A/N: Wow, thanks for all your reviews! Lol, I didn't get that great a response from the lip ring however, but I love it. I suppose it's just a difference of opinion, but I love a guy with a lip ring. But I'll change it to a stud, if that's what makes you all feel better. =) And um… please, no more saying that lip piercings aren't nice - I have one and I love it. It suits my face.
And as for the tattoos, I'm so glad you all like them! I did get one emo comment, but believe it, it was intended as anything but. I'm not a fan of the whole emo thing, REALLY not a fan.
A lot of people said I should try my hand at NC-17, so… I'll give it a shot, I think. =P It's your fault if I'm abysmal though. =P Maybe not in this chapter, but later on.
I'm entirely sure where I'm going with this story. I have a vague idea of a plot, but it's more for getting back into writing than anything.
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He stood, completely nonplussed, as Hermione rapidly fled the room, his bottle-green eyes as wide as saucers, his breathing still ragged and uneven. What had just happened?
Sitting on the bed, he ran a hand slowly through his hair, the way Hermione had just done not two minutes before, only this time it didn't send an electrical pulse through his body like a shot of lightning. He didn't understand, why hadn't he pushed her away? He had just kissed her back, with as much fervour and want as he'd seen in her eyes when she stared at him…
And what was that all about? He thought, reliving the moment when he realised she was gazing hungrily at his bare chest, her eyes trailing from his smooth shoulders to his belly button with what could only be lust. She's going out with Ron… she's not the type… to…
He exhaled loudly and angry, now completely frustrated. Flopping backwards onto his back, he strained his brain for some answers.
Why did she do that? Why didn't I stop her?
He hadn't seen much of Hermione since he'd arrived at Grimmauld Place, and that had been his own decision. He hadn't wanted to see anyone at all. His break-up with Ginny at the end of last year convinced him that there would be awkwardness in the group, Ginny being Ron's sister and Hermione being Ron's girlfriend, they would have to support each other. If Ron was angry at Harry for messing Ginny around, Hermione would have to be too.
Plus there was the added grief of last terms terrible events. Harry couldn't remove the image burnt into his brain of Snape uttering the words of the death curse, hatred etched upon his features as Dumbledore was blasted into the air and fell out of sight, the cruel, sickly sight of the Dark Mark hanging overhead. It was as if he'd killed Dumbledore himself, for the pain and the grief, not to mention anxiety and fear, that he was feeling now were enough to make a ten-year stretch in Azkaban pointless. All seemed hopeless. It was now up to him to find the last of the Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort, and he knew he was no match for this colossal task.
He couldn't ask them for help. Not this time. He couldn't bring Hermione, Ron and Ginny into this. Too many times he had seen them risk themselves for him, and after last term he had realised the real extent of danger they were all in.
So he had decided to keep himself to himself this summer. He'd thought that if he made a few changes to himself, a tattoo, a piercing, music, etc. he would feel like a new person. A person who could start again, distance himself from his friends. Well, they had helped, certainly, Harry did feel like a new person. The music he played everyday was the only thing keeping him sane. He could lie on his bed for hours on end, everyday, morose and grumpy, but it was alright because he was listening to his music. It was his excuse for not having to talk to anyone, because it was driving him nuts otherwise, not being able to talk to everyone.
Obviously, he would have kept out of Ginny's way anyway. The awkwardness that he felt on the night he had arrived at Grimmauld Place was not something he wanted to subject himself to everyday. He was sure it wouldn't be a problem if he'd felt the same way about Ginny as she did about him, but the truth was he'd lost whatever feelings he had for her. It had seemed so surreal to him, the moment when he realised he didn't love Ginny anymore. He convinced himself that he was insensitive and selfish, having strung her along for those couple of months, telling her he loved her, all they'd done together, and now, he was throwing her away? It was for these reasons that he could not face the rest of the group.
Now, though, Hermione had gone and ruined it. She'd broken his barriers that he'd worked so hard on. He didn't understand how she could come into his room and kiss him like that, when she'd shown no interest before, and especially now she was with Ron. Was there something wrong with the relationship between them? He didn't think that she would use him, going back to Ron when she wanted then sneaking a kiss from him when Ron wasn't around. What was going on?
He closed his eyes and sighed. Hermione was his best friend, she had been for 6 years. He'd never even thought of her before as someone who he'd be sharing a heated kiss with. She was just Hermione. Yes, she was pretty, he'd always thought so, but that had been the extent of it. He'd never even considered it. Now he couldn't get the image out of his head. The way she'd roughly grabbed his face with her dainty hands, the eagerness of the kiss she'd given him, the way he couldn't have pulled away even if he'd wanted to…
Nothing like that had ever happened with Ginny. Yes, there was the odd impulsive, passionate kiss between the two of them, but apart from that it was all above board, they knew what was happening, there was no passion about it but it was nice. They'd never done anything past the odd touch, the grazing of his hand under her shirt.
Hermione however had been so caught up in their moment, as had Harry, that they'd not even thought about where or what their hands were doing. Harry could feel the softness of her skin under his strong fingers as he'd drawn his hand slowly up and down her side, pulling her t-shirt up with it.
Angrily, he punched his pillow, though the distorted sound of a guitar from his CD player drowned the dull thud out completely. He knew that Hermione had started something now. The only problem is, could he control it, or would it be yet another thing that would drive him insane.
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Hermione paced anxiously around her room, biting frantically at her nails. She couldn't for the life of her understand why she'd done that. All she knew was after seeing Harry like she had, the skin on his back and chest glistening with water, giving it a soft sheen like on those cheesy perfume adverts, the tattoo on his back becoming more real the more she looked at it, she knew he had to have him. She had to taste him, feel the rugged, masculinity that just oozed out of him in that moment. She didn't know whether it was the music, pumping in her ears, forcing emotion to rise to her surface with it's heavy yet slow, subtly sexy drum beat, or the flush of blood that drained from her head as she went into autopilot, but she knew that in that moment, Harry had never looked so sexy.
It wasn't as if Harry wasn't attractive before, or that she'd never noticed it. In fact, all throughout her fourth, fifth and sixth year, she was battling against a nasty internal conflict as to who she thought she loved most, Ron or Harry. She loved them both immensely as friends, but she knew that the romantic feelings she was having for the both of them would eventually tear the three of them apart if she didn't do something about it.
Then Harry had kissed Ginny, and after all Hermione's efforts to choose between them, she'd had her mind made up for her. It seemed like the way it was supposed to be; after all she'd spent all that effort trying to wind up Ron by hanging around with that Cormac guy, he had seemed a lot more interested in her than Harry, and the way that it had worked out, it was just so convenient. Her and Ron. Harry and Ginny. Perfect. Surely that was how fate had set it out?
But maybe this isn't supposed to be just convenience…
She knew it was wrong to do so, but she now started comparing Harry and Ron together. Not just at kissing, at the little everyday things too. She remembered all the little nice things Harry had said to her. Obviously, he hadn't realised how much they'd meant to her, with her little internal battle going on, but she could remember clearly the day he'd told her he thought she was pretty, when she found out he'd told someone that she was the brightest, smartest witch in Hogwarts, his reaction to her appearance at the Yule Ball. That was Harry's thing. He never covered up the thoughts and feelings that people normally did. Instead he'd bottle away all the angry and negative thoughts that he should have vented out, and only occasionally let them out on poor unsuspecting victims. Unlike Ron, who spent the whole of the Yule Ball trying to cover up the fact that he liked Hermione by being horrendously nasty to her, and ruining her evening, and when trying to give her compliments, he ended up insulting her rather than making her feel good.
He was nice, for his part though, Ron. He was good to her, giving her cuddles, kissing her nose when she felt sad, doing things for her. He was a lovely boyfriend, and any girl would be lucky to have him.
However, she had never felt the same passion with Ron as she had just done with Harry.
Oh, what am I going to DO? She thought as she flopped down onto her bed and turned to stare blankly at the ceiling. I do love Ron, I know I do. But Harry is… Ohhhhhh!
She turned on her side and roughly wiped her eyes on her sleeve, her frustrated tears making her even more angry.
I don't even know if he likes me like that… I mean he's just broken up with Ginny. He might still like her. And it's not like I gave him a chance to say anything… but he didn't push me away. Why didn't he push me away?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door, followed by a head of short red hair poking it's way through her door.
`Are you alright, Hermione? You've been gone awhile, why are you in bed?'
She hurriedly wiped her eyes on the sheet knowing it would do no good, and sat up slowly to face him. She was very aware that her hair was a mass of frizz, Harry's hand having run through it in haste. Thinking up the best excuse she could, she gave Ron a weary smile.
`I'm fine, Ron, I've just got a headache. Can I have some time alone please? I might try to get some sleep.'
He looked at her thoughtfully, and Hermione felt an inward jolt of panic. Had he noticed something?
`Hmm, you do look tired. Your eyes are all red. Have you been sleeping already?'
He nodded at her atrocious mass of hair and she nodded.
`Yes, I was. Can I go back to sleep now please, Ron?'
`Well, I thought I could sit with you…' he began, sauntering over to her bed and sitting on the edge, a mischievous smile attached firmly to his face. `You know, Ginny's reading in the sitting room… Harry's… well… Harry..'
Hermione shifted uncomfortably.
`I thought… you know… now would be a good time to…'
He winked at her and she knew exactly what he meant. Ron had been dropping hints lately about their sex life, or lack of. She'd made excuses lately, feeble ones that she was sure even he could see through, but apparently not. She'd said stupid things like `No, Ron, Ginny's only two doors down…' and `What if someone comes in?' at a little past midnight. The truth was that she just didn't want to. There were moments, of course where she'd stare at him from behind, checking him out and thinking of things that she wouldn't have minded him doing to her, but when it came to it, he just didn't feel like it. And now was one of those times.
She felt herself getting angry with him, then realised she had no right to be. She'd just spent the best of the last five minutes kissing his best friend stupid, and here she was getting angry at him for wanting a bit of attention when she was feeling guilty. She supposed the best way to go about it was to use another excuse and hope he wouldn't be offended.
`Look, Ron, I'm really not feeling well. Maybe another time, okay?'
He narrowed his eyebrows in an unmistakably angry frown, and she closed her eyes wearily. She could feel him stiffening, and braced herself for an argument.
`What's the matter with you lately, Hermione? You never want to do anything with me. You've been looking at me like I've pissed you off for the last couple of weeks. What is it? Don't you fancy me anymore or something?' He stood up and turned to look at her as she opened her eyes and looked blankly at him. `And now you're looking at me as if you can't be bothered with me.'
`Look, Ron…' she began, but he cut her off.
`If you don't want to be with me, Hermione, just say so.'
She felt herself getting angry with him, but she willed herself not to. It's not his fault, it's yours. She thought, her teeth clenched. He's got a right to be angry…
`Hermione, answer me!' His voice was raised slightly now, and she could swear she heard the volume on Harry's music turn down slightly next door. `What's the matter? Do you want to be with me or not?'
`Ron! I've got a headache! Please, I don't want to talk about this now…'
There was a silence after this statement, in which they stood, staring at each other. She could see something in Ron's eyes that looked like hurt, but there was something else there altogether. Betrayal? Did he know about her and Harry? Anger?
`We'll talk later, okay, Ron?' She said at last, noticing with a leap of her stomach that Harry's music had been turned off. `I know you're angry, but we'll talk later okay?'
She gave him the best apologetic smile she could muster and he frowned further still, sighed, and stomped from the room.
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The next few days were tentative. Hermione and Ron had made up, even though Hermione was feeling like crap. Nothing had changed in their relationship, there were still problems, but for the moment, she felt like she had one less thing to worry about. She could focus on this thing that was happening with Harry.
She hadn't seen him properly since the `incident', though there was an awkward meeting down in the kitchen when she and Ron were making a cup of tea and he walked in. Noticing Ron wasn't looking, he looked at her and raised his eyebrow, not saying a word. Hermione blushed and turned away, thankful that Ron hadn't noticed their exchange. Harry said nothing except a muted `Hi' to the both of them, then left with an apple and some fruit juice.
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