A/N: I'm sorry for the lack of updates! But hopefully this has been worth the wait. I estimate about two to three chapters left, hopefully all worth it. Thanks so much for the reviews! I'll try to respond to them this time, so please keep them coming. And without further ado, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Everyone knows that these characters are JKR's. If they were mine, we would have seen a different ending. Do we need to go there?
Chapter 4: Awake
Harry could not help but squint his eyes as the morning light greeted him. He immediately, on instinct, just as he did every morning, reached for his glasses. However, he found the task to be impossible at this point, for the night table was blocked by Hermione's body, which was, he observed rather smugly, snuggled comfortably on the side of his chest, his arm draped around her while her head rested on his shoulder.
He sighed, letting his sense of smell bask in her sweet cinnamon scent.
He could not remember for how long he had wanted this. Last night had been…he could not even put it into words. Hermione was finally his; he had made her his own.
He sighed, his mind recalling the pleasant, passionate memories of last night, the feeling of her under him…over him…beside him…her kisses and touches…to say that it had been perfect was a huge understatement. Perfect paled in comparison to how he was feeling right now. He knew that after last night, he would never want to sleep alone again. To think that he could produce such reactions from the woman that his heart had longed for was priceless.
Harry chuckled as he remembered Hermione in Victor's arms at the Yule Ball…the ghostly monster of jealousy had immediately snuck in and that night, he finally admitted to himself that his heart had been taken, despite the fact that he decided not to act on his feelings because Ron fancied her during that time. That it took him two more years to get what he wanted, well, that was a thing of the past now.
But what about Voldemort? So much for the good news…he would come after her, especially now that he was vulnerable to her, no matter how much Occlumency he practiced.
Yet, now that he had expressed his feelings for her last night, how could he push her away? The mere thought of it brought immense dread to his heart.
But he had almost lost her once and not even Ron had been able to stand him that horrible week. He had not eaten, had not slept, and had absolutely refused to leave Hermione's side. Madam Pomfrey had gotten annoyed with him more than once, when she had to basically kick him out of the Hospital Wing when a procedure was due.
Harry sighed once more. No matter how much his heart protested, he knew that he had to do something. This was his fight. He was not going to let Hermione risk her life a second time, much less because of him. If something happened to her, he knew he wouldn't be able to…
"Don't you dare."
Harry's eyes opened wide as Hermione's sweet voice filled his ears. Only it did not sound so sweet at this point.
He sighed, both with anticipation and dread as he prepared to look into the face of his best friend, who had been his just hours earlier.
"Hermione," he whispered, but did not move.
"Look at me Harry," she commanded. There was no tenderness or pleading tone in her voice, but a firm authority that he knew his heart could not refuse after what she had given him. Even before she had been his, he could not deny her anything; what made him think he could start now?
"I'm sorry," he said, then turned to glance at her.
She was a sight to behold. Her swollen lips, her wavy hair all over the pillow…she was simply a goddess, his goddess. Her eyes, despite their sheer determination, held a glint of happiness, a peacefulness that he had never seen there before.
Hermione sighed.
"No you're not," she stated simply. There was no anger, just affirmation.
He smiled. She knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. Of course he was not sorry. How could he be? This was, after all, what he had wanted for so long. But he had to be strong, for her sake. He could not risk losing her, not when he had come so close a year ago.
"You are so beautiful," he stated.
He did not want to fight with her, not when his mind was relishing the beautiful memories of last night, and not ever. Not when he could spend, frankly, the rest of his existence imagining the feeling of her beneath him, enraptured, and emitting all those sweet noises that his touches provoked. But apparently, Hermione was not in the mood to be flattered.
"Don't give me that crap, Harry," she snapped, the peacefulness in her eyes replaced by the fire of determination, of defiance, as her body tensed against his.
There was no way that Hermione would allow him to pull away now, not when she had given her virginity to him, like she had wanted since she was old enough to think about sex. Now he was hers, she would not relinquish him, would not let him think this was just a spur of the moment, not when he had said he loved her last night.
She winced, the pain in the abrasion giving a little pulse through her body. That, combined with the soreness that she felt in her lower area, a result of her vigorous activities last night, did not particularly make Hermione a happy camper. Not that she was sorry, she was after all, happier than any previous moment in her life. But she would make sure to keep it that way. Not to mention she would pull Dolohov's head out with her own hands when she finally got to him, but that was a story for another time.
Unfortunately, now that Harry knew her body as well as her mind and her heart, her small reaction had even smaller chances of escaping him.
Harry sighed, half amused, half worried as he pulled her on top of him, pressing her against him to counterbalance the pain and stroking her lower back as he kissed her forehead. As far as he knew, it was his compliment that had started this.
"I'm fine," Hermione muffled against the crook of his neck, where she had placed her head as she pressed her abdomen further against his body. Harry could feel her trembles, the beginning of her tears against his chest. At least she was not resisting the pain today.
"Let it go, `Mione," he whispered tenderly.
Suddenly, Harry's eyes opened wide as Hermione pressed further against him, and the thin layer of sweat that was forming in his chest as a result of the friction did not help matters. They were after all, still under the blankets of Hermione's bed, no cotton between them to absorb the heat that the bodies were giving off. And he sure hoped that Hermione's throbbing pulsations were going away, because his body was reacting prematurely to what should have been an effort to counterbalance her pain.
To make matters worse, in Harry's point of view in terms of arousal instead of the calmness he was supposed to radiate in order to soothe his best friend, Hermione's lips landed roughly against his, making his body react that much faster. He was not going to complain at the moment however. Yet, he still was somewhat lost as to how Hermione's pain was subsiding. If he was aroused, she had to feel something too, or at least that was what he hoped.
He blinked as he felt a tiny drop of water hit his cheek. He heard Hermione sigh ever so slowly before breaking the kiss. She let out a breath and settling against his chest once more. The pressure was no longer there; her body was finally relaxed against his. She just refused to settle anywhere but on top of him.
A sure sign that he did not mind her chosen position in the least, Harry's hands did not stop caressing her lower back, an effort began when he felt the first pulsations of her body against him.
"Better?" he whispered.
"Mm-hmm." Hermione nodded.
"What was it this time? What was the breaking point Hermione?" Harry whispered once more.
Ever since they had discovered what triggered the pulsations, stress, they had been keeping track of what exactly was the point of high stress, the moment that the body could not hold off any longer, and would exude painful pulsations through the scar of her wound and its surroundings. Harry knew Hermione could not just relax, but perhaps discovering the trigger points would help her learn to control the pulsations better.
"You," Hermione answered in resignation.
Harry sighed. He had expected a similar answer, given the fact that she winced when he was trying to give her the compliment. He had a general idea of where she was going with this, and frankly, he did not want to go there. He was knee-deep in trouble as it was. He would isolate her from trouble, keep her protected, whatever the cost, and he wished she could understand that. However, if he chose to avoid it now, it was bound to come up later, if she did not bring it up first.
Yet, before he could explain his frame of thinking, Hermione beat him to the punch.
"Look Harry, I know what you're thinking," she began, whispering. She did not want to make him angry, and this conversation was eerily familiar, reminiscent of what had happened two days ago when she had confronted Harry about his isolation. And although a kiss to halt the argument did not hold the same meaning as it did when Harry first tried the gesture, Hermione wanted to finish the argument first, and kiss later.
"Do you?" Harry glanced up at her, and that was when she noticed the reason why she was so comfortable. She was still on top of him, but his hands had stopped the subtle massage on her lower back. Reluctantly, she moved to the side of the bed, facing him. If she stayed where she was, playing with Little Harry, which was not so little, might become too much of a temptation.
"Right now, you're thinking of the best way to get out of here without hurting my feelings, without making me feel that I was taken advantage of, and the best way of telling me that this can never happen again because you want to keep me from getting wounded the way I was at the Department of Mysteries. Not to mention the war you are waging against yourself because you want this as much as I do. Am I close?" she could not help but chuckle at the amount of knowledge in her mind that was solely devoted to him. She loved him, always had, and could not, and frankly refused, to deny it any longer.
Harry sighed, and couldn't help himself, reaching out his hand to touch Hermione's wild curls. She had him spot on, but what else could he expect from his best friend, the owner of his heart?
"I wish I could tell you differently," he replied, his hand reaching under the blanket to settle his hand on her wound. Hermione let out a breath. His touch, especially on her bare skin, could send wonderful sparkles of electricity through her body, more so now that she knew where his wonderful caresses could lead. But she couldn't go there, not yet.
She smiled thinly, putting her own hand on top of his. She let out a breath, afraid of what she was about to do, to ask, but she could not go where she wanted otherwise. Her nervous gesture earned her a questioning glance from Harry.
"Are you all right? Is it your wound again?" He made to remove his hand from her body, but her own kept it pressed there.
"I'm fine." She looked at him, her eyes displaying full vulnerability. "Harry, do you love me?"
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