Yay, part 2 up! And this is the end, of Hermione's POV. This chapter is why I rated it R.
Now, before you go on, I must say that the main reason I kept Dumbledore alive is, well, he says one sentence (bet you can't guess which one) that I just can't see McGonagall saying. As for Lupin, you'll soon see why.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter (c) JKR. Plot (c) Me.
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"Maybe, Definitely"
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Part II
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"I think about it all the time…"
She pulled out her wand, waving it in his direction, and muttered Finite Incantatem. Not wanting to give him a chance to speak, Hermione dipped her head and kissed him. An innocent and tender kiss, nothing like their first kiss. And she vaguely thought that this is how their first kiss was supposed to be; tentative, tender and innocent, not rushed, heated and desperate.
She drew back from him and stared into his eyes, wide with wonder. And she saw he was as confused about his feelings for her as she was about her feelings for him, but that was okay because it meant he returned her feelings, that were deeper than those of friendship but not enough to be love. Yet.
"What about-?"
"-Forget it."
The next thing she knew, he grabbed the back of her head and her waist, pulled her into his lap, and crashed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was rushed, heated, and desperate. Just like their first kiss. Everything was just like that night. Only this time instead of the tent's floor there was a bench on the Gryffindor's Quidditch stands and instead of the danger of dying there was the danger of getting detentions were they to get caught. And it still felt good, perfect even, and so right it was hard to believe-because this feeling of right shouldn't be something that happened between them.
They drew in gasps of air when they could, never pulling apart long enough to feel the lack of contact. Holding onto each other like there was no tomorrow. Lips parting, teeth clashing, tongues exploring, and moans already rumbling on their throats. His hands finally caught up to him, moving from their stationary spot (one going up, caressing her back, and the other going down, moving to one side of her neck) and meeting on her shoulders to push her robe open and down her arms and onto the floor rather roughly, revealing her uniform, minus jumper. His hands wandered up again, passing over her bum -grabbing it firmly to shift her position on his lap until she was straddling him properly, their bodies flushed together- towards her hips, caressing up her sides and moving just so to cup her breasts, squeezing lightly to test the waters.
Thoughts of this is wrong and something's not right with this picture drifted in and out of her mind, not one staying long enough for her to comprehend it. She was, however, aware of her body responding to his ministrations rather enthusiastically; her hips grounding into his, rubbing against the growing bulge on his trousers, and her hands roaming clumsily, pulling off his jumper and sliding under his shirt to feel his skin. The muscles of his abdomen clenched every time her fingertips touched him, making her shudder.
She felt his hands fumbling with her tie, and then the buttons of her shirt. Only one button had been undone before she felt the cool air hit her skin rather suddenly. She gasped, pulling away abruptly from his mouth, and then moaned loudly, her fingernails running down his chest, when Harry's mouth touched the oversensitive skin of her chest. His mouth left a wet trail from her collarbone down the valley of her breast, backtracking all the way up to her neck where he sucked at the skin there a little too eagerly.
That's going to leave a-
Her train of thought halted, brain shutting down, the moment his mouth moved south and sucked one of her nipples through the fabric of her bra, fingers pinching the other. And she was all sensations and feelings after that. She squirmed on top of him, trying to ease the tension building up inside her, but stopped her movements at the feel of Harry's hands on the bare skin her tights. Hermione groaned in protest, withdrawing her hands from under his shirt; she moved them up to pull at his hair and bring his mouth to hers again.
Harry grunted against her mouth and, suddenly, her world spun around and she had the edge of a bench digging into her back roughly and Harry rubbing against her desperately-and kissing her and groping her. She responded with equal desperation, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him closer, closer, until all she could feel was his mouth on hers and his well-toned body pressing into her own and his cock thrusting into her crotch as if trying to break through his trousers and her knickers.
And this was it, this moment, this feeling, when they were reduced to grunts and groans and moans and whimpers and gasps of HarryHarryHarry and HermioneHermioneHermione. And even if she thought this was too rushed and too rough and too desperate -and where was the tenderness and the sweet passion and the Love?- it felt perfect and right and she wished for their clothes to disappear and for her to just stop thinking. And then there were the feelings, that came hand in hand with their sounds, and Fawkes chirps and-
Wait, Fawkes?
Hermione started, pushing urgently at Harry and urging him to move, her eyes snapping open just in time to see Fawkes descend on Harry's shoulder and hit his head with its beak, making him jump away from her. She didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry in frustration at their predicament; whatever reason had Fawkes to interrupt them, he certainly succeeded in killing the mood. Harry looked at her a moment, and the turned to the phoenix, and she suddenly felt very self-conscious, moving her arms to cover her almost naked chest before reaching for her robes.
What a major turn off…
"What is it, Fawkes?" she heard Harry say, followed by the bird's mighty cry and the flapping of wings.
And then she heard it.
Oh, God.
Voices. Voices she knew well-not as well as Harry's or Ron's, but well enough. Coming from their staircase, and getting nearer with every second. And while in any other situation she'd have been delighted to see the owners of these voices, right now they were the last persons she wished to see, especially under her current state of dress-or is it undress?
"Albus, was it really necessary to ask us to come with you? Certainly, this is not the first time Fawkes leaves like that."
Hermione, frozen on the spot, and with her mind racing in search of a immediate solution -which would be to find her shirt and tie and get dressed before the Professors reached the top of the stairs- for their predicament, dared a glance at Harry, whose eyes were fixated on the stairs before glancing at her, and was looking as panicked as her. She started again as Fawkes let out another cry, alerting the unexpected visitors of its presence.
"Ah, you hear, Minerva? Fawkes is here. I knew he wanted to show us something."
"But, Professor Dumbledore, how do you know it's us, and not just you?"
"Ah, well, he did wait until you were in my office to take off, did he not, Remus?"
Suddenly, something soft hit Hermione in the face, and she heard Harry moving quietly around her as he hissed a soft "Put that on, hurry!". Only after she slipped the clothe on did she realized what it was, but before she could protest, Harry shoved quickly the robes she had dropped and her discarded tie into her arms, throwing a cloak over her -his Invisibility Cloak- just in time for him to turn around and face the arriving figure of the Headmaster. Fawkes now was sitting happily on the railings.
"Ah! There you are Fawkes-oh, hello Harry," said Professor Dumbledore.
Hermione put on her robes as quietly as possible, pocketing her tie, and watched nervously as Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin, who had come back to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts again, stepped into view. They both halted their movement when they saw Harry standing there, fidgeting uncomfortably.
"Mister Potter, what are you doing here?" asked Professor McGonagall, looking slightly alarmed. And Hermione wondered briefly if she was considering about taking points from Gryffindor.
Professor Lupin, on the other hand, looked merely curious and slightly amused, probably thinking it was about time Harry regained his habit of getting in trouble at the beginning of each term, as they were nearing Halloween now.
"Um, hello, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Remus-I mean, Professor Lupin," Harry said a bit tensely.
"Are you alright, Harry?" said Professor Lupin, looking concerned now.
Just as Hermione thought things couldn't get any worse, Professor Dumbledore looked straight at her, and smiled.
"And hello to you too, Ms. Granger," he said.
Harry tensed considerably, and she sighed in defeat. Stepping next to her friend, she pulled off the cloak and folded it in her arms. The blush rose to her cheeks as her eyes found an interesting spot on the floor, purposely avoiding everyone's gaze.
"Um, hi…"
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Things couldn't have gotten worse than they did after Professor Dumbledore revealed her presence back in the Quidditch stands, but somehow, the situation ended up being downright horrible.
Hermione couldn't remember a time where she'd been so embarrassed in her life.
Shortly after she had pulled the Invisibility Cloak off, Professor McGonagall had bombarded her with questions; what was she doing there, and why hadn't she escorted Harry back to the Gryffindor Tower and ("Ms. Granger, it is your duty as Head Girl to make sure no students go around breaking rules! Just because Mr. Potter is your friend-") some others questions she couldn't find answers to. And she soon had found herself growing steadily more nervous under the curious glance of Professor Lupin, and the knowing look of Professor Dumbledore.
And then, it happened.
Professor Lupin had spotted something under the benches and knelt to pick it up as Professor McGonagall kept on interrogating her, but her attention -and Harry's, she remembered- had been drawn to the object on Professor Lupin's hand, watching with growing horror as he examined the object closely. She felt Harry tense, if it was possible, even more and they locked gazes for a short moment before looking ahead once more. Hermione had been sure her expression mirrored his own.
The object was her shirt; her torn shirt.
"What is that, Remus?"
Professor McGonagall's voice cut through their shocked state, but before she or Harry could say something in their defence, Professor Lupin had handed her the garment. They looked at her, and then at Harry, and then back at her, and so on, taking in their state of dress.
Harry's messy hair was even messier than normal; his shirt was half tucked in, some of the top buttons undone, no jumper, and no robes. His flushed cheeks hadn't helped either, nor had his fidgeting. She, on the other hand, hadn't looked any better; hair all wild, cheeks flushed, and doing her best to hide the oversized jumper under her robes, but failing miserably as it only attracted attention to her shirt-less neck.
Hermione had watched as realization dawned upon the adults, and under other circumstances she might have laughed (though, not out loud) at how alarmed Professor McGonagall looked, but the mere thought of detention, and the points she and Harry may have lost to their House, at the beginning of the year no less, killed it before it reached her throat. It hadn't passed long for the Professors to put two and two together; their reaction had been immediate.
"Harry!/Hermione!"
"I don't believe this-!/-Not from you!"
"And out in the open-!/-In the Quidditch Pitch!"
"How could you-!/-You are Head Girl, for Merlin's sake!"
That had been the only words she understood, because after that both professors began to pace back and forth, muttering under their breath. When they had stopped pacing, looking ready to start yelling at them again, Professor Dumbledore -kind, kind Dumbledore- spoke gently, but clearly. He had been frowning slightly, but she hadn't been able to tell if it was disappointment, or amusement, what she saw in his eyes.
"Now, now, professors, there is no need to rush into any conclusion. I'm sure Harry and Miss Granger have a good explanation for this."
Hermione thought that moment to be the only moment in her life where she hadn't had a clue of what to say. She'd tried to think of anything to salvage their predicament, but nothing seemed to explain their state of clothing, still, she couldn't had just stayed quiet.
"I-that is… I was-we were… I-" she remembered stammering, but Harry had interrupted her.
"It's all my fault."
Hermione suppressed a sigh as her eyes took in the wonder that was Dumbledore's office.
After those four words from Harry, Professor Dumbledore had dismissed Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin, saying he would take care of the matter, and beckoned them to follow him to his office. And here they were now, waiting for the Headmaster to say something-anything.
Professor Dumbledore levelled them with a steady gaze and clasped his hands under his chin. Her torn shirt lay on the desk, a constant reminder of what happened-or what could have happened had the Professors not interrupted them just then.
"Well, I am waiting."
Of all the things Hermione thought he would say, that was not one of them. Dumbledore looked the image of patience.
She sighed, knowing well what she had to say. The revised truth. Revised, because she wasn't about to tell Hogwarts' beloved Headmaster all the naughty details of what transpired back in the Quidditch Pitch. God forbid, she'd rather fail her N.E.W.T.s than tell the world she almost shagged Harry Potter in the Quidditch Pitch, which was saying something. Harry, however, beat her to it, again.
"I told you, Professor, it's my fault."
"Harry-" she said, grabbing his arm to catch his attention, determined to not let him blame himself for something in which both were as guilty as the other. Sometimes, she really disliked his saving-people-thing.
"Are you implying, Harry," said Dumbledore, drawing their attention to him, "that you forced yourself on Miss Granger?"
Harry reacted immediately at this suggestion. He leaped off his chair, looking angry and ready to lash out on the Headmaster; thus surprising her greatly on the process.
"What-No!! I'd never-especially Hermione!! How can you-?!"
Harry was fuming. She instinctively grasped his hand, attempting to calm him down and succeeding enough to force him back into his seat.
Professor Dumbledore didn't even look surprised, "Then how, I ask, is the matter your fault, Harry?"
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again once he realized he didn't have an answer this time. She squeezed his hand slightly, locking eyes with him a moment, and turned to face Dumbledore.
"Actually, Professor, it's my fault."
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Unlike earlier that night -or yesterday, but who's keeping track of time now?- things had gone rather smoothly for them back in Dumbledore's office. She was sure the Headmaster had knew already what had happened, though maybe without many details she hoped, but he'd still made them explain. And explain she had, in a very rushed way, and trying to be as vague as possible ("We were talking, and then I kissed him and one thing led to another and…"), but assuring Dumbledore that they got only as far as snogging; deep, serious snogging.
Hermione knew they should've gotten more than an indefinite detention (helping Madam Prince reorganize the library, replacing the destroyed books for some new volumes, until everything was back in place) given what they almost did, but she supposed Professor Dumbledore must know something to have been this lenient with them, especially after his parting comment.
"I will tell Madam Pince about your punishment," he had said to them as they had crossed the door, adding quietly, "Ah, to be young and in love."
What is that supposed to mean?
Her thoughts drifted to Harry, who had been unusually quiet since they left Dumbledore's office. She kept glancing at him, noticing his serious expression. He seemed to be deep in thought.
Once they reached the seventh floor, Harry stopped and turned to face her, a determined look on his face. After a heavy sigh, he spoke.
"Hermione, about earlier-about what I said back in the Quidditch Pitch… you know, about wanting you all for myself, I…" he trailed off, biting his bottom lip before continuing, "I meant it, all of it. I do want you, Hermione, in every way I can think of, I-I need you, badly… I don't even think I can put a name to what I'm feeling right now, but I'm sure it's been there always, growing gradually from the very beginning at least and… it's just part of me now."
She smiled tenderly at him, grabbing his hands in reassurance. "I know, Harry, I need you too, badly. You've been part of my life for so long now, and I've grown so used to be with you, that I don't think I'll… And I want you, too, all for myself; however selfish that sounds, it's true."
Harry smiled then, and squeezed her hand a little. That simple gesture said everything there was left to say, and, as always, they understood each other perfectly. They stood like that for a few moments more. Harry opened his mouth to say something else, but no sound came out of it. Instead, his gaze fell from her face and his eyes widened. She followed his gaze and her own eyes widened at what she saw too.
The incessant, gentle brush of Harry's jumper on her skin, plus his unique scent, ever present in the back of her mind, and the cool temperature of the castle had caused havoc in her body; someone needed only to see her hardened nipples through the fabric of both, her bra and the jumper, to realize that.
And Harry was realizing it too much at the moment, if his hungry look was any indication of what was running through his head.
Her face flushed hot and she tightened her grip on his hands. "Harry…"
His gaze snapped up to meet hers and he blushed too, releasing one of his hands, he scratched the back of his head nervously. "I-I'm sorry, I…"
She shook her head and smiled at him. Harry shut up instantly, and fidgeted a bit, averting his eyes and looking at everything but her. After what seemed like hours, his eyes came to rest on hers, and with apparently great effort of not looking at anything under her neck, he spoke again.
"So, does that…?" a pause, a deep breath, "Does that meant that you and I-that we're like… together now? As a couple?"
She opened her mouth to reply, but Harry couldn't seem to stop talking-more like babbling, actually.
"But I'll understand if you don't want."
"Harry…"
"And I don't want you to feel obligated to accept just because you don't want to hurt my feelings."
"Harry…"
"I'll really understand. The least I'd want is for our relationship to become awkward just-"
"Harry!"
He clamped his mouth shut and stared.
"Slow down, please. Don't make me cast the Silencing charm on you again."
Harry took one deep breath and proceeded. "What I'm trying to say is… I was wondering if you -you know- would like to go out with me, sometime, just the two of us?"
"As… a date?" she prompted gently, wanting him to say it.
"Maybe?"
She should've known, Harry was still too insecure about some things for his own good. But, oddly enough, she was finding that utterly endearing-perhaps she had always found it endearing.
Hermione smiled, "Definitely."
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The End.
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Well, that's it, the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Anyway, next instalment gonna be from Harry's POV, which I haven't even started it yet.
Just so you know, if I take too long in posting new stories, that's because I like to have them finished before uploading them, that way I can update once or twice within the month. Otherwise, I take forever updating, and I mean forever (I'm a procrastinator to the extreme). And please, if you see typos, some other mistake, just tell me so I can fix it.
Oh, and before I forget, would you like me to add Harry's POV for this twoshot, or is it just fine with Hermione's?
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