron was always gentle with her and it was nice. However with Harry, the passion and desire they both felt was shown by the eagerness and energy of their kisses. He broke from her mouth to plant rough, yet amazingly sweet kisses around her neck and collarbone, and she let out a deep breathy sigh. This was right. This was exactly what was missing with Ron.
…Ron!
They seemed to remember at the same time that what they were doing was wrong, and they sprang apart, red-faced and gasping for air, staring wide-eyed at each other. Harry stood up backed away from her, a note of panic in his eyes.
`What… what did we just do? What was that?' he breathed, frustrated confusion taking over them both.
`I don't know… I'm so sorry, Harry… I…'
Her senses came flooding back to her and with one last petrified look at him, she ran from the room and into her own, leaving a bewildered looking Harry behind.
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