Date: 30 March 1999 Characters: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger Location: Grimmauld Place, elsewhere Status: Private Summary: Hermione and Harry go out. Somewhere. At least, that was the plan. Completion: Complete
"It's fine. I'm used to tangles after I wash my hair." Why was she talking to him about hair care? This was just ridiculous. She shouldn't be feeling this way just from having her hair brushed; she certainly didn't feel this way when she brushed it, after all. This wasn't her, though. This was Harry, and he was standing so close and smelled so good and, fine, she liked it when he touched her hair more than she probably should.
She shivered when he put his hand on her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his touch through the material of her shirt, and his fingers touched her neck when he shifted his hand. Drying charm. Focus. Drying charm. Maybe if she kept repeating that to herself, she'd stop thinking about Harry and hands and tense feelings.
Before she could convince herself that she was thinking too much, Harry moved his fingers into her hair. She moaned softly and lowered her wand as he asked if it was better, and she could see how flushed she was as she stared in the mirror. Instead of answering him, she impulsively turned her head to kiss him. She realized why she rarely acted on impulse immediately when her hair was pulled by his hand and she ended up in an awkward position that wasn't at all like she'd imagined it would be.
Harry caught his tongue between his teeth as he focused on brushing her hair. He thought he felt a tangle and slowed down a bit more, but it was only a slight snag. Before he could finish pulling it all the way to the end, Hermione spun quickly to face him, her lips crashing against his. He grunted as the brush, still in his hand and in her hair, tugged against her scalp. He dropped said brush and moved to steady her.
"Got you," he murmured, his face still close to hers. He let his hand streak up to her hair again before he kissed her, hard, and this time there was no hair-pulling to stop things. On a groan, he backed her into one of the wardrobe doors, only just avoiding the mirror on the opposite one. The length of his body pressed against hers and it felt fantastic. He slid his tongue into her mouth as he moved his hand to her hip. He'd been wanting this ever since he'd stepped into her room.
Before she could really worry about looking foolish, Harry's lips were against hers. He said something but she wasn't really listening. The pain in her head from having her hair pulled was fading, so she turned more fully to face him. "Harry," she whispered before she reached up to grip his hair as he lowered his head.
He kissed her again, but it was definitely not like the previous awkward kiss. She closed her eyes and moved closer to him as he pushed her backwards. She felt wood behind her as Harry deepened the kiss and realized that she was pushed against the closed door of her wardrobe. She didn't really care because it was difficult to think when Harry was kissing her.
She curled her tongue around his as she tugged on his hair. His hand was on her hip, and she moved her free hand to rest on his shoulder, holding onto him as she returned his kiss eagerly.
"Hmm?" He'd thought he'd heard his name, but couldn't quite focus. Anyway it was nice, hearing her say his name in a whisper like that. Really nice, he thought dimly as he explored her mouth with his tongue. It wasn't like he'd not explored it before, many times by now, but he thought he tasted something different every time.
He flicked his tongue against hers and fisted his free hand in her hair. He was messing it up again, probably, but he liked it that way. "Mmm," he said, yanking his mouth from hers and peppering kisses along her jaw. If this turned out to be their date in its entirety, he thought he'd be pretty cool with that.
While they kissed, she moved her hand from his shoulder down his back. He made a noise as he ended the kiss and moved his lips along her jaw. She opened her eyes and tilted her head, letting him have access to her neck. After her initial hesitation, she had discovered that she really liked when he kissed her neck. She also liked having the freedom to do the same to his neck, though she had a particular fondness for his jaw, especially when it was slightly rough from not having been shaved recently.
They probably should stop, since they still had to go out for their date, but she couldn't tell him they should leave when it felt so good. She dragged her hand down his spine until she reached the bottom of his shirt and hesitantly moved her hand beneath it to touch bare skin. He was so warm. She closed her eyes again as she lightly touched the small of his back, moaning softly as he kissed her neck.
He made a low sound in his throat, feeling a little thrill when she moved her hand down his back and bared her neck to him. Not one to waste time, he nipped at her earlobe and moved lower, where her skin was soft and warm and smelled so good. He slid his tongue over it, where her pulse beat; it tasted good, too. Suckling a bit, he pressed closer.
When her hand lightly touched his bare skin, he jolted a bit, not expecting it. He fisted a hand in her jumper and answered her moan with one of his own. Feeling her at so many places along his body, and hearing her sounds, he couldn't help his response, feeling the telltale tightness in his trousers.
Harry licked her neck and started to suck, which made her dig her fingernails into his lower back as her eyes opened. "Oh," she murmured softly, enjoying the feel of his lips against her skin. She tightened her grip on his hair and urged him closer.
Her skin felt strange, the way it did sometimes lately, and she listened to him moan as he kissed her neck. She pressed closer to him, arching back from the door of the wardrobe, breathing heavily as he alternated between sucking and licking her neck.
There was something pressing against her belly, she realized after they stood there awhile longer. She moved closer to him and shifted, trying to alleviate the pressure of whatever it was pushing against her. When she figured out what it must be, her eyes widened and she gasped. He was...that was...was he..."Harry?"
She felt so good. He bit off a curse when she arched her back, the motion pressing against him again, right where he needed it. He could hear her breathing like she'd never done before. He was making her feel good, he realised, sucking at her throat with renewed zeal.
She wiggled a bit against him and he shuddered, trying hard not to rock himself against her. She made it a lot easier when she gasped and looked at him with wide eyes.
"Hmm?" He looked blearily back at her, blinking, his glasses quite askew. Why was she ... oh. He glanced down between them a moment, to where he was still pressed into her belly, and gulped. He'd not even realised that she might ... well. His mind had been pretty fuzzy. He shifted, backing away until he was no longer pressed against the length of her body. Reddening, he glanced up at her briefly, completely unable to think of anything to say.
After she said his name, Harry raised his head and looked at her. She nearly forgot what she was thinking because he had this awful ability to make her think about just kissing him again, especially when his glasses were at an odd angle and his cheeks were flushed. She let go of his hair and fixed his glasses before she brushed her fingers along the curve of his jaw.
Erm. That reminded her of the reason she'd spoken. She looked down between them and bit her lip. He'd moved away, but she could still see it. Well, not it, but the impression of it and, bloody hell. This was awkward. Despite her shock, she was also curious and tense in a completely different way.
"It's alright," she finally said, glad that she sounded normal. She looked up at his face when she realized that she was staring at his...at him. She was blushing again, which was becoming extremely frustrating because she shouldn't possibly blush so often. "I read a book about it years ago. It's a normal reaction for men involved in sexually stimulating activities, even if it's just dreaming. It's caused by the interaction of your brain, hormones, nerves, and blood vessels."
Oh, God. She was reciting textbook definitions of an erection. Why had she started to talk? This was becoming mortifying. She looked down and then up quickly and finally to the side because it was the safest place to look. "I, um, it's okay."
Harry resisted the urge to grab one of her pillows and hold it in front of himself. It was just that she was looking. Downward. And he couldn't tell by the look on her face what she was thinking. Was she freaked out? Afraid? Did she think he was a pervert? He cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot, blushing every bit as deeply as she was, he was sure.
Then she went on about books and blood vessels and he blew out a nervous breath before he looked up at the ceiling, just for a second. Now was not the time for her to get all swotty; it definitely wasn't helping the situation in his trousers. "Yeah -- I er, I think I have a basic grasp of the process," he said, moving over to sit on the edge of her bed. Upon realising that it was, in fact, her bed, he hopped back up again, coughing. "I mean. I know all that; I couldn't exactly ... help it."
She wasn't looking at him, and he grimaced. "Look; it's fine. It happens. It'll be fine."
She shivered when he put his hand on her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his touch through the material of her shirt, and his fingers touched her neck when he shifted his hand. Drying charm. Focus. Drying charm. Maybe if she kept repeating that to herself, she'd stop thinking about Harry and hands and tense feelings.
Before she could convince herself that she was thinking too much, Harry moved his fingers into her hair. She moaned softly and lowered her wand as he asked if it was better, and she could see how flushed she was as she stared in the mirror. Instead of answering him, she impulsively turned her head to kiss him. She realized why she rarely acted on impulse immediately when her hair was pulled by his hand and she ended up in an awkward position that wasn't at all like she'd imagined it would be.
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"Got you," he murmured, his face still close to hers. He let his hand streak up to her hair again before he kissed her, hard, and this time there was no hair-pulling to stop things. On a groan, he backed her into one of the wardrobe doors, only just avoiding the mirror on the opposite one. The length of his body pressed against hers and it felt fantastic. He slid his tongue into her mouth as he moved his hand to her hip. He'd been wanting this ever since he'd stepped into her room.
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He kissed her again, but it was definitely not like the previous awkward kiss. She closed her eyes and moved closer to him as he pushed her backwards. She felt wood behind her as Harry deepened the kiss and realized that she was pushed against the closed door of her wardrobe. She didn't really care because it was difficult to think when Harry was kissing her.
She curled her tongue around his as she tugged on his hair. His hand was on her hip, and she moved her free hand to rest on his shoulder, holding onto him as she returned his kiss eagerly.
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He flicked his tongue against hers and fisted his free hand in her hair. He was messing it up again, probably, but he liked it that way. "Mmm," he said, yanking his mouth from hers and peppering kisses along her jaw. If this turned out to be their date in its entirety, he thought he'd be pretty cool with that.
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They probably should stop, since they still had to go out for their date, but she couldn't tell him they should leave when it felt so good. She dragged her hand down his spine until she reached the bottom of his shirt and hesitantly moved her hand beneath it to touch bare skin. He was so warm. She closed her eyes again as she lightly touched the small of his back, moaning softly as he kissed her neck.
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When her hand lightly touched his bare skin, he jolted a bit, not expecting it. He fisted a hand in her jumper and answered her moan with one of his own. Feeling her at so many places along his body, and hearing her sounds, he couldn't help his response, feeling the telltale tightness in his trousers.
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Her skin felt strange, the way it did sometimes lately, and she listened to him moan as he kissed her neck. She pressed closer to him, arching back from the door of the wardrobe, breathing heavily as he alternated between sucking and licking her neck.
There was something pressing against her belly, she realized after they stood there awhile longer. She moved closer to him and shifted, trying to alleviate the pressure of whatever it was pushing against her. When she figured out what it must be, her eyes widened and she gasped. He was...that was...was he..."Harry?"
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She wiggled a bit against him and he shuddered, trying hard not to rock himself against her. She made it a lot easier when she gasped and looked at him with wide eyes.
"Hmm?" He looked blearily back at her, blinking, his glasses quite askew. Why was she ... oh. He glanced down between them a moment, to where he was still pressed into her belly, and gulped. He'd not even realised that she might ... well. His mind had been pretty fuzzy. He shifted, backing away until he was no longer pressed against the length of her body. Reddening, he glanced up at her briefly, completely unable to think of anything to say.
"Erm."
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Erm. That reminded her of the reason she'd spoken. She looked down between them and bit her lip. He'd moved away, but she could still see it. Well, not it, but the impression of it and, bloody hell. This was awkward. Despite her shock, she was also curious and tense in a completely different way.
"It's alright," she finally said, glad that she sounded normal. She looked up at his face when she realized that she was staring at his...at him. She was blushing again, which was becoming extremely frustrating because she shouldn't possibly blush so often. "I read a book about it years ago. It's a normal reaction for men involved in sexually stimulating activities, even if it's just dreaming. It's caused by the interaction of your brain, hormones, nerves, and blood vessels."
Oh, God. She was reciting textbook definitions of an erection. Why had she started to talk? This was becoming mortifying. She looked down and then up quickly and finally to the side because it was the safest place to look. "I, um, it's okay."
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Then she went on about books and blood vessels and he blew out a nervous breath before he looked up at the ceiling, just for a second. Now was not the time for her to get all swotty; it definitely wasn't helping the situation in his trousers. "Yeah -- I er, I think I have a basic grasp of the process," he said, moving over to sit on the edge of her bed. Upon realising that it was, in fact, her bed, he hopped back up again, coughing. "I mean. I know all that; I couldn't exactly ... help it."
She wasn't looking at him, and he grimaced. "Look; it's fine. It happens. It'll be fine."
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