Journey's End

dark inferno

Rating: NC17
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 28/04/2014
Last Updated: 28/04/2014
Status: completed

Hermione vanished after the war ended. Five years on and Harry, alone and haunted by the memory of the night they spent together, is coming to visit after learning she is alive and living in Sydney Australia. Lemon warning!

Chapters

1. Journey's End

1. Journey's End

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am not profiting for this work.

AN: Ok, just to set the record straight I haven't read the seventh Harry Potter book, I have only watched the films. After the sixth book set the scene for a HPxGW pairing I lost interest. I haven't given much thought to writing another HPxHG story since 'Harry's secret' and certainly wasn't planning to do one now. However this Idea just came to me and I liked it so much I wanted to try writing a move conventional story for my favourite Harry Potter couple. This disregards much of what happened between Hermione and Ron and also ignores the Epilogue completely.

This is a one-shot and is set about five years after the war's end.

Journey’s end

The chilled winter air was thick with the musky scent of sex. Far away he could discern a mesh of Beethoven’s symphonies playing over the magical wireless but he was far too consumed by the sounds of her hot lustful moans to care.

“Ohhh Merlin….Harry…don’t stop…these sensations…amazing!” she gasped.

It was cold in the tent, the heating charms they’d cast that evening were little match for the frigid winter breath whistling through the dark forest. Even so they’d tossed the covers aside; their bodies glistening with crystal beads of sweat as they clung together, her willowy legs hiked up over his hips as she bucked into his every urgent thrust.

If they had started off slow, Harry couldn’t remember it. Swept along on a furious tide of desire, everything had happened so fast and now all he could concentrate on was the delicious way her plush walls convulsed around him.

“…Sooo…so tight…”he groaned, his voice was that of a stranger, a deep and primal growl that sounded more animal than man as he slammed his engorged flesh into her delicate body with wild abandon. Her back arched at his every entry, the swells of her breasts pressing against him, her rosy nipples, hard and glistening from his earlier attentions, scrapping deliciously across his torso. He could feel her nails carving furrows down his back, but the pain was nothing compared to the pleasure of being inside her. It felt like she was trying to suck him deeper, her velvety walls writhing and convulsing around him with his every thrust, holding him, massaging him. The feelings were so incredible; it took all his will-power to hold back his mounting release.

“It’s…so good…I’m going crazy…more…more!” The girl moaned, rocking into his furious motions as his large hands cupped her round buttocks and pulled her closer. The new angle caught her by surprise and her head fell back in rapture as his cock began brushing her sweet spot with every penetration. Wailing in rapturous delight, she threw her head back and gloried in the wash of sensations this new angle brought her, her body beginning to tremble as she raced toward another climax.

His breath catching with each titanic thrust, Harry could only utter a deep chorus of bestial grunts as he felt the mounting tightness in his loins become almost unbearable. As hard as he tried to prolong this moment, the sharp agony at the base of his shaft and rhythmic throbbing in the head drove his body onward. He could feel her breath, hot as dragon fire in the frigid winter air, washing over his skin and the sounds of her pleasure served only to drive him on as his pace quickened. Her body was tightening around him, yet his clutch on her never slackened as she bucked against him, rolling her succulent thighs the way she knew would drive him wild before suddenly rising up and hungrily biting the crook of his neck. It was all too much. “Ohhhh Merlin! Her…Hermione…I’m going to cum!”

****************************

“Sir, we will be beginning our landing approach soon.” A female voice said, stirring Harry from his dreams and dragging him back to the world. Dazzling rays of sunlight shone through his half-closed shutter and his eyes blinked against the sudden brightness before he reached out and shut the barrier. His legs ached and he tried to stand, only the taught nylon belt across his waist forced him to remain seated and so he settled for reaching beneath his glasses and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Only after he’d reclined back into the padded leather seat did he notice the stewardess still standing over him.

She was a pretty thing, in her early twenties with natural blonde hair, catlike jade green eyes and a sweet face with a pale complexion. She was wearing a standard medium sized Virgin Airways uniform that she filled out nicely, though Harry couldn’t help noticing that she had perhaps one too many buttons of the pale white shirt undone, giving him a glimpse of a bright pink bra as she leant forward to offer him the drinks’ tray. “Would you care for some refreshments sir?”

All too aware of the erection bunched uncomfortably down his trouser leg, the memory of the dream still burning his loins, he nervously accepted a cup of sweet, milky tea. As she moved to the next isle, he couldn’t help admiring the way the knee length navy skirt emphasised the sway of her buttocks as she walked; First class certainly had its perks.

He drained the airline mug in one swing, the liquid warmth easing the parched feeling in his throat while the sudden rush of caffeine gave him a much needed jolt of life. He had had difficulty sleeping on the plane due to sudden bouts of turbulence, and when sleep came, it was infested by dreams. Not since his fifth year of Hogwarts had he dreaded sleep so, and twice he had regretted his decision to fly in favour of apparition. Australia may have been half a world away, but in reflection the risk of splinching seemed a small price to pay.

The intercom buzzed to life just as the pretty stewardess was making a return trip to collect the passengers’ rubbish and used receptacles. Though the flight was based out of London Gatwick and the airline was Virgin Atlantic, the captain’s accent was difficult to place and Harry had trouble narrowing its origin down further than Australian, New Zealand or perhaps one of the more southern American States. “All right Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at Sydney airport. Please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely parked at the gate. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.”

Harry grimaced at the thought of landing, then as his cup was taken, an idea occurred to him and he reached over to flip the blind covering his window. Light flooded his vision and he quickly turned away to let the shock of it subside before turning back to look outside. There the full beauty of Sydney was spread out beneath him and he felt his heart leap with excitement at seeing the Australian city for the first time before the Airbus began to turn and he sunk back into his seat.

His centre of gravity shifting with the plane, he felt a sudden sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach as the roar of the aircrafts descent filled his ears and shock his brain. Feeling the inevitable dip as the plane’s nose descended, Harry tried to imagine himself riding a broom. He had always love to ride but, despite his continued promises to himself, Harry had never replaced his old Firebolt and in the five years since the war, his memories of what it was like had become corrupted. He tried to picture the broom, the ebony length polished to such a shine it seemed to gleam in the midday sun while the mass of birch and hazel-wood twigs fanned out behind him as his feet rested comfortably upon the goblin-iron stirrups. In the distance the castle of Hogwarts stood tall and invincible, its many towers piercing the sky as it seemed to jut up from the calm waters of the black lake, while the forbidden forest spread out beneath him, its thick canopy hiding any horror that waited to pluck him from the sky should he dare fly too low.

It was a pleasant vision but then the broom gave a sudden jerk and began to transform beneath him. Its length widened and began to develop pronounced cures, the tail of twigs suddenly slit in two and lengthened into a pair of long willowy legs that clung to him as they soared. Long locks of chocolate coloured hair sprouted from the rounding point and grew into a bushy main as matching, passion darkened irises stared up at him from beneath the curls. Then they were no longer flying, but back in that tent on a winter’s night, their naked bodies entwined and rutting feverously…

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Sydney Airport. The Local time is 13:00PM and the temperature is 31°C. For your safety and comfort, we ask that you please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign. This will indicate that we have parked at the gate and that it is safe for you to move about the cabin. We remind you to please wait until inside the terminal to use any electronic devices. On behalf of Etihad Airways and the entire crew, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip and we are looking forward to seeing you on board again in the near future. Have a nice day.”

‘God Damn it!’ Harry silently cursed as his heart raced in a potent cocktail of arousal and frustration. Despite the captain’s instructions, many of the passengers had already begun to rise from their seats. Glancing at the elderly woman sitting in the seat next to his and then down to the bulge in his trousers, he decided to wait until the flow had subsided and only then did he unfasten his belt. Rising up from his seat and gratefully stretching his legs as the old woman disappeared into the thinning crowd, he reached up into the overhead compartment and quickly retrieved a black dragon-leather holdall from the back. Placing it back on his seat, he glanced over his shoulder to check no one was watching before reaching inside a hidden pouch on the side and taking a firm grip on his wand. Though the salesman at Boggum’s Dragon Hides had assured him the charms placed upon the bag would protect any contents within from detection or theft, he had still been worried.

Slinging the holdall over his shoulder and joining the rapidly thinning line of departing passengers, Harry felt his heart flutter and couldn’t help the blush that crept over his checks as the pretty stewardess who’d woken him and served him tea stepped out of the first-class kitchen. Seeing him there, she smiled and handed him a small card before wishing him an enjoyable holiday. Stepping through Airlock and into the air-conditioned tunnel that led to the arrivals terminal, he let himself be led by the press of bodies before raising the card to eyelevel. One side was blank except for by Virgin Atlantic insignia, turning it over he felt his blush deepen at seeing two sets of phone numbers written in red ink and ‘Alexis – Call me X’ scribbled beneath them. He quickly stored the card in his holdall before continuing on down the passage.

Following the signs for arrivals at every intersection, he felt himself let out an impressed whistle as the tunnel suddenly opened out onto Passport control, a huge chamber lit by rows of skylights and which was spit across the middle by a row of counters and hulking machines. Joining the closest queue, he fished out his new passport and boarding pass from the bag before handing them to an elderly lady at the counter while two men fed the dragon hide Holdall into the X-ray Machine. He tried not to appear too nervous as he glimpsed the bag appear on the monitor, but no alarms went off and it took him a moment to realise the lady was speaking to him. “I’m Sorry?”

“Are you carrying any fruits or vegetables?” she asked again, her voice throaty and with an obvious note of annoyance at having to repeat herself.

“No.”

“Reason for travel, business or pleasure?”

“I’m visiting an old friend.” he said truthfully but then she flashed him a look over her round glasses and he added “Pleasure.”

“Anything to declare?”

“Yea, Delightiartious” Harry said with a subtle wave of his fingers to cast the happiness charm upon the woman. For a moment she just gazed at him in confusion and then miraculously a wide smile spread across her wrinkled face and she sampled his passport before handing the passport and the boarding pass back to him. Accepting both documents, he slipped them into a plastic box before slipping off his shoes, undoing his belt and then shrugging off the ¾ length dragon-hide jacket he’d also bought from Boggum’s. Beneath the coat he wore a green polo-top and blue jeans from the pockets of which he withdrew his wallet and a set of keys he’d decorated with a golden snitch key ring. Undoing his watch last of all, he placed everything in the tub to be scanned then stepped through the tall body- scanner that was connected to the counter, waited a moment for any sirens to sounded, before being waved through and then collecting his bag and personal effects.

Despite his one way ticket, he’d only brought the one bag and so moved past baggage claim and out into a wide open atrium filled with shops and cafés. A single service desk with four busy operators stood in its centre. Three separate arrival boards hung from the ceiling and on the distant wall, above the three sets of automatic doors leading out onto the street, a large sign displayed the phrase ‘SEE YOU SOON’ in bold yellow and white text.

Spotting the huge crowd of people gathered to meet their respective arrivals, Harry quickly cast his eyes over the throng of faces and name cards but there was no sign of her. It was unlike her to be tardy but reasoning that she had probably just been caught in traffic, he began walking towards the nearest café when he heard a familiar voice suddenly cry his name. His heart leaping at the sound, he wheeled around and was almost knocked off his feet as a mane of bushy chestnut coloured hair slammed into his chest. “Hermione?”

“Harry! Oh Merlin Harry…it’s so good to see you!” Hermione cried, wrapping her arms around his neck, drawing him into a tight embrace as her eyes began to sparkle with tears of joy. “I’ve…I’ve missed you so much Harry. You have no idea what it means to me that you’re here.”

“Her…Hermione…stop…I can’t…too tight…”

“Oh! Sorry” She apologised, loosening her hold on him but staying close for another few moments before stepping back. “It’s good to see you again Harry.”

“Yea, you to Hermione” Harry gasped whilst rubbing his throat, more for effect than to sooth the numbing ache she’d left.

Embarrassed, Hermione refused to meet his gaze and no sooner had she stepped back from the hug than she was gesturing for him to follow. “My car’s this way; I was so worried I’d miss you that I left it on a double yellow line. Oh merlin, I hope I haven’t got a ticket, the fines here are really expensive and my…”

Harry was only half listening as he followed her through the crowd, trying to pretend not to notice the amused looks that trailed after them. It wasn’t hard, in truth he could barely take his eyes off Hermione and his heart leapt with panic every time she vanished behind a body, even if it was just for a moment.

Stepping from the cool Air-conditioned atrium and out into the heat of Australian summer felt like stepping into an oven at full burn and he was immediately grateful for his jacket’s cooling charms. There was a breeze blowing but it was hot and dusty and offered little relief from the merciless heat as he raced to keep up with her. Despite Hermione’s concerns, a long line of vehicles were parked in front of the terminal with an ever constant queue waiting for a space to clear and she led him past more than half a dozen vehicles before coming to a stop beside a gleaming black XK jaguar convertible. Reaching into a handbag she had hanging off her wrist, she produced a set of car keys that with one click of a button had the roof folding down and the boot popping open. Whistling his admiration as Hermione got into the driver’s seat, he flung his holdall into the rear of the car before shutting it with a smooth push and then letting himself into the passenger side. Turning the ignition, Hermione let the engine roar impressively to life before shifting into gear and, with half a turn of the wheel, pulling into the first opening.

Buckling his seatbelt, Harry was immediately thrown all the way back into his seat as Hermione, pulling out onto the motorway, put her foot to the ground and speed from 20 to 100 km/h in all of a few seconds. Though the roof was folded down, he guessed she must have put a silencing charm on the vehicle as very little sound came in from the outside. Knowing how strongly Hermione detested flying, he would never have guessed she would be a speed freak but the presence of the charm made him wonder. It was nonetheless a pleasant surprise however, at school she had ever frowned and discouraged his and Ron’s boisterous antics and kept to her books. It was good to know that she was at last letting her hair down; he just hoped the cost of the discovery wasn’t him becoming a red smear across some stretch of Australian motorway.

“How are Ron and Ginny?” Hermione finally asked, keeping her attention on the road ahead and not noticing Harry suddenly stiffen in his seat. “After I sent you that e-mail I considered contacting them too but I had been so worried about not receiving a reply from you that I couldn’t think of what to say.”

“What? Hermione Granger lost for words, now I’ve heard everything!” Quickly laughing at his own joke, Harry said “Last I heard Ron’s fine, he’s working with his dad in the ministry. I don’t know about Ginny.”

“Really?” She asked, unable to keep her surprise hidden as she quickly glanced at him. “But you two were so close, I was certain after the war ended you two might get back together.”

“We did, but we broke up nearly a year and a half ago. There were complications.” He hoped that explanation would satisfy her but Hermione was ever curious and though she nodded her head in understanding he could tell she wanted more and he found the words coming out before he could stop them. “It’s a long story but I guess we just had different ideas of who Harry Potter was. Ginny had fallen in love with his legend, she saw me as the glorious saviour of her world. After we got together, she even thought I should run for Minister of Magic when the Ministry announced the elections for Kingsley Shacklebolt’s replacement. ButI’m just tired Hermione. I’m tired of being the boy who lived. I’m tired of being the Harry Potter…

“Voldemort is gone; now I just want to be Harry, normal, ordinary Harry. Ginny could never understand that. She thought I was afraid of being all that I could be, That I might actually enjoy life if I just let myself, while I thought she just wanted me to become the new Gilderoy Lockhart.” Suddenly realising what he was saying, harry paused. He needed to consider his next words carefully and gave a moment’s serious thought as to the best way to put it before continuing slowly. “In the end, I think we both knew it wouldn’t work. It was just a matter of who would admit it first.”

Hermione, much to his relief, didn’t press the matter further and they spent the next few moments in silence as Harry considered his failed relationship with Ginny. What he’d told Hermione had been true, from a certain point of view; they’d both realised the inevitable end, only Ginny had realised it much sooner than he had. For Harry, the truth had become apparent whilst they were attending one of the New Castle Bombers celebratory parties. Ginny was one of the Quiditch Team’s chasers and as she had scored the last point before their new seeker, Augustus Flemingworth, caught the snitch and won them the league deciding match, her presence had been expected.

Ginny had never been one to drink, but that night she had consumed an ample sum and he could remember her cavorting on the improvised dance floor with her teammates while he had been talking with the Bombers manager. It seemed, despite his most recent lucky win, the team had been looking to replace Augustus and most thought the legendary Hogwarts seeker Harry Potter would have been a fine addition/replacement. He had been politely trying to brush the man off when he suddenly noticed Ginny had vanished. Concerned by her absence, he discarded subtlety and bluntly refused the offer before searching for the fiery redhead. It didn’t take long, the party was being hosted at the Captain’s flat in one of the city’s more choice buildings and they’d visited the place enough times for him to navigate a path through the press of bodies without getting lost. When he found her, she had been the centre piece of a foursome on the captain’s bed, sandwiched between her fellow chasers, whose names he couldn’t remember, and busily preforming fellatio upon Augustus Flemingworth.

It is an interesting feeling, to have your world fall apart around you. For Harry it was like being plunged head first into an icy lake and he had stood their completely numb for a moment before retreating away from the open door and leaving the party without saying a word to any of the revellers. Not sure of what to do, he had returned to their shared residence, packed up all his things before writing her a hasty note to say that it was over before using floo powder to move all his stuff to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He hadn’t seen Ginny or any of the other Weasleys since.

“I’m so sorry Harry…” Hermione whispered; her voice shaky as she glanced at him nervously. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt-”

“What happened to you Hermione?” Harry suddenly asked, his voice hitching with a note of pent up anger. “We won the war. The three of us Hermione; me, you and Ron won the war. Then the next day you just disappeared. I thought…after that night…maybe we could…what happened to you Hermione?”

“Harry…” She looked like she was about to say more but her voice fell silent as a high quality recording of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony filled the car. Giving him an apologetic glance, she took one hand off the wheel and reached into the side of her door to withdraw a small earpiece with flashing bright green LED implants. Fixing it to her ear, she pressed the answer button before returning both hands to the wheel, her voice retaining its previously joyful demeanour as she greeted whoever was calling her with a friendly “Hello.”

Almost seething, Harry sunk beak into his chair and watched the world outside the car fly by. A tall blue road sign announced that they were driving down the M5 and Harry tried to compare the city’s triple carriageway with its rural English equivalent. The exercise helped calm the storm raging inside of him and he felt a sudden surge of self-loathing for the way he’d treated Hermione. He’d never meant to get angry with her, she deserved better from him than that. In his darkest hours, when not only Hogwarts but the entire Wizarding world had been arrayed against him, Hermione had been the only one to stand by him.

Realising they were approaching a intersection, he breathed a quick sigh of relief as the traffic light suspended above the junction changed from bright green to yellow. However instead of slowing, Hermione suddenly slammed her foot down onto the accelerator, challenging the light while angrily speaking into the ear piece. “What do you mean they need me to come in? I told Ramon I couldn’t do any shots this week. No, I have a friend staying with me. He’s come all the way from England and has only just arrived. I can’t just leave him to…well why can’t we just….but what about…oh fine! I’ll be there in half an hour.” She pressed the button to end the call before angrily hurling it behind the seat just as they zoomed under the lights an instant before the amber hue turned a bloody red. “Oh Harry, I’m so sorry but I have to pop into work.”

**************************

“This really shouldn’t take any longer than an hour Harry, I promise.” Hermione assured him as they walked along a cobble-stone path that traversed the edge of a stretch of beach along Sydney’s eastern coast.

Panting heavily as the sun beat down on them, Harry cold do little more than grunt in acknowledgement as he struggled to keep up with her. He’d left his coat in the car, though he’d wanted to bring it along, Hermione had insisted that the heavy leather garment would have attracted too much attention on an Australian beach and he’d been forced to leave it behind.

Sun kissed and dazzling, the beach reminded Harry of the muggle television programme ‘Baywatch’. The Dursley’s, Dudley in particular, had been fond of watching it on Saturday nights and Harry couldn’t help noticing the only thing missing was a scantily clad Pamela Anderson running into the water in slow motion. Everywhere he looked, beneath clear blue skies, there were dunes of sugar fine sand leading down to turbulent white capped waters of turquoise and deep cerulean. Yet despite the picturesque conditions, the sandbanks were sparse for all but the occasional dog walker or, ironically, life guard.

“So what exactly is it you do again?” Harry asked before using the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat that was trickling down his brow. He had never felt more over dressed; without the aid of his coat’s cooling charms, his heavy denim trousers felt stifling and his cotton top was sticking to his back like a second skin.

Still a good four or five strides ahead, Hermione glanced back over her shoulder, flashed him a mischievous smile in way of an answer, before adding hastily as she walked on “You’ll see soon enough.” Dressed in a baggy black vest top and snug red shorts that hugged her thighs nicely, she was completely at ease in the sizzling temperatures. Cursing himself for not checking the Australian weather before he’d left for the airport, Harry couldn’t help letting his eyes linger on her buttocks for a moment before hurriedly glancing up to see if she’d noticed. To his relief she had her gaze fixed on the way ahead and it only took a quick glance for him to realise how much his friend had grown the last five years.

Though Hermione had always been emotionally mature for her age, only now had her body truly begun to catch up. Gone was the pale and skinny bookworm he’d known through school. A light, honey tan made her once milky white complexion glow golden in the sun and a daily jogging and yoga routine had toned her thin frame into a lithe hourglass. She had also taken to putting her bushy chestnut mane up into a pony-tail and wore a pair of synthetic crocodile skin boots that went half way up to her knees and had somewhat more heel then he imagined her wearing.

His throat was parched but to his relief, a light breeze began to blow, ruffling his hair and cooling his skin. Grateful for the reprieve, Harry turned his head up to the horizon and caught his first glimpse of what must have been their destination. Against the glare of the sun, the scene was at first hard to discern, but as they approached he began to make out the shapes of a dozen men and woman milling around two caravans. Further down the bank, a cluster of chairs were overshadowed by a huge parasol and faced, down by the rolling surf, three tall light stands fixed with umbrella covered strobe lights.

‘A makeshift photography studio?’ It certainly wasn’t what he’d expected; though Hermione had forever been a fountain of information and opinions, he had never heard her express an interest in photography.

They were just approaching the closest caravan when a young woman with styled and dyed dark-red hair, dressed in a pale blue shirt and snug fitting grey jeans, holding a clip board stepped out of the open doorway in its side. She looked to be deep in thought, but that evaporated the moment she caught sight of Hermione.

“Hermione!” she called, raising the hand with the clipboard over her head in greeting as she broke into a run towards the pair. “Oh thank God! You have to hurry, Rodarick is going ape. He has even threatened to sue if we miss the light for this shoot. I tried to tell him there’s always tomorrow but he just starts screaming shit at me in Fren-ohhh hi.” She said, noticing Harry for the first time before leaning in close to Hermione and saying “Say Herm, who’s your cute friend?”

Blushing, Hermione avoided the girl’s gaze as she said “Sara this Harry, Harry this is my assistant Sarah.”

“Harry-wait you mean the Harry.”

Plainly growing uncomfortable with the conversation, Hermione made an extra effort to look offhand as she said “Yes, Harry Potter, we went to school together back in England. Look I’ll deal with Rodarick, can you please escort Harry over to the viewing area while I get ready for the shot.”

“Sure, ohhh I can’t wait to hear what juicy stories he has about you Herm.” Then before Hermione, or Harry for that matter, could object Sarah had run up to him, seized his hand, and began dragging him towards the roaring surf. Not sure what to say, Harry could only look back but Hermione didn’t give him so much as a sideways glance and was already making her way towards the open caravan.

“So you’re the famous Harry Potter. You can’t imagine how long I’ve waited for this.” Sara said after a moment, her voice silky.

“What...I mean…um oh whys that?” Harry asked, surprised, for he’d been certain the girl was a muggle. There were few witches and Wizards in Australia, the island catered little in the way of magical supplies and housed no strictly wizarding districts like those in London. At best the populace was minute and more thinly stretched than a needle; the odds of Hermione’s assistant also being a witch were inconceivable.

“Hermione often speaks of you; she said you were the most amazing man she has ever met and that she has never had a truer friend. When she told me that, I know I just had to meet you one day. Good men are a rare commodity and Herm is just too smart to be so wrong about you.”

“I’ve never known Hermione to be wrong,” He murmured, suddenly feeling especially warm under the blazing sun. “Has she ever mentioned anyone else? From England I mean.”

“No one in particular, she spoke of some Robert Wallaby a few times but it was mostly just in passing, though once she said that he was the most insufferable ignoramus she had ever encountered.” Harry couldn’t help but snigger, ironically that was one of the politest insults Hermione had ever dealt Ronald Wesley. “So what was Hermione like, she rarely speaks of her own past and I would just kill to hear some stories.

“Hermione was…” Harry paused, how often had he pondered that question? Though the answers rarely eluded him, the prospect of picking just one which could sum her up entirely made his pulse quicken and mouth dry, or perhaps it was merely the heat. “Brilliant; there was no challenge she couldn’t master, anything she set her mind to she could accomplish with top marks. She could also be a real ball breaker, and always followed the rules to the letter. Though she always denied it, I think a part of her secretly enjoyed our frequent attempts to get into trouble.”

Sarah giggled. “So you were a corrupting influence?”

“Absolutely.” Harry grinned and this time they both laughed. They were almost at the surf after skirting the edges of the milling mass and Harry could smell the rich saltiness of the sea air. For a moment he thought she was about to lead him into the turbulent waters when Sara suddenly veered right and led him up the bank to the shade of the parasol. The viewing area, as Hermione had called it, turned out to be just a group of seven or so unfolded camping chairs with a cooler underneath.

Bending down, she withdrew a chilled bottle of coke and handed it to Harry before helping herself to one. Unscrewing the lid, she took a long swig of the bobbling liquid before moaning happily as she once more screwed the lid down and then threw it back into the blue box, closing it with a kick of her heel. “Ok, make yourself comfortable and Hermione will be down in just a few moments.” Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and began walking back towards the caravan, pausing a moment before she left the shade to throw one last glance back at him and say “Hmmm…I guess it’s true what they say about tall thin men.”

‘What the hell has Hermione been telling people?’ Feeling his checks flush with embarrassment, he turned away quickly before Sara could see the blush and instead looked down onto the sea. He found the sight of the turquoise waves rolling in breath-taking. As a child he had never had opportunities to enjoy the sea side, the Dursley’s had preferred to leave him with their neighbour, old Mrs Figg, rather than take him on their outings to Weston-super-Mare so his only real opportunity had been during his brief time hiding at Shell Cottage after escaping the Malfoy’s, but then his mind had been too preoccupied with the war and poor Dobby’s sacrifice to enjoy the picturesque settings.

Yet Shell Cottage’s deserted stretch of beach was a pale reflection of this place and Harry made a mental note to thank Hermione later, she certainly had a way of making experiences memorable.

Remembering the drink in his hand and his parched, sand paper like throat, he quickly undid the Coke bottle’s lid and half drained the bottle in a single long swallow. It was warmer than he would have liked, but the fizzy liquid seemed sweeter than ambrosia and he finished it off with just two more swigs. He was about to look for a rubbish bin when a portly middle aged man with heavily tanned skin, greying military cut hair and a curled goatee strode between the set of light stands. Dressed in a long white robe and leather, Jesus creeper sandals, he would have reminded Harry of a born again prophet had he not also had a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses around his neck and been holding an expensive camera. Caught up in his own private tempest, he was shouting and ranting at anyone who dared to step too close in what Harry thought to be French.

The man’s presence caused a tremor to run through the throng of people and they began to fall back behind the light stands, in time for Harry to glimpse a figure, swathed entirely in a hooded robe of billowing white silk, strolling through the surf towards them. Realising the show was about to start, Harry looked back towards the caravans in hope of catching a glimpse of Hermione walking down the beach. However there was no sign of her on the dunes or amongst the crowd of onlookers, all of whom he noticed happened to be staring in the same direction.

Following their gaze back to the robed figure, he watched the individual step out of the surf and walk up the bank towards them. The silk masked them completely, but the damp sea air caused the silk to cling to skin and he was treated to a thrilling peak of golden flesh as the figure passed and for the briefest moment he was certain he had glimpsed rosy lips smiling at him from beneath the hood. Suddenly anxious, he had to fight the urge to leap over the folding chairs and pull the figure’s hood down as the urge to see who lay beneath nearly drove him mad. His world began to slow as the figure, long legged and graceful, took the last few steps towards the onlookers before reaching up and pushing the garment clear and letting it fall to the sand. The sight stole his breath away. “…Hermione!”

Sun kissed and gorgeous, Hermione Granger stood upon the sand in nought but the pooling silk at her feet and a seashell two-piece bikini that’s top only just hid the swells of her bosom. She’d taken her hair down from its pony-tail so that her chestnut locks fell in ringlets around her face and fluttered gently on the sea breeze. Her skin aglow with the midday radiance, she followed the photographer’s direction as he shouted at her and lay on her side with her back to the surf. Harry could feel his breath catching as he watched her throw an arm high carelessly and arch her back, pressing her breasts in his direction. She lay still for a moment, then her eyes shifted in his direction and she winked…

…just before Rodarick’s camera began to click, the flash blinding him momentarily.

**************

Hot and sweaty with sand sticking to the most unimaginable of places, Harry had never enjoyed a shower more than he did at that moment.

Despite Hermione’s assurances that the shoot would only take an hour, he had sat in that ‘Viewing area’ for about three before she came to collect him. It would have been nice to think he had been cool about it; or at least to have handled the situation well, but that would have been a lie and Hermione had only giggled at his shocked expression before dragging him off to a late lunch at her favourite Chinese restaurant. He would never have thought of it, but he had enjoyed listening to her explain the differences between true oriental cooking and the western comparison; reminding him of their more peaceful days in Hogwarts and of the girl he had once known, so very long ago.

Upon arrival at her home, a modest two bedroom flat in the Balmain suburbs, Hermione had given him a tour before excusing herself to freshen up and Harry had been glad of the chance to have a much needed shower. The scolding torrent pelted his body in a ceaseless torrent, easing the stiffness in his muscles’ and scouring the sand from his skin. Unfortunately the water could not cleanse him of all his troubles and as his hands scoured his flesh with soapy suds, he brooded over the enigma that was Hermione Granger.

She had changed so much since those days in school, flourishing while all else in Harry’s life had withered and died. The girl he’d once known had become a woman unlike any he’d known, but despite it all she was still Hermione Granger; the brightest witch of her time, the dearest of any friend, the first woman he had ever loved…

A stiffening sensation in his loins quickly reminded him of the dangers of such thoughts. Feeling strangely embarrassed, and more than a little dirty for getting an erection in Hermione’s shower, he reluctantly turned the hot water to cold. The sudden icy blast made him almost leap out of the stall and his engorged shaft quickly wilted as the soapy lather ran off his body onto the alabaster marble before draining away.

Shivering, Harry quickly turned the water off and pushed the fogged glass of the cubicle door aside. The bathroom was thick with a warm cloud of steam and he was forced to reach out blindly for the towel he’d placed close by before towelling himself down and wrapping it around his waist. Steping from the shower into the cloud of steam, he traced a path from memory to the door leading to the adjoining bedroom.

The roomwas lit only by the dim glow of the bedside table lamp. Shutting the door before any steam could leak into the bedroom; he strode purposefully around the large blur of the bed and took up his glasses from the bedside table. The world shifted into focus as he donned the spectacles. Though he couldn’t exactly call the room Spartan, it would be a long stretch by any imagination to consider it homely. Hermione had, of course, furnished it with all the basics, a double bed, two bedside tables and a chest of draws, all of which was made of rich teak. However the walls were painted pale, the carpeting basic, and there were no decorations or photos to speak of, nothing to give the room the feel of a home. It was almost as if he were staying in a hotel.

He’d left the room’s one window open and could feel a cool evening breeze blowing in from the not so distant bay. Its touch was like ice against his flesh and he shivered when a cold drop fell from his still damp hair to roll down his spine. Feeling it pool against the towel, he undid the fluffy white cloth and let the damp material fall around his feet to leave him standing naked in the glow of the lamp.

His holdall sat open on the centre of the bed, and as he looked inside he suddenly realised how little he’d packed. Everything about this trip had been rushed; he’d scarcely given any thought to what he might wear and had simply grabbed anything that looked suitable, or else clean, for the tropical island climate. With only three tops and a pair of black jeans for his selection, he’d have to have Hermione take him shopping sometime in the next few days

Grabbing a pair of black boxers, he quickly pulled on the undergarment before dressing in his only pair of clean trousers and pulling on a dark red shirt. Doing up all but the top two buttons, he then took out his wand and with a flick of his wrist, cast a silent spell that dried but was powerless to tidy his ever untameable mane of raven hair. Laying it on the closer of the two bedside tables, Harry quickly glanced at the mirror that had been fixed to the back of the ensuite’s door. Satisfied with his appearance, he switched the bedside lamp off and, guided by the warm orange twilight shining in through the window, left via the door opposite the foot of the bed and into the hallway beyond.

The door to Hermione’s bedroom was directly opposite the guest room; the door was shut tight and he was about to head towards the living room when he thought he heard a series of muffled gasps from beneath the door. Worried, He paused before the pine barrier, raised a hand to knock, and then suddenly thought better of it. Dismissing the sounds as woman’s stuff, he turned on his heel and following the carpeted corridor to the flat’s living area.

Hermione seemed to have made greater effort to decorate the living room than she had with the guest room. Though undeniably utilitarian, its design was just what he would have expected of Hermione. There was only one sofa, a two cushioned piece of supple black leather set against the main inner wall and within easy reach of the two tiered coffee table in the centre of the room. A corner of the room was dominated by a desk upon which sat Hermione’s Laptop, printer and Sony CD player, as well as a mass of papers and pens arrayed around a thick leather bound tome entitled ‘Australia: the lost isle by Thilburt Greganock’ along its spine. A framed wizard photo of Harry, Ron and Hermione at Bill and Fluer’s wedding sat in a place of honour upon the desk, it was the last picture of the three of them together before Hermione had disappeared. Three four shelved bookcases had been arranged around the desk, all heavily laden with an assortment of magical and muggle books, two of which were mostly hard backed reference books while the third was creased and dog-eared paper volumes. Curious, he took one of the more used softbacks off the case’s top shelf, only to feel his checks burn scarlet as he read the title ‘The Intimate Adventures of a London Call Girl’.

‘Hermione reads sex books!’ Embarrassed, He hurriedly put the book back in its place and almost tripped over Crookshank’s cat bed as he backed away. The cat/Kneazle hybrid was curled up fast asleep, too lost in his own dreams to notice he’d almost been flattened and Harry quietly steeped over the sleeping beast before preforming a quick sweep of the rest of the living room, but there was nothing remarkable however except for a virtually brand new Sony 30-something inch LCD TV and DVD player set up on a modern metal and glass TV Stand in the opposite corner. Neither machine looked to have been used recently and had thin coatings of dust, but there were a pile of DVD cases beside the player. Unable to resist investigating, he bent forward for a closer look. ‘Serendipity, Fatal Attraction, Basic Instinct, Titani…’

“Find anything you like?” A voice whispered in his ear, making Harry jump and wheel around to find Hermione standing there, a sly smile tilting her full rosy lips. Her hair was still damp from the shower and hung lank in its pony tail, she’d also changed out of the shorts and vest into a silky black robe that she’d tied around her waist. Feeling ominously like a child caught with his hand in the biscuit tin, he could only look down in shame as his face burned a bright red until he heard Hermione giggle and say. “Don’t look so sheepish Harry; I said to make yourself at home didn’t I?” With a surprisingly firm grip, she took his hand and guided him to the sofa before playful pushing him into the leather cushion before and then going through an archway in the wall that led to her kitchen. “I’ll get us something to drink.”

His eyes followed her movements until she was gone from sight, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. What was wrong with him, this was Hermione, his Hermione. Why was he so nervous? He knew her as well as he knew himself, and she considerably more so. So what had changed, why now could he not bare to take his eyes from her? Why was her voice, once able to send him to sleep faster than warm milk, suddenly like music to his ears?

Of course, in his heart, Harry already knew the answer. He’d thought on it much over the past weeks, and he feared it as much as he yearned for it. Its rejection would kill him more assuredly than a curse from Voldemort.

His thoughts fell silent when Hermione stepped back into the room, holding two shot glasses in one hand, a bottle of a pale blue alcohol bearing the insignia of a serpent in the other. “Basilisk Vodka.” Hermione explained as she placed both glasses on the table and unscrewed the bottles top. “It’s the wizarding equivalent of Smirnoff, though with somewhat more kick.” She poured out one shot and then handed it to Harry.

Eyeing the pale blue vodka cautiously, he raised the shot glass to Hermione and said “Nostrovia”, before putting it against his lips and tossing his head back, draining the shot. He swallowed it quickly, the familiar taste of straight Vodka rolling over his taste buds and flooding his senses and no sooner had he placed the shot glass down than he felt the first kick back rising up in his throat, his fingers tingling. It was over quickly, but then the second was upon with startling swiftness, and he could feel a heat burning through his chest, spreading over his lungs, turning his breath smoky. That should have been the end of it; but he could feel a third growing and glanced at Hermione, saw her smiling down at him as she held the glass to her lips, opened his mouth to speck, only to be flung back into his seat as a billowing plum of steam exploded from his lips.

“Na Zdorovie, Harry.” She replied as he sat their smoking, her prefect lips pronouncing the Russian toast fluently. Panicking, Harry tried to stop her, his hand rising up as his lips mouthed the words but all that came out was more smoke and Hermione gently tipped the glass back and drained the contents. She swallowed it all without caution, then after a moment, pursed her lips as if she were about to whistle, and blew a long blade of smoke.

As the smoke began to die, Harry’s chest heaved with the effort of breathing but he could not tear his gaze from the vision of Hermione standing before him, her rosy lips pursed around the smoky spire, tanned skin actuated by the black silk, half veiled eyes watching him with playful amusement. She was toying with him, as the cat plays with a bird before delivering the final blow, but what was her game?

“Mmm… it was first brewed in the nineteenth century by a small group of Russian wizards, fleeing the burning of Moscow and Napoleon’s invading army, to warm them against the plummeting Winter temperatures.” She said as she sat next to him on the sofa, the last of the smoke blowing in scant tendrils from her nostrils. “They placed an enchantment on the drink you see, to dispel the alcohol’s poisons but then cast a counter charm which would cause a placebo effect on the drinker, giving them same buzz but with none of the previous debilitating effects.”

‘A buzz, is that what she calls this?’ Harry wasn’t an innocent; since his break with Ginny he’d learnt to indulge himself and enjoy a glass or two of firewhisky in the evenings, dulling the memories that so often plagued his moments of solitude. He knew the feeling that came with having one too many, but that was a mere shadow of the sensations rushing through him now. Every cell in his body felt energised, a fire was raging in his chest and a thick canopy of smoke had clouded his thoughts. His movements felt foreign, both sluggish and at the same time accelerated. He tried to think of something to say, but as his eyes watched her his mouth opened and words came spilling out before he realised what he had said. “You know, you never did answer my question earlier. What happened to you Hermione? Why did you leave us after the battle? And why did you wait five years before contacting me?”

Hermione didn’t answer. Seemingly stunned by his sudden outburst, she went as still as marble and turned her gaze away from him to look upon the sleeping Crookshanks. Her eyes glistened and when she blinked, a single crystal tear rolled down her check.

‘Dammit Potter, you just couldn’t keep your big mouth shut could you?’ Inwardly cursing his own stupidity, Harry shifted round, reached out to touch her shoulder but again thought better of it at the last moment and retracted his hand. “Hermione, I’m sor…”

“I never thought we would win Harry.” Hermione’s voice lacked all emotion as she gave the voice to the exact same fears which had once plagued Harry’s own mind half a decade ago. “I’d hoped we would win but it had felt like a dream, as likely as winning the lottery. Professor Dumbledore was gone, the Ministry had rolled over and Voldemort was just so powerful. What chance did we have Harry, just the three of us against so many? I thought we were going to die and I was so afraid.” She raised a hand to brush the tear aside. “I never told my parents what we planned to do, I knew they would worry and I was so afraid of what would happen if I never came home. I was there only daughter, it would destroy them if I died. I couldn’t stand it, so before arriving at your aunt and uncle’s house I cast a charm that wiped every trace of me from their memory; it would be as if I never existed. Then the unthinkable happened.”

“We won.” Said Harry; his mouth running dry as he began to understand the depth of Hermione’s departure. Though he had never been formally introduced to her parents, Hermione had told him a great deal about the Granger’s and it had always been starkly obvious how close the family had been. And to save them the pain of that loss, she had willing severed every connection. He could scarcely imagine anything harder, and then only to discover her sacrifice had been all for nought.

“We won. After leaving Hogwarts I tried to preform the counter charm, but it was too advanced magic and I lacked the power.” More tears began to roll down her checks. “A part of me hopped that maybe they would remember if they saw me. So I went to their Surgery, my mum was in the waiting room, filling out the forms my dad always hated. She looked up at me as I entered, watched me for a moment, and then turned back to finish the forms while the receptionist asked for my details. She thought I was just another patient and it took everything I had not to burst into tears as I left.” Those tears were coming now however but she made no effort to hide them as she began to silently weep.

Harry wanted to say something, but what could he say. For all his life, he’d received symphony for being an orphan, for never knowing his parents. Many thought such pain and loss was unimaginable, but that all palled in comparison to what Hermione must now feel every day. To be tortured by the memories of those she had loved. To see them living out their lives before her eyes and know she could never approach them again. Knowing that she had sacrificed everything she had held dear, and that it had all been for nothing. How could he have any idea what she was feeling?

He placed a hand on her shoulder, it wasn’t much but it seemed to help as she didn’t push him away and after a moment he could feel the shaking that wracked her beginning to subside. Brushing the tears away, She lifted her gaze away from the sleeping feline and for a moment he thought she might look at him but instead she turned to look at the photo on her desk. “He tried to kiss me you know.”

“What!” The sound was higher than Harry had intended but suddenly it felt like there was a tennis ball lodged in his throat that he just couldn’t swallow.“…Who?

“Ronald, it was while we were down in the Chamber of Secrets during the battle, we had just retrieved the basilisk’s fang when he suddenly started telling me that he had had feelings for me since our third year and he’d wanted to tell me since Bill and Fleur’s wedding but he could never find the words. Then he kissed me, almost stabbing me with that bloody snake fang while he was at it.”

He tried to laugh but his heart just wasn’t in it. “So what did you do?”

“I hit him.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep, knocked him flat on his arse then stormed off. We didn’t speak after that, I tried to talk to him later but I ended stumbling in on him and Lavender rekindling their old relationship in what remained of moaning Mertyl’s bathroom. Then when I heard about you and Ginny, well after what happened between us in the forest of Dean, I didn’t want to get in the way so I left. My mum’s dad had emigrated out here a few weeks after his wife died and I use to spend the summer holidays with him when I was a little girl so it seemed a logical place to start a new life. I took all the inheritance my relatives had left me and emigrated out here a few weeks later. I used most of the money to buy this flat and I just worked what jobs I could find until Sara discovered me working in a book shop last year and recommended me to the agency’s talent scout. I’ve been with them ever since.”

Harry knew he should have let sleepy dogs lie, all he had to do was hold his tongue and let the moment pass, but the vodka spoke for him. “You know you could have called, Mione, I was worried about you.”

Hermione turned to face him, her eyes lowered and a guilty smile turning her lips. “I know I should have, and I’m sorry Harry, but I didn’t want to ruin your relationship with Ginny. You’ve been through so much, you deserve a little happiness.”

“You would never ruin anything Hermione.” He assured her, trying to sound comforting before a notion suddenly struck him. “But if you were worried of ruining my relationship with Ginny, why did you send me that E-mail?”

Hermione Began to blush. “I was drunk.”

“You were drunk?”

She looked away, her face burning a bright red. “Sara took me out for a girl’s night out. I had a few too many rum and cheery cokes and started telling her all about you. She tracked you down the next day and while I was still a bit tipsy she got me to send you an e-mail.”

“I wondered why there was a spelling mistake in the second sentence.” Harry commented, causing them both to laugh.

“I didn’t protest very much. Then everything happened so fast and when you said you were coming to visit I was so happy.” She turned back to him, a warm genuine smile lighting up her face. “I really have missed you Harry.”

Harry could only smile as their eyes met, a hot shiver running down his spine “I’ve missed you too Hermione.”

All notion of time slipped away and Harry found himself wishing that that moment would never end as he looked into Hermione’s bright hazel orbs and felt his heart swell. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and crushing her against him, seizing her lips in a passionate embrace. With the drink in him he might actually have done so if Hermione had not suddenly jumped to her feet.

“Ooh come on, let’s dance” declared Hermione, sauntering over to the desk and fiddling with the CD player until classical music began echoing from the speaker. Harry’s heart jumped as he recognised Beethoven’s eighth symphony and he had a sudden feeling of Déjà vu as Hermione began to dance, her hips swaying seductively to the beat as she took his hand and dragged him from the sofa.

It must have been the drink that did it. One moment he had skirting around her like a timed rabbet, the next their bodies were locked together in a tempest of rhythm as he surrendered to the music and her wishes. A hair’s breadth divided them. With every breath, her scent filled him and he could recall the taste of her lips on his. He could feel breasts pressing against him, her hardened nipples clearly visible against the silken fabric. His hands were on her, running lightly over the sultry curve of her spine down to the ample swells of her buttocks. He felt his hand moving on its own accord, squeezing the firm orbs and causing her to utter a surprised gasp. The sound stirred his shaft to life, but when she began to pull away he feared he might have gone too far, until she twisted and began to rock her backside against him, massaging his engorged arousal as her arm wound around his neck. Her head titled back. Their lips were nearing, opening bit by bit in readied acceptance as his arms curled around her front, rising slowly over her ribs to clasp her breasts. He could feel her breath on his check, her lips so close, her eyes falling shut, his own darkening…

Meoowwwwww… The sound startled them, bringing them back to reality and Harry’s head wheeled towards it source, only to see Crookshanks stretching out. Their commotion it seemed had awoken the feline who in turned had dispelled the music’s spell. Turning back, he saw Hermione blink as reality, and the realisation of what they had almost done, surged through her. Unable to meet his gaze she stepped back, with a wave of her hand the CD player fell silent and then suddenly she was gone from his sight. A moment later He heard her Bedroom door shutting.

“Shit…”

**************************

Unable to sleep, Harry watched the long shadows cast by the moon’s light shift across his bedroom floor from the still open window. It was well past midnight, but sleep was as far from him as Grimmauld Place and his thoughts were plagued by what had happened in Hermione’s living room.

What had he been thinking? Hermione was his closest friend, now he would be lucky if she would ever talk to him again. And if she did not, what should he do then? Grovel perhaps; Ginny had given him plenty of practice at that toward the end. Would Hermione enjoy seeing him on bended knee, or perhaps she would demand that he leave her home and never come back. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t there to see it; he could easily leave a note and apparate to Sydney Airport and buy a ticket for the next flight back to England before Hermione awoke. Maybe that would be best, maybe…

Shaking his head dismissively, Harry rolled onto his side and, still wearing his glasses, watched the shadows shifting across the wall, the reflection of himself staring back at from the mirror on his bathroom door. He would not leave, the morning would be uncomfortable, there might be some awkward moments and heated words but in the end they would come through it as they always did. He had already lost Hermione once; he would not lose her again so easily.

Click.

The sound was so subtle, for a moment Harry thought it be just a whisper on the wind and he dismissed it from his thoughts. Then a shadow, long and thin as a rapier, stretched across the floor and he realised he was not alone. His fingers flexing, he slowly began reaching beneath the pillows to his wands hiding place. He could hear bare feet padding across the floor, every second bringing them closer. Faking sleep, he counted them off in his head, estimating how many more before they were at the foot of the bed. When the time came, he acted on instinct and ripped the wand free as he whirled upward, bringing the instrument to bear as the curse formed on his lips…

Hermione stood before him, a look of complete serenity upon her delicate features even as his wand came to point at her heart. Dumbfounded by her presence, the spell died in his thoughts and he could only watch with slackened jaw as with a gentle wave of her hand she levitated the wand from his grasp and laid it gently upon the bedside table.

“Hermione…I…I…”

“Sshhh…don’t talk Harry.” Though her words were gently spoken, the command brokered no argument and he could only watch in stunned hypnosis as she stepped over the frame and knelt upon the bed, the matrices sinking slightly under their combined weights as she crouched over him. She was still wearing her robe, he realised, but she had taken her hair down so that it once again hung in a wash of ringlets that went down well past her shoulders.

Without saying a word, she began undoing the tie of her robe so that the garment hung open before reaching up and pushing it back off her shoulders. It pooled on the bed sheets and left her naked to his gaze except for a single pair of lacy black panties. Harry’s tried to say something, but at the sight of her near naked body bathed in moonlight, the silver rays cascading over her beauty, the words fled from him and he could only stare in wondrous amazement as she leant down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Losing all conscious thought, he immediately tried to deepen the embrace and encircled her thin waist, only to have her suddenly break the embrace and forcefully push him back onto the bed. Stunned by her sudden forcefulness, he could do nothing more than stare up at her as she began going lower.

Unable to stand the heat of the covers, Harry had been planning to sleep upon them in only his boxers. Suddenly realising his own nakedness, Harry shifted embarrassedly until Hermione stilled him with a stern look as she lightly trailed her fingers down his lean, athletically chiselled torso. Though it had been some time since he had last played Quiditch, Harry had been making regular visits to a local London gym to stay in shape and it was plain Hermione was pleased with what she saw. Her touch was like fire against his skin and he could feel his flesh quivering as she bent down to ravage his torso, his eyes closing and a gasp escaped him as her greedy lips wrapped around his flat nipples, her tongue teasing the buds before she drew back to kiss each pale scar that maimed his body, working a delicious path down his torso. He shuddered as her lithe fingers seized the hem of his boxers and pulled them down over the swelling bulge of his arousal. His erection sprang free to stand tall before her gaze.

“Mmmm…I’d forgotten just how big you are Harry.” Hermione purred, her hazel orbs smouldering with desire as she took in the sight of his engorged member, closely studying its shape and size, committing every minor detail to memory. Suddenly feeling like a piece of meat, Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as her cool fingers began to ever so softly trace the bulging veins in his shaft, slowly moving down from the tip to the thick base, and then back up to the tip before curling a finger under his foreskin and dragging the membrane down, exposing the organ’s pulsing head to the cool night air.

The feeling was almost too much for Harry and his breath seethed through gritted teeth as he struggled to hold off the release that suddenly threatened to overwhelm him as the pad of her thumb massaged the sensitive tip.

“Her-hermione…aahhhh” He gasped, his hips lifting off the bed as her fingers closed around his shaft. She held him for a moment, her grip tightening just enough to make the mushroom head swell, his collum pulsating in her grasp before she began to rhythmically stroke the organ. Harry shuddered at the feeling, a sudden tremor rising up out of his loins so quickly that he was afraid it was all over, only to watch a clear drop of fluid form on the tip of his shaft and coat the bulbous crown in a viscous liquid. Hermione didn’t wait for permission before leaning down, her curled locks of choclate hair tickling his thighs, and closing her perfect lips around the tip.

Fisting his hands in the sheets, Harry’s eyes widened to the size of saucers as he watched her take him into the wet warmth of her mouth. He could feel her tongue upon his cock, its silky wetness flicking rapidly over the sensitive tip before twirling around the velvety flesh, massaging him as she drew him in and an excited hiss escaped him as he felt her teeth scrape over the pulsating organ. Unable to stand it, his eyes squeezed shut and his head lolled back into the pillows, his death grip on the sheets turning his knuckles white as she used both her hands and mouth to such divine effect.

“Ohhh…Merlin Hermione…don-don’t stop…don’t stop…” He gasped; making no effort to hide the pleading tone as the sensations she was stirring within him almost drove him into a frenzy. For Harry, the idea that it was Hermione, his wonderful, talented, brilliant Hermione, doing this to him was more erotic than he dared imagine and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to cum as he felt her slowly working her way down past the engorged head, suckling it adoringly even as his hips jerked up off the matrices on their own accord and she struggled to accommodate the girth of his rigid shaft.

Keeping her movements slow and her wondrous tongue pressed tight against his cock’s underside, Hermione began drawing more of him into her warmth. It was such a divine torture; Harry had no thoughts but for those of her fist stroking the lower length of his arousal, her plush rosy lips stretched tight around his pulsating flesh, her tongue’s subtle teasing, the gentle scrapping of her teeth, and the awful slowness of it all. ‘So…so slow, how can she be so slow?’

Sinking her mouth down the length of his arousal, she took almost a third of him into her mouth, the tip just touching the entrance to her throat, before slowly drawing back until just the bulbous head remained inside her warmth. She sucked it wantonly, swirling her tongue around the sensitive ridge, before repeating the proses of taking him into her mouth.

She developed her rhythm quickly, stroking and squeezing his cock with her fingers while her lips devoured him. Slow and Sensual, Hermione was all but purring with delight as her lips and tongue and hand moved in perfect sync and it took only a moment of her sweet torture to drive him wild. He fought to remain in control, but he was overwhelmed by the sensations she was stirring inside of him and her name escaped him in a ragged gasp. Encouraged by his display of pleasure she doubled her efforts, sucking on it hungrily as her head began to bob along the upper half of his arousal.

Feeling his head starting to spin as her pace quickened, Harry had no idea how he had managed to hold on for so long as he absorbed every hot, wicked sensation she sent shooting through his nervous system. Unable to resist the overwhelming urge, his hips started to rock and gyrate in time to her tempo, churning in whatever way rewarded him with even more of the blissful magic the saucy witch was conjuring. Ginny had never done anything like this; if Voldemort had were to burst into the room at that moment, Harry thought he might have been powerless to do anything more than tell the Dark Lord to take a seat outside and wait his turn, he’d be done in a moment. A phrase that was all too true…

Almost delirious with pleasure, he knew he had to see her, to see the look in her eyes and know that this wasn’t just a wondrous fantasy brought about by pent up lust. Pushing himself upward with his hands, he forced his eyes open and stared down in utter rapture at the vision laid out before him. Just sight of Hermione on her knees, her gorgeous body clad only in those lacy panties, chocolate ringlets cascading over her shoulders and back as she twisted her torso, the swells of her bosom jiggling with every subtle movement, was enough to send a hot shiver up his spine that left him dangling over the precipice of release.

He watched transfixed, unable to move for fear of what sweet oblivion might befall him, as her luscious lips slid along the length of his cock, his hips jerking every time he felt her tongue flick over the pulsating tip. It took a moment for him to realise that she was watching him closely, studying his every reaction with the scrutiny only Hermione Granger could muster, learning what he preferred and committing it to memory, as though this was merely another school assignment. Never once did she pause, even in an area as perverse as oral sex she was extraordinary.

“Does it feel good Harry?” She asked, her big hazel eyes staring up at him innocently while her plush lips stretched around the bulbous tip, the vibration of her words trembling deliciously down his engorged flesh. However such visual stimulation was too much and Harry’s mouth feel open in several ragged moans as the pressure in his loins exploded. Panting, he tried desperately to push Hermione away but she merely batted the hand aside as thick ropes of his creamy seed erupted inside her mouth. She drank it all down without complaint, drawing every last drop of his release down her heavenly throat before finally releasing him with a last swirl of her tongue.

His chest heaving and vision shifting in and out of focus, Harry collapsed back into the beds embrace. Too dazed to speak, he watched through half lidded eyes as Hermione rose to her feet, surprisingly surefooted on the bouncy mattress. Without saying a word, she seized the hem of her panties and pushed them down her long legs. Utterly naked, she stepped out of her underwear and kicked the garment aside before straddling his hips and lowering herself down over his still erect arousal. Planting both hands on his abdomen to steady herself, she brought their bodies close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from her slick folds. She held herself there and as their eyes met, Harry glimpsed her confidence falter fir the first time since she’d entered the bedroom.

“Harry…please…be gentle. This is my first time since…since the forest.”

“Really?” Harry couldn’t believe it, after what she had just done, surely it couldn’t be true. “You mean you haven’t…haven’t been with anyone else?”

Hermione’s features hardened. “I’m not a slut Harry. I don’t shag people I don’t…well I mean...” Suddenly blushing, she brought her left hand up to touch his check. “You’re the only man I’ve ever wanted, Harry Potter.”

His heart leaping for joy, Harry pushed himself up from the bed into a seated position, putting them almost nose to nose as his hands snaked their way around her legs and up to her taut buttocks. She shot him a questioning look but he only grinned before seizing her perfectly rounded arse and hoisting her up on his shoulders.

“Well in that case…” Feeling his erection grow almost painful as he drank in the sight of her nakedness, the musky scent of her arousal infesting his every breath, Harry flattened his hands against her buttocks to steady her before burying his face into her heat. ‘Mmm…so beautiful.’

“Harry Potter, what do you think you are dooohhhhh!” Hermione moaned, throwing her head back in utter rapture as he plunged his tongue into her carnal depths. Fuelled by an unquenchable thirst, he showed her no mercy and lashed at her slick inner-walls while kneading the firm globs of her buttocks, relishing the feel of her perfectly sculpted rump in his grasp.

Obviously unprepared for the sudden wash of pleasure, Hermione could only pant in sheer wide-eyed delight as he skilfully ravished her depths, his tongue plunging deeper than she’d thought possible. Then suddenly her fingers were seizing his hair and he could feel her legs closing around his neck as she made to draw him closer, trying to get more of the sensations he was stirring within her.

“Does it feel good Hermione?” He teased, echoing the very same words she’d used to send him over the edge.

“Yes...ohhh….yes…yessss” She cried, her body trembling as her hips began to roll in tiny eager circles. “It…it feels so good…wh-where did you learn to do this?”

“Ginny.” Harry growled, savouring her sounds of pleasure whilst plundering her depths with long swirls of his tongue. “She always thought a blow job was disgusting, but strangely cunnilingus was fine.” Digging his fingers into her silky flesh, he pressed forward, plunging deeper within her heady centre.

“You’re incredible…ohhh…merlin…more…more…”

Realising she was close, he withdrew his tongue from her depths but before she could protest he slid the muscle greedy along her folds, up to the pert bud of her clitoris. Eager to bestow the bliss of release upon her, he took the small bundle of nerves between his teeth and tugged it gently before pressing his tongue against it. Hermione shrieked at the contact, her entire lower body writhing in his grasp as he began keenly lashing the swollen bud.

“Oooh God! I can’t take this…yes…yes…right there…”She begged, her thighs closing so tight around his throat he was in danger of being choked. She was writhing so fiercely, it was difficult for Harry to maintain his tongue’s contact with her clit and he might have dropped her altogether had he not been keeping an ironclad grip on her rump. “So…so good…ohhh god don’t stop…don’t stop ohhhh yesssssss!” Suddenly her eyes squeezed shut and her entire body began to shake as the pleasure erupted inside her, flooding his lips with her nectar’s exotic spice. Quickly becoming addicted to the taste of her, Harry drank down every drop while continuing to lick her through her release, the hand in his hair still holding him fast against her convulsing core.

When at last she went limp in his arms, Harry didn’t waist a moment and gently lowered her down from his shoulders. Supporting her somewhat inconsiderable weight as she came down from her orgasmic high, he lowered her into position over his straining erection, barely able to contain his self-satisfied smirk at her half-lidded look of utter bliss. Yet for his part, Harry was in utter agony as his anticipation of what was about to come caused the tightness in his erection to grow all the more prominent with each passing moment and it was only sheer force of will that kept him from surging on ahead. He’d waited too long for this moment to ruin it now.

Rousing slowly from her pleasure induced delirium; Hermione could only blink in wonderment as their eyes met before she suddenly realised she was straddling his waist. Unflinching, she gave him a confirming nod, before wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together as she leant forward.

“I love you Harry.” She whispered, her voice hitching with breathless excitement, before devouring his lips in a fierce kiss as she rolled her hips and plunged down onto his engorged arousal. “Oh god!” She gasped, breaking the kiss as she felt herself take centimetre after centimetre into her channel, torn between the pain of her body trying to accommodate his intrusion and the wondrous sensation of being once again joined to the man she loved.

“So-so tight…” Harry moaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of her inner-walls stretching around him, moulding to him like molten velvet as she took his shaft in all the way to the base. He could feel her insides writhing around him, sending hot rushes along his spine and he had to fight the urge to buck against her as she wiggled in his lap before rolling her hips. Though slow, at first, the friction of her motions was delicious and he collapsed back into the bed’s embrace as she started moving up and down, working more of him into her body.

Flattening her hands against his chest to steady her as she rose over him, Hermione didn’t miss a beat and started a slow up and down motion, her pace quickening with each descent as her natural wetness coated his arousal. Relishing the feel of her tightness gliding along his length, her walls, clinging to him and massaging his engorged flesh, Harry made no move to interfere. Dreading that he may cause her more discomfort than pleasure, he pushed his every reserve of self-control to its limit, forcing himself to remain still as she rose up until just the tip remained inside her before dropping down onto him again. No words or moans escaped her, she was entirely focused on the task at hand, but he could hear her quietly gasp with each intrusion and he had to bite his lower lip to keep from moaning every time she took him inside. Yet when she flexed her muscles around him, he couldn’t hold back and instinctively bucked against her, thrusting deeper into her warmth.

“Ohhhhh!” Hermione moaned, throwing her head back in utter rapture. Suddenly afraid, Harry made to hold her still but she would have none of it and continued rolling her hips, her motions growing bolder and bolder until she was all but bouncing upon his cock. “So-so good…ohhh god…do it again Harry…I want it…I want it…”

Never one to defy her, he used his hold on her hips to guide her motions, suddenly thrusting up into her every downward glide, matching her stroke for stroke as she gave into her pleasure and rode him with a wild abandon. Gone was the reasoned and logical Hermione Granger he had known; now there was only the wild, sexual beast she kept chained and hidden behind so many piles of books. He had glimpsed it that night they’d spent together in the forest all those years ago, but only now, as she surrendered entirely to the molten pleasure coursing through her, did he truly witness the beauty of her transformation.

“Mmmm…right there…yesss…right there…right-ohhh god…fuck me!” She cried, her mouth agape and features locked in a state of rapturous delight as she arched her back and vigorously rode his bucking shaft to untold heights of ecstasy. “Ohhh god…it’s so good…I can’t take it…fuck me harder…harder!”

It was the first time Harry had heard her curse and the profanity almost pushed him over the brink as he relished the feeling of her snug channel massaging his cock, the heat of her core drawing him in with every stroke, sucking in every fibre of his being as if to consume him whole.

The bed began to rock and squeak as her strides evolved into a rhythm of upward glides then crashing, downward slams while he thrust up to meet her, driving himself deeper into her channel and causing her firm round breasts to bounce with every impact. On one practically deep thrust her back arched and she threw her head from side to side in utter delirium, a curtain of her hair whirling around her eyes, whilst a wild cry of delight was ripped from her lips. Realising he’d hit her sweet spot, he focused on hitting that same spot again and felt a pained hiss seething past his lips as the sudden jolt had her clawing his torso.

“Oooh my god…you bad boy….mmmooh-yea fuck me harder… I want it…holy fuck you’re going to make me climax!” Almost on the brink, Hermione uttered a final wild cry before her legs gave way and she plummeted back down upon his cock, taking him all the way inside. Not ready to stop however, she started rocking upon him. Glistening drops of sweat ran down her skin, her soft chocolate-coloured hair hanging lank past her shoulders as she flung herself against him, fucking him as hard as her exhausted limbs would allow. The tempo was fast and hard; edging closer to his own release Harry matched her motions, rocking upward, using short hard thrusts to bury his cock inside her. The beauty writhed and moaned and gasped with each exquisitely thrilling penetration, her hands leaving their perch on his taught abdomen to glide up her waist to cup her breasts.

Rapidly approaching his breaking point, Harry watched entranced as her right handed kneaded the bouncing cleavage, rolling her pebbled nipple between her thumb and forefinger, the pliant flesh moulding to her palm whilst her left ran up her neck, over her cheek and into her sweat-dampened hair. She was so close, feeling her hanging over that abyss, caught between the sweetest oblivion and agonising wanton longing, he couldn’t bear to prolong her torment any further. Tightening his hold on her hips, he ground her upon his shaft and lurched upward, crushing their bodies together as he began attacking her neck. Kissing, licking and nipping every bit of exposed skin within reach, he found his every sense flooded with very essence of Hermione Granger; the taste of her, the scent of her, the very sound of her soul singing within her as she gasped and moaned. It was all too much, and yet not enough, never enough. He wanted to experience everything about this angelic creature, too know her entirely and then relearn everything over and over.

Her hand fisted in his hair as he nibbled her collarbone, directing him where she wanted his attentions the most while pressing her soft bosom against his hard chest and rolling her hips to ride his upward thrusts. Trailing fiery kisses up along the curve of her chin, he bit her earlobe before whispering in her ear “I love you Hermione.”

Her climax struck like a bolt of lightning at his words. Throwing her head back and uttering a voiceless scream as her body began to violently quake; Hermione clung to him for dear life, her entire existence shattering in his arms. Feeling her inner-walls spasm around him as each wave of her climax crashed over her, each stronger than the last, Harry knew he was done and gave a coarse, guttural cry before thrusting into her one last time, spilling himself inside her warmth as he crushed her to him.

Spent and exhausted, they collapsed onto the bed in a naked heap of tangled limbs. Hermione had passed out from the intensity of the pleasure coursing through her still and buried to the hilt within her, Harry could do little more than hold her close as her swept the covers aside before burring them both beneath the sweat soaked fabric. Sleep finally made his eyelids heavy yet he couldn’t help smiling as he gazed upon her, watching as she snuggled against him. In ancient times, the bards sang all journeys end with lovers meeting, yet he couldn’t help thinking his greatest journey had only just begun.

The end

AN: I should declare that I have never been to Australia so all content displayed here is from my own imagination.

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