One Pair

One Pair

By: Amanda, aka, Rosie

Yes, I am back. No, I am not dead. No, this is not Depending on Love. Yes, I will finish that story eventually. Yes, I am still insanely busy. Life is busy busy, but this semester I had a couple hours break between a couple classes and, after midterms and everything became really chill, I could sit and write stories for a bit instead of papers. Hooray for an easy semester!

This was started ages ago, and I found it again when my laptop crashed. While rereading it, ideas just started to flow! So I finished this one, then I plan on working on Depending on Love. I'm changing the status to “paused” until I'm done with it.

Disclaimer: Yeah, I'm J.K. Rowling. Hahaha!

Okay, on my other H/Hr stories that had this kind of context, I had over 17,000 hits and 29 reviews, over 19,800 and 70 reviews, and 14,500 hits and 42 reviews. So, please, people, any feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Questions, comments, criticism, stories, anything and everything you guys have to say, I'd love to hear about it. I <3 feedback =)

Rating: NC-17

Partially inspired by a piece of Draco/Ginny fanart entitled “Sharing Pajamas” created by Cupid12203

Deviantart link: http://cupid12203.deviantart.com/art/Sharing-Pajamas-27065267

Portkey link: http://gallery.portkey.org/galleryView.php?viewDetails=150

Copy and paste and seriously check it out, it's a fantastic piece of art, an unbelievably realistic drawing. I loved it. The only way I thought it could be better was if it were a Harry/Hermione. =D

*~*~*

“I told you we should've stopped for petrol at that last town,” Hermione grumbled as the car sputtered to a stop in the middle of nowhere.

“And I told you, the gauge said there was half a tank,” Harry responded angrily. “That should have gotten us to the next town.”

“If you didn't drive like a maniac with all the speeding and braking that used up all the gas, we would have,” she chastised, getting out of the passenger side and slamming the door.

Harry followed suit, yelling, “Well, maybe you should drive next time we decided to take a bloody QUAINT country drive, Miss Perfect!”

“Maybe I WILL!” she hollered in return. “THEN we wouldn't be in this situation!”

“That's settled, then! In the meantime, what are we going to do?” he asked, shouted really, and absentmindedly hitting the power lock and slamming his door.

What had started as a nice, little, day long road trip to visit Ron at his Quidditch camp had now turned to this. One giant argument since they began driving home. And even now, with her angry, seething even, at him, Harry still thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world. Even now, when she looked as though she was about to set him afire with her eyes, Harry still loved her, his Hermione, more than anything.

But she wasn't his Hermione; she belonged to another. And a muggle at that, one she couldn't even tell about her abilities. It ate him alive at any mention of it, at any hint of it. At the mere thought, his heart was in his throat, choking him as nausea swept over him. At every subtle display of affection he had to witness, his heart was clenched in an iron fist, slowly killing him. Yet he put on a brave face. For her, for his Hermione. If she was happy, without him, with someone else, then he was happy, he told himself.

But was she happy?

“Harry!” Hermione screamed. “Did you lock the door? Do you have the keys?”

“Of course I do, Hermione,” he said as though it were obvious. “They're right he-” he patted his jacket pocket to hear no sound of jingling keys. “Oh.”

“In the ignition!” she finished outraged. “Wouldn't it make sense to CHECK and make SURE before locking the car, Harry?”

“I'm SORRY, Hermione!” he yelled. “I make mistakes! I'm not perfect like SOME people!”

“Is that a pointed comment, Potter?” she growled.

Harry stood silent, glaring at her, controlling his anger.

“Why don't you just apparate in and unlock the door so I can get my jacket and get the keys,” Hermione told him in a voice he knew she was trying to keep steady.

“For some reason I can't concentrate. You do it.”

“I'm too cold, because YOU locked my jacket in the CAR!”

“So what are we going to do then?” Harry asked, throwing out the question.

Hermione was silent for a moment. “Maybe we can summon them out. Who cares if we break the sodding window, we can reparo it later,” she thought aloud. “My wand is in my jacket, try with yours.”

Harry, believing it was to not aggravate her further, did as she said. But as he reached in his back pocket for his wand, it wasn't there. Looking through the window, he was it lying in the driver's seat.

“Just bloody PERFECT!” Hermione said, following his gaze.

“Now what?” Harry inquired, sounding defeated. He hated not being on Hermione's good side. Her bad side was usually reserved for Ron, but it seemed to solely belong to him at the moment.

She sighed, gazing at their surroundings as if trying to memorize them. “Let's just start walking toward the nearest town. The walk will either calm us enough to apparate back into the car or take us to a phone where we can call Ron and get some food.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Harry gestured for her to lead the way. He followed her, his eyes wandering up and down her body as she moved in front of him, focusing on the sway of her hips frequently.

He suddenly felt irritated with her while staring at her arse. How dare she look so damn sexy and delectable when he couldn't have her, teasing him with that walk, that perfect rear and those luscious breasts?

The shiver he saw pass through her body caused all his annoyance to evaporate instantly. If she was that cold, why didn't she ask for my jacket? he wondered, though he knew the answer. She was too proud. It was one of the things he loved about her. But she wasn't so stupid to not take help when she needed it, just too proud to ask for it when she didn't necessarily need it.

“Want my jacket?” he offered, starting to pull it off.

She shook her head. “I'm fine,” she told him softly.

Stubborn woman, he thought.

“Take it,” he insisted, putting it on her shoulders. “There, already all nice and warm for you,” he smiled as she reluctantly took it.

“I could stand to shiver off a few pounds,” she replied.

“Hermione,” Harry replied matter-of-factly, “if you lose any weight, I'll be forced to commit you to a clinic specializing in eating disorders.”

“Oh, please, Harry. I'm massive,” she said in an impatient voice.

“If you're massive, 'Mione, I wouldn't be able to wrap my arms around you so easily.” To prove his point, he demonstrated encircling his arms around her waist from behind and holding her snugly to him. Harry didn't realize how much being this close to her would affect him. He swallowed, looking down at her. “See?” he choked out in what he hoped was a normal voice.

She stared up at him over her shoulder, her face flushed for some reason. Probably the cold, Harry thought. “Yeah, you can,” she said in a whisper.

Neither of them made a move to change their position. They were so close, he could kiss her. He licked his lips at the thought. She'd hex him, with or without a wand, if he tried. She'd never forgive him, either, and he couldn't stand that.

Harry swallowed again and removed his arms. He thought he heard her sigh when he did. “We should probably keep walking,” he suggested. “Don't want to get caught out after dark.”

“No, we wouldn't want that,” she agreed and continued moving in the direction of the nearest town.

They had gone no more than a mile when it started to rain. Not a gentle sprinkling, but an instant downpour.

“Damn sudden thunderstorms,” Harry grumbled as he tried to get more shelter from the rain under the trees. He glanced at Hermione through water spotted lenses; she had pulled the jacket up to cover her head, but she was already soaked to the skin and shivering. Her tight shirt now clinging to every soft contour of her breasts and stomach, back and arms. Sodding storm, getting my Hermione wet and cold.

But she looks good wet…

Stop that, you bloody pervert!

“W-What now, Harr-ry?” she asked through chattering teeth.

He frowned, looking around as he continued to walk. He didn't notice for a few moments that he was holding her hand to lead her. As soon as he realized he would have dropped it, but it had grown surprisingly dark and the last thing they needed was to get separated.

If she gets sick from this, I'll curse this entire bloody forest, Harry thought, knowing he was being unreasonable. There's got to be something out here that can be used as shelter.

“What's that?” Hermione pointed, squinting in the faint light.

Harry followed her arm and dim outline of a small cabin. “Come on,” he said, leading her in that direction.

“What if someone's there?” she asked uneasily.

“Let's hope they take pity on two soaked strangers.”

They ran to the cabin to find it dark. It wasn't so late that people would have gone to bed. Knocking and pounding on the door brought no response and Harry decided to try the door handle. To his surprise, it turned in his hand and the door swung open.

“No harm in using it if it's empty,” Harry commented stepping into the one room cabin. There was a table to the left of the door and a small twin bed against the right wall. A counter ran along the wall behind the table and cupboards lined the wall above. A small dresser was placed at the back wall just past the bed near a door that looked to lead to a small bathroom. The entire cabin couldn't have been more than twenty square feet.

“Harry!” Hermione hissed. “This is breaking and entering!”

“We didn't break anything,” Harry replied, “just entered. I'm sure they won't mind. And what else are we going to do? Stay out in the rain?” he reasoned. “Come on, 'Mione, we'll leave the cabin in perfect condition.”

He could tell she was battling with her morals, but her body gave another involuntary shiver and guilt about using the cabin went out the door. “Oh, alright,” she conceded. “Why is it that whenever I'm with you or Ron I end up breaking some rule or law?” she added with a glare, but Harry could see her lips twitching in a smile.

Harry grinned. “Because we're such a good influence on you.”

She snorted at his remark. “So what now, my positive role model?”

“Well, we need to get warm and dry off, then some food would be nice,” he added as his stomach gave a loud rumble. Blushing, he suggested, “Let's look around for anything useful.”

“Okay, hungry man.”

The two began rummaging through drawers and cupboards, piling anything that might be of some help to them on the table in the room.

“Here's a gaudy pair of pajamas,” Hermione announced from the dresser.

“Just one pair?” Harry asked from the counter drawers. “Here's some matches; I'll work on a fire while you keep looking, okay?”

“Okay. Yeah, just one pair,” she reported after searching the other dresser drawers.

He frowned. One pair between the two of us… How will that work? “I'm going to see if I can find any dry wood,” he said aloud, heading toward the door. “Will you keep your eye out for something to use as kindling?”

Harry stopped at the door, looking Hermione. She did look pretty, beautiful even, with her wet hair hanging in dark brown waves down her back, her clothes hugging to her figure showing her curves. He saw her nod, watched her a moment longer, then walked out the door.

When she heard the door close behind Harry, Hermione leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and sighed to regain her composure. That boy has no idea what he does to me, she thought. He looked so adorably sexy drenched from the rain, with his wet hair hanging in his eyes, the falling drops sticking to his glasses, his t-shirt clinging his torso hinting at his firm chest and defined abs, his strong arms peeking out from under his sleeves that gripped to his biceps, triceps and deltoids.

She couldn't help but want him when he looked like that. She couldn't help but want him in general. She couldn't help but love him for the man he was.

But he didn't want her, in any way except friendship, so she'd settled for another. Another who couldn't compete with the man Harry was, the gentleman he was to her. Her boyfriend was a nice guy and treated her right, he just wasn't Harry, wasn't her Harry.

Harry came back into the cabin, shaking the water from his hair and glasses and carrying an impossibly large load of split logs. “Got lucky,” he told her, “There's a lean-to thing out back keeping a huge stack of wood dry.”

Hermione nodded. “There is plenty of canned food, and I'm sure we can figure out a way to cook it, but the only clothes are the one pair of pajamas.”

Harry paused in stacking the wood in the fire place. One pair for two people... That means…

“Here, Harry.” Hermione was handing him some napkins and old newspaper.

“Thank you, 'Mione,” he said taking the kindling material. It should work. He patted the floor next him. “Sit with me?”

Folding her legs gracefully underneath her, Hermione took a seat beside him.

“I'm sorry I yelled, 'Mione,” Harry told her sincerely. He hated when the two of them weren't on their usual best friend terms. “I was upset. I should have just calmed down and I'm sorry. Forgive me?” he asked with a hopeful smile he knew Hermione thought was adorable.

Hermione smiled and hugged his arm. “Of course I forgive you, Harry.” She smiled at him again. “You really should start listening to me all the time, though.”

Harry blinked. He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, Hermione.”

“That's okay, Harry. Now you know better.”

He could almost feel her patting his head like a child. Or a dog.

“I was not driving fast,” Harry muttered irritably more or less under his breath, trying to strike a match successfully.

“Oh, Harry, seriously now. You were driving over 130 kilometers an hour. The speed limit was 90!”

“I was not driving that fast,” he countered.

“And you should have stopped for petroleum at the last town when I told you if you were going to drive that fast,” Hermione finished as though Harry hadn't said anything.

For some reason, one he would never know - no matter how long he spent pondering the events of this night - Harry snapped.

Shooting to his feet, he shouted, “You know what, Hermione, I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm NOT bloody perfect like every sodding witch and wizards thinks I should be! I'm sorry I'm not the perfect carefree bachelor all the women want!” Everything Harry had been bottling inside for years seemed to be exploding to the surface. Hermione sat staring at him, her mouth open in a gasp. “I'm sorry I'm not the perfect wizard! I'm sorry I wasn't perfect at Hogwarts! I'm sorry I got in trouble! I'm sorry I didn't ALWAYS listen to you when it came to Voldemort! I'm sorry people died!” The fire place erupted into flame startling Hermione but not fazing Harry a bit. “I'm sorry I got people killed. I'm so fucking sorry I wasn't the bloody PERFECT Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived!”

Harry stopped, breathless and panting. He took in the scene around him; Hermione staring at him shocked, the fire blazing on her hearth, the matches crushed in his fist. Exhausted and now remembering what he said, Harry sank to knees. “I'm sorry,” he said softly, his head hanging. “I just… I'm sorry.”

“Hey, Harry.” Hermione's voice was gentle, like her fingers as they brushed the hair back from Harry's eyes. She tilted his chin to look her in the eyes. “I know you're not perfect. Nobody's perfect, sweetie.” Her soft hand cupped his cheek. Harry felt his face warm where their skin touched. “I don't expect you to be perfect. And in some ways I'm happy you didn't always listen to me and got in trouble as school. It made us all who we are today.” She rose on her knees and hugged his head to her chest. Harry could feel her heart beating; the sound made his heart pound. “You didn't kill anybody, Harry. You didn't get anyone killed. It was all Voldemort, Harry. It was his fault, not yours.”

Harry wrapped his arms around Hermione's waist and held her close to her. “I know, 'Mione, I know,” he whispered. “What you said was just the straw the broke the camel's back, I suppose.”

“It's okay, Harry,” she told him smoothing his hair and sending shivers down his spine. “And we have a fire now, without bothering with those matches. You and your random wandless magic.” Harry could hear the smile in her voice. “I probably shouldn't have said what I did, too.”

Harry pulled his head back and looked at her, eyebrow raised.

“Okay,” Hermione conceded, “I shouldn't have. I'm sorry, Harry. Will you forgive me?”

Harry returned his head to Hermione's bosom. It was such a nice bosom, not too big, not too small, and seemed perfect for his head to rest on. After making sweet, passionate love and… Stop that! “Of course I do, 'Mione.”

They stayed in that position for a moment before Hermione said, “Harry, don't you think we should eat?”

“Hmm… In a minute,” he responded with a smile. “I'm quite comfortable here.”

“Harry!” Hermione stood up, moving the kitchen. She sounded annoyed, but Harry saw her smiling. He also saw her shiver.

“I think we should get ourselves and our clothes dry first,” Harry mentioned. “I suppose you'll want the pajama top.” His voice did not crack.

Hermione stiffened, and Harry saw a distinct blush in her cheeks.

“I mean, we don't want to get sick…” His voice sounded lame to his own ears.

She nodded, took the shirt from the table where it had been set and headed straight for the small bathroom, all without a glance at Harry.

Puzzled, Harry commenced the task of untying his wet shoelaces with a frown on his face. Hermione was certainly acting strange. Why was something Harry could not guess. Men were most definitely clueless.

“Oh, dear.” Hermione's muffled voice came from the bathroom.

“Are you okay, 'Mione?” Harry questioned, immediately concerned.

“Oh, yeah.” She didn't sound convincing. “My shirt's just stuck to my...” her voice trailed off into murmurs and grunts.

Harry gave a small smile at the mental picture of Hermione struggling with a shirt suctioned to her body. Then he felt the blood rush to his loins.

Still, he thought he should be the gentleman. “Do you need some help?”

“Um… Well, I suppose. I can't seem to…”

The door opened a crack and Harry stepped in a little hesitantly. This would be the most intimate situation he and Hermione had ever been in, as innocent as this is. Stepping into the room, Harry saw Hermione with her arms crossed, hands on the hem of her shirt, twisting to pull her shirt. She stopped, very much like a deer in the headlights, when she saw him standing in the doorway.

She grinned sheepishly. “I'm stuck.”

“That I can see,” he said, softly with a small smile. “Turn around and I'll help you.”

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as she dropped her hands and turned her back to Harry. She could see him in the bathroom mirror as he stepped up behind her. To her eyes, who knew him better than anyone else, he looked nervous. His hands seemed to be shaking when they reached for her shirt hem.

His finger brushed her skin as he gathered the shirt and a shiver entirely not from the cold ran through her body.

“You're getting colder,” Harry said, his voice husky. “You need to get out of these wet clothes.”

Hermione could only nod, lost in the sensation caused by the simple contact between her and Harry, but her mind screaming, Yes, Harry, take me out of my clothes, take my body, make love to me. Her skin felt hot now where his fingers touched. She raised her arms as the shirt was lifted over her head, peeling from her wet skin.

The wet shirt hung from Harry's left hand and his right delicately brushed the strands for hair from her shoulder. He stared at her shoulder, his hand resting lightly on it. Harry's eyes met Hermione's in the mirror and she turned to face him. They were both panting lightly as they stared into each other's eyes.

Hermione stood before Harry in her bra and she could feel her nipples contract more at the vulnerability of her position. She ached for his hand to cup her breast, his fingers to toy with her nipples, his lips to descend on them…

She didn't know if she should be annoyed that he wasn't even looking at her breasts or impressed.

Hermione brought her hand to Harry's cheek. “Harry…” she said softly. His hand moved to the back of her head, tangling in her hair, and he shuffled a step closer. Hermione chin tilted up, lips parted, inviting him to kiss her. Harry lifted his left hand to her face, her shirt falling to the floor.

The sound of wet fabric smacking to the floor broke the trance between Harry and Hermione. They both looked down at the crumpled clothing.

Clearing his throat, Harry's hand dropped to his side and he stepped back. “Be sure to dry off as best you can,” he told her in a hoarse voice.

Hermione nodded. “There are some towels in the cupboard.” She grabbed one quickly from the cabinet near the sink and handed him one. “I'll stay in here, until you're done changing,” she told him. She smirked suddenly. “You don't need help with your shirt, do you? Or your pants, perhaps?” Hermione winked at him. She winked at him!

Instead of responding with a witty comment of some sort, Harry stammered, “Uh, no, I'll manage,” and left.

That witch drove him crazy. Absolutely crazy with that amazingly perfect body of hers. Her hair had felt so soft, even wet; he wanted to run his fingers through her hair for hours. His hands had wanted to caress their way to her stomach before cupping her breast, wanted to play with her pert nipples, wanted to make her arch into him.

But Hermione wouldn't want that. Not from him at least. She had her little boyfriend.

Harry clenched his teeth and growled while practically ripping off his shirt. What does that muggle have that I don't. eh?

Well, Hermione, for one.

Shut up.

You asked. Probably gets to bed her, too.

“Stupid voice, what do you know,” he muttered aloud.

“What was that, Harry?” Hermione called from the bathroom.

“Nothing, I'm just done changing,” he replied. Talking out loud to yourself, real smooth, genius. Make her think you're crazy, Potter, he thought as he hung up his wet clothes on the fire place screen.

Hermione came out caring her bundle of wet clothes in the large pajama shirt. It was long enough to cover her hips for the most part, but a great expanse of long, slender, silky looking leg was showing. Harry gulped. In the matching pajama pants, an erection would be much more visible.

Padding across the floor, Hermione moved to kneel next to Harry on the hearth. “Oh, I'll hang them up, Hermione, you can go rest on the bed. Your bare knees won't agree with this floor much,” he smiled.

She returned his smile. “Ever the gentleman, Harry.” She set her clothes beside him and, as she leaned over, Harry saw the curve of her breast beneath the shirt. She kissed his cheek before moving to the bed.

Harry gulped again.

He was stretching her clothes out to dry next to and on top of his one when he found himself holding her bra, and then her panties. Realization came that she was completely naked beneath that red flannel button up top.

Harry gulped a third time.

*~*~*

Hermione sat on the bed watching Harry's back. It was a nice back, strong and defined and flexible. She imagined running her hands down it, digging her nails into his shoulder blades in the throes of lovemaking…

Hermione drew in a shaky breath. She really needed stop letting her mind wander to that subject.

Maybe she could seduce Harry a bit… Or give him openings to take “advantage” of her…

It was something to ponder.

*~*~*

Harry finished arranging the clothes on the screen and stood up. They would have to rotate and flip them after a while to get all sides dry, but nothing was close enough to catch fire. He hoped.

Knowing Hermione was naked under all her clothes is one thing, but knowing she was naked under ONLY one shirt, is entirely different. And much more erotic.

Was I always such a pervert? Harry asked himself.

“Are you hungry, Harry?”

That wasn't his brain.

“What? Oh, yes, hungry, yes. For food, only food, I only want…food.” Now he was babbling. Just great.

“I'll see if I can fix up some of the cans,” Hermione told him. Then she crossed the open floor to the kitchen, but she didn't walk. No, what she did was far from walking. She…swayed, her hips moving slowly from side to side. Yet it looked completely natural, as though it was how she was meant to move for him.

“We'll need some plates or bowls,” she mused aloud to herself. She was opening cupboards, and Harry forced his eyes up from her long, sensuous legs to the back of her head. But then she was stretching up, standing on tip toe, to see the top shelf, hiking the already indecently short shirt higher.

Harry's gaze drifted downward again. He could almost see her bum. Hermione had a nice bum when in jeans, round and firm. He wondered what running his hands over the bare skin would feel like.

Harry bit his lip as she stretched to look into another cabinet. The fabric of the pajama pants began to feel snugger. He could take her, just turn her to face him and start kissing and fondling her. She's probably a fantastic kisser. He could press into her oh so easily, just slide in and bury himself completely. Might hurt her, the pestering voice said. Had she been with anyone before? Had he? Harry couldn't remember. They didn't matter if they weren't Hermione. Nothing mattered next to Hermione.

“Oh, there's some,” Hermione said. Harry thought she said something.

She stretched again, hopped a little and stretched some more, pulling down plates. All Harry saw was her long legs, her shapely calf, toned thighs. How he wanted to kiss his way up them.

Then Hermione was kneeling on the floor, stretching to look in a cabinet. Harry's eyes almost popped out of his head. He vaguely remembered something about a pot, or pan, but what did that matter? All Harry saw was her bum, her round, perfect bum, facing him. She was in the perfect position; he could enter her so easily. Just kneel behind her and glide inside her, wrap his arms around her slim waist, slip his hands under that enormous shirt and fondle her pert breasts.

Harry was moving before he realized. One minute he's staring at Hermione's arse from across the room, the next he's at the table.

Hermione stood, just as Harry came to his senses. “Oh.” She seems surprised that he was so close. “Would you like to help me?”

Help you climax repeatedly as you scream my name over and over in high octaves? Why yes, don't mind if I do.

“Sure,” Harry answered, perhaps too loudly. He moved closer to the table to hide his erection; damn pajamas did nothing but emphasize it. And felt surprisingly good against his penis. He would have to remember that. For now, though, to rid himself of the erection, he thought of Ron in a Speedo. He shuddered.

“Are you still cold, Harry?” Hermione's eyes held deep concern for him. Merlin, how he loved her.

“Just fine, Hermione.” And my boner for you is gone, too. Ron works wonders! “Are you cold at all?”

“A little, because my hair's still wet.” She'd found a can opener somewhere. When?

I can warm you up. “Some…some warm food might help,” Harry offered. “We can heat this over the fire.”

She smiled at him. “It might. Maybe sharing a blanket will, too, body warmth and all.”

Harry looked at her curiously. Any other girl he would think they're seducing him. Was Hermione seducing him? No, Hermione? No…

Was she?

“Here,” he said, reaching for the cans and can opener, “I'll do that.”

Hermione watched him make quick work of the hand-powered can opener. “Strong man,” she teased.

“Hey, it takes a lot of exercise on a lot of machines to get this,” he retorted. He flexed his bicep for emphasis. “See? Look at that muscle,” he grinned at her.

“All so you can use a can opener the muggle way,” she smiled.

“I can do a lot more than open a can opener,” Harry assured her.

“Oh?” Hermione said innocently. She moved closer to him, so close they were almost touching and he had to look practically straight down to see her. “Like what?” Blasted witch even looked innocent with her cinnamon eyes all wide. “What can you do with these big, strong muscles?” She ran a hand from his shoulder, down his arm and across his chest.

Make love to you in any position imaginable. “I, um, I can do…” he trailed off, forgetting what Hermione had asked him. He could see down the top. Did she undo another button? Blood flowed south.

“Here, Harry.” She was handing him the pot with the muggle Ravioli in it. “Hold this over the fire. That should put some of that shoulder muscle to use.” She squeezed his deltoid, or did she caress it? This witch was confusing him.

Holding that pot over the fire long enough to heat proved to be more taxing that Harry initially thought. His arms actually hurt afterward. He had found a new workout for the gym. It didn't help either that Hermione kept leaning over to check it and stir it and sitting practically pressed against him.

After the food had heated and been eaten (not that that wasn't an ordeal; who knew eating Ravioli could be so arousing?), Hermione pulled some blankets from somewhere and asked Harry to “cuddle” with her. For the practical purposes of keeping warm, he was sure. Yeah, right.

Evil witch.

There's only so much a man can take before he needs private time in the bathroom.

Harry could never deny anything to Hermione. She was just too cute.

Things did work to his advantage, however. While flinging out the blanket to cover them, he gave a small grunt of pain. “Blasted pot,” he mumbled.

“Oh, Harry, I'm sorry,” Hermione cooed. “Sit up and let me massage your arms.”

How could Harry refuse? He actually doubted he could if he wanted to, Hermione seemed that determined.

Her small hands began to work on his shoulders and deltoids, kneading into and smoothing the knots in his muscles. Harry could feel Hermione's warm breath on his neck as she massaged him. It was arousing beyond belief, and more so as his mind imagined her panting against his neck as he thrust into her.

“That feels really good, 'Mione,” Harry groaned, and he could sense the grin on her face.

Hermione moved to his side and began rubbing into his arm and chest muscles more. Looking over, Harry could see the swell of her breasts again, rising and falling as she moved her arms. He envisioned rubbing his hands against her chest. Then Hermione massaging her own chest as she rode him, crying his name in ecstasy.

Harry was hard, harder than he'd been all night.

It was then, in that moment of blood-loss thought, Harry decided to take initiative.

“Now your turn,” Harry told Hermione, his voice sounding husky. He reached around her back, her arms still on him, and began making small circles along her spine. She gasped in pleasure and fell against him.

It took all of Harry's self control and willpower to not take Hermione right then. Oh, he wanted her, and he had a feeling he would have her tonight, but to seduce her first as she seemed to be seducing him would make it all the sweeter.

He was as evil as her.

“Feels good?” he murmured in her ear, sure his voice would sound like a low rumble to her. Some women liked that, he supposed.

“Oh, yes, Harry,” Hermione said breathlessly. Exactly how he imagined she would sound in the throes of passion.

He worked up and down her back, her shoulders and neck. Then she was putty in his hands.

Her little gasps, sighs and moans had been driving Harry to the edge of his restraint. He pulled Hermione to straddle his lap, effortlessly lifting and setting her flush against him. Her eyes opened wide when she felt his arousal for her. Harry kissed her before she could utter a word.

He kissed her better and more thoroughly than he had ever kissed any another woman before, wanting to get as much as he could before she came to her senses and hexed his arse across the world, wand or no wand. Surprisingly, though, the back of his mind registered that, after a moment shock, Hermione's arms tightened around his neck and she returned his kiss with as much passion as he gave. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, massaging his as completely as her hands had his back. One of his hands ran down her back to cup her bum and the other tangled in her hair.

Harry squeezed her bum and pressed her more firmly against him; Hermione moaned in his mouth and squirmed in his lap. Her lips broke from his in a panting gasp and he kissed down her slender neck.

“I want you,” he murmured against her skin.

“Harry,” she groaned, her fingers running through his hair.

“I need you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she gasped as he bit gently.

“I love you,” he said, suddenly stopping his attentions on her neck and looking her straight in the eyes. His heart was pounding, from the proclamation of his love, the adrenaline from their actions and the nerves of waiting for her reaction. Harry had to tell her, he couldn't have made love to her without first telling his true feelings for her. He would have screamed it as he climaxed if he didn't get it out now.

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said again. This had a different tone. It was…soft, and affectionate. Not patronizing like he was expecting, gentle, like…like she reciprocated…

One of her hands cupped his cheek, and Hermione kissed him. Not with passion as before, but this tender love. This kiss, this gentle kiss, more than anything else that night, made him and Hermione together feel real.

“I love you, too,” she whispered. Hermione's hands left his body and, with a small smile on her face, went to the buttons on her shirt, her only article of clothing. Slowly, one by one, each button came undone, revealing slightly more skin of a pale strip of stomach.

The last button unfastened, Harry pushed the shirt of her shoulders, helping Hermione remove it, and he finally saw all of the woman he loved. Hermione was more beautiful than Harry could have ever imagined. She was gorgeous, from her bushy chestnut hair to rosy nipples to the feet at the end of those luscious legs and everything in between.

Harry stared at her, awestruck, desperately attempting to remember every detail of this moment, of Hermione straddling his lap looking absolutely wanton in nothing but her skin. Oh, how he ached for her now.

His hands slid up her thighs, touching with only fingertips and bringing out goose bumps, up her hips to her slim waist and rib cage. Pulling Hermione to him, Harry gently touched his lips to hers. “You're beautiful,” he told her honestly, hoarsely. He kissed her again, her mouth opening under his. They shared sensual kisses, savoring this moment before their first time together.

Hermione pulled back from the kiss and slid off the bed to kneel on the floor. Harry was dumbfounded to what she was doing until she grabbed his length through his pants. He gasped in surprise and then she was tugging the pants down to his ankles.

Her eyes widened when she saw his free manhood. “Oh, Harry...” Her hand stroked him softly, circled her thumb around the head of his penis, and he gave a little moan, a sound she smiled at. “It's so… big.”

Before Harry could reply to Hermione's compliment of his penis, her mouth enveloped it and Harry lost coherent thought for the moment. Her lips gripped his length as she bobbed up and down, her tongue swirled around the head and Harry resisted the urge to thrust.

As aroused as Harry had been all effing night, he could feel his climax coming, could feel Hermione being him closer and closer with her bobbing and stroking and sucking and swirling and - sweet Merlin where did she learn this?

“Her-Hermione,” he panted, “I'm close…”

If anything, she went into overdrive. With renewed vigor her mouth worked magic on his penis, her tongue dancing along the length as her lips and hand stroked him. One hand clung almost painfully to his thigh as he tensed himself.

He was on edge, so close to finishing Filch parading over the bed in a Speedo might not have stopped the inevitable climax of Harry Potter by Hermione Granger's lovely mouth. And then Hermione did something that ensured his climax: she deep throated him.

Harry would graciously admit he had an above average sized penis, over eight inches long and about six inches around, and knew this because he had measured it (what male hadn't measured his package) and “Googled” it. He was quite proud of his manhood.

This fact noted, when Hermione's nose was touching his stomach, it was a remarkable feat of controlled gag reflex that made Harry's eyes cross as he came hard.

And she swallowed. That was hot.

He was still grunting as Hermione licked him clean, something she seemed to be enjoying all too much. She looked up at Harry from between his legs, smiled and kissed the tip of his still erect penis.

Harry found this entirely erotic and flipped Hermione on the bed without hesitation to have his way with her. “My turn,” he nearly growled in her ear before kissing his way down her throat. He paused to suckle at her pulse point, quite sure she would have a hickey and grinned at the thought.

Hermione's hands were running through his hair. “By all means, Harry,” she moaned, and he could feel the smile in her voice, “have your way with me.”

Oh, how he intended to.

Her breasts that had been taunting Harry every day since he noticed Hermione had breasts were so prefect. Perfect, pert, full handfuls of Hermione breast for Harry to play with. He loved it. He loved the noises she made as he licked and sucked and nipped at her nipples, as he massaged and caressed her bosom.

Hermione was rubbing her hips against Harry, eager for contact, for stimulation there. There where Harry would thoroughly visit next. Harry could feel the moisture of Hermione's arousal on his stomach. It made him feel aroused, turned on, horny, stirred, desperate to thrust madly into her, all of the above.

Hermione Granger made Harry Potter feel like a sex god.

He kissed down her stomach, loving the taut, soft feel of it, loving the muscles contracting under his ministrations, loving her.

Harry slid off the bed to his knees, between Hermione's legs, her wonderful, beautiful legs. He ran his hands along her thighs; they were so smooth, like the rest of her. Harry knew then he was addicted to Hermione, now and forever. And they hadn't even made love yet.

He took his glasses off and tossed them aside somewhere; they might hurt his precious Hermione. Kissing her inside thigh, Harry inhaled the smell of Hermione before tasting her there for the first time, the first of many if Harry had his way. She was exotic, simply exotic.

The smell, the taste, the sounds, the entire experience of going down on Hermione was so intoxicating Harry thought he might be drunk or high or both. Harry dove his tongue deep inside her and felt Hermione arch and contract and tense and make oh so lovely noises. He touched her clit with his tongue and was rewarded with a gasp. He alternated between teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves and dipping his tongue into Hermione. She was damn near quivering.

Harry kissed her thigh again, wrapped an arm around her leg and held her to him. With his other hand, he slipped two fingers inside Hermione's slick, wet warmth and saw her arch off the bed again. His penis would thrive there.

His tongue went back to Hermione's clit as his fingers continued to move in her. She rocked and moaned and arched and drove Harry mad with lust. His tongue was working furiously on her and her breath began coming in shorter gasps, her fingers in his hair tightened, and she literally quivered.

“Har-r-ry…” her voice wavered. Then her orgasm hit her. Harry felt her climax, felt her inner muscles tighten around his fingers and yearned for his penis to feel that sensation. He heard and felt Hermione scream his name.

Hearing his name escape her lips in orgasmic bliss drove Harry to a near frenzy. Before she could come down from her high, while she was still reeling in the pleasure of her climax, while she was still climaxing, Harry thrust himself deep in her. Hermione gave a gasp of surprise and pleasure and arousal and, to Harry's great delight, her eyes rolled in her head.

His eyes nearly rolled, too. Hermione was so warm and soft and moist and tight. Not too tight that he would cause her pain, but pleasurably tight, to elicit enjoyment and satisfaction from both of them.

Hermione opened her eyes and met Harry's. She smiled at him, a smile he returned, touched his cheek affectionately with her hand and their lips met in a kiss. Their mouths opened and tongues touched. Hermione tasting herself on him was erotic. Tasting himself on her, not so much, but Harry could overlook that detail.

Harry dropped to his elbows over Hermione and started to move, to pull out slightly then thrust back in, in a slow gentle rhythm. A nice, steady rhythm to remember their first time together. Her legs wrapped around Harry's waist, her legs that were so long and slender and tone and strong, judging by how hard she contracted them around his waist. He wanted to stay tangled with her forever.

The steady pace Harry set on Hermione's still tender sex brought her to a second climax sooner than he realized was possible. Her back arched and her arms tightened around Harry, bringing him down to her. Her hard nipples brushed against his chest as he rocked against her. She gasped his name again, and bit down on his shoulder while her nails dug into his back. The walls of Hermione's glorious passage tightened around his length and it felt beyond belief to Harry. As incredible the sensation was, Harry held out and didn't climax with her.

Harry rolled over onto his back, his legs bending at the knee to support Hermione above him, her hair swaying just hiding her nipples. The sight was erotic. His hands were on her slender hips aiding her, hers on his firm chest as she lifted herself up and lowered herself on his stiff length. Hermione closed her eyes and gasped and moaned with the pleasure of riding him. Harry moaned with her, from the pleasure of gliding into her and the pleasure of watching. He began to gently thrust in time with her fall to add to both their enjoyment. He slid his hands up her waist to her marvelous breasts and cupped and massaged them, Hermione arching into his hands.

Harry lost track of the time as Hermione rode him, as he rocked into her, as he played with her breasts, as he teased her nipples. Her body was really quite exquisite and her heart, mind and soul were far beyond that. Why Hermione loved him of all people she would never know, but he was so grateful. His own heart swelled with his love and devotion for her, Harry placed a hand tenderly to her cheek.

Hermione opened her eyes lazily as they continued their motions together and smiled affectionately at Harry. She bent down and kissed him, her tongue immediately seeking his and caressing it, her hands tangling in his hair. Harry's arms wrapped around her body and he began plunging faster and more forcefully into here. She was driving him mad; he wanted to hear her scream his name again.

His thrusts were long and powerful and Hermione gave off half gasps half squeals of pure bliss in Harry's ear while he kissed and sucked her neck. He knew she was getting close again, could tell be the pitch of her cries. “Oh, oh, Harry,” she repeated over and over with her incoherent sounds, and it thrilled Harry to hear his name from her mouth in that tone.

And then she shrieked and clamped down on Harry's shoulder again. Harry slowed his thrusts to not climax with Hermione this time, either.

He grinned at her as she regained some focus. Her hair was more disarrayed than usual, her face flushed from exertion and orgasm. She looked beautiful. “Ready for another round?” he questioned wickedly.

“What?” Poor girl was disoriented. She had that effect on him, too.

Harry flipped Hermione over onto her hands and knees, still managing to stay inside her somehow. Her leaned over her shoulder and rumbled in her ear, “You were purposefully teasing me earlier, Miss Granger.”

“Was I now?” Her voice sounded breathy and distracted. Harry could only imagine how it felt for her to have his penis this deep in her. He was scarcely coherent.

“Do you have any idea what this arse of yours does to me?” Harry asked, running his fingers along the smooth, round, soft skin of her bum. It was as firm as it looked in her too-tight jeans.

“Show me,” she whispered over her shoulder, a smile, almost a smirk, lighting up her face with her blush.

Slowly, Harry began to pull his length out and drive it back in. It felt incredible. He was so deep within her he thought his head would spin. He had intended to go at an insanely slow pace, but the feel of Hermione's womanhood holding his penis, how far he could penetrate within her drove that plan far from his mind.

His hands roamed Hermione's body, her back, her breasts, her shoulders, her arms, her legs, her arse, her thighs… They were all so smooth and perfect Harry couldn't help but touch every inch of her.

The speed of his thrusts increased with Hermione shrieking in time with them, occasionally calling out a lucid word, like “Harry!” “Yes, more!” or “Sweet, leaping Merlin!” If Harry remembered, he would definitely tease her.

Soon, Harry was plunging into Hermione like a madman, his body eager to finally climax again after all the humping and thrusting and caressing. He was going to bring Hermione off one more time before he came, though.

She was close again. Positively quivering and shuddering with the pleasure of this position, the pleasure of his long penis hitting that special spot inside her that made her scream and shake. Harry's left hand had been massaging Hermione's breast, his right was tangled in her hair while she moaned and wailed. He wet two fingers from his right hand with his tongue and, leaning his body over Hermione's and never breaking the rhythm of his thrusting, he touched his fingers to Hermione's clit.

She gave a loud, short cry and he said huskily in her ear while thrusting and caressing, “Come for me, baby. Scream my name again.” His lips found her neck and he bit and sucked and kissed until there was sure to be a hickey and Hermione climaxed again, screaming, as Harry had asked, his name.

Hermione clenching around his hard penis one more time after what seemed like hours of sex pulled Harry over with her and he emptied himself in her, sheer ecstasy coursing through his body, calling a hoarse, “Hermione” in her ear and giving a few more shallow thrusts.

Then Harry collapsed on the bed, Hermione at his side. He rolled on his side and spooned against her, dragging the blankets over them both. Sex is exhausting if you do it right, Harry thought as his body loosen and he felt Hermione relax against him. And a total body workout.

His last thought before he drifted to sleep was this is how he wanted to end every day, with Hermione in his arms.

*~*~*

The next morning, Harry woke feeling utterly calm and relaxed and refreshed and thinking he'd had the best, most realistic wet dream of his life.

Then he felt the warm naked body next to him. Squinting at it, he saw it was Hermione's warm naked body. Hermione's naked body. If he hadn't already had morning wood, he would have been hard in an instant.

Hermione woke then, stretching languidly, the blankets sliding away to expose her bosom. She saw Harry staring and blushed slightly. “Good morning,” she said.

Harry kissed her, good and thoroughly. “It's a wonderful morning,” he told her, resting his forehead on hers. He decided in that instant that the only bad morning Harry would ever have for the rest of his life would be one in which he didn't wake up next to Hermione. “Did you sleep well, sweetie?”

She grinned and nodded, nuzzling into Harry's arms and chest. “After all that exercise, I was exhausted.”

“Not too sore, I hope,” he inquired casually.

His tone must have been deceptive. Hermione opened an eye and quirked her eyebrow at him. “What do you have in mind?” she asked, but Harry could see her smile.

In answer, he pulled her leg over his and slid his member slowly into her. Hermione gasped and smiled. He would never tire of those noises or those smiles. “I love you,” he said sincerely, brushing the hair back and cupping her face.

“I love you,” she said, her voice catching and tears welling in her eyes.

Harry kissed her tenderly and they made love again, rocking gently against each other and holding one another, their climaxes soft like this morning's love.

What seemed like hours later, Harry and Hermione untangled themselves and pulled on their dry stiff clothes. It was a long process with much teasing and touching and kissing involved. When finally decently dressed and the small cabin looking as if they had never been but for one scrap of paper on the table under a vase, Hermione hugged Harry to her. “Let's go home,” she told him. Her deep brown eyes held in them all that she felt and Harry was sure his were green mirrors.

“Home,” he repeated with a smile, kissing her. And they apparated away.

The note on the table…

Thanks for bringing us together.

Harry & Hermione

*~*~*

Fin

I was writing this and I realized there was a “Who's the Boss” kind of like this. Tony and Angela had to share a pair of pajamas and a cabin. Minus the sex, tho, lol. Yeah, anyway, I'm old and remember old-school shows like that.

Surprisingly, writing in Harry's perspective is fun!

Thanks to my wonderful beta, Libby, Natali, who made me laugh to no end while reading her comments.

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One Pair Epilogue

By: Amanda, aka, Rosie

Disclaimer: *Looks in mirror* Nope, still not J.K. This is a good thing, because I'm not as stupid as her.

Well, you asked, and I shall deliver. An epilogue, for you, my readers =)

And yes, I'll take care of that pesky boyfriend thing. As for the “cheating” issue, we'll go with that Hermione and he aren't exclusive. There, no cheating =)

Rating: Eh, we'll see how this goes ;)

*~*~*

They apparated into the car, resulting in the couple sprawled in the back seat, legs stretched at odd angles, but otherwise unhurt.

“One of these days,” Harry said with a slight smile, “I'll take you in the car.”

Hermione laughed at him. Grabbing both their wands and the car keys, they apparated for gas and breakfast.

They arrived at Hermione's flat around noon and she made a quick lunch. Then she decided she wanted a shower and change into clean clothes. Harry decided he wanted to follow Hermione into the shower.

They both had a very long shower full of teasing and kissing, caressing and soaping. The caressing and kissing, of course, led to Hermione pinned between Harry and the wall, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he thrust into her until they both came gasping the other's name.

When the shower was over, Harry, ever the gentleman, helped Hermione towel off.

“Move in with me,” he said. With the towel wrapped around her bum, the ends in his hands, he pulled her flush to him. “Please?”

Hermione smiled up at him, gave him a sweet, chaste kiss, and answered. “I have to break up with Bernard first.”

Oh, right, him. “Sounds like a yes, then,” Harry responded.

“Only because you used the magic word,” she told him smiling, her arms draping around his neck and pulling him for a kiss. It was a tender kiss that nonetheless got Harry's blood flowing. His arms pulled her close to him and the towel fell as his hands roamed her body.

Feeling Harry's half erection, Hermione pulled back. “Merlin, Harry! Are you always like this?”

“Like what?” he asked innocently.

“Like this?” She grabbed is now fully erect length.

He grinned; he loved her hands on him. “It's all you, baby,” he winked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, smiling and walked naked into her bedroom. Harry was admiring the view when he realized she was pulling out clothes to get dressed.

“Hey, what about me?” He followed her into the room to give the best Sad-Harry, Big-Green-Eyes, Come-On-Have-Some-Sympathy-A-Dark-Lord-Wanted-Me-Dead look.

She glanced at him in the mirror. “You made it through your teenage years, I'm sure you learned something that will help you now,” she replied with a grin.

“Why settle for that,” he retorted encircling her in his arms from behind, “when I can have you?” Harry began kissing her neck. Hermione bent her head under his attentions and gave a soft, little moan in her throat. But she could always hold her composure well, always. There was really only one way to truly know what she is feeling.

One hand slid up to cup and fondle her breast and the other drifted down her stomach, along her waist, her hip to her core. His fingers slid along her lips and felt her fluids, felt how wet she was for him.

“Hmm… Seems I'm not the only one who wants release,” Harry murmured against her skin.

Hermione gasped as he slid a finger deep inside her then rubbed her clit.

She turned in his arms quickly, her arms wrapping around his necks, kissing him fiercely and pressing herself into Harry. “This is the last time until I break up with Bernard,” she whispered in a voice, backing him up. His knees hit the bed and he fell back onto it with a little help from Hermione in the form of a push.

Hermione crawled up Harry's body looking quite wanton and damn near feral. She straddled his hips and sunk on him. Hermione sighed, Harry groaned.

*~*~*

A/N: Well, what do you know? NC-17

And now back to our regularly scheduled smut

=)

*~*~*

Placing her hands on his chest for support, Hermione began lifting and lowering herself on Harry's length. Her rhythm began slowly, then increased. Harry relaxed and enjoyed the show, his fingers dancing lightly on her thighs.

Her climax was quick and she gasped hard, breathing his name. Harry flipped her over and began driving steadily and firmly into her. He nuzzled her neck and grinned as Hermione squeaked with every thrust.

He would never tire of being with Hermione this way. He would never tire of being with Hermione in any way, but this intimacy they shared made him feel special in a way he never had.

“I love you,” Harry groaned in her ear as she came again, pulling him over with her.

He lay with his head on her chest, cushioned by her breast, listening to her heartbeat return to normal. She was so soft and comfortable, he could fall asleep. Harry just about had fallen asleep when Hermione rolled him off her, kissing his nose when he frowned.

He sprawled on his back, naked on the bed, while he watched her dress. It was rather arousing to watch her put clothes on, almost as much as her taking them off. Or taking them off her himself.

“What are you grinning about?” Hermione asked, bringing Harry out of his imagination. She was dressed and brushing her hair now.

Naked hair brushing would be very nice…

“'Cause you're sexy,” he told her.

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled at him. “I'll be back in an hour or two. Stay out of trouble, please, Harry?” she teased.

“Trouble finds me,” he insisted, trying to look utterly innocent.

She winked and apparated away.

Harry continued lying on the bed. It smelled like Hermione; he buried his nose in the pillows and breathed deeply. What was he going to do for an hour without Hermione?

Merlin, Potter, you didn't spend every waking moment with her before.

Realizing he was sounding close to pathetic, Harry apparated to his house, still naked, and changed into clean clothes. Thankfully he lived alone and didn't surprise anyone by being clad in only his skin. He felt strangely…free walking around naked. Free and relaxed. He may live like this at home forever.

Harry concluded that, because Hermione loved him and would deny him virtually nothing, she would agree to move into his house. It was a house, it was bigger, and could be more easily expanded larger if need be. And it had a yard, a big yard, where their kids could someday play. If they have kids. No, when, Harry thought to himself. I want to be with Hermione forever and be the mother of my children.

Based off these points, Harry concluded further, he could start moving. After a moment to ponder and a few flicks of his wand, Harry doubled the size his walk-in closet. He thought out his plan more and decided to take a risk and surprise Hermione.

And risk it was, if Hermione didn't like it. If she got mad, Harry would be lucky if he could still call himself a man when she was done.

But she won't get mad. Not at me.

I hope.

*~*~*

Hermione returned to her apartment an hour and a half after she had first left. She felt bad about Bernard; he was a very nice, very sweet man, but he was no Harry. He took it quite well, said he'd always known her heart belonged to another and kissed her forehead.

“We're better friends, anyway,” he'd told her with a smile. “You're just so bossy.”

Moving into Harry's house wouldn't be such a bad idea, she thought. House, more like an estate, with that huge yard. It is beautiful.

The first thing Hermione saw when she apparated in was Harry, standing in the middle of the room, grinning like a fool and holding a handful of roses. Not the hybrid ones with layers and layers of petals, but simple, wild roses, with just four delicate petals each. She smiled; he would know what flowers were her favorite. How he knew was beyond her.

Hermione disliked that roses were such a traditional, typical gift, but she loved those simple roses still. This is why so few knew they were her favorite.

Then she realized she only saw Harry. In an empty room. With none of her belongings.

“Harry,” she said slowly.

“Surprise.” He was still grinning like a fool, though now looking slightly hesitant.

“Surprise,” she repeated.

Harry stepped to her and kissed her cheek. “Your favorite,” he said softly, handing her the bundle of flowers. “I have something to show you, too.”

“I bet you do,” she answered. “Be forewarned, I'm holding my temper in case this isn't such a nice surprise.”

Hermione thought she saw Harry gulp. He was cute when he was flustered.

“Hang onto me,” he said, wrapping his own arms around her waist and holding her close to him.

They disappeared in a swirl of color and reappeared at Harry's house. But it wasn't just Harry's house anymore, not like she remembered it.

There was a muggle picture of Hermione and her parents in Paris years ago on the fireplace mantel. There was her huge armchair and throw blanket she loved to curl up in and read just beside the fireplace. Her bookshelf stood against one wall, filled with all her knickknacks and books. But with some of Harry's, too. Framed pictures and paintings she had bought or printed speckled the wall. Her glass of potpourri sat on top of Harry's television set.

“Oh, Harry,” she breathed, turning on the spot to take in all of the living room.

“There's more,” he said taking her hand and leading her to his den.

Harry's house was huge in itself, but Harry had to have expanded it in the den. The room originally would not have been able to hold Harry's desk, and now Hermione's desk, and another bookcase with all her reference books and her sofa. More of her belongs had been scattered in here, as well. Her diplomas and certifications were on these walls instead of ornamental framings. Even her award from her first grade spelling bee. All her awards, ones she had never framed, Harry had mounted them and proudly displayed them. All of them.

Tears started to form. She laughed a little at herself for how sentimental she was being.

Harry showed her the entire house. Everywhere he had combined her belongs with his. Even his guest bathroom he merged her sea themed accessories with his warm mahogany accents. And everywhere their belongings united perfectly.

Here or there was something Hermione would change or donate to the goodwill when they had two, but that was later. Now was for Harry, for thanking Harry, for showing Harry how thoughtful he had been, how proud she was of him, how happy he had made her.

“Harry,” Hermione said softly wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him close, “it's lovely. Absolutely perfect.”

“Good surprise then,” he asked, returning her hug.

“The best surprise,” she assured him.

“I saved the best for last,” Harry smiled. He led her down the upstairs hall to the master bedroom. “Our bedroom.”

The gentleness he used with “our” combined with the dozens of dozens of bouquets of flowers around the room with their mingled belonging was almost too much. There were flowers everywhere, roses and tulips and daffodils and lilies and bouquets of the small little desert wildflowers Hermione had fallen in love with on her various travels. Hundreds of them. And they were all so beautiful.

“Harry, it's beautiful.”

He had made his room theirs. The television from her old bedroom was on a small cabinet holding several of her favorite books, a combination of some of Harry's sheets and some of Hermione's made up the bed with the antique chest of drawers she had found at a swap meet and restored sitting at the foot with her favorite childhood blankie draped over it.

So many little things Harry had done…

Hermione wandered into the master bathroom. It was huge. Gigantic even. A Jacuzzi tub the size of the ones found in the prefect's bath at Hogwarts stood in one corner surrounded by the candles from her own bathroom and the current romance novel she was reading on a little stand by the tub. Hermione felt slightly embarrassed that Harry had discovered her secret love for romance novels. She doubted she would have the same need for them now, however. She smiled shamelessly at the thought.

Next to the Jacuzzi tub was a massive open shower with several shower heads and complete with a wide bench as part of the wall. Her shampoo and conditioner had taken place beside Harry's in a little niche in the wall. Towels from both their homes were on wall racks across from the shower and tub. There were two sinks in the counter beside the shower, one with all her toiletries organized neatly around it, the other with Harry's scattered in his way. A door to the right of the sink left to the toilet. Might even be a “His” and “Hers” toilet in there with everything else Harry had magically altered in his house.

“Harry, when did you do all this?” Hermione asked amazed and touched. He just grinned, looking quite delighted with himself.

“Here, look,” Harry told her, practically pulling her to the closet. He was nearly giddy now that he was sure she wouldn't be upset.

Harry had expanded his walk in closet. It was nearly the size of the master bathroom now. The two side walls were closet space with oak organizers for Harry and Hermione's clothes. The back wall had an antique vanity set standing in the middle that was either restored to perfection or plucked out of the 19th century. To either side of the vanity set were more closet organizers especially for shoes, scarves, Hermione's purses, and Harry's ties. There was a giant dresser in the middle for more clothes. Opening a drawer, Hermione saw it was for play clothes, then another for her play clothes. She smiled and her heart swelled at Harry remembering something from her childhood she might have mentioned twice.

Hermione walked over to the vanity set. It was in superb condition, glowing with the shine of high polish and smelled of lemon furniture polish. The jewelry box she had inherited from her grandmother was placed to the right of the mirror, beside the little music box her father had given her.

She stood looking down at it, memories of her childhood, of her parents and grandparents flooding her mind and Harry wrapped his arms around her waist. He held her close to him, his strong arms making her feel so safe and loved.

“I take it you like it,” he said softly.

“I love it, Harry.” Her voice was full of emotion and a single tear slid down her cheek. She turned in his arms and hugged him fiercely. “How did you do all this?”

“Magic,” he grinned.

“Smart ass,” she muttered.

He kissed her forehead with a small laugh. “Ready for dinner?”

“You made dinner, too?” Hermione exclaimed. Nobody could be that good.

“No, I had it delivered.” Harry took her hand and led her out of the room. “I may be a wizard, but I'm not Superman. Now, if you still had your Time Turner…” he trailed off with a smile as she rolled her eyes. Harry was such a dork. It was one of the many reasons she loved him.

Dinner was simple but elegant, with some take out Italian food by candlelight. They talked like they always had, about anything and everything. They laughed and joked and teased as before when they were friends. But now there was kissing and caressing, flirtatious glances and sexual innuendos.

Hermione marveled inwardly at the smooth transition they had made from just friends to friends and lovers. If she and Ron had ever tried this, it would have been awkward. Ron would have blundered the whole thing up, and being with Ron like she had been with Harry just seemed…strange.

Hermione would have pondered it more, but Harry had just brushed her thigh with his fingertips. The contact made her legs break out in goose bumps. Through her pants no less! She felt that now familiar desire for him building in her center. Honestly, she was turning into some sort of sex addict. Hermione would probably be feeling quite tender at the moment if she hadn't taken a potion to relieve pains (specifically for there) along with her “morning after” potion.

She blamed Harry. It was entirely his fault for always looking so sexy and adorable and being completely insatiable and causing such burning desires in her.

“Let's take a bath,” Hermione said suddenly.

All. Harry's. Fault.

But why not reap the rewards? She thought devilishly.

Harry grinned. He looked the picture of a little boy at Christmas with all the presents under the tree, minus the baby fat.

And so they found themselves relaxing in the huge tub full of hot water, with candles the only light in the room. Hermione leaned her back against Harry's broad chest and sighed contently. His arms were around her, fingers tickling her sides. He was trying to make her squirm, the naughty boy.

Harry pressed his lips to her neck. “I've been in love with you for such a long time,” he murmured.

Hermione sighed and leaned into him more. “Since the whole hubbub after I defeated Voldemort,” he continued. “Everyone wanted to see Harry Potter, the Boy Who Conquered. Everyone. Nobody wanted me, except you and Ron.”

“You had more than one choice, then.” She smiled.

“Ron is not nearly as attractive as you,” he retorted, his hand moving to cup her breast.

“Since looking for the horcruxes,” she told him, enjoying the contact of his hand. “Maybe even earlier. I saw how you were taking everything on yourself, and how much you needed someone to lean on, to depend on, to comfort you. I wanted to be that person. I wanted to be the only woman to see you vulnerable and to help you. To love you.” She turned to face him. “Now I am,” she whispered.

He kissed her and the tender passion curled her toes. “You are,” he said hoarsely, kissing her check and then forehead. She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder, and gave a small content sigh. His hand was still on her breast and began massaging gently.

A quiet moan escaped Hermione as her body began to react to Harry and she felt his body react to her. It was like sitting on a bludgers bat.

We should move to the bed now, Hermione thought, pressing into Harry as his hands began caressing other sensitive spots of her body.

As though reading her mind, Harry effortlessly stood into a standing position, Hermione cradled in his arms.

“That was so hot, Harry,” she told him. He winked as he stepped carefully out of the water and left the bathroom.

They were both dry when Harry laid her in the middle of the massive bed. “You and your wandless magic,” she muttered, pulling him down to her by his shoulders so he hovered on elbows and knees above her.

“I didn't want to get the sheets wet,” he pretended to pout between kisses. His hand moved down her side and followed the arch of her hip to her center. His fingers tickled the insides of her thighs before touching her there. “My, you are wet,” he mumbles against her lips. “I'll have to remember my immense physical strength arouses you so.”

Hermione laughed as Harry's lips moved to suckle at her neck. Her laughter turned to a gasp when his fingers slid inside her, stroking her in a way that made her legs turn to jelly. His thumb touched her clit and her hips bucked against him.

Hermione wanted him inside her, wanted him to stretch and fill her the only way he could. She reached for his firm length; it felt so big in her hand. She marveled for a moment how velvety soft the skin was, how smooth and hard it was against her palm. She loved it.

She loved the small groans Harry made against her neck while she fondled his member. Until Harry, she had never realized how amazing a man's penis really was. It was fun just to hold. Hermione had a new toy.

Hermione positioned Harry, his fingers now gone, at her entrance. He eyes bore into hers as he entered her slowly. The intensity of his gaze made the breath catch in her throat. The feeling of his thick length slowly stretching her made her eyes flutter shut.

When he was fully engulfed inside her, Harry kissed her and whispered “I love you” in her ear. Hermione loved the feel of Harry filling her. She felt so complete with him buried inside her. It convinced her they were made for each other.

Harry gave small little tender kisses on her cheek, jaw, and neck while they relished being together. Their bodies wanted, needed, the movement of lovemaking, and soon, Harry rested his head on Hermione's, his eyes still boring into hers. He pulled out and slid his length back in, repeating the motion is a slow, steady, savoring pace. Hermione gasped loudly with each thrust as Harry hit that special spot inside that would drive her to ecstasy.

Their bodies moved in time with each other, Hermione's hips rising to meet Harry's thrusts. Still, Harry kept his eyes trained on hers, saying with his eyes, with each push into her, that he loved her.

With Harry's steadying driving force of his penis and the intensity of his gaze, Hermione soon reached her first climax. She broke eye contact with Harry, her eyes closing as her body arched into him. “Oh, Harry!” she gasped loudly, harshly, to the room. Harry's movements continued in the slow and steady pace, riding out her orgasm, drawing her orgasm out.

“Hug me,” Harry told Hermione when her gasping died down. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and Harry rolled over onto his back.

“Impressive, Potter,” she said with a smile, sitting up and sinking down further onto his length. She began to move her hips against him to settle in better.

“I…try,” Harry muttered. Hermione wondered how what she was doing felt to him. She knew it was the sliding motion along the penis that essentially brought a man to climax, but did these shifting sideways motions still feel pleasurable to him? They surely felt good to her.

Hermione was sinking further into pondering when Harry gave a small thrust up that brought her out of her reflections. “You were getting that pensive look that has nothing to do with sex,” he answered when she looked at him. “Only you, Hermione Granger, would find something worth studying or pondering while actually having sex.”

“Oh, and you want me to focus entirely on having sex?” she teased.

“No,” he grinned, lacing his fingers with hers. “I want you to focus entirely on having sex with me.” He grinned further.

Hermione leaned down and brushed her lips against Harry's. “As you wish,” she whispered against his lips. She knew he would recognize the words from one of her favorite movies, The Princess Bride, and understand their meaning.

Her hands pressed Harry's into the mattress as Hermione began to rise and fall on his stiff member. Hermione could ride Harry all day like this, and she was sure he would let her.

She kept her rhythm slow, like Harry had, to savor the sentimentality of the night. Her breasts brushed against Harry's chest and soon his hands left hers to caress and massage her chest and back. His hands rubbed firmly along her spine, massaging out all kinks and aches she didn't realize she had. Her back arched as his ministrations bringing her breast in line with his face. Harry took the opportunity to take a nipple in his mouth and suckle. One hand fondled the other breast while she continued to ride him.

Merlin did it feel good! Harry's hands caressing her back and chest, his tongue dancing on her breast and nipple, his long, hard penis sliding in and out of her… It was almost sensory overload. She didn't know how much longer she would last before climaxing again.

As if reading her thoughts, or her body, or something, one of Harry's hands slid down her body to where they were joined and touched her clit. His thumb pressed gently and circled over the sensitive nubbin of nerves. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Or rather, the caress that caused Hermione's orgasm. She bit her lower lip and groaned as she bucked against Harry, who continued caressing with his hands and tongue.

Harry began thrusting up into Hermione, his pace slow but steadily increasing. Hermione lay flat against Harry's body, their arms holding each other, rubbing each other, as Harry began to drive more quickly. The feeling was incredible; Hermione's head was spinning. She bit down on Harry's shoulder to keep from shrieking in his ear.

There would be a huge bruise on Harry's shoulder in the morning, Hermione knew, but at the moment she didn't care. Harry's relentless pounding drove her to another orgasm and the explosion of ecstasy throughout her body brought a scream to her lips even as she bit down on Harry. Hermione felt this climax pull Harry over the edge with her. She felt her walls clench down on him, felt his member swell further, felt him call her name, felt him spill himself inside her, felt the pleasure of it all, felt the love between the two of them.

They untangled themselves and somehow slid under the strange combination of sheets, comforters, and pillows. Hermione rested her head on Harry's chest, his arm draped around her, as their heartbeats returned to normal. Her eyes fell shut and the rhythm of Harry's heart lulled her to sleep. Her last thought was this was a wonderful way to spend their first night together in their home.

*~*~*

They made love often in those first few months, as if they were trying to make up for lost time. It was aided by the fact that Harry had practically become a nudist when at home. Hermione was surprised he didn't apparate in from the Auror Department naked.

Soon, Harry proposed and the two had a small, private ceremony in the backyard of their estate. Just family and close friends, though all the Weasleys made up more than half the guest list themselves.

It was simple wedding, but elegant, and Harry gave Hermione everything she could have possibly wanted with it. The reception was an event she would never forget, with all the dancing and laughing, teasing and joking. After the reception, Harry and Hermione apparated to the Bahamas for their honeymoon and to consummate their marriage.

Hermione stopped taking her birth control potion that morning and ten months later, they were blessed with a little baby girl, Kathryn Lily, big blue eyes from Hermione's mum and black hair from Harry looking just like Hermione's baby pictures. Harry knew she would be just as smart as Hermione. Hermione knew she would just as much a troublemaker as Harry was.

Harry, determined to be an involved, loving father and turn all his children into Quidditch stars, had little Katie out on broomstick as soon as she could sit up on her own. He was with her of course, but that didn't ease Hermione's nerves or temper. It was that night Harry and Hermione found out how incredible make-up sex can be.

Three years later brought Benjamin Albus James to their life, looking exactly like Harry with baby fat. Harry, Ron, Fred and George couldn't have been more excited to have a little male Potter to teach all their devious tricks to.

When little Benji was heading off to the day school for kindergarten and Katie was starting the 3rd grade, the Potter family was surprised with twins. Andrea Rose and Jonathan Sirius both with Hermione's brown eyes, Jonathan inherited his father's untidy, jet black hair and Andrea Hermione's bushy brown locks.

Far too soon, the twins began their wizardry education at Hogwarts with Katie and Benji (making six Gryffindors in the family), and Harry and Hermione felt the minor empty nest syndrome. The feeling soon passed when they realized they could return to old habit of love making anywhere in the house. Harry resumed wearing nothing at home. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle when he would strut naked into a room and try to entice her. Usually, he was successful.

Harry and Hermione didn't have much to do as parents with guiding and educating anymore, it seemed. They were there for the congratulations and reassurance and for the boo-boos when their brood was home for the summer. Their children were all smart, with good heads on their shoulders, and used them for the most part. There was the occasion owl from Hogwarts reporting some incident of rule breaking or another. Hermione would send an owl to reprimand the child, as would Harry. Harry's letters, however, always seemed more on the side of congratulations for the prank.

All the children lucked out with getting Hermione's brains and Harry's athleticism. All were awarded prefects badges for their year and earned places on the Quiddtich team. Benjamin was named Quidditch Captain his seventh year and Andrea in her sixth year. Katie and Jonathan were named Head Girl and Head Boy in their final years of school. All were praised on their intelligence, maturity, good humor, leadership abilities and how well they got along with students and faculty alike, as well as the creativity and cleverness of their pranks. Harry and Hermione could not have been more proud of their children.

Their children grew up, went on to secondary school and into respected professions. Katie became a Healer, one of the most respected and talented in St. Mungo's, occasionally working alongside her mother in the Research Department. Benji played chaser for Puddlemere United, playing under Oliver Wood for several seasons, while taking some Healer classes to become an athletic trainer of sorts for professional Quidditch teams. Jonathan followed his father's footsteps into Auror Training and quickly jumped to the top of all his classes, graduating early and with honors. Andrea took writing classes at a muggle university and became a successful author in both the muggle and wizarding worlds, writing children's books, young adult novels and fantasy for all ages.

Though they lived at home while attending classes after graduating from Hogwarts, one by one Harry and Hermione's children grew up and moved out into their own flats or houses. One by one they dated, met their significant other and got married. All the children opted to have their wedding ceremony and reception on the Potter Estate, for tradition, more than anything.

Looking back on their life, Harry and Hermione could agree their wedding the best night of their lives. Except, of course, for that night in the cabin in the woods all those years ago.

*~*~*

NOW Fin

Thank you, Libby, for all that you've done. Lol, Chester.

Note: The human gestation period is in fact, 40 weeks, or 10 months.

Note 2: “As you wish,” is from the movie The Princess Bride. The farm boy Wesley says it to Buttercup when he really means “I love you”. The Princess Bride is honestly one of the best movies of all time. Definitely top 5 in all of cinema history.

For awhile now I've been joking with my friend that to pay for college and supplement my income, I'll become an Adult Romance Novelist. With a pseudonym, of course. Now, I'm seriously considering it. Because there's like a million of them. And skimming through some of the books, I'm as good as or better than them. Not to toot my own horn or anything… Lol

Now for your help. If you think I should attempt such a feat, please review and give me your opinion (or email, if you would feel more comfortable). Also, please give me your opinion on these potential pseudonyms and which you think I should use.

- Stephanie Stryde

- Lillian Kepp

- Erin Forrester

Any other ideas are also welcomed =) Email is green_evans@hotmail.com.

*Cheesy announcer voice* To learn more about your author, feel free to visit her website, www.myspace.com/rose_libs. Thank you for your support. *End cheesy announcer voice*

Yes, I am a dork. And proud =)

For the record, I have a Big-Blue-Eyes look that is extremely effective. Have not yet tried it with sex, however.

Now I'm off to find my boy ;)

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