Chapter 3. To Drink or Not to Drink
Harry woke up at some point but there was something off. He was awake but could still feel her soft lips on his, prodding and prying. He could now smell her hair and feel her smooth naked skin in his hands, which were somehow under her clothes. Then he heard her moan involuntarily as his caress found her breast. He had been with other women that way and imagined them to be her, but that voice was definitely Hermione's.
Harry wanted to be sure. He opened his eyes and saw Hermione in a way he had never seen her before. They were on the couch; their bodies entwined and seemingly more ablaze than the fireplace that dimly lit the living room. He parted her lips with his and caught her gasp of breath as his tongue found hers. She returned each and every kiss with equal fire, if not more, encouraging him and making him feel that she wanted this as much as he did; she needed this as much as he did. He felt her fingers come out from underneath his shirt and started the task of unbuttoning and undressing him. As she got to the last two buttons of his shirt, she pulled her face away from his and started kissing his chest, retracing where her fingers had been. He was not dreaming; this was real.
Each touch and kiss Harry felt burn into his skin like fire, fire … firewhiskey … she was not herself, maybe she thinks I'm…no…this is not the time to ask her if she realizes I'm not Ron…that might matter…I can't ask her to stop…. I can ask her later…this is just as I had imagined it would be…argh! I hate you Potter…
"Herm…Hermione….", he struggled to get her name out, it was so difficult to focus, "Hermione, wait!"
She stopped, and pulled herself up towards him. They could see each other's face as the fire cast shadows on them. They were both out of breath, hearts pounding, and passion burning in their eyes.
"I'm not…" she quickly put two fingers on his lips before he could mention his name. She seemed to know what he was thinking.
"Sssshhh…yes Harry, I know it's you. I know it's us." She waited.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Harry thought about Ron, about his friendship and about the only family he had. He was half-hoping Hermione would stop them both and be the voice of reason.
"He…he doesn't have to know. And we can always forget about this one night, after tonight…"her smouldering brown eyes were awaiting an answer from Harry's green. Harry heard what she said, but beneath the desire in her eyes he sensed she was unsure of whether or not they could do what she was saying they would do, whatever it was.
"Just one night…" he repeated, not fully knowing what the words meant.
"Yes, just one night, just us for one night." Hermione answered, almost a whisper.
"I love you, Hermione", he could not stop himself from saying what he had been longing to tell her all these years.
"Harry…" she said softly in his ear, an unnoticed tear ran down her right cheek as they embraced.
Harry took her lips with his again, their kisses sweet and deep. He got them up; he carried her into her bedroom and gently lowered her onto her bed. He undressed her and she undressed him. They had gone too far and were powerless to stop as the years of yearning overcame all reason they shouldn't. How many times had Harry said to himself he would give anything for one night like this with her? As she said, it was one night.
They thought only of each other, of the moment, without the encumbrance of tomorrow and what would happen. They made love like it was their first and last, with both urgency and patience, making each kiss and each touch count, savouring each moment as if they would never have the chance to do it again. And as their bodies became and moved as one, they both experienced an ecstasy they had never had before. Later, Harry held Hermione in his arms, in silence, as they had said all they had wanted to say to each other without so many words. That was their moment and theirs alone. For the first time in a long while, both slept well.
Hermione stirred. It must have been just after 5am. She felt Harry's warm body beside her and turned to face him. What an amazing night they just had. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought it could be like that.
She came to accept what her body had been trying to tell her all these years. She loved Harry Potter and she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. That night was the first time she had totally given herself to someone she loved and it was incredible. Awaking to this sight and this feeling everyday was something she definitely could get used to.
So he you kissed back and did more to make it interesting, what now?
She didn't really think that he would kiss her so she never thought it through. A sinking feeling suddenly overcame her. All the warnings about losing friends and family came crashing down and it dawned on her that today was the tomorrow they had to face. She had to do some damage control. Hermione tried to remember what she said they would do. It was no longer a question of whether or not anybody was going to get hurt, but when and how much.
She thought about Ron; she had to tell him about Harry; definitely a less detailed version of how she felt and, at least for a long time, definitely nothing about their intimate night. Telling him everything would mean irreparable injury to his and Harry's friendship. She could not be the reason for that, or for Harry losing the Weasleys. Hermione was very concerned about Ron's initial reaction; afraid he would lose control of his temper and do something reckless and unintelligent.
And if Ron pointedly asked if this night happened, she would lie. Ron would have left for that assignment by now. She had a couple of weeks before Ron would return; she would have time to practice and make it believable.
And what about Harry?
She did not know for sure how he felt about her. She had no idea that he had this physical attraction for her prior to last night. And really, it could be just physical. He could have just needed a warm body for a night and she could have been almost anyone, even that blonde haired girl Barbara. He said he loved her and she wondered if he meant it in the way she hoped it meant. But didn't men typically say brainless things like that when they sleep with women?
She thought about his reaction to her suggestion, of it being just one night and she got the impression that he agreed that it had to be so they would not hurt anyone. She debated against waking him to ask, not wanting a pressured response. Harry would likely say something he may not mean to not hurt her feelings. The alternative, an outright rejection, was something she could not really face.
And he most definitely would not be able to keep this from Ron; he had the curse of outstanding moral fibre.
Then, she thought of a solution and slowly got up to put it in motion. She took out a quill and, on a yellow piece of parchment, began scribbling. She paused for a moment, and thought. She had to make this convincing.
Hermione turned towards Harry as she magically sealed the letter. How could being with him at that moment feel right and wrong at the same time? If they were meant to be, she hoped they would find each other again.
Harry awoke as the sun shone brightly on his face. He just experienced the most wonderful night in his life with the most amazing woman he had the privilege of knowing. He had no idea that the occasion could be so uplifting when shared with someone you love. He was smiling without even realizing that he was and was almost in disbelief that he did that with Hermione.
Harry decided that he would tell Ron; maybe not about spending the night with her like that but definitely how he felt about her. Ron would be livid but Harry had to.
He turned over when…
"Crash!"
Harry found himself on the floor. He was in Hermione's living room; he fell from the couch and from where he landed he could see the embers still smouldering in the fireplace across from him. He was fully clothed and Hermione was nowhere to be seen.
His euphoria quickly turned into alarm. He knew for sure it happened. He could still taste and smell her on his lips. But it couldn't be good if he didn't remember getting up from her bed and getting dressed. He slowly walked over to her kitchen counter. On it there was a sealed note addressed to him pinned underneath a glass half filled with a bubbly lilac potion.
Harry recognized it; it was an amnesiac. He knew because he helped Hermione concoct a batch during their last year at Hogwarts to get Ron to forget his most horrible performance as Keeper of the Gryffindor team. Easy enough to make, or get one from the local potion remedy store. The note was clear.
Harry,
We both know that Ron must not find out. People will just get hurt and there is so much to lose. Some memories are better off forgotten. Bottoms up.
Hermione
As he set the note down, it suddenly turned into yellow smoke and evaporated into the air. It was one of those secrecy notes that unspeakables used to communicate.
Harry thought for a second and remembered what she said, '…we can always forget about this one night'. On the sink, he saw Hermione's unwashed empty glass with a bit of the same potion she wanted him to drink.
A wave of disappointment quickly washed over him. That's all she wants, Harry, not even a memory, he thought to himself. It must have been the firewhiskey that made her do it, and like countless other individuals before, she now regretted that one night she did not have control. Her actions confirmed that she cared for Ron more than him.
Without another thought, he emptied his glass down the sink. He put his empty glass next to Hermione's and left.