Unofficial Portkey Archive

Following Instinct

Inspired by a moment in Oh, Harry by ayumi-nb

[http://fanfiction.portkey.org/story/8900]

There's a passing comment in the story that caused this plot bunny to spring to life.

Can't shake it; embrace it.

*~*~*

Harry stood in the Great Hall, surrounded by the destruction, the rubble, the carnage. His body sagged with exhaustion, his heart weighed down with remorse, yet his spirit was elated at the burden removed from his life; they had won.

He tried only to see the faces, tried not to see the bodies torn and bloodied by the battle, tried only to remember those who fought alongside him for what was right and good, and had given the ultimate sacrifice.

The castle still shook with falling stone, dust still drifted over everything, but Harry could still find her. Through all the piles of brick, the haze of battle, the survivors milling around, Harry could easily find her.

Hermione.

Hermione, the only person who had stood beside him through everything his life had taken him through since discovering he was a wizard. Hermione, whose loyalty had never faltered, no matter the risk or danger, no matter how irrationally and unfairly he behaved. No one had stuck beside him as faithfully.

It had taken her offer to go with Harry to the forest as he surrendered to Voldemort, to die to save the wizarding world, to realize exactly what his feelings for Hermione were and what they meant. That willingness to go with him to die helped him recognize why, after their fifth year, his heart would swell when he saw her, told him why it was he smiled whenever she said his name. Her readiness to follow him, to be with him for this ultimate sacrifice, helped him see why he wished and dreamed of holding her close to him. After all the uncertainty of his emotions and feelings and dreams, when she told him I'll go with you, Harry knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was utterly in love with Hermione Granger.

Walking away with that realization was the most difficult decision of his life, more so than deciding to die at the hands of Voldemort. Turning his back on Hermione, as her face broke into tears and Ron awkwardly patted her shoulder, had torn Harry's heart.

She looked tired, her face smudged with dirt, her clothes ripped and tattered. She looked as exhausted as he felt. She looked beautiful.

Hermione turned as Ron walked up behind her, his hand brushing her arm as she took his other hand in hers. She looked up at him, emotion plain on her face as they stood in a circle of calm around the stirring witches and wizards. Harry watched from across the room as she spoke to him in gentle tones, saw the soft smiles touch their lips. It seemed they could be together now, with the threat of Voldemort gone.

Her fingers holding Ron's. It was an odd detail to register, as his heart ripped in two once more. Or perhaps for the first time, since he had died that day.

As his spirits fell, Harry turned his back on the Great Hall. He faced the Entrance Hall, the sun breaking through the clouds and shining through the broken doors, glinting off the dust motes. They had still won; the world was a safer place now. That was really all that mattered.

He began striding down the Entrance Hall, his eyes on the world outside. Then suddenly Hermione was beside him, once more beside him, taking his elbow and pulling him to a side door. They stood in what was once the Chamber of Reception, now a room of broken furniture, a hole gaping to the castle grounds. It was hard to believe this was where they began the Hogwarts education seven years earlier, where they all waited to be sorted, where Harry waited to belong.

They stood looking at one another, no words spoken between them. Harry couldn't have uttered a word had he known what to say. Too much history was between them, too many emotions. Harry stared into her brown eyes and could only think of how deeply he loved her.

Before Harry could register her movements, Hermione stepped forward and, her hands cupping his cheeks, pressed her lips to his.

Harry's mind simultaneously blanked of thought and exploded with sensation.

Hermione's fingers were gentle on his face, her fingers tracing his jaw. Her lips were soft and firm in an amazing way that had his heart pounding. Instinct prevailed and Harry's fingers entwined in Hermione's hair, holding her to him. His lips moved against hers and she gasped, the kiss deepening and Harry's head spun, mind reeling with emotion.

Minutes passed, hours or days might have passed without Harry knowing, he was so overcome by Hermione and his feelings for her. The rest of Hogwarts could have collapsed without him realizing.

As abruptly as the kiss began, it ended. Hermione stepped from his reach and retreated from the room, leaving Harry breathless and confused, his heart pounding in his ears and a lingering I love you floating through his senses.

When Harry's legs could finally function, Hermione was nowhere to be found.

Sitting on a piece of the castle wall, Harry tried to understand what had just happened. Had that been a thank you kiss? Did it mean anything? The only thing Harry knew was he needed answers. For answers, he needed Hermione.

Hermione always has the answers, he thought wryly to himself.

Harry discovered from Ron that Hermione had taken a portkey to Australia, coercing McGonagall to create one immediately. No, they had not begun a relationship as Harry had believed. Yes, their friendship was as close as ever. No, he did not know why any witch would kiss and run (Blimey, who snog and dodged you, Harry?).

Ignoring questions, Harry turned to search for McGonagall. There was no time to waste; he had to get to Australia. Immediately.

Finding the Headmistress, Harry implored her for a portkey to Australia, to exactly where she had sent Hermione.

"Well, Potter," she replied aghast at his manners, "is that any way to ask for a favor? Have you forgotten all modicums of respect this past year?"

"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry said in a rush. "Please forgive my impudence." He paused and took a deep calming breath. His mind was racing a mile a minute; every second he was here, Hermione was getting further away. "Would please do the great favor of creating a portkey for me, to the precise location to which you sent Hermione Granger? I am aware dozens of others are vying for your brilliance to solve their problems, but time is of the essence in my situation. And you're the only individual with the responsibility and power to create a portkey from Hogwarts," he added. He hoped he hadn't been too cheeky.

McGonagall arched an eyebrow at him. "You've grown cheeky. Fred and George would be proud." She eyed him. "Very well, Potter. You shall have your portkey."

Still looking slightly annoyed at his nearly frenzied insistence, McGonagall picked up the nearest object - a broken fragment of the owl from the headmistress's podium. A wave of nostalgia and loss washed over Harry as it glowed blue in his professor's hand. So much destruction had been caused.

Taking the golden owl from Professor McGonagall, Harry realized this was an opportunity to build and create something, something he hoped would last. That from destruction came opportunity to rebuild and grow, to change.

Setting his resolve, Harry watched as McGonagall ticked off the countdown to the portkey activation, and distinctly heard her tell him in a reproachful tone, "For heaven's sake, Potter, clean yourself up! You don't go courting to woo a young witch looking as if a troll had rolled over you!" Before shock had passed and Harry could respond, the tug behind his navel pulled him from the ruins of Hogwarts to warm evening light of Brisbane, Australia.

*~*~*

The wizarding world of Australia had not been lost to the battle raging in the wizarding world of England the past years. As with anything else, their government monitored, the press reported and the citizens watched, anxious to know the outcome, whether they would be safe from harm or potential future targets.

As such, Harry was recognized rather swiftly once landing. He was noticed immediately, having looked like he survived a natural disaster, and was then recognized shortly after as the Boy Who Lived. Hushed inquiries followed. Had everything ended? Had the war taken a turn for the worse? Had You-Know-Who fallen? Was the Golden Trio fleeing to Australia separately to escape the Death Eaters and regroup? Should they prepare to fight?

Harry answered as simply and quickly as he could before demanding answers himself - "No, it's done now, it's all done, but you've seen Hermione?" The last was the only important part to Harry at the moment.

Answers and directions followed. Congratulations on victory were given, but Harry barely heard. His mind was only focused on Hermione.

Harry started down the street, searching for proper landmarks and street signs. The earlier scene was repeated thrice more as he walked, each encounter bringing him closer to his goal.

Finally he found himself standing outside a motel room door. Harry knew it was her room, how he knew he couldn't say. He simply knew Hermione was behind the forest green door with its bright brass eight. He could feel her, feel her pulling him to her. He stared at the metal number beginning to sparkle in the glowing streetlights. Now that he was here, Harry hadn't the faintest idea what to do or say.

Instinct, he reminded himself. It had worked before; why not now.

Squaring up to the frame, Harry knocked confidently.

*~*~*

Hermione opened the door, looking freshly showered, and froze, her eyes locking on Harry's. Seeing her in a clean flannel shirt and jeans with her hair washed made Harry somewhat conscious of just how grungy he had become. It didn't matter though, as he looked into Hermione's warm eyes, seeing for the first time the depths of her love for him.

Instinct, he told himself, and stepped over the threshold, his hands diving into her hair again and his lips pressing to hers.

The kiss started gentle, lips movie lightly against hers. He could tell she was startled by her sudden stillness. Sudden, yet brief. Hermione began return the kiss, matching not only movement, but passion.

Embolden by her reciprocation, Harry kicked the hotel door shut with his heel, stepping further into the room, not breaking contact with Hermione.

The passion he felt from Hermione increased, the kiss becoming more demanding, more necessary to their being. Hermione hands left him and pulled at his coat, stripping it from his arms. Harry pulled back slightly from her face, gazing into her eyes, asking without words what she wanted. She stared back at him, her lips parted, her face flushed as she panted slightly.

Hermione's fingers brushed at the hair in his face, the touch gentle and caring, her eyes never leaving his as she firmly nodded her head. Taking a step back from Harry, her hands went to the top of the shirt and one by one began undoing the buttons. Harry could only stare as the expanse of skin exposed increased. When the red plaid fell to the floor and Hermione stood before him clad in her fitted jeans and black bra, it was the most beautiful sight Harry had ever conceived.

A foreign sound escaped Harry's throat, something between a squeak and incomprehensible babble, to which Hermione gave a shy, seductive smile. It nearly drove Harry mad.

He stepped toward her, his hand gently taking hers. Harry looked into her eyes, enjoying the simple pleasure in feeling her soft hand against his. Pulling slightly, he drew Hermione closer once more. His hand rose to her face, tucking a strand of hair away, and pressed his lips tenderly to hers, using action more than words to convey all the love he felt.

Though tender, the kiss was full of passion. Hermione moved her hands to the buttons of Harry's shirt and that that soon joined his jacket on the floor. His t-shirt soon followed, breaking the kiss and knocking his glasses askew. Harry moved his hands slowly along Hermione's waist to the clasp of her bra. With a flick, her bra hung loose, and Hermione guided Harry's hands to slide it down her arms.

They stood topless together, each unsure in this new territory. Harry knew there was no other woman he would rather explore with, no one else with whom he would want to be this open and exposed. His eyes ventured down her body to her chest. He could see the rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing increased. Harry saw her vulnerability and his heart ached with love for her.

Harry grazed a hand up the curve of Hermione's waist to the curve of her breast. He cupped it gently and her breath hiked sharply. Harry noticed his own breathing coming in shorter gasps as his arousal and desire for this beautiful woman grew. Her skin was so soft. He brushed his thumb over the peak of her nipple. Hermione arched her back, pressing herself into his hand, a soft moan escaping her lips.

Unable to contain himself, Harry pulled Hermione to him, crashing his lips to hers, her bare chest pushing against his and sending shivers through him.

Instinct.

Following his intuitions, Harry trailed his lips along Hermione's jaw and down her neck. Her hands roamed his back and she groaned as Harry sucked at her pulse point. Harry's tongue traced her collarbone. Her skin was so soft, he would never tire of its feel against his skin, or lips, or tongue.

Harry's lips tracked further down Hermione's body and she ran her hands through his hair. He moaned against the curve of her bosom, at the feel of her hands, at the feel of her breast. His lips skimmed back to her neck, his hands trailing along the bend of her back. He stepped with Hermione, until her legs found the bed, and gently lowered her to the mattress.

Hovering over her, Harry stared into her eyes, still unable to fully believe they were here, together. "You're beautiful," he told Hermione, emotion making his voice hoarse. She smiled contentedly in response, love alight in her eyes, and pulled Harry's lips to hers.

"So beautiful," Harry whispered as his lips travelled down her body, and he heard and felt her pleased sighs. He kissed the swell of her breasts, his tongue tracing patterns as he made his way to her nipple. Hermione arched her back into Harry as he mouth found the nub, her hands in his hair holding him in place as he lavished it with attention.

The sounds Hermione was making were driving Harry mad, making him drunk with desire. His body pressed against hers, his arousal pinned between them. Hermione ground her hips into his, pulling Harry's face to hers, and he growled against her lips at the sensation.

Hermione's hand snaked down his body and into his trousers. When Harry first felt her soft hand grip his length he thought his mind had gone numb. He felt nothing except her delectably soft palm and deft fingers stroking him gently.

"Hermione…" he panted.

"Harry…" She sounded equally breathless. "This… This feels right."

His body felt electrified at her touch, and he moaned into her neck, her name coming in a low rumble. His lips found her breast once more, tugging gently on her nipple, mimicking the movements of her hand on his manhood.

She rubbed her palm against the head and it was too much for Harry. Taking both Hermione's hands in his, he pressed them above her head. Her body stretched out deliciously before him. Harry kissed his way down her body, over her full breasts and down her taut stomach. When he reached the waistband of her jeans, he pulled them off her slowly, his fingers trailing along her long legs and sending shivers through her body.

The sight before him - Hermione lying in a bed dressed only in her knickers - caused Harry to stand, staring and slack-jawed, as all blood flow diverted south of his waist. He stretched his body over hers, kissing her with all the desire he felt. Then, kneeling on the floor before her, he kissed along the inside of her thighs.

Harry hadn't a clue what he was doing, but he could feel her quivering, with excitement, anticipation, arousal, all of the above, and thought he must be doing something right. Instinct. Looking up her body, he ran his tongue along the edge of her knickers and was delighted to see her shiver. He could smell her desire for him; it was driving him wild. He needed to taste her. Harry started to slide the garment down her legs. He might have torn them, he might have used magic, he just knew they were suddenly gone, and all of Hermione was presented before him.

Tentatively, Harry kissed her there. Hermione shuddered and moaned, her hand diving into his hair. Encouraged, he pressed his lips to her, then darted his tongue out and touched a little nub. Hermione moaned his name deeply, her hips pushing against his mouth as her hands pulled him closer.

Harry explored her with his tongue and lips, bolstered and exhilarated by the wonderfully erotic sounds Hermione was making, most especially the cries of his name.

Slowly, his mouth still on her, Harry slid his index finger in Hermione, and pressed up. She gave a deep groan and ran her hands erratically through his hair. Harry repeated the motion, listening to Hermione's gasps and cries increase. Adding a second finger, Harry's tongue continued to toy with that little button of pleasure with Hermione's fingers raking through his hair encouragingly. Her nails on his scalp, his hands and mouth on her, tasting her, inhaling her, the sounds she was making, the cry of his name, the ambiance of it all was causing Harry's head to spin.

He, Harry Potter, was addicted to Hermione Granger.

Hermione stiffened. His fingers and tongue were still working her, and suddenly she was screaming and squirming deliciously in a way that made Harry want her under him. The only word he could understand through her cries was his name. A sense of manly pride filled his chest.

Harry watched her panting chest rise and fall, his hands resting on her thighs now. It was then he realized his glasses were missing, and had been for some time. It didn't matter; he could see all the luscious details of Hermione well enough.

Sitting up, Hermione pulled Harry's lips to hers. All the blood remaining in Harry's brain was diverted below his belt upon realizing Hermione was tasting herself on his tongue as they kissed.

She pulled him to his feet and he stood between her legs as she sat on the bed. Her hands moved over the planes of his chest and abs. Deftly, she tugged down his pants and boxers, his penis springing up. Standing naked and exposed before Hermione drove Harry's arousal to the point of aching. He needed her to touch him.

Hermione rubbed her hands over his torso, his arms, down his legs, her nails drawing faint lines and sending shivers through his body. The anticipation was agonizing. He down stared at her, watching as she studied and learned his body. Finally she took his length gently in her hand and Harry pulled in a deep, sharp breath.

She stroked him slowly, staring and studying his manhood intently. Harry could almost see her sorting and filing and storing information. A small smile touched his lips; he should have known she'd be just as studious in regards to sex. Being a know-it-all bookworm's lover can have some definite perks.

Hermione pressed a kiss to his stomach and all thought flew from his mind. Her lips moved down, trailing kisses to his penis, and when her lips surrounded him, he thought his mind would explode. Her lips gripped at him and he gave a strangled groan.

Not wanting the moment to end, Harry pulled Hermione to her feet and close to him, hands on her back and in her hair. He kissed her gently, tenderly, as he lowered her to the bed, his body covering hers.

Her legs fell to either side of his, her hips lifting to press subtly, implicitly, evocatively. Harry broke the kiss, staring into her eyes, asking permission. Hermione gazed intently at him, answering in a firm confident nod: Yes.

Never breaking eye contact, Hermione reached her hand between their bodies and positioned his hard length to touch her there. She nodded again and Harry eased in slowly, savoring the feel of her soft, wet warmth surrounding his firm length.

Harry dropped is forehead to meet Hermione's, his breathing coming in gasps to match hers. His head was spinning with the sensations; his brain couldn't process anything beyond the feel of Hermione and his love for her.

Hermione tilted her chin up, catching his lips with hers. She gave a little wiggle of her hips and a small twitch that gripped Harry and made his eyes shoot open.

"Yes, Harry," she said softly. Those two words, with a smile that lit up her face, conveyed everything Harry needed to know, everything that felt right in this moment. Nodding, Hermione encouraged him to move.

Harry never thought she looked so beautiful.

Slowly, he slid his length out, and pressed back in with a soft groan. Hermione's gasps were like music to his ears as they fell into a rhythm together and continued to learn each other's body. Soon her hips were rising to meet his thrusts as the tempo for the romance increased. He stroked her hair, her cheek, kissed her neck. Her hands roamed his back, nails digging in, her body squeezed at him as she moaned his name.

Harry couldn't think, only react, he was so drunk on Hermione. The feel of her around him, her arms and legs tangled around him, the sweet, erotic sounds escaping her lips. Harry was beyond intoxicated by this woman.

It might have been moments, it might have been hours. While he was inside Hermione, time seemed to stand still, and nothing but the two of them mattered in all the world.

His mind was a whirl of lips and tongues, hands and caresses, sighs and moans, and Hermione, always Hermione. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, he registered the gasps and cries of Hermione were growing in frequency. And volume. Each exclamation, each praise, sent a shiver of ardor and virility through his body.

She was getting close. He was getting close.

Harry wanted - needed - Hermione to finish before him.

If only to uphold to his chivalry.

Shifting his weight to one arm, Harry's hand caressed its way slowly down her body, enjoying the feel of her curves and soft skin. Never ceasing in the rhythmic dance, Harry pressed gently on that little bundle of nerves he had intimately discovered. The sharp and sudden yelp of his name brought a smile to his lips and he knew he found the spot. He pressed steadily, his thumb moving in tight circles as he indulged in the new squeals and moans from Hermione.

With a loud cry of his name, Hermione clenched around him, twitching and whimpering in pleasure, with sighs of "Oh, Harry!"

Harry lasted two more thrusts before his orgasm overcame him and euphoria coursed through his body as he grunted Hermione's name hoarsely.

Collapsing to the bed, utterly sated, Harry pulled Hermione to him, nestling her against his chest. He planted kisses in her hair and on her temple, and, with a faint I love you, drifted off to sleep with the woman he loved wrapped in his arms.

*~*~*

They lay side by side, staring into each other's eyes, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Harry toyed with the strand of Hermione's hair as she stroked a finger along his jaw.

"How long?" she asked softly.

Harry didn't need to ask what she meant; he almost always knew what Hermione was talking about. "Since fifth year," he answered, "maybe fourth." He paused a moment, reflecting back through all their shared memories. "You were the only one who stood by me and believed me in fourth year, and that meant so much to me, Hermione." He cupped at hand tenderly to her cheek at the memory. "I knew at the end of fifth year I had strong feelings for you. I didn't realize how strongly, or that my feelings really meant I was in love with you, until you offered to go with me yesterday."

Hermione stared at him with compassion on her face and love in her eyes. It emboldened him to continue.

"I couldn't tell you. I was walking to my death. I didn't know I would come back. That would just be a terrible pain to cause you, to tell you I love you then die." Harry shook his head. "I couldn't do that to you."

Hermione caressed his cheek with her fingers, understanding in her eyes.

"I think I've always had strong feelings for you, on some level," she said after a moment. "Even back in first year, during the Sorting." Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise. "The blasted hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw, but I knew you would be in Gryffindor. And I wanted to be with you, to be your friend," she added softly. Tears shone in her eyes and Harry felt his heart swell with love. "Then obviously puberty hit and hormones took over from there," she continued matter-of-factly.

She smiled gently at him, then detailed a timeline of their friendship that left Harry dumbstruck. "I knew I could be as brave as you, because of you, in first year, when we went down the trap door after Quirrell. I knew I could trust you to save me and the school in second year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened again. I knew I could be as fearless as you, because of you, in third year when we followed Ron under the Whomping Willow. I knew I could be strong, because you were so strong during the TriWizard Tournament. I knew I could be as loyal as you, because you were so loyal to Sirius in fifth year. I knew I could learn to overcome any obstacle, because you overcame all the obstacles with Dumbledore in sixth year. I knew I could persevere through any hardship, because you never gave up during seventh year, you never gave up. And every year I knew I loved you a little bit more," she finished quietly. "Every year, I fell in love with you a little bit more."

Harry pulled her lips to his. She was perfect, his Hermione. His Hermione. So utterly perfect, how had he not realized before? How had he gone so long without noticing?

"I love you, more than I can say," he told her seriously.

She hugged him close to her, a smile lighting her face. "I know."

*~*~*

She pulled him aside to a secluded area and kissed him, passionately, and after whispering those three little words that knocked the air out of him, she walked away.

Oh, Harry by ayumi-nb

*~*~*

A/N:

The battle was a bit of a hybrid between the books and the movies.

This thought, this plot, was just stuck in my mind and I couldn't get it out, couldn't work around it to write for Dudley's Girlfriend. Only option was to write it out to ride it out.

Now the return to Dudley's Girlfriend.

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