Something Different; H/Hr; NC-17
Title: Something Different
Author: amethyst_j
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling. Don't ask me why.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexual content. No spoilers.
Summary: Hermione’s relationship with Harry becomes something different. Written for the hghpficexchange for inell.
Something Different
There was something off about him today. He was unusually quiet - normally his visits were full of chatter as he caught her up on the goings on of his life. Their jobs left them both busy, and it was hard to meet between their full schedules.
Hermione sipped her tea quietly, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind.
“Hermione…” he finally began, and she sat down her cup expectantly, sitting up at attention - almost like she used to do in school.
“Yes, Harry?” she prodded when it was clear he would not be speaking again any time soon.
“I was thinking…well, I was hoping…” He cleared his throat and sat straighter, looking somewhere in the vicinity of her left eyebrow. “What I mean to say is, would you go out with me?”
She was relieved she’d put down her tea; it probably would have come out her nose after that.
“You mean…on a date?” she asked, choking a little on the words. This was the furthest thing from her expectations. Harry had never shown the slightest bit of interest in her; his type had always been the outgoing, athletic variety.
“Yes,” he breathed. “On a date.”
What was the world coming to?
Hermione worked to steady her breathing and looked at him - looked at him like she hadn’t really looked at him since after the war, when he’d still needed looking after. She took in his squared-off jaw, his lips - tight with nervousness, the smooth line of his neck as it connected to broad shoulders…and she wondered if perhaps he knew something she didn’t.
But this was insanity. She’d been there with Ron, and they both knew how that had turned out. They were still friends, but their relationship had descended into something near bitter hatred at its breaking point. Something told her it wouldn’t be the same with Harry…but something else warned her it would be worse. Not so much because of anger or exasperation; no, if things ended badly with Harry, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be whole at the end.
Why was he doing this? This was an extraordinary friendship he was putting on the line, and for what?
“How much of this…” she began with difficulty, the words sticking in her throat. “How much of this is about me, and how much is about you, Harry?”
He eyed her shrewdly for a moment, figuring out her words, before he was suddenly around the island counter, too close for comfort.
“It’s a little of both,” he said, taking her tightly clutched hands and straightening them out. “It’s about me finally opening my eyes,” he continued softly. “But mostly, it’s about you being impossible not to see.”
She gulped and dared to meet his eyes, which were vibrant with a strange kind of excitement and earnestness. He was hopeful, and that was an expression she hadn’t seen enough from him.
“I…Harry, I…”
“Just have dinner with me,” he said, quietly but urgently. “Just once. I swear I won’t pressure you for anything more…I won’t ask you for anything you don’t want to give…or that you can’t give. I just want a chance, that’s all. Just one chance.”
How could she disappoint that face? That face…she really did love that face. Maybe more than she ever realized.
“Okay,” she found herself saying, and it was easier than it should have been. A wide grin broke out across his face and her heart leapt unsteadily.
“Tomorrow night?” he asked excitedly.
She thought quickly of her plans for the week before nodding her agreement.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said quickly, before leaning in and kissing her cheek. He’d never done that before, and his lips lingered warmly against her skin long enough for her to realize she liked it.
~
Hermione was having one of the strangest nights of her life. Harry’s romantic side was something completely unexpected, considering his complete ineptitude with girls during their Hogwarts years.
He first surprised her by taking her back to his flat instead of the restaurant she’d been expecting.
“I hope this is okay,” he said, leading her up the stairs, as nervous as any fourth year on the way to the Yule Ball. “I just thought it would be…easier, if it was just us…while we’re…you know, testing the waters. No audience to witness my humiliation this way,” he added wryly.
Hermione laughed nervously. “It is better. That it’s just us, I mean.”
He smiled and opened the door for her.
The transformation to the flat was the biggest surprise. The living area had been completely cleared out, all except for the sofa, which had been pushed back against the wall. Where the couch and coffee table had once sat was the kitchen table - recognizable only by its shape, as it was completely concealed by a white tablecloth that fell to the floor. The fireplace crackled pleasantly, candles flickered in the center of the table, and even more candles floated lazily around the perimeter of the room.
She looked to him in awe, surprised - although she wasn’t sure why - that he would do all this for her. Not that he’d ever needed to work this hard to impress her…
He smiled sheepishly, shrugging, brushing it off in that unbearably modest way of his. “Er…can I take your coat?”
“Sure,” she said awkwardly, letting him pull the coat off her shoulders. She fidgeted in her dress as he hung it up. Deciding what to wear tonight had been one of the hardest choices of her life, which annoyed her to no end. She didn’t want to look as if she’d put too much effort into this, or not enough. She still didn’t know how she felt about Harry, and she was constantly worrying she would hurt his feelings or worse, end up leading him on.
Dinner was quiet, the kind of uncomfortable quiet that Hermione wasn’t used to with Harry, although he tried his hardest to fill the silence with questions about work and her family, and bless him, even her latest reading.
He was trying, with everything he had - even his appearance showed it. His hair was mussed, but in the most stylish way possible, and his red dress shirt was remarkably crisp, as were his black slacks. She suspected he’d gone as far as to iron them, something he generally avoided at all cost.
His effort, more than anything else, touched her deeply. She knew this was more work than he usually put into his dates - to her knowledge, he’d never cooked for a woman before, and she was sure she knew everything about his love life - and that he’d done all this for her, just to impress her, to please her, left her a little breathless.
This wasn’t some whim. Harry, who acted on instinct, had put a great deal of thought and planning into this evening. This was something special to him, and it was becoming something special to her, too.
Hermione was in the midst of these muddled thoughts when she realized Harry was looking at her intently. She met his sharp gaze with as much composure as she could muster.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked, surprising her again.
“But you hate dancing,” she said, although the idea certainly appealed to her.
“I don’t know. I wonder if maybe I’ve just never danced with the right person. I want to give it a try with you.”
She was a little breathless as he came around the table and offered his hand to her. He pulled her to her feet as, with a flick of his wand, he set soft music playing. In that moment, as he drew her into his arms, she finally admitted it to herself - she was a little besotted with her best friend. More than that, she wanted him - wanted his body in a way she’d never dreamed she would.
He held her close, pressed against the hard planes of his body as they danced, and he whispered the words of the song in her ear in time to the music. It was a song about friendship turned to love, a song that had held no significance for her until now, when it was suddenly unbearably relevant.
“Is this ridiculous?” he asked eventually, still swaying with her but she could barely hear the music over the pounding of her heart and his voice against her ear. “Maybe this wasn’t the way to go about it…it’s silly, really, to think of us dating…don’t you think? As if we don’t already know each other better than anyone else in the world. As if you won’t see through all my pretenses. But I don’t know what else to do about this, Hermione - this feeling I have for you. It won’t go away.
“And I can’t live my life wondering what might have been if I’d only tried - if I’d only told you. But if you don’t want this, don’t hesitate to tell me. I - I need you in my life. I know that much. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, and if that’s only friendship, then I’ll be happy. I’ll never ask for more. Just…tell me. Tell me what you think about this.”
Her heart was racing as her mind tried to keep up with his words, while her body was completely distracted by his breath against her ear and his hands on her waist.
“I want this,” she said, her voice shaking. “I want you.”
“Do you really?” he asked, taking a step back. She almost followed, as if pulled along gravitationally with him. “You don’t sound sure.”
She laughed. “I’m not convinced this is a good idea,” she said, “but I want to try. I want to know what it’s like to be with you.”
He sighed and brought his hand up to cup her cheek. “You don’t have any idea how relieved I am,” he said, before he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were warm, and electric, shooting currents through her. Acting on instinct, she pressed her body into his and wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His lips yielded against hers, warm and soft, and she felt the touch of his tongue to hers with barely concealed pleasure.
He kissed her with ever-growing fervor, until finally she broke away with a gasp for air and his lips moved to her jaw and her neck, trailing his kisses with that same electric current across her skin.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his lips brushing lightly against the hollow of her throat.
“It’s okay,” she gasped, gripping his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
His lips found hers again, soft and searching. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed every possible inch of her body against his. She wanted to feel him, all of him. This was a part of Harry she didn’t know, and the combined arousal and curiosity drove her onward.
Her fingers trailed down to his shoulders, over his chest, trailing along his abdomen, before she untucked his shirt and reached underneath to feel the warm skin waiting there.
“Hermione,” he gasped, tearing away form her lips. “Should we be going this far? I mean, so soon?”
“Yes,” she retorted, not removing her hands. “I want to.”
“Oh, God, if you’re sure,” he breathed, almost a groan. “I don’t think I have the strength to resist you.”
“Then don’t resist me,” she said, tugging at the bottom button of his shirt. His hands stroked her back as their lips came together again and she continued to undress him.
She steered him toward his bedroom; he didn’t seem to mind much as he fiddled with the zipper of her dress and traced his fingers over the skin he exposed. They stumbled into the dark bedroom and a lamp came on in magical, automatic response - she’d taught her Harry well, indeed.
He took a step back from her and pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders, leaving most of her body exposed to his delightfully appreciative gaze. She shivered and went to him again, attacked the buttons on his shirt with a new ferocity. She wanted him naked and unveiled to her touch.
While she worked, his hands explored the curves of her hips and the hollow of her back and delicately traced the edges of her breasts, gently, as though she might break. She finally got his shirt open and shoved the garment off his shoulders - lovely strong, broad shoulders - and the sleeves caught where they were buttoned at his wrists. She growled as she tugged at those buttons as well, cursing Harry for being such an abominably tidy dresser tonight.
Finally, the shirt was gone, and she bid it a hearty good riddance as she was pulled back into his arms, finally with an expanse of hot, smooth skin to press against hers. His mouth was planted firmly over hers, kissing her with all the focus of a seeker after a snitch, while his fingers crept to the fastenings of her bra and freed them methodically. She groaned in relief as the tightness gave way.
She was getting desperate now, consumed by the need to feel this man whose body she’d never really considered before, and now desperately wished she had.
He tugged off her bra and reached for the waistband of her panties. Hermione took that as her cue to undo the belt around his waist and pop free the button of his pants. Her knickers dropped around her ankles as his zipper came down, and his boxers were of less than a heartbeat later. Finally.
His hands roamed greedily over her as they made their way by tacit agreement to the bed. Their skin glowed golden in the glimmer of the lamplight as he held himself over her, looking down at her with that gaze of his, that look that said she was perfect and beautiful and extraordinary to him. How had she failed to notice that before?
He kissed her then with an eager kind of tenderness that made her heart swell before he made his way down her neck. His teeth nipped lightly at her collarbone and then his mouth dropped to her breasts. Her nipples were already tight with wanting, and the pressure of his tongue and teeth on each of them made her writhe and moan and, horror of horrors, beg. She’d never begged a man for more this way - but somehow, with Harry, it didn’t feel shameful, like she was admitting to some vice or weakness. With Harry, she finally felt safe enough to let go completely.
His hair tickled her skin as he moved onto her navel, flicking his tongue against the small crevice before slipping lower. Gently, he pushed her legs apart with his hands and situated himself between them. She shivered a little as his hands grazed her thighs, and realized her breathing was shaky as he lowered his mouth to her center. His tongue was hot and sweet, stroking her clit in long, swirling swipes that had her nerves tingling happily, buzzing with electricity. Her body hummed with it, like a tuning fork that responded specifically to him. She moaned and squirmed and sighed and gripped his head and pushed him closer without the slightest thought of embarrassment. All she knew was his probing tongue and the dance of his fingertips against her skin. Self-consciousness lay on another plane with the old Hermione, who had never known pleasure like this.
Suddenly he stopped. She groaned in dismay, and he just smiled as he crawled up her body like a panther preparing to pounce. “Not that way,” he said. “Not the first time.”
His hard cock brushed against her thigh, and she realized he was right - she definitely wanted him inside her when she came, to clench around the length of him and hear him moan in response.
“Oh, do it now, Harry,” she groaned, trying to urge him closer with her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips. “I want to feel you.”
His only response was a guttural moan as he pushed into her.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered. If she wasn’t far too turned on for anything else, she might have cried. Harry inside of her was the absolute most beautiful thing she’d ever felt. The way he filled her, stretched her…completed her.
He stroked in and out, sending shocks of electricity to her toes and fingertips, and her entire body was aflame as their bodies brushed in time to their movements…her breasts against his chest, his thighs against hers…everywhere.
They moved in a heated frenzy, a blur of legs and arms and hips and mouths as they raced to the edge. Her inner walls tingled with barely contained energy that threatened to explode at any moment, if Harry would only go faster, harder - and so she urged him on, meeting him thrust for thrust.
And suddenly she was there, tumbling off the precipice into a world of light and color, and it permeated every nerve and every vein. Only Harry’s arms held her to the earth now, and she’d never felt so herself and so free until this moment.
She clung to him, trembling with the aftershocks as he came into her, making that lovely strangled sound of a man who’s just had a spectacular release. She liked that sound coming out of Harry’s throat, liked knowing she’d drawn it out.
He pulled himself off her shakily and collapsed tiredly beside her like a man just finishing a marathon. She took in the sweat that made his bangs stick to his forehead and coated his body in a fine sheen. She traced the long lines of his body with her eyes, and wanted him all over again.
He reached out his hand to delicately stroke the line of her jaw and smiled warmly. “I knew we’d be good at this together.”
She laughed, turning onto her side to face him. “I think that’s an understatement.”
“What do you think?” he asked, grasping her hand and twining his fingers through hers. “Is this going to work?”
She tried to remember all her fears and doubts, but they wouldn’t return - all she could see was the man in front of her that had ceased to be her best friend Harry and had become something different entirely…and she couldn’t think of one good reason to give this up.
“Yes,” she said. “I think it will.”
Author: amethyst_j
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling. Don't ask me why.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexual content. No spoilers.
Summary: Hermione’s relationship with Harry becomes something different. Written for the hghpficexchange for inell.
Something Different
There was something off about him today. He was unusually quiet - normally his visits were full of chatter as he caught her up on the goings on of his life. Their jobs left them both busy, and it was hard to meet between their full schedules.
Hermione sipped her tea quietly, waiting for him to say whatever was on his mind.
“Hermione…” he finally began, and she sat down her cup expectantly, sitting up at attention - almost like she used to do in school.
“Yes, Harry?” she prodded when it was clear he would not be speaking again any time soon.
“I was thinking…well, I was hoping…” He cleared his throat and sat straighter, looking somewhere in the vicinity of her left eyebrow. “What I mean to say is, would you go out with me?”
She was relieved she’d put down her tea; it probably would have come out her nose after that.
“You mean…on a date?” she asked, choking a little on the words. This was the furthest thing from her expectations. Harry had never shown the slightest bit of interest in her; his type had always been the outgoing, athletic variety.
“Yes,” he breathed. “On a date.”
What was the world coming to?
Hermione worked to steady her breathing and looked at him - looked at him like she hadn’t really looked at him since after the war, when he’d still needed looking after. She took in his squared-off jaw, his lips - tight with nervousness, the smooth line of his neck as it connected to broad shoulders…and she wondered if perhaps he knew something she didn’t.
But this was insanity. She’d been there with Ron, and they both knew how that had turned out. They were still friends, but their relationship had descended into something near bitter hatred at its breaking point. Something told her it wouldn’t be the same with Harry…but something else warned her it would be worse. Not so much because of anger or exasperation; no, if things ended badly with Harry, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be whole at the end.
Why was he doing this? This was an extraordinary friendship he was putting on the line, and for what?
“How much of this…” she began with difficulty, the words sticking in her throat. “How much of this is about me, and how much is about you, Harry?”
He eyed her shrewdly for a moment, figuring out her words, before he was suddenly around the island counter, too close for comfort.
“It’s a little of both,” he said, taking her tightly clutched hands and straightening them out. “It’s about me finally opening my eyes,” he continued softly. “But mostly, it’s about you being impossible not to see.”
She gulped and dared to meet his eyes, which were vibrant with a strange kind of excitement and earnestness. He was hopeful, and that was an expression she hadn’t seen enough from him.
“I…Harry, I…”
“Just have dinner with me,” he said, quietly but urgently. “Just once. I swear I won’t pressure you for anything more…I won’t ask you for anything you don’t want to give…or that you can’t give. I just want a chance, that’s all. Just one chance.”
How could she disappoint that face? That face…she really did love that face. Maybe more than she ever realized.
“Okay,” she found herself saying, and it was easier than it should have been. A wide grin broke out across his face and her heart leapt unsteadily.
“Tomorrow night?” he asked excitedly.
She thought quickly of her plans for the week before nodding her agreement.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said quickly, before leaning in and kissing her cheek. He’d never done that before, and his lips lingered warmly against her skin long enough for her to realize she liked it.
~
Hermione was having one of the strangest nights of her life. Harry’s romantic side was something completely unexpected, considering his complete ineptitude with girls during their Hogwarts years.
He first surprised her by taking her back to his flat instead of the restaurant she’d been expecting.
“I hope this is okay,” he said, leading her up the stairs, as nervous as any fourth year on the way to the Yule Ball. “I just thought it would be…easier, if it was just us…while we’re…you know, testing the waters. No audience to witness my humiliation this way,” he added wryly.
Hermione laughed nervously. “It is better. That it’s just us, I mean.”
He smiled and opened the door for her.
The transformation to the flat was the biggest surprise. The living area had been completely cleared out, all except for the sofa, which had been pushed back against the wall. Where the couch and coffee table had once sat was the kitchen table - recognizable only by its shape, as it was completely concealed by a white tablecloth that fell to the floor. The fireplace crackled pleasantly, candles flickered in the center of the table, and even more candles floated lazily around the perimeter of the room.
She looked to him in awe, surprised - although she wasn’t sure why - that he would do all this for her. Not that he’d ever needed to work this hard to impress her…
He smiled sheepishly, shrugging, brushing it off in that unbearably modest way of his. “Er…can I take your coat?”
“Sure,” she said awkwardly, letting him pull the coat off her shoulders. She fidgeted in her dress as he hung it up. Deciding what to wear tonight had been one of the hardest choices of her life, which annoyed her to no end. She didn’t want to look as if she’d put too much effort into this, or not enough. She still didn’t know how she felt about Harry, and she was constantly worrying she would hurt his feelings or worse, end up leading him on.
Dinner was quiet, the kind of uncomfortable quiet that Hermione wasn’t used to with Harry, although he tried his hardest to fill the silence with questions about work and her family, and bless him, even her latest reading.
He was trying, with everything he had - even his appearance showed it. His hair was mussed, but in the most stylish way possible, and his red dress shirt was remarkably crisp, as were his black slacks. She suspected he’d gone as far as to iron them, something he generally avoided at all cost.
His effort, more than anything else, touched her deeply. She knew this was more work than he usually put into his dates - to her knowledge, he’d never cooked for a woman before, and she was sure she knew everything about his love life - and that he’d done all this for her, just to impress her, to please her, left her a little breathless.
This wasn’t some whim. Harry, who acted on instinct, had put a great deal of thought and planning into this evening. This was something special to him, and it was becoming something special to her, too.
Hermione was in the midst of these muddled thoughts when she realized Harry was looking at her intently. She met his sharp gaze with as much composure as she could muster.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked, surprising her again.
“But you hate dancing,” she said, although the idea certainly appealed to her.
“I don’t know. I wonder if maybe I’ve just never danced with the right person. I want to give it a try with you.”
She was a little breathless as he came around the table and offered his hand to her. He pulled her to her feet as, with a flick of his wand, he set soft music playing. In that moment, as he drew her into his arms, she finally admitted it to herself - she was a little besotted with her best friend. More than that, she wanted him - wanted his body in a way she’d never dreamed she would.
He held her close, pressed against the hard planes of his body as they danced, and he whispered the words of the song in her ear in time to the music. It was a song about friendship turned to love, a song that had held no significance for her until now, when it was suddenly unbearably relevant.
“Is this ridiculous?” he asked eventually, still swaying with her but she could barely hear the music over the pounding of her heart and his voice against her ear. “Maybe this wasn’t the way to go about it…it’s silly, really, to think of us dating…don’t you think? As if we don’t already know each other better than anyone else in the world. As if you won’t see through all my pretenses. But I don’t know what else to do about this, Hermione - this feeling I have for you. It won’t go away.
“And I can’t live my life wondering what might have been if I’d only tried - if I’d only told you. But if you don’t want this, don’t hesitate to tell me. I - I need you in my life. I know that much. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me, and if that’s only friendship, then I’ll be happy. I’ll never ask for more. Just…tell me. Tell me what you think about this.”
Her heart was racing as her mind tried to keep up with his words, while her body was completely distracted by his breath against her ear and his hands on her waist.
“I want this,” she said, her voice shaking. “I want you.”
“Do you really?” he asked, taking a step back. She almost followed, as if pulled along gravitationally with him. “You don’t sound sure.”
She laughed. “I’m not convinced this is a good idea,” she said, “but I want to try. I want to know what it’s like to be with you.”
He sighed and brought his hand up to cup her cheek. “You don’t have any idea how relieved I am,” he said, before he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were warm, and electric, shooting currents through her. Acting on instinct, she pressed her body into his and wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. His lips yielded against hers, warm and soft, and she felt the touch of his tongue to hers with barely concealed pleasure.
He kissed her with ever-growing fervor, until finally she broke away with a gasp for air and his lips moved to her jaw and her neck, trailing his kisses with that same electric current across her skin.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his lips brushing lightly against the hollow of her throat.
“It’s okay,” she gasped, gripping his shoulders. “Don’t stop.”
His lips found hers again, soft and searching. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed every possible inch of her body against his. She wanted to feel him, all of him. This was a part of Harry she didn’t know, and the combined arousal and curiosity drove her onward.
Her fingers trailed down to his shoulders, over his chest, trailing along his abdomen, before she untucked his shirt and reached underneath to feel the warm skin waiting there.
“Hermione,” he gasped, tearing away form her lips. “Should we be going this far? I mean, so soon?”
“Yes,” she retorted, not removing her hands. “I want to.”
“Oh, God, if you’re sure,” he breathed, almost a groan. “I don’t think I have the strength to resist you.”
“Then don’t resist me,” she said, tugging at the bottom button of his shirt. His hands stroked her back as their lips came together again and she continued to undress him.
She steered him toward his bedroom; he didn’t seem to mind much as he fiddled with the zipper of her dress and traced his fingers over the skin he exposed. They stumbled into the dark bedroom and a lamp came on in magical, automatic response - she’d taught her Harry well, indeed.
He took a step back from her and pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders, leaving most of her body exposed to his delightfully appreciative gaze. She shivered and went to him again, attacked the buttons on his shirt with a new ferocity. She wanted him naked and unveiled to her touch.
While she worked, his hands explored the curves of her hips and the hollow of her back and delicately traced the edges of her breasts, gently, as though she might break. She finally got his shirt open and shoved the garment off his shoulders - lovely strong, broad shoulders - and the sleeves caught where they were buttoned at his wrists. She growled as she tugged at those buttons as well, cursing Harry for being such an abominably tidy dresser tonight.
Finally, the shirt was gone, and she bid it a hearty good riddance as she was pulled back into his arms, finally with an expanse of hot, smooth skin to press against hers. His mouth was planted firmly over hers, kissing her with all the focus of a seeker after a snitch, while his fingers crept to the fastenings of her bra and freed them methodically. She groaned in relief as the tightness gave way.
She was getting desperate now, consumed by the need to feel this man whose body she’d never really considered before, and now desperately wished she had.
He tugged off her bra and reached for the waistband of her panties. Hermione took that as her cue to undo the belt around his waist and pop free the button of his pants. Her knickers dropped around her ankles as his zipper came down, and his boxers were of less than a heartbeat later. Finally.
His hands roamed greedily over her as they made their way by tacit agreement to the bed. Their skin glowed golden in the glimmer of the lamplight as he held himself over her, looking down at her with that gaze of his, that look that said she was perfect and beautiful and extraordinary to him. How had she failed to notice that before?
He kissed her then with an eager kind of tenderness that made her heart swell before he made his way down her neck. His teeth nipped lightly at her collarbone and then his mouth dropped to her breasts. Her nipples were already tight with wanting, and the pressure of his tongue and teeth on each of them made her writhe and moan and, horror of horrors, beg. She’d never begged a man for more this way - but somehow, with Harry, it didn’t feel shameful, like she was admitting to some vice or weakness. With Harry, she finally felt safe enough to let go completely.
His hair tickled her skin as he moved onto her navel, flicking his tongue against the small crevice before slipping lower. Gently, he pushed her legs apart with his hands and situated himself between them. She shivered a little as his hands grazed her thighs, and realized her breathing was shaky as he lowered his mouth to her center. His tongue was hot and sweet, stroking her clit in long, swirling swipes that had her nerves tingling happily, buzzing with electricity. Her body hummed with it, like a tuning fork that responded specifically to him. She moaned and squirmed and sighed and gripped his head and pushed him closer without the slightest thought of embarrassment. All she knew was his probing tongue and the dance of his fingertips against her skin. Self-consciousness lay on another plane with the old Hermione, who had never known pleasure like this.
Suddenly he stopped. She groaned in dismay, and he just smiled as he crawled up her body like a panther preparing to pounce. “Not that way,” he said. “Not the first time.”
His hard cock brushed against her thigh, and she realized he was right - she definitely wanted him inside her when she came, to clench around the length of him and hear him moan in response.
“Oh, do it now, Harry,” she groaned, trying to urge him closer with her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips. “I want to feel you.”
His only response was a guttural moan as he pushed into her.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered. If she wasn’t far too turned on for anything else, she might have cried. Harry inside of her was the absolute most beautiful thing she’d ever felt. The way he filled her, stretched her…completed her.
He stroked in and out, sending shocks of electricity to her toes and fingertips, and her entire body was aflame as their bodies brushed in time to their movements…her breasts against his chest, his thighs against hers…everywhere.
They moved in a heated frenzy, a blur of legs and arms and hips and mouths as they raced to the edge. Her inner walls tingled with barely contained energy that threatened to explode at any moment, if Harry would only go faster, harder - and so she urged him on, meeting him thrust for thrust.
And suddenly she was there, tumbling off the precipice into a world of light and color, and it permeated every nerve and every vein. Only Harry’s arms held her to the earth now, and she’d never felt so herself and so free until this moment.
She clung to him, trembling with the aftershocks as he came into her, making that lovely strangled sound of a man who’s just had a spectacular release. She liked that sound coming out of Harry’s throat, liked knowing she’d drawn it out.
He pulled himself off her shakily and collapsed tiredly beside her like a man just finishing a marathon. She took in the sweat that made his bangs stick to his forehead and coated his body in a fine sheen. She traced the long lines of his body with her eyes, and wanted him all over again.
He reached out his hand to delicately stroke the line of her jaw and smiled warmly. “I knew we’d be good at this together.”
She laughed, turning onto her side to face him. “I think that’s an understatement.”
“What do you think?” he asked, grasping her hand and twining his fingers through hers. “Is this going to work?”
She tried to remember all her fears and doubts, but they wouldn’t return - all she could see was the man in front of her that had ceased to be her best friend Harry and had become something different entirely…and she couldn’t think of one good reason to give this up.
“Yes,” she said. “I think it will.”