Life and Times
Rating: R
Ship: HHr (main emphasis)
The (unlovely) procedure: all rights go to JKR for previous plot and characters, Scholastic, Warner, and whoever else has their hands in HP.
Author Note: R? NC-17? Ratings? Fun? What's not fun about sex? Thought I'd write something "recreational" like this before diving into something else. I also find it funny that one of the definitions of recreation is - `an agreeable exercise'. Haha! Plus, I'll be on a bit of a hiatus and thought I'd release this beforehand. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: The first sentence should have your decision.
***
Chapter Fourteen ~ Recreation
I didn't mean to pull her hair. My fist wound in those dark mahogany locks, wild and free from her abrupt movements of forward and back. She lay between my legs, my legs spread on our bed. She woke me from my light sleep with a kiss to my lips, and then a grab and fondle of me beneath the sheets. I think she began to love the playful tease of the actions, and how I couldn't quite get to every part of her body. Sometimes she'd swat my hand away. I followed instructions most of the time, but this morning we were as one.
Our breaths were together. Our pantings were synchronized. If she moaned, I would moan right back in reply. Her soft hair was slightly wet from our prior tussle, leaving us exhausted. I was woken from where we had fallen asleep. She hadn't looked up at me in the past few minutes, completely attentive on her stroking and how I would push up into her. I felt my body out of control at times, and would thrust periodically in her mouth as reflexive twitch. I couldn't hold back, my body urging her to pump. She was great at pumping me.
I tugged on her hair the second I felt my muscles tense. I felt the graze of her teeth against my foreskin, but from all the blood rushing to my erection, I found a liking to the wince of pain. As if pain had become a tool for my arousal. Hermione stayed on me, working me over with one hand while her head bobbed. She had to have felt me release, and then I knew she had. I startled her at first, her head flinching from the gush in her mouth. She remained stationary for a moment as another long spurt relieved from me, and slowly she began once more.
My eyes crisscrossed and my face scrunched. I groaned, the pressure drifting out of me. Hermione growled hungrily, animalistic from her throat. She eyed me from her position, her cinnamon irises large and her black pupils dilated. She swallowed what she contained and smirked that sexy, little smirk.
I tried to smile, but she had me stop. She licked a line from the bottom and traced along the backside of my member to the top. I let my head fall back on the bed, my hands rummaging around her chaotic hair. I felt her pull me back and caress the tip, and then lay me gently down on my lower abdomen. I glanced towards her, my fully naked Hermione crawling on her hands and knees above me.
I managed to smile this time, though my grin probably came out wonky. I felt a little on the dumb side. Hermione had shut off and started my mind to the point where I didn't know if I was coming or going. We hadn't been doing this for a long time, having been virgins a week back, but boy, was she beautiful at it. She was rather pleased on her end as well. I thought I delivered nicely, and when I'd make her shake as much as I wanted her to shake each and every time, I'd give myself a high-five.
Hermione's pink tongue licked at my smiling mouth. Something told me she wanted inside, and I laughed a little. "Open sesame!" She raised her brow. I lifted to kiss her. We slipped to the side, our noses meshing, or tongues meeting each other. I loved tasting her vanilla. She told me I tasted of warm apple strudel, or sometimes whipped cream, or milk chocolate, or cherries-everywhere. She said I was like Bertie Botts Every Flavor Jelly Beans, never really knowing what I'd taste like next with each new flavor more appetizing than its previous. She especially loved when my flavor was pumpkin pie.
She slipped her fingers into my untidy strands and pried me from her. She tugged at those strands, the fat of her tongue gliding across my cheek as she turned me to the side. She pulled me the other way and did just the same, lapping my other cheek with her taste buds. I felt her saliva on my face, the cool air soothing me when she'd leave the spot. She licked the tip of my nose, and then down to my chin. Hermione pulled my hair into the pillow I lay on, making my chin rise so she could attack my throat with her tongue.
My hands were everywhere they could be. Her smooth skin my roads, my fingers the vehicles. I drove them along her back, along the twitching muscles of her upper back and down along the indent in its centre. I slipped around and felt of her frame, moving my palms against the sides of her breasts, to her ribs, and then to her hips. I felt of her ass and how she straddled me. My fingers gripped into the soft flesh and I rocked her little body against my torso roughly, her body paralleling my north-and-south motion as it wiggled.
She was wet against me and gradually grew more moisture by my play. She arched her back and tilted her head backward. She rolled a moan from off her tongue and smiled whilst breathing in a deep inhale. I found her shoulder with my teeth and bit down. She gasped. I left her quickly to bite her neck. She leaned away to give me access, her damp curtain falling off her right shoulder. I lapped at the crook of her neck where I'd bitten, consoling the teeth marks that dwelled.
I swatted a buttock when she bucked into me. I heard her sharply gasp and giggle from above. She lowered her face down to me and smashed her nose into my cheek as I caressed the hollow of her throat. Tenderly, I grazed the tip of my finger amongst her neck. She fidgeted under my tickle and kissed a line from my jaw to my ear.
I slipped my hands to her ribs once more and led her up on me. She moved away from me with a frown, unbeknownst to what I had in store. I adjusted how I lay with the back of my head fully on the pillow and motioned with my hands for her to slide towards the headboard. She did her smirk, her rose-coloured lips curling. She slid on me with a little bounce at the end, just before she climbed to her knees to move. I watched her perky breasts jiggle and wanted to feel them, but found it difficult as Hermione scooted towards me, that strip of lovable brunette hair closing in.
My hands went to her derriere and squeezed her, feeling the round shape of her buttocks while she stood on her knees.
"Come here…," I said quietly. I led her forward until she hovered over me. Hermione peered at me from her height, her hands going to her hair where she gathered the bunch of strewn locks and bundled them, draping them all along her right shoulder. Detecting her luscious, hot scent against my face, I ran the tip of my tongue across her pink. Hermione sharply drew a breath. Gently, I had her lower a teensy bit further and pushed my face into her. I smiled and murmured into Hermione gently as she adhered to my command, "…Good girl."
Her fingers made love to my hair. She'd stroke my curls, her nails scratching my head. Tenderly, she'd tug when I'd hit a spot and arch her back some. She had her eyes affixed to me for a while until her moans persisted to close them. She laid her forehead on the cool wall behind the headboard, beneath a painting of a hippogriff in flight at star-sparkling twilight, and slid her hand up to feel the top ledge of the stained wood. Her right hand remained within my hair. I heard her grip the headboard and jerk a little when my tongue flicked across her.
Her body kept still, erect on her knees. A pant would release from her and she'd rub her head against the wall. I squeezed her firm rear and gave it a tiny pat before sliding my hand against her hip and on upward across her stomach. She moved her elbow, her arm gliding the wall at my touch to allow me at her breast. I cupped her breast, felt of its slight mass in my hands and kneaded its softness against my palm. My hand went back to her abdomen and felt how it stretched her length, and then swiftly rose back to her breast.
I pressed her further upon me by her rear. Her knees adjusted, sliding down farther in her straddle. Her hand left my hair and gripped the ledge of the headboard as her other one had done. I nudged my nose into her mound and grinned when I heard her whine my name. I gave her breast a light squeeze and fell back to her buttocks. The arm that held her to the wall lowered as well, touching beside her face against the wall.
I heard her gasp into a squirm. I held her still and firm to the mattress as much as she wanted to shake on me. My ears perked up the sound of her moan before feeling her let go. Her knees began to buckle, but I tightened my clasp, my strength her base. I kept her on me, lapping and feeling like a kid at Christmas. I heard a pop of her joint and saw her arm fall to meet the other on the ledge of the headboard. Her forehead hit the wall and she cried my name in a pant. She bucked into my face and gradually the orgasm lessened.
She elongated a moan of pleasure from her perch. She backed into my hands, using them like a chair. My licking ceased when I felt her finish and sigh contently. I slid my arms to her ribs and lifted her from me, tossing her to the bed with a bounce. She gazed at me with grin and laughed a sexy little laugh.
She looked satisfied.
I ran my nose along her naked, prime-vanilla sweating body.
She smelled satisfied.
I found her mouth and licked it quick before plunging my tongue inside with hers.
She tasted satisfied.
I released from her mouth in a moan and nudged her nose in an Eskimo kiss. She purred, and we both said in our raspy, rough post-sex voices, "Thanks for breakfast."
I turned my head and laughed.
She giggled beneath me.
My tongue found hers once more, her body intermingling with mine again.
***
Leisurely, I placed one foot in front of the other, moving northward on the stairwell. I fixed me and Hermione a late lunch of ham sandwiches and a toss salad. We ate at our corner of the dining room. Close we sat. When she crossed her legs near the beginning, almost after setting her plate and then mine down on the table, she hooked her leg around my leg underneath. I scooted my chair towards her until they touched, and then, scooted myself so we felt each other thigh-to-thigh. Intermixed within our eating, we caught up in kisses. The ham sandwich tasted so much better on her lips.
Afterward, I cleaned and shooed her away. Of course, I had to protest against her wanting to stand there with me and do either of the washing or the drying. I told her to go relax. She just got home less than twenty-four hours ago, and I wanted that pill she took with the meal to process and digest. I asked her how she felt when we she started up the stairs and she smiled at me, replying with, "Absolutely fantastic."
I had tossed the rag over my shoulder after I finished with our dishes. The cloth's salmon hue pronounced loudly against my tan-like skin tone. I slipped my right hand in my dark blue jean pocket, my left sliding up the antique, wooden railing resembling the Victorian era. My ears had perked to the sound of music from the ground level and I went to go investigate Hermione. I found her extremely fascinating, my lovely specimen and beautiful multicellular-organism.
During the time between when she came into Number Twelve and now with me, we changed one of the many odd, unused rooms of the flat into her own, little studio. Whatever she wanted to do she could very well do in there, especially after her intense interest in all her artsy materials like music and creative crafts. She set up her guitar and its electronics within the three-dimensional space. She painted on the walls after we ran out specifically for acrylic and oil, watercolor and anything else she found worthwhile in strengthening the right hemisphere of her brain.
The song "Iris" by the Goo Goo dolls poured forth from the open door of her private studio. She had her back to me when I lounged on the frame of her door. She wore a shirt mimicking an off-white curtain, in such because of the way the shirt fit her. The top was rather stretched in places with her left shoulder and neck exposed as it hung on her arm. The cloth slid across her skin and merely created a loose representation of the curves of her body. Any and every curve, all of them draped in a limp cotton fixture.
She hadn't worn anything underneath after her shower before lunch. With just us two here, we didn't have to worry about others, being completely within our intimate element. She bent down to tap her brush on a palate, touching the olive acrylic with its tip. Her shirt went to her upper thigh, the rim caressing the thigh with every beat of her action's rhythm. I could see the silhouette of her breast, the shape of her ass, and the trim of her sides and hips when she moved.
I smiled at her. Hermione being so wound in her artwork, stroking a partially-white canvas on a tripod stand in front of her, she hadn't noticed me. She hummed the chorus when the band went into crescendo and sang angelically, "You're the closest to Heaven that I'll ever be, and I don't want to go home right now…"
Gazing around the room as I sneaked behind her, I saw our handprints all over the walls in multicolour. She had me play with her paints, drawing a half of a heart she finished in the centre of one wall. In the middle, I wrote "H" and she wrote "Hr". Beside and throughout the surface on the rest of the four walls she'd written from fingertips words of encouragement and words of love like hope, dream, live, cherish, smitten, embrace, and sex. The background of all of them lay in black, so the words written in white stood out bold. She even started writing dates on the walls of her most personal stories. One of them was the date we made love for the first time. Another, and I grin every time, wrote the day we kissed under the mistletoe at Hogwarts-our first kiss even if we were both innocent-she remembered.
I tiptoed right up behind her and caught her around the middle. She made a gasp in surprise and made a jump in my arms. She smiled when she knew it had been me. I could feel every bit of her beneath the sheer material. She lay back into me, standing flat near my feet, and continued her brush strokes. When I scared her, she'd made a mistake, making a streak along the white she hadn't painted.
I caressed her bare shoulder with my lips, "I'm sorry."
"It's all right," she grinned. She turned to me and softly kissed my lips before resuming another stroke.
The CD player on the floor switched to the next track in her mixed music. The Righteous Brother's "Unchained Melody" massaged the room with its tender, loving lyrics. I tightened my arms around my Hermione and caressed the crook of her bare neck.
"I hope it isn't messed up now."
Hermione shook her head from side-to-side, her hair tickling my nude skin, "I can fix it. Not a problem."
"I came up here because I grew lonely," I kissed alongside her ear, nudging my nose in her wonderfully soft hair. I flicked my sight to her work and asked, the sound of the drizzling rain outside hitting the window panes, "What are you painting this time?"
"What I remember of the sunset in New York…," she fidgeted in my grasp when I danced my fingers across her back. She lightly giggled, "I did love the vacation we had together… At least, when I wasn't in the hospital… And even, sometimes then…"
I snickered beside her ear and licked the lobe quickly in haste. My hands sliding to her hips from her stomach, I whispered, "It was magical before it got crazy, wasn't it?"
My hand glided up her right side, feeling the curve of her side, and along her arm she painted with. I watched her turn the plain, ordinary colours into dusk, with starlight amongst a cityscape shrouded and bathed in oranges and purples. She was painting one of many trees off in a corner when my hand held the top of hers, feeling it gently swish from left to right, and up and down. She bowed to wash her brush out, my hand following upon hers. She picked up more of that dangerously dark blue and started again on the twilight above New York.
"May I help you?" I questioned quietly. I kept my eyes on her hand illustrating our happier rendezvous.
"Yeah…," I heard her laugh through her nose in a smile. "Just let the brush sort of move on its own."
I led her hand around like she had gently. I tried to do as she done, smiling when my trial didn't go as expected. My brush stroke covered a tiny, shining dot of a star. She laughed a little and I felt her hand take light charge as I kept my hand to her. I felt of her hand as she created a piece of our life in pigment. Her slender, smooth hand…and then her arm. My other hand roamed along the centre of her back, feeling the bumps within the slight crevice of her spine.
She twisted her head to the side, her hair falling off that shoulder as I kissed her neck again. My hand slid between her fingers and around the brush. I felt her wriggle. The hand on her back moved gradually to her front, to her flat stomach where I rubbed. Her hand without a brush slipped up on mine as I grazed each of my fingertips down her abdomen. I heard her gasp as I kissed in lines on her neck.
Her brush dropped from her hand to the floor. She intertwined my fingers as she grasped at my hand, her other doing the same amongst her middle. Slowly, she pivoted on her heel to meet me as I leaned in to kiss her lips. Her nose held with mine, she kissed me, her eyes closing. Her nails slid ever-so-carefully over my bare chest from the lower portions of my stomach. I smiled, her hands going around to my back, her fingertips gliding across the length.
My hands moved underneath the edge of her shirt, coming up from her legs. I felt the fabric fold, pushing to her midsection. My hands rubbed her buttocks, unyielding to my touch and velvety smooth. Her leg instinctively raised, her knee bending beside my hip as my hand ran along the underside of her thigh. My hand slipped back to her rear where I gently squeezed. She kissed me and released, smiling. She rubbed noses with me in an Eskimo kiss and bit at her bottom, moist pink lip. She looked me directly in the eye and nuzzled me again with her nose, purring like a kitten.
I picked Hermione off the floor, taking her with intensity in a flourish. She grinned, her legs wrapping around my bare waist instantly. I felt her nakedness when her shirt lifted from my swift grasp of her body. I felt the heat between her legs on my core just below my belly button. I turned her from the canvas and lay her down on the floor without a sound but the CD player. She cradled me against her shoulder as I lapped at her throat, rubbing her face into my shoulder. Her hair skewed all over my body, the aroma of her vanilla bathing upon me.
She tightened the grip of her thighs on my sides as I took her face in my hands and kissed her hard.
***
Our clothes were in a pile behind me. Raindrops splattered against two foggy windows, causing the pitter-patter padding throughout the silence that was left behind her mixed-CD finale. I lay on my back and had my eyes closed. I felt a chilly, wet stroke along my abdomen, and then I felt the cool of sticky liquid on my pectoral muscle. The slight stroke tickled me lightly, and I smiled. I peeked open an eye to see her brush strands of her brunette hair away and hold them on her shoulder. Her right hand divvied more hue on the paintbrush and applied it to my naked figure.
She grinned at me as she worked her masterpiece on my body. She'd drawn vividly green vines, and red roses attached to the vines. She had painted, filling in gray pigment, Hogwarts castle. A smaller version which sat on the hill much to the like of what we saw coming off from Hogsmeade Station. I must have dozed because her attention to detail came to fruition far beyond what I saw before.
She was amidst painting ourselves, a quick sketch of our features holding hands. She painted a heart above my own, large and proud, the point perspective of the piece. I hadn't known when she asked if she could paint on me that this was going to be the next Rembrandt. I thought she was just going to doodle. I should have known better as this was written Hermione all over. She didn't just take things to the surface; she went farther than the surface. Another reason why I loved her. She wasn't satisfied with the basics and would over-achieve in whatever she was doing, albeit the most miniscule of workmanship to her entire lifetime.
I remember S.P.E.W. and her consistency with the DA those years back. She didn't just want to affiliate. No, Hermione wanted to be a part of the situation to the best of her ability, going so far as to work her charms to deliver coded messages under Dolores's nose. Only she would study and practice to the point of nailing down that Protean charm. None of us had the strength of character she had, and that in itself made her completely special. I cherished that portion of Hermione, and everything else about her.
She blew on my chest and dabbed the brush in a plastic cup. The off-colour water swirled around with her circular motion. I smiled up at her and closed my eyes to feel her bend back down and blow again, her cool wisps of air producing goosebumps on my bare body.
"Will this come off?" My hand was along her back, scratching it lazily as she lay as if she were in side-straddle, her legs a bit underneath her.
Hermione playfully gasped, "You don't love it?"
"I do," I grinned, my hand feeling of her hip and then resuming its scratch of her bare backside. "That's why I don't want it to come off, ever."
She laughed and bent down to kiss me, "It's acrylic…washes right off with water."
"Then I'll need a shower?"
Hermione nodded her head and bit at her lip, our noses touching. She lowered her lips to mine once more and kissed me again.
"Will I get a chance to paint on you?" a smirk lingered from her release.
"If you like…"
"I would like," I gradually rose to my elbows, and then off my hip. Hermione slid her naked body from her side to her bum, taking her elbows like I had and lowered herself to the floor. I picked up the black-handled paintbrush lying in the water and thought about what I was to paint. I looked Hermione over, swishing the water around in the cup, and admired her natural beauty. How her body was perfect in my eyes, and sexy, and utterly astonishing. Her hair sprawled across the wooden floor with most of it framing her face and some of it still attached to her shoulders. Her hands were at her sides, near her hips, and she breathed slowly in-and-out.
I bent down and kissed her thigh, her hip, her lower abdomen making it retract. I caressed her navel, each individual rib on her right side, and to her breast. Her fingers felt of the floor, and then felt of my knee, the closest object to her hand when I ran the tip of my nose across her breast. She sighed contently with her eyes closed, smiling.
I lowered to her ear and whispered, "I'm no great painter."
Hermione turned when she felt of my warm aura and kissed me with her eyes shut. She shook her head, "Do whatever you feel."
"Whatever I feel, hm?"
I grinned.
She nodded and softly replied, "Whatever you want."
I took the paintbrush from the water and slid it through the green, oily paint on the palate. She inspired me, copying her vines as I drew by a light touch from her mound towards her breast. Along her tummy, I'd have to stifle my chuckle when her stomach would wiggle. I started off straight with a vine and would loop around her navel. My fingers curved lines across her side and back up, following the shape of her breast, her cleavage, and rounding to her nipple.
I tried to stay as symmetrical as I could on her other side, tracing a forest green line from her strip of darkened brown pubic hair to her opposite pink nipple, making doubly sure to have her tummy retreat against the hair of the brush. I smiled when she let escape a subtle moan.
I put the paintbrush down and used my hands for the rest. The pad of my index finger led into the cool, gooey substance of the green. Leaves appeared when I twisted the tip of my finger and let go. Gently into her stomach, and within the slim breadth of her torso, following the vines I made. I dipped my finger into a dark red colour and slipped up to her breast where the vine circled her nipple. I lowered and caressed her there, my hand stroking outward from the ripened section, making petals. I got more of the reddened pigment in my hand and created the area of her breast into a rose.
Hermione would inhale at my touch. Her hand would squeeze my knee in reflex. I bowed to her exposed neck, her head tilted toward me, and licked with my tongue. I nudged under her chin with my nose as I felt of her softness. I took my face away and blew on her other nipple, having smeared red in the shape of a spread rose along the breast. Hermione whined, stretching as she gripped my knee. She fidgeted in my grasp when I went to put the finishing spots of red hue on her sensitive areola. Her breast jiggled in my hand, smudging some of the petal.
I came into her lips and kissed her hard. She fed on my tongue hungrily, pressing against my lips just as hard. I pried away from her in a tease, leaving her mouth wanting more was it was left in the air. I briefly kissed her lips to leave her in a smile.
"My canvas is moving…," I laughed some through my nose. I gazed at the smudged part of the rose on the contour of her breast jiggle in her shifts beside me.
"I'm sorry…," she whispered. "But you don't paint fair!"
I snickered and slid my fingers through the red paint. I laid my hand on her stomach and heard her sigh. I felt of the muscle behind her abdomen. My touch was swift, between the vines I produced on her smooth skin. I tried my best to write in cursive, looping one end to the other, until I had written exactly what I thought. I smiled as I took my hand away to see, "I love you" across her tummy.
She felt me remove myself clear of her body and turned to look up at me. She rose to her elbows and studied the portrait I had made in picture, and then at the message I had written on her stomach.
"It's true," I said with vigor and confidence. Her eyes lingered on me after reading "I love you" scribbled on her abdomen once more. I saw her sit up and find spots on me she hadn't painted on. She was careful, pushing me back on the floor.
I fell on the wooden floor and felt her hand wrap around me. She lifted my erection off my lower stomach and held it tight. Her silky, warm grasp led me to throb in her hand. She pulled on her hair to gather it all to one shoulder and raised one leg, floating it over my waist and letting it fall to my other side. She scooted her bent knees towards me and flicked her hair back.
I felt my member hide amongst her heat, her tummy rolling as she sat down. I held my breath as she tightened around me, and let it out only to hear her exasperate a breathless moan, coming to the hilt. She stopped a moment, allowing her body to form to my circumference. She flicked her hair back again, having it tilted forward when she came down on me. Her hair, every single strand, whipped back behind her and she smiled. She found portions of my torso and held on. I watched between us, at the green vines I painted on her mound, smack into me. I watched her pink sex pull when she lifted and slide back easily when she sat back down.
My eyes went to the "I love you". She'd rock into me, her body relaying my message with each individual repeats by her rhythm and pattern. Her abdomen would gyrate and I'd survey the in-and-out motion of her withdrawing muscles. I bounced her roses when I'd thrust and progressively Hermione would lower, finding patches of bare skin without paint so she didn't defile our work. I smiled at how absolutely cautious and judicious she went about lowering, juxtapositioned by her body being jostled and jerked in our intimacy.
My hands went from her legs, sprinkled with reds and greens from my tight grip, to her breast. I felt of her rounded, slight weight, and the acrylic paint plastering together. Finally, she stopped caring and slipped to me. Everything on us smeared as one colour. My hands covered her body with the paint, her back getting the most as I held her to me, rubbing along her spine or down the slope that led to her ass. She giggled in our kiss, the line of my jaw and neck submerged with colour we couldn't quite make out, all combined together.
Not one bit of us remained exposed by the time we were finished. Only a good shower or two could get the oily clumps out of our hair.
***
Within the hearth and beneath the mantle, a flame rose and kept us cozy. Hermione had taken medical literature and constructed a pyramid of tomes on the floor beside the sofa. Page after page she read, devouring any and all of the texts in hopes of better understand the wizarding world's view on her heart condition. Not that she wasn't feeling better, as she did, but just to have a broaden knowledge of her problem within our other universe.
I'd glance at her with my own piece of medical literature, her books she finished in my hand. She exhausted herself late into the night, sitting Indian-style right alongside me for hours in relative silence. The silence would only be broken by our voice, sharing pieces we found interesting or revealing, or by a book being sat down and another one being retrieved.
She settled her eyes and closed them around the time the clock on the mantle struck one in the morning. She hugged a thick novel in her arms, Medical Maladies: Witches and Wizards 3rd Ed., and shuffled down on the sofa. She relaxed in yet another find in my closet, this time a hoodie sweater. I hadn't worn the hoodie sweater in a while, its darkened blue fabric in contrast to a white lining about the stitching. She hadn't placed anything else on besides the sweater after our shower, my naked Hermione resting underneath. I loved watching her legs slip down the sofa, her skin tone different within her extremely white complexion compared to the sofa colour and sweater.
The rim at the bottom just covered her derriere to my sadness as I observed her stretching out, her head ending up in my lap. She snuggled into the warmth of my gray lounge pants, her hair everywhere about my waist. She leaned quickly across the top of the sofa and grabbed the Gryffindor quilt she laid there after washing our clothes. The crimson material and the inescapable roar of the golden lion present within the threads. She held the quilt to her waist, covering from toe to sweater, her exposed parts shielded from the environment.
The fire crackled. My eyes peered to the page describing the procedures of the heart transcribed by a Cardio-Healer named Helena Boggs. Unfortunately, when "surgical methods" come to play in that world, Helena Boggs places the heart as "too vulnerable and too susceptible to the linkage of life". Magic can be performed to mend broken noses or a potion brewed for the common cold. Other than that, like Amortentia, the other performances merely imitate or manipulate the wants and needs of the patient.
If there was a cure-all for everything, life would be simple. And, life isn't simple. Life will never be perfect. Our bodies are too fragile to be taking a chance upon; we're stuck living mortal, unperfected lives. Consequences lie within our transgression if we stray beyond the boundary of human frailty.
I went to pet Hermione on my lap. My hand touched her hair. The moment I felt of her silky strands, she took me from them and wrapped my arm around her front. She sighed when she had me cup her breast through my sweater. She held me there for a minute, in case I would leave her, and smiled when I stayed in formation. I gave her a light squeeze to let her know she had my full attention, forever and always, and she rubbed her nose into my thigh.
I reminisced on our recreational day of happiness and fun, of the sexy and the erotic, and grinned from ear-to-ear.
I took a breath and let it out slowly.
She silently fell asleep in my lap.
I love you, Hermione.
I put the book I held down to free my hand and rested it atop her warm, bushy hair.
Forever and always.
End of Season One - Harry's Journey
{Inspirations for the Chapter: Ghost. If you haven't seen it before-where have you been?! Haha. Rent it! You will not be left unhappy}
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