Daydream Charm? Ch. 1
Disclaimer: JKR owns everything relating to Harry Potter, I am just playing with her lovely characters!
“MERLIN’S BAGGY Y-FRONTS! GEORGE!”
Hearing that exclamation Hermione Granger whipped her head around, cutting off her conversation with Ginny, to see what the commotion was. She loosened her death grip on her wand when she saw that her best friend, Ron Weasley, had somehow gotten a fork stabbed in his hand as he and his brothers cleared the dishes from the Burrow’s large kitchen table.
“Honestly Ron!” Mrs. Weasley and Hermione chorused together. Hermione felt heat rise in her cheeks as the whole Weasley clan looked back and forth between the two women. Oh, bother! Ron’s told me time and again that I’m not his mother, and here I am speaking in unison with the woman!
“George, did you just impale your brother, who has only just returned from doing who knows what, sacrificing his education, his health and everything for Harry so that your world wouldn’t be destroyed by the darkest wizard of ALL TIME?” Mrs. Weasley’s voice got louder as she continued. When it seemed that she was about to start building up a nice head of steam, Mr. Weasley cut her off.
“Now Molly, it was an accident. Isn’t that right son?”
“Uhh sure Dad” George grinned as he replied. “Well must be off, got a very successful business to go run now that Ronnie’s saved the world. See you back at the flat Fred?”
Nodding his assent, Fred got up to hug his twin goodbye. From her spot next to the door, Hermione could have sworn she heard them whispering to each other.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Man that was a close one”
“Oi, stabbing Ron though, well done mate, I’m going to have to try that one out myself sometime.”
“Well as long as Mum doesn’t get totally riled up. Are you sure you got it in Hermione’s tea?”
“George, I’m wounded! You doubt my sneakifying abilities?”
“Of course not brother dearest, I was just caught up in the yelling.”
“Oh ye of little faith! Now begone sir!”
“Gone oh wily one!”
A few hours later Hermione was lying on the second bed in Ginny’s room, reading her favorite Muggle novel, Sense and Sensibility for probably the twentieth time. Ginny was out on a “walk” with Harry, and probably wouldn’t be back for an hour at least, so Hermione was happy to embrace the solitude. As she lay there she slowly stopped turning the pages and drifted off with the dulcet tones of Colonel Brandon whispering in her ear.
When her eyes fluttered open again, Hermione was surprised to find herself clad in beautiful light blue gown. It gathered under her bust in an Empire waist that accentuated the curves she had grown into over the last few years and flowed to her feet. She marveled at the incredible softness as it gracefully caressed her hips as she stood and walked across the room. Her hair was swept up, but a few soft wispy curls had escaped and framed her face.
Hermione paused at the window, and gazed into the distance, studying the hills that surrounded the Burrow. The colors of the sunset set the tips of the ancient oak trees on fire, and framed the girl in a halo of pink light.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” a husky voice whispered in her ear. Hermione shivered in delight and leaned back into the warm, male body that stood just inches behind her. His hands encircled her waist and closed the remaining distance between them. Hermione sighed, content. The couple stood by the arched window for a few minutes, studying the beauty of the landscape, and basking in the warmth of their companionship.
As the light streaming into the room gradually faded, Hermione felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere around her. The man behind her hadn’t said anything beyond his initial greeting, but his hands were eloquent enough. As the last bit of the glow of the setting sun stole over the hills of Ottery St. Catchpole, his large, warm hands began to move ever so slightly. His left hand moved across her body to rest lightly on her right hip, in a semi embrace, and his right moved to her shoulder, tracing circles through the soft material of her gown. She could feel his warm breath on her temple, stirring the wisps that had escaped her chignon, and began to turn her face to meet his.
“No,” he ordered softly. Hermione could feel the rumbling in his chest as he spoke that one word, and she acquiesced with none of her usual stubbornness, simply luxuriating in the feel of her companion’s arms encircling her, and his broad, strong frame behind her.
“This moment is for you. Close your eyes, and just feel, no thinking, no analyzing, just sensation. Trust me.”
Hermione nodded, intoxicated by his velvety voice as her eyes fluttered closed. She concentrated again on his hands, which had begun traveling torturously slowly around her. His right slowly slid closer to her neck, and when he reached the bare skin of her collarbone, she gasped. His touch felt like fire as he traced the delicate bone, and a corresponding fire began to build in the base of her stomach. Her head fell back onto his chest, and he took advantage of the unfettered access. That wicked hand found the neckline of her dress, dipping a finger under the fabric at her shoulder, and slowly followed the scooped line of soft, creamy skin at the top of her breasts.
“So soft,” he whispered into her ear, his voice, or perhaps the tickle of his warm breath caused her to shiver yet again. His ran his left arm up from her hip until she felt his wrist brush the underside of her breast. He repeated the motion, running the back of his hand over her soft fullness. Hermione realized that she had been holding her breath and released it slowly, feeling her abdomen contract. Suddenly, his hands seemed to meet in the middle of their respective journeys, and she felt a burning heat as they cupped her breasts over the silk of her blue bodice. They squeezed gently, pressing the heavy globes together rhythmically, as his mouth found the place where her neck and shoulder met. He pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to the area, and Hermione’s knees buckled.
He quickly caught her, and pulled her back, settling her, still facing away from him, in his lap as he sat in an old armchair by the window. Hermione felt what little breath she had leave her as she felt him beneath her and stiffened, from fear or excitement, she didn’t know.
“Relax,” he purred into her ear as one of his hands again found her breast. He growled as he felt her tightened nipple, and proceeded to trace it with his fingers, encouraging it to pucker further. Her hands found his solid thighs. She felt him tense and flex his steely muscles at the contact.
“Decided to play, did we?”
Hermione nodded her head in agreement, only a gasp leaving her opened mouth. She slid her hands up and further behind her to the long muscles at the side of his chest, caressing the strength she found there. She simultaneously ground further into his lap, relishing in the feel of his length hardening even more with her movements.
His large hand suddenly dipped below the fabric of her dress, and Hermione sucked in her breath at the feel of his hot skin against her bare breast. His other hand reached down and began to slowly pull her full skirts up her legs. He tickled the back of her knee and ran one knuckle all the way up to her gently rounded hip. Then, his entire hand settled possessively across the front of her upper thigh, his long fingers just brushing the curls nestled between her legs.
The fire that had been building in her belly exploded at this touch, and Hermione felt a new, hollow sensation. She ached to be filled, and moaned softly in need. His fingers complied, stroking at her outer folds, already slick from his ministrations. Gently, he slipped one finger between them, tracing a line of fire from her most sensitive spot to her entrance, and back again. He lazily circled her nub, eliciting more moans and gasps from the woman writhing in his arms.
“Please, oh please,” she breathed. He increased the pressure on both her nipple and the small knot between her legs and she shattered in his arms, crying out as colors exploded behind her eyes. She melted back into the man behind her, hardly noticing that his hands had left her body and were fumbling behind her.
Suddenly she felt a cool draft as he whipped her skirts up, leaving her backside bare against his equally bare thighs. Still unable to open her eyes she simply reveled in the sensation. He gripped her hips and lifted her, pushing her legs open so that she straddled him. He lowered her until she felt his arousal nudging her entrance. He slowly brought her down and they both groaned as he filled her.
Hermione had regained some of her strength and as he slid inch by inch into her she felt the fires rekindle. She lifted herself and pushed back down, enjoying the friction as their bodies moved together. He encouraged her, using his hands to guide and direct her movements, building the pressure and bringing them both close to the edge. With one last thrust, they both succumbed to the intense pleasure of their joining and fell back into the comforting embrace of the chair.
Humming with contentment, Hermione turned her head once more, looking to kiss her companion in thanks. His lips met hers in a soft kiss, and she turned her torso slightly as she opened her eyes and pulled away. With a soft smile she kissed the tip of his nose, murmuring “Thank you Fred, that was lovely,” as she drifted back into slumber against his chest.
Hermione woke with a start and sat up so quickly that her book fell to the floor. She jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, yelling “FRED WEASLEY! I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU!!!!”
“MERLIN’S BAGGY Y-FRONTS! GEORGE!”
Hearing that exclamation Hermione Granger whipped her head around, cutting off her conversation with Ginny, to see what the commotion was. She loosened her death grip on her wand when she saw that her best friend, Ron Weasley, had somehow gotten a fork stabbed in his hand as he and his brothers cleared the dishes from the Burrow’s large kitchen table.
“Honestly Ron!” Mrs. Weasley and Hermione chorused together. Hermione felt heat rise in her cheeks as the whole Weasley clan looked back and forth between the two women. Oh, bother! Ron’s told me time and again that I’m not his mother, and here I am speaking in unison with the woman!
“George, did you just impale your brother, who has only just returned from doing who knows what, sacrificing his education, his health and everything for Harry so that your world wouldn’t be destroyed by the darkest wizard of ALL TIME?” Mrs. Weasley’s voice got louder as she continued. When it seemed that she was about to start building up a nice head of steam, Mr. Weasley cut her off.
“Now Molly, it was an accident. Isn’t that right son?”
“Uhh sure Dad” George grinned as he replied. “Well must be off, got a very successful business to go run now that Ronnie’s saved the world. See you back at the flat Fred?”
Nodding his assent, Fred got up to hug his twin goodbye. From her spot next to the door, Hermione could have sworn she heard them whispering to each other.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Man that was a close one”
“Oi, stabbing Ron though, well done mate, I’m going to have to try that one out myself sometime.”
“Well as long as Mum doesn’t get totally riled up. Are you sure you got it in Hermione’s tea?”
“George, I’m wounded! You doubt my sneakifying abilities?”
“Of course not brother dearest, I was just caught up in the yelling.”
“Oh ye of little faith! Now begone sir!”
“Gone oh wily one!”
A few hours later Hermione was lying on the second bed in Ginny’s room, reading her favorite Muggle novel, Sense and Sensibility for probably the twentieth time. Ginny was out on a “walk” with Harry, and probably wouldn’t be back for an hour at least, so Hermione was happy to embrace the solitude. As she lay there she slowly stopped turning the pages and drifted off with the dulcet tones of Colonel Brandon whispering in her ear.
When her eyes fluttered open again, Hermione was surprised to find herself clad in beautiful light blue gown. It gathered under her bust in an Empire waist that accentuated the curves she had grown into over the last few years and flowed to her feet. She marveled at the incredible softness as it gracefully caressed her hips as she stood and walked across the room. Her hair was swept up, but a few soft wispy curls had escaped and framed her face.
Hermione paused at the window, and gazed into the distance, studying the hills that surrounded the Burrow. The colors of the sunset set the tips of the ancient oak trees on fire, and framed the girl in a halo of pink light.
“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” a husky voice whispered in her ear. Hermione shivered in delight and leaned back into the warm, male body that stood just inches behind her. His hands encircled her waist and closed the remaining distance between them. Hermione sighed, content. The couple stood by the arched window for a few minutes, studying the beauty of the landscape, and basking in the warmth of their companionship.
As the light streaming into the room gradually faded, Hermione felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere around her. The man behind her hadn’t said anything beyond his initial greeting, but his hands were eloquent enough. As the last bit of the glow of the setting sun stole over the hills of Ottery St. Catchpole, his large, warm hands began to move ever so slightly. His left hand moved across her body to rest lightly on her right hip, in a semi embrace, and his right moved to her shoulder, tracing circles through the soft material of her gown. She could feel his warm breath on her temple, stirring the wisps that had escaped her chignon, and began to turn her face to meet his.
“No,” he ordered softly. Hermione could feel the rumbling in his chest as he spoke that one word, and she acquiesced with none of her usual stubbornness, simply luxuriating in the feel of her companion’s arms encircling her, and his broad, strong frame behind her.
“This moment is for you. Close your eyes, and just feel, no thinking, no analyzing, just sensation. Trust me.”
Hermione nodded, intoxicated by his velvety voice as her eyes fluttered closed. She concentrated again on his hands, which had begun traveling torturously slowly around her. His right slowly slid closer to her neck, and when he reached the bare skin of her collarbone, she gasped. His touch felt like fire as he traced the delicate bone, and a corresponding fire began to build in the base of her stomach. Her head fell back onto his chest, and he took advantage of the unfettered access. That wicked hand found the neckline of her dress, dipping a finger under the fabric at her shoulder, and slowly followed the scooped line of soft, creamy skin at the top of her breasts.
“So soft,” he whispered into her ear, his voice, or perhaps the tickle of his warm breath caused her to shiver yet again. His ran his left arm up from her hip until she felt his wrist brush the underside of her breast. He repeated the motion, running the back of his hand over her soft fullness. Hermione realized that she had been holding her breath and released it slowly, feeling her abdomen contract. Suddenly, his hands seemed to meet in the middle of their respective journeys, and she felt a burning heat as they cupped her breasts over the silk of her blue bodice. They squeezed gently, pressing the heavy globes together rhythmically, as his mouth found the place where her neck and shoulder met. He pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to the area, and Hermione’s knees buckled.
He quickly caught her, and pulled her back, settling her, still facing away from him, in his lap as he sat in an old armchair by the window. Hermione felt what little breath she had leave her as she felt him beneath her and stiffened, from fear or excitement, she didn’t know.
“Relax,” he purred into her ear as one of his hands again found her breast. He growled as he felt her tightened nipple, and proceeded to trace it with his fingers, encouraging it to pucker further. Her hands found his solid thighs. She felt him tense and flex his steely muscles at the contact.
“Decided to play, did we?”
Hermione nodded her head in agreement, only a gasp leaving her opened mouth. She slid her hands up and further behind her to the long muscles at the side of his chest, caressing the strength she found there. She simultaneously ground further into his lap, relishing in the feel of his length hardening even more with her movements.
His large hand suddenly dipped below the fabric of her dress, and Hermione sucked in her breath at the feel of his hot skin against her bare breast. His other hand reached down and began to slowly pull her full skirts up her legs. He tickled the back of her knee and ran one knuckle all the way up to her gently rounded hip. Then, his entire hand settled possessively across the front of her upper thigh, his long fingers just brushing the curls nestled between her legs.
The fire that had been building in her belly exploded at this touch, and Hermione felt a new, hollow sensation. She ached to be filled, and moaned softly in need. His fingers complied, stroking at her outer folds, already slick from his ministrations. Gently, he slipped one finger between them, tracing a line of fire from her most sensitive spot to her entrance, and back again. He lazily circled her nub, eliciting more moans and gasps from the woman writhing in his arms.
“Please, oh please,” she breathed. He increased the pressure on both her nipple and the small knot between her legs and she shattered in his arms, crying out as colors exploded behind her eyes. She melted back into the man behind her, hardly noticing that his hands had left her body and were fumbling behind her.
Suddenly she felt a cool draft as he whipped her skirts up, leaving her backside bare against his equally bare thighs. Still unable to open her eyes she simply reveled in the sensation. He gripped her hips and lifted her, pushing her legs open so that she straddled him. He lowered her until she felt his arousal nudging her entrance. He slowly brought her down and they both groaned as he filled her.
Hermione had regained some of her strength and as he slid inch by inch into her she felt the fires rekindle. She lifted herself and pushed back down, enjoying the friction as their bodies moved together. He encouraged her, using his hands to guide and direct her movements, building the pressure and bringing them both close to the edge. With one last thrust, they both succumbed to the intense pleasure of their joining and fell back into the comforting embrace of the chair.
Humming with contentment, Hermione turned her head once more, looking to kiss her companion in thanks. His lips met hers in a soft kiss, and she turned her torso slightly as she opened her eyes and pulled away. With a soft smile she kissed the tip of his nose, murmuring “Thank you Fred, that was lovely,” as she drifted back into slumber against his chest.
Hermione woke with a start and sat up so quickly that her book fell to the floor. She jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, yelling “FRED WEASLEY! I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU!!!!”