Love Bites

Love Bites

Author's Note: A silly (really though… it's silly) little H/Hr one-shot that I just had to write. Let me know what you think!

* * *

It was at this moment Ron walked into the room. Ron, whatever you may say about him… was Ron.

“Hey um.. Mum said that the food is ready. I figured I'd let you know.. “

Ginny responded with a little twinkle in her eye, “Okay, we'll be down at some point” and continued rearranging her things. Hermione silently laughed as Ron stood awkwardly in the doorway.

One… two… three….

“I think she wants us to come down now…”

“Really? I remember her saying to take our time” Ginny said, clearly playing the game that Hermione caught on to.

Ron simply stood in the doorway with a crestfallen face. Hermione could almost read the conflict flit across his face.

One… two… three…

“Okay it's just that I'm hungry! And mum said that she wouldn't serve it unless we all came. Harry is already there!”

Hermione and Ginny shared a laugh and a significant look and sat up to walk downstairs with a clearly relieved Ron.

* * *

Dinner was exceptional, as always. Ron was immaculately happy, completely lost in one of his 4 times a day he got to rendezvous with his lover - food. Hermione just wished Mrs. Weasley hadn't cooked soup… soup, for even the most polite of eaters, emits a nasty little slurping noise. But to a person like Ron… wow. She had had to stop her silverware from vibrating off the table from the commotion caused by the redhead at least 3 times and she could have sworn flecks of the soup careening off of Ron's slurping had smacked her in the face multiple times… and he was on the other side of the table! She paused as she watched as if in slow motion as one of those flecks of soup jumped out of Ron's spoon (or mouth, she wasn't sure which) and hurdled towards what could only be considered a straight shot for Lupin's soup. Hermione closed her eyes as a tiny little plop heralded the truth of her guesswork.

In the back of her head a saying came up that the way a person eats is indicative of the way they make love.

Hermione came so close to vomiting that she coughed violently for close to 5 minutes.

Harry caught her eye in between bouts, his intense gaze questioning and she quickly affirmed she was okay while Ginny forced her to take a drink of water. Ron had looked up but she wasn't sure if he was looking at her or her vacated soup bowl.

Things calmed down and the conversation became friendly as Arthur began talking about his work and the twins and Lupin began their own conversations, collectively wrapping nearly all the other occupants of the table in.

It was then that a single, treacherous thought came to Hermione's mind… a tiny little offshoot of her previous remembrance of that old saying about making love and eating…

How does Harry eat his food?

Hermione willed herself - she knew full well of her not-so-dormant feelings for Harry - not to look. Hermione had gone down this path before and it was never healthy to pursue, however satisfying the inquiries.

In an effort to quell her damned hormonal curiosity she buried herself in the rice and chicken casserole like it was an edible Hogwarts: A History. Such was the gusto she threw herself into the food that several dinner-goers paused to watch.

Ron looked at her with something akin to admiration and Harry simply stared, slightly shocked and said plainly “You have a piece of chicken in your hair, Hermione.”

Fuck.

“Oh! Umm… “

“It's okay, I've got it” and with a little wandless magic he took the piece of chicken out and whipped it into the trash bin.

All in all Hermione was pretty embarrassed. She was also quite sure she heard either Fred or George quip “Are you sure she didn't want that piece Harry? “

Things quieted down as conversation resumed although Hermione had unintentionally finished all of her food in her roughly 15 second feasting fury and was by no means hungry. All she could do was observe now.

Oh wait. No no no… she did NOT want to observe. In her embarrassment she had forgotten the reason she had dived into her food. But it was too late; the thought - that insidious beautiful thought - had crept into her mind once more. This time, it took complete control.

Slowly… but surely… and with increasing speed her head turned to where Harry was eating.

And with a sigh of relief, and possibly a little bit of disappointment, Harry was answering one of Arthur's muggle questions. But then Harry grabbed a fork.

Dammit.

Harry's movements were deft and sure as he grabbed the amounts he wished from the rice on one side of the plate and the chicken casserole on the other. His calculations were correct for when he melded the two picked portions together it was indeed - Hermione's own mouth was watering - the perfect bite. Just the right amount of rice and just the right amount of chicken casserole. Harry then made a smooth movement and scooped the bite without a single grain of rice left where the perfection of a fork-scoop had been previously.

Hermione knew what was coming next - the bite could ruin the whole display - but Harry completed the smooth swoop with an equally talented bite. His execution had been flawless. His movements subtle yet forceful - all done with a purpose that he acted on without hesitation and with a dexterity that just screamed confidence. Just how this worked into the old adage of how he'd make love… Hermione's brimmed with ideas as she distinctly hoped she did not elicit a moan. His mouth had opened - not too wide and not too small - and the perfect bite glided through, not one grain of rice falling nor touching his lips.

Oh god.

His lips.

This was not where Hermione wanted her mind to dwell on. Actually, as one side of her mind - the decidedly not so bookworm side - chimed in, it was exactly where her mind wished to be. She instantly knew her evening observations had just climbed to a WHOLE new level. Before she could react or think further she realized Harry was going for the soup.

Excellent! She thought, no one eats soup gracefully. Sorry Harry, sexy time is ovaahhh for you!

She gazed at Harry, expectations high.

Harry stirred his soup methodically as he fished for a piece of broccoli and enough cheese to make his bite. Satisfied with his catch he brought up the soup spoon to his mouth - spilling nothing - and emptied the contents without so much as a sound. Hermione winced in reluctance, it was true… Harry Potter could officially apparate without a noise and eat soup without a noise.

Just when Hermione was ready to give up and admit that Harry had indeed just proven his sexiness while eating soup she noticed something.

A fleck of cheddar on his face.

Ha!! Slob.

Hermione nearly did an air pump with her fist, and as she raised her voice to tell him about it she was frozen as Harry proceeded to lick it off with his tongue.

There's no WAY his tongue can reach that high...

Hermione's jaw dropped as his tongue, longer than she could have imagined reached out to take the fleck away.

She was right. His tongue wasn't long enough because Harry flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth… back and forth… in an effort to reach…

Hermione, who had been holding her breath for the entire time had had enough and shot upstairs throwing herself on her bed.

What the HELL!!

Who was she to fall into a complete hormonal mess over a man eating broccoli cheddar soup??? She was absolutely out of control! She laid there for a bit in complete wonder of just how she could be so turned on by such a ridiculous notion.

A knock on the door startled her thoughts but she was so distraught she didn't bother to ask or look who it was and simply said, “Come in.”

The sudden depression in her bed alerted her of the person's presence and she sat up and her breath hitched.

“Oh um… hi Harry.”

“Hey Hermione. Are you okay? You rushed off a bit back there. The others figured you didn't feel well from that coughing spell you had earlier. I decided to check up and bring dessert. Fondue, strawberries dipped in chocolate!”

Hermione watched in horror as Harry dipped a strawberry in hot chocolate with sure steady pushing motions and brought the strawberry covered in chocolate above slightly above his tilted head.

“I always like to lick the chocolate off before I eat the strawberry.”

Hermione threw her head back on the pillow in exasperation (or desperation), determined not to succumb to the hell she had been placed in.

Or heaven. Hmm…..

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you have any suggestions, comments or whatnot. =) Merry Christmas!!

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