Just Once

Just Once
byJori

A savory proposition is presented to Hermione.
Rated NC-17
H/Hr (with mention of Ron/Luna, Dean/Ginny and a two people from Harry and Hermione's past)
E-Mail me at jori@netroenterprises.com
Find other goodies at http://www.netroenterprises.com/hidingout/

A/N: I'm copying myself on this one. Having used this premise in two other fandoms a long while ago, my friend and beta reader requested I do it once more. Also, this is to make up for the fact that I posted a 'OBHWF' drabble on my LiveJournal last week. I was told I had to make up for my transgressions by writing a Harry/Hermione shagfest. My first attempt ended up with a plot that was going to take some time to get through. I was told the idea was no plot so I started again and this is what I came up with. Since it is plot free, I'm quite sure the characters are doing something they probably wouldn't and there's no driving motivation behind what they're doing except to get to the shagging. If that bothers you, skip ahead to the next story.


This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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It's the last trip to Hogsmeade before the term is over (and the last one ever for many of us seventh years) and the crowd inside the Three Broomsticks is so noisy that I can barely hear Harry speaking to me from across the table. Ron left with Luna and Dean and Ginny went to stock up on sweets from Honeydukes, leaving the two of us alone. Or sort of alone. Harry is asking me something but in the clamor, I can only catch a few words of what he's saying.

"Would you... before we go... just once?"

"Once?" I ask before my eyes go wide, finally putting all those words together to form the whole question.

He cocks his head to side and waits for my answer.

I can't believe I'm considering his proposition. That's what it is. A proposition. A plan. Perhaps a scheme he's devising for who knows what purpose. I know him better than to think he's trying to make me look the fool. Harry would never do that. Yet, he's up to something and I'm not sure what it is. Or maybe not. Maybe he really does want just once. Could that be a possibility? Could it really?

Back to the 'proposition' at hand. I have to look away from his eyes to consider it rationally. Watching him look at me like he's doing right now makes it too easy to say yes and run right back to the castle for an afternoon of 'once-ing.' It's not like I haven't thought about it before but the offer has never been . . . well, offered. After a few fumbling attempts at kissing a while back, I didn't think he'd be interested in more.

It looks like he might be.

"So, what do you say?" Harry asks in a voice lower than I thought his voice could go. It's his sexy voice and I know he did that on purpose. In all these years, I've never heard him talk to Ron like that. He usually doesn't talk to me like that unless he really wants something. Usually that something involves helping him with his Potions homework or giving him my notes for Charms. Rarely has that something included . . . me.

"What constitutes 'once?' We need to establish . . ." I start to ask in a rather bookish way before I'm interrupted by a laugh and that low voice again.

"Oh, Hermione. Does it need to be in writing? Once is . . . once," he says, as he goes back to playing with his tankard of butterbeer.

He swirls the liquid around and around and I can't help but watch his hands as they do so. He's slow and deliberate, never letting a drop spill over the top. Never stopping that circular motion. I wonder what he could do to me with those hands? Would he let me spill over the top . . .

I shake myself out of whatever fantasy I might have been having and look up at him quickly. "Okay. Once."

I hear his tankard go clunk against the table, Harry setting it down rather hard after all the muscles in his hand simultaneously stop working. Or maybe that was his jaw hitting the table. I don't think that would go 'clunk' though.

He's going to back out of it. He looks like a terrified little mouse being chased by an owl. It is okay as long as it's his game, but as soon as I'm the owl, so to speak, he becomes the Boy Who Runs.

I sit back in my seat, cross my arms in front of me and wait for the great escape plan. How is he going to elude me? His eyelids are already fluttering about like a freshly hatched lacewing fly before taking flight. He is trying to figure out how he is going to dodge this and take his own 'flight.'

He opens his mouth, which by the way is another remarkable reason to 'once' with him, and nothing comes out for a few seconds. He can't even formulate a good excuse to get out of this. Maybe when I agreed, I was counting on him getting us both out of it.

But do I really want him to?

I pick up my own mug of warm butterbeer and send it swirling in its tankard, blowing the steam in his direction. He's watching me now. Watching my hands as they send the liquid around and around. His mouth is still open. He's still thinking about if he wants to do this or not. Maybe I should be offended. I just offered myself up to him and he's trying to get out of it. That would be for the best. We're only going to be here at Hogwarts for a few more weeks and then I'm off to university and he's off to do something he won't even tell me about. Perhaps it would be best if we just ended this right now before it went too far and we jeopardize our friendship after all these years. I look at him once more and I can tell by his expression, he's thinking the same thing.

I resign myself to the fact that he didn't really mean it. It was a fun little fantasy for the few minutes it lasted but I should have known better. I have to stop looking at him now before he tells me that he was just joking with me.

"I'll settle up with Rosmerta," he finally says, standing up quickly. "I guess it has to be my room, right?"

CLUNK!

This time it isn't just the bottom of his tankard hitting the table. This time it's my whole mug, sending butterbeer everywhere.


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

Harry doesn't know the way back to Hogwarts. I'm sure he knows the way, but right now, he seems all turned around.

Before we can end up at Honeydukes, I take his arm and point him in the direction of the big castle that's looming over everything.

"Right," he says, taking a deep breath.

I wonder if I should hold his hand but then realize that I'm so nervous, my palms are a sweaty mess. It's not that I haven't done this before. I have. Just not like this and not with Harry.

And for the record, not with Ron either since he never got up the nerve to ask.

I usually prefer a little planning to be involved, thrown in with some research. I like to know the how and the when before I get there. Although I've lightened up considerably since I came to Hogwarts and got on the Harry Potter Express to All Places Evil, there are still some things I like to think about. Sex is one of them.

Now I'll have to admit that I have thought about it with Harry before. How could I not? He's been in my life nearly every day for years now and he's not bad looking. A little shorter than I prefer but still, those eyes are enough to make me forget everything else.

Except for my sweating palms. I can't seem to forget them.

"Are you going to be okay?" I ask, trying to calm my own nerves.

"I think so. And you?" he asks.

"Yes," is all I say in reply.

We somehow manage to find the castle in short order and head towards his room. I have my own room, being Head Girl and all, but he can't get in. I suppose he assumes his roommates won't be returning from Hogsmeade any time soon or maybe they have some deal about getting the room to themselves. I hope it doesn't smell like sweaty Quidditch socks and old treacle tarts. It's bad enough that I now smell like the butterbeer I spilled all over myself.

No one in the entire castle seems to notice us as we're always together anyway. All that's missing from our group is Ron and his newest constant companion, Luna. They said they were heading off to look at the Shrieking Shack, which Harry and I both know means they're sneaking off to snog somewhere. I hope they weren't planning on coming back here.

We get to the dorm room and Harry looks nervous as he lets me in. I make sure to lock the door with a spell none of his roommates will be able to get past. His area is neat and tidy, much to my surprise, and I somehow suspect Dobby might have something to do with that. He's still fond of Harry and probably cleans up his mess. Ron's area could certainly use some help.

I watch as Harry pulls off his robes and checks through some notes Hedwig left behind.

"Can I get out of these clothes? They're covered in butterbeer and it's rather uncomfortable. Very wet and sticky," I say and he looks up from the note in his hand to me, his eyes peering over the frames of his glasses.

"Er -- would you like something of mine to wear?" he asks and I go over to his trunk, pulling it open. "There should be some clean shirts in there and then . . ."

"How about this?" I ask, pulling out his Quidditch robes. He looks hesitant for a moment and then he grins.

"Are you serious?"

"Always. Sometimes, I'm too serious," I say, starting to strip out of my own clothing, leaving it on the floor in a butterbeer stained puddle around my feet. Harry watches as I get down to my bra and knickers. "Would you like to help?"

Drawn slowly towards me as if by some invisible force (is the promise of sex invisible?) he comes my way, his eyes glazed over now. His tongue darts out and he licks his lips. I'm still so nervous I might melt to the floor with my clothing but I manage to stand tall, wishing I had wiped my hands on my skirt before I took it off.

He takes the robes from my hands and gently turns me around, unclasping my bra from behind and letting it slip down my arms. I fully expect him to turn me back around so he can look but he doesn't just yet. He doesn't touch my knickers either but instead he helps me slip into his Quidditch robes.

"There's no hurry," says Harry, his voice softer than a sigh. "No one said that once has to go by in a rush."

"Good," I say, closing my eyes briefly and sighing, letting all my nervousness flow out of my body. Pulling the scarlet cloth tightly around me, I turn around to face him. "I'm nervous."

I don't really have to tell him that. My cracking voice and the fact that my hands won't stop shaking should be enough to give that away. I haven't been this nervous since the first time I did this. Hopefully, this will turn out better than that did.

We stare at each other and he takes a step back, putting his hands out to me. I reach for him and discover that his palms are just as sweaty as mine. Where did that all too confident Harry go -- the one who asked me here in the first place? Do I scare him? I can't imagine why. I'm just Hermione Granger, dear old friend.

"How do you . . . or rather, where would you . . . oh, bloody hell!" he says with a laugh. "I don't even know what to ask, apparently. I never expected . . . I didn't think you'd say yes. I never expected for this to happen."

"Neither did I."

Thought about a few hundred times, yes. Dreamed about it, sure. Expected it? Never.

He's taking me with him across the room and with one quick motion, I end up wrapped in his arms. This time, when his mouth meets mine, it's right. Perfect, actually. There's no fumbling around at all as his tongue parts my lips and touches mine, sending sparks of desire through me. He doesn't grope at me under the robes but instead, places a hand on either side of my face, holding me in this kiss. Like I was going anywhere.

As he keeps kissing me, my hands go to his shirt, pulling it out of his pants so I can get under there and touch him. His skin is so warm it's everything I can do not to rip his clothing off right here. Slow, I remind myself. If it's only once, I want it to be slow.

Stepping back from the kiss, he looks at me with so much need in his eyes that I almost give up on the whole slow thing. Once is going to be hard enough. Once and slow is nearly impossible.

"Want to go to bed with me?" he asks and I nod my head. He pulls me toward the four-poster and I remind myself to breathe. Breathing is very important at a time like this. Must have oxygen. After landing in the bed, he kicks off his shoes and pulls the curtains shut before turning my way and I notice his eyes traveling slowly over my body. The robes I have on slipped open, exposing my breasts and that's where his eyes linger a while before settling on my face.

"Ever do it with a girl in Quidditch robes?" I ask and his eyes dart away. I mentally kick myself for asking something I didn't really want to know the answer to in the first place. "Never mind. Don't answer that."

"But she wasn't in my Quidditch robes and that changes everything. You look amazing," he says, his fingers running across the fabric and pulling it further aside, revealing more of me. "Did you ever do this for Viktor?" This time, it's my eyes that dart away. "Never mind. I really don't want to know."

None of that really matters anyway since this is only going to be a one time deal. He brushes the edge of his thumb across one of my nipples and it hardens under his touch. I watch him, his eyes fixated on what he's doing and it isn't long before his mouth is replacing his thumb. His tongue lapping against me sends a white-hot bolt of arousal burning through my body. Tangling my fingers through his hair, I hold him there just a little longer before he moves his mouth to my other breast. His hand slides down my body and I part my legs for him, gasping when he pushes my knickers aside and touches me but not for long. Pulling his hand away, he shushes me when I protest and tugs my knickers off and sets them aside with his glasses.

Placing a flutter of kisses over my stomach, he turns himself around on the bed and, realizing what he's going to do, I suck in a deep breath and hold it. There's a first time for everything and this is the first time anyone has done this to me. His tongue darts out, finding my clit right away, and the breath I was holding comes out in a long, soft 'oh' of pleasure.

My back arches up and I find myself moving closer to his mouth, wanting ... what more could I want? He slips his fingers into me, slowly drawing them out before sliding them back in again and now I really couldn't want for more.

Reaching out, I touch him and wish he'd undressed before we got this far. When my hand presses against the erection straining against the front of his jeans, I feel his tongue stutter and he misses a beat or two. I can't think past what he's doing to me and I pull my hand away. He'll get his later but right now, I just want to feel this.

Harry slips off the bed and onto his knees, the curtain going askew. He helps me move until my legs are hooked over his shoulders and I'm at the edge of the mattress, my fingers clutching his bedspread, his Quidditch robes nearly falling off my shoulders. Like this, he's able to run his tongue everywhere, dipping it inside of me before moving back to my clit again. I'm going to dissolve into a puddle of blissful goo right here on his bed. Everyone will just think it was a spell gone wrong.

His tongue darts against me faster and harder and I don't want to come just yet. If this is the one chance I get to have him do this to me, I want it to last.

It's not going to.

When he sucks my clit between his lips, I finally do spill over the top and the rest of the world just floats away with me. When the waves traveling through my body finally subside, I find him smiling, looking very pleased with himself. Probably not as pleased as I am with him, though.

"Come here," I say, my voice raspy with desire. We both end up properly on the bed and I tug his shirt up and over his head. I can't manage the zipper on his jeans with my shaking hands and he does it for me, pulling them and his underwear down and kicking them off the bed.

"Oh, wait," he says, reaching for his jeans and pulling his wand out of his back pocket. "How do you want to do this? Me or you?"

I know perfectly well what he's talking about and I don't want him messing with magic anywhere near my body in his excited state so I tell him he can do it to himself. A few words and a flick of his wand later and he's done, putting the wand and his nearly forgotten glasses carefully on his bedside table.

Harry faces me, his face flushed and his eyes the darkest green I've ever seen them, and I have to tell myself to breathe again. If I stop doing that now, he's not going to get much out of this.

He moves his robes out of the way and settles between my thighs, pushing in slowly, filling me completely. I wrap my legs around his waist, letting him sink in further and his eyes flutter shut. Harry's forehead is already damp with sweat and I push his hair away from his eyes before I put my hands on his arms, my fingers holding on tight. Opening his eyes and locking them onto mine, he starts to move. I can see that he's striving to go slow and make it last and I don't know whether that's for me or for him.

"Faster," I coax, letting him know it's okay to do what he wants and with that, he lets go. It feels incredible, having him thrust into me this hard and this fast and the look on his face is one I never want to forget. It's pure carnal desire, needful and wanting.

He kneels and my legs fall from around his waist. Moving them until they are nearly pressed to my chest, he slams into me ever deeper than before and I gasp with each stroke he makes. Neither of us is silent now and if anyone came to the door, they'd know immediately what was going on. I don't think I really care.

I feel him tense up and watch as he closes his eyes and bites his lower lip. He's so very close and even before it's over, I find myself regretting that we said once. I don't want this thing with him to end so soon.

Clenching my inner muscles around him, he face twists into an expression of utter satisfaction as he comes, thrusting in hard one last time. My legs wrap around him once more as he falls on top of me, both of us wet with sweat, me more so than him since I'm the one wearing Quidditch robes. I don't want him to pull out of my body just yet and I hold him there as he rides out his climax. His robes are tangled around me and they've got to be a complete mess by now.

When he's done, he opens his eyes and looks at me, smiling. "Wow," is all he says and I lift my head up enough to kiss his lips. "Good thing Quidditch season is over or I'd never be able to wear those robes again without thinking of this because this was... wow."

"You already said that," I say, feeling incredibly content and happy now.

"I know. I don't know what else to say," he says, still smiling.

"You could say... how about twice?"

With that, his grin grows even wider.

**********

The End