Fic: Stripped
OH MY GOD NEW USERNAME! lol, welcome to scribooty's fics! LMAO, omg I'm in love with how dumb this new name is. SO... be nice to me and read my fic and do whatever else I ask, okay?
Title: Stripped
Rating: Mature
Category: lol, is there a "Fluffy PWP" category?
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Word Count: 4020
Summary: Harry strips Hermione bare.
Notes: Inspired by muddgutts's gorgeous drawing. Who knows, if we're all really nice to him, we might get some more.
Hermione hummed to herself as she walked through the house, tea cup in hand. She smiled as she paused before the large windows in sitting room, watching the snow fall over the trees and shrubs in peaceful, lazy drifts.
As she ran her free hand along the windowsill, she smiled as her fingertips found the small flowers that had been carved into the dark, stained wood. She and Harry had only moved into the house a couple of weeks earlier, and they were still like a couple of happy children on Christmas morning, delighting over all the tiny details that they were discovering together. She made a mental note to show Harry the flowers later, and continued her humming as she aimlessly wandered around the house.
With every day that she spent in it, she felt more and more happy in her new home. Which was a little difficult to believe, considering that both she and Harry had both already fallen completely in love with the old farmhouse at first sight. They hadn't really considered buying a home so soon-they had been a couple for less than a year-but on a whim they had asked to see the house after reading an ad for it in the Prophet.
It had been vacant, standing empty for over fifty years, and with rather horrendous doxy and garden gnome infestations. But the minute Harry and Hermione saw it, they knew it was the right house for them. Nearby Ottery St. Catchpole, the house had been solidly and cleverly built by a wizarding family hundreds of years earlier. With two main living floors and an attic built under the eaves, it was large enough for spare rooms for all of their friends to visit-and, for "the future," as Harry had put it with a smile-but not so big that the two of them had felt overwhelmed by its size.
There was a wonderful, oversized, stone fireplace in the entry hall for flooing, a small, secluded field for quidditch, and numerous well-placed charms built into the house. Hermione had marveled at how well the charms must have been constructed, for them all to still be so strongly in effect; the rooms were all fairly temperate, and the cupboards and drawers had all been enlarged on the insides. They had already found one "secret" room-a small study tucked off of the main bedroom-and Harry was already putting his Auror skills to work in discovering all the other hidden nooks that he was certain the house contained.
Hermione smiled again and made her way up two flights of stairs and into the huge attic. Harry had gone back to work after taking some time off when they first moved in, but she still had another week before starting her new job with the Office of Magical Law Enforcement. She had decided that she would look through the attic, and see if there was anything worth salvaging among the plethora of boxes and trunks that had accumulated in the space over the centuries.
As she muttered the charm to light the candle sconces placed along the perimeter of the room, she sighed. Plethora was perhaps an underestimate. There were literally hundreds of boxes, trunks and crates-along with the random bits of furniture and accessories-stacked around the space. It would most probably take the entire week to go through the whole thing.
"Oh well, no time like the present," Hermione spoke aloud as she placed an expression of resolve on her face. Carefully setting her now-empty teacup down on a wobbly table, she started at the end closest to her, methodically going through the items and placing them into either a "keep" or "toss" pile.
After taking a break for lunch, Hermione resumed her mission. Luckily, while it was a good deal of effort, it was the type of work that appealed to her. Going through the boxes, sorting the items, it all beckoned to the neat and tidy organizer within her.
Granted, most of what she found was rubbish that she would either toss in a bin or donate. But every once in a while, she found some treasures amongst the junk: a lovely painted vase, with fauns literally dancing around it as they silently blew on their pan-pipes. Or a pocket-watch much like the clock in Mrs. Weasley's kitchen, with hands pointing to various names. She even uncovered a rug that had been weighted down to keep it from floating off the ground. She was grateful that the Ministry had finally rescinded its ban on vintage flying carpets, for she would have hated to have turned it in as an illegal good.
Hermione blew a lock of unruly hair out of her eyes and placed her hands on her hips as she surveyed the space. She had made good progress, and had cleared out a sizable portion of the attic. She looked out of one of the low, small windows and saw that it was already dusk and that Harry would be home soon, but she decided to get through one last box.
She pointed her wand at a dusty, faded chaise lounge and charmed most of the dust off of it, and with a quick Wingardium Leviosa, placed a sizable trunk in front of it. Sitting on the chaise, Hermione opened the trunk, holding her breath in anticipation as to what might lie within it.
As she pushed away layers of tissue paper, she exhaled and a grin broke out on her face. The trunk was filled with clothes. And not just any clothes, but the familiar gray wool of the Hogwarts uniform. But, they weren't the plain, utilitarian uniforms that she was familiar with. Instead, there were a variety of pieces-some that were over a hundred years old-with both delicate and elaborate detailing that caught the eye and begged her fingers to run over them.
Waistcoats, scarves, stockings, shoes, and cloaks filled the trunk to brimming. Hermione guessed that the tissue paper must have been charmed for all of the pieces to look-and smell-like they had only recently been packed away. No musty odors, no moth-eaten holes. Just pieces of history which linked her to the generations of women who had lived in this wonderful house before her.
As she pulled out a black cloak with a gold clip, she stroked the beautiful fabric, a soft wool flannel that had been brushed until it felt like velvet. The clip was accented with a small scarf in crimson and gold, causing Hermione to smile. It seemed fitting that the women who had worn these pieces had also been Gryffindors.
The idea entered her head quickly, and with a bit of a blush, she pulled off the jeans and top she had been wearing, and kicked off her trainers and socks. She held up various blouses to her until she found one that looked like a good fit: a lovely Victorian-era concoction with a high, ruffled collar and long, almost billowy, sleeves. There were tiny brass buttons along the long cuffs and a Gryffindor brooch at the throat. She found a waistcoat (that was a little more fitted than she was used to) with a crimson pocket square, as well as a pair of dark, over the knee stockings. After a little more rummaging, she finally found a skirt that fit, as well as some low-heeled black shoes that had cunning straps and buckles to keep them closed, rather than laces. She donned the clothes and threw the cloak over her shoulders, and decided it was time to see what she looked like.
With a impish grin on her face, she pointed her wand at the wall. "Reflecto!" she intoned, and was pleased to see her reflection pointing its wand back at her.
She turned this way and that, enjoying the way the cloak fell around her. She ran her hands over herself, feeling all the different textures and the tiny buttons. Hermione wasn't the type of woman who normally dressed on overly romantic, girly clothing, but she had to admit that seeing herself with the frilled details was fun; she certainly felt feminine in them.
However, on further examination, she frowned at the skirt, which was much longer than what she had worn in school, ending several inches past her knees. While it made sense that a proper, Victorian young miss wouldn't dare show her knees in public, Hermione had to admit that the historical accuracy was a bit dowdy. So, with a mischievous grin, she pointed her wand at the skirt and shortened it until it fell to about mid-thigh, just short enough to occasionally show a flash of her skin above her stockings as she moved about.
"Hermione? Are you up there?"
Hermione spun around to the doorway, where she could clearly hear Harry making his way into the attic. She had been so involved with her new hobby that she had completely lost track of time. She blushed a bit at what Harry might say once her saw her in the clothes. "I'm in here," she called out. "Now, before you start teasing me," she announced once he entered the attic, still dressed in his full winter Auror dress robes, "let me just explain…"
Hermione didn't finish her sentence. She found that she couldn't. Not with the way that Harry was staring at her. She had expected a stare, of course. A "what-in-the-world- are-you-doing-in-that-get-up" sort of stare. But that wasn't the stare Harry was using. It was more of an "I-can't-take-my-eyes-off-you-in-a-good- way" sort of stare.
And he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Harry had always thought Hermione was pretty, in an understated and natural kind of way. But as she stood there, with the dust particles in the air almost glowing in the candle-lit duskiness of the attic, wearing those clothes, Harry was sure that she was more than pretty. She was beautiful to him.
He stepped close to her, his eyes moving all over her body, and he reached with his hand to skim his fingers over the ruffled frill of her collar and the red brooch at her throat. "What are you wearing?" he asked, his voice low and a bit raspy.
Hermione closed her eyes as her body trembled slightly at the need she heard in his voice, even as his fingers continued to lightly skim and trace the details of her clothing. "It's… It's an old uniform I found up here in a trunk," she finally got the words out of her mouth in a whisper.
She opened her eyes to look into his, only to see that their brilliant green had darkened. Hermione knew that look, and another soft tremble shook through her body. "Do you like it?" she asked, almost annoyed with herself for how breathy her voice sounded.
Harry smiled a slow, wicked smile. "I do," he answered as he stepped even closer to her. "But I think I'd like it even better as I'm taking it off of you."
Hermione said nothing, she could only close her eyes as he ran his hands over her shoulders and down her back, stroking the velvety softness of the cloak. He leaned his face down and whispered into her ear, "This comes off first." She couldn't help but let out a tiny moan as his hot breath washed over her neck.
Harry just smiled again, excited that she was feeling the same stirrings of desire that he was. He slowly and carefully unclasped her cloak and then laid it over the chaise before pulling her towards the lounge.
Hermione lay on top of the cloak, feeling strangely nervous. Though they had been lovers for many months, Harry's intensity at that moment was powerful, drugging her into a lust-filled haze. "Like this?" she whispered as she positioned herself.
Harry couldn't talk, so he simply nodded. Seeing her like that, her beautiful body before him like a gift, it affected him in a way he hadn't expected. She was a gift, he realized. A gift to help make up for every bad thing that had ever happened in his life. And, for everything bad that had yet to happen, it wouldn't hurt as much, because he had her at his side.
He sat at the foot of the chaise and let his hands run up and down her stocking-covered legs. "I love you," he whispered, his hands tightening around her calves as he said the words.
A beautiful flush spread over her cheeks. "I love you, too," she replied, her voice caressing him just as his hands caressed her body.
Harry's chest tightened at her words. He would never tire of hearing her say them. She was a gift, he thought again. And as he looked her over, that wicked grin returned to his face. A gift that needed to be unwrapped. "Shoes first?" he asked as he pulled first one foot and then the other into his lap. He carefully unbuckled each shoe and slipped them off, before rubbing and massaging each foot, kneading her arches with his thumbs until she was sighing in contentment.
Hermione was in heaven. Harry's hands were large and strong, and she felt her body becoming more and more relaxed as he rubbed each foot. But he soon stopped, and Hermione couldn't help but hold her breath in anticipation as he moved those hands up along her legs until they reached the tops of her stockings.
With an agonizing slowness, Harry carefully peeled away first one stocking and then the other, kissing her skin as he bared her legs, inch by inch. Hermione was practically squirming as he laid hot, wet kisses along her thighs and knees. And when he kissed the bottom of her feet, his tongue gently lapping against her arches, she couldn't help but let out a moan.
Her moan went straight to Harry's groin and his hardening cock. With a last kiss of her foot, he set her leg down and repositioned them so that he could lean forward and begin unbuttoning her waistcoat. There were over a dozen of the tiny discs, and he took his time, carefully loosening each brass button from its hole, until he was able to push the waistcoat away from her chest.
He chuckled when he saw her blouse had another row of tiny buttons to undo. At another time, he might have wanted to just rip the blouse off of her, but undoing each and every button was exciting to him, prolonging the anticipation for the moment when he would finally see her naked body.
Hermione had never known that she could be so turned on by Harry undressing her. While she had never been one to fantasize about being a damsel in distress, she had to admit that Harry's ministrations made her feel delicate as well as desirable. She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek and smiled when he turned her palm to his lips and placed a warm, open-mouthed kiss against it.
"Buttons even here," he muttered against her palm, sending small tremors of pleasure down her arm. And then he slowly unbuttoned each of her cuffs, kissing her hands and wrists as he did so.
When her cuffs were finally undone, he smirked a bit as he removed the brooch engraved with a "G" from her neck. Moving them so that he was almost kneeling above her, he began to undo the buttons of her blouse, starting at her throat and moving down her body, kissing each bit of sensitive skin as he uncovered it from the fine, white cotton.
They were soft, light kisses, his lips just barely grazing her warm skin as his hands continued to carefully and methodically work at the buttons. They were so tiny that it was difficult for his large hands to manage them, but slowly each one gave way to his mouth on her skin, his tongue darting out to lightly lap at her throat, between her breasts, and down to her sensitive belly.
Finally, he was able to push the opened blouse and waistcoat off of her completely, the articles of clothing joining the others on the floor. Hermione was practically panting with need by that point, and she reached out to grab him, to drag his lips to hers. But he playfully swatted her hands away. "I'm not done yet," he tsked at her as he brought his hands to her waistband, finally undoing the last button left on her.
Hermione sent him a playful glare even as she lifted her hips so that he could slide the skirt off of her. Finally, she lay before him, with him kneeling between her legs, clad only in her knickers and bra.
She could not remember the last time she had wanted him so badly, been so aroused. She was shamelessly writhing against the chaise, her ass clenching against the heat and need that was beginning to pool in her pussy. "Please, Harry," she moaned as he began to rub his thumbs against her hard nipples through her sheer bra.
Harry gave her an evil grin. "I still have more to unwrap," he chastised before pushing the fabric of her bra out of the way and placing his warm mouth on her breast
Hermione moaned at the sensations, her throaty sounds of pleasure echoing in the dusty attic. He teased the nipple with his tongue and teeth, pulling with just enough force and heat to cause Hermione to throw her head against the back of the chaise, and let out a sensual moan that caused Harry to harden even more. She tasted amazing, and he moved from one breast to another, licking and suckling with greed until she was writhing beneath him, begging him to fill her as only he could.
"Oh god, Harry! Please!" she shouted, the agonizing pleasure causing her voice to crack in need. "I need you, I need you inside me!"
And with that admission, Harry's resolve finally broke. As careful as he had been with the vintage clothing, he was too filled with a lust-fueled impatience to do any more than rip the tiny undergarments off of her, and cover her stripped-naked body with his own.
He brought his lips onto hers, and finally tasted her mouth for the first time that night. He groaned into her mouth as his tongue plunged in, twisting with hers as she suckled at it, pulling his very breath and soul into her.
Hermione kissed him with all the wanton abandon her body demanded. She moaned as she wrapped her legs around his still fully clothed body, the rough texture of his Auror uniform coarse and exciting against her soft, fevered skin. And when Harry began to roughly knead at her breast, she gasped in pleasure even as she began to grind her groin against his, unable to stop herself in her need to feel him, to feel that amazing pressure against her clit.
"Fuck, Hermione!" Harry rasped as she tightened her legs around his hips, grinding with even more pressure against his now painfully hard cock. "Let me get my clothes off, first," he muttered in between fevered kisses.
"No," Hermione answered, surprising him so much that he pulled away to look at her face. Her eyes were darkened with lust, and her body was flushed. "Keep them on. I want them to smell like me... like us... fucking."
Harry groaned at the thought of her marking him, like a wild animal marking its mate, and attacked her mouth, ravishing it with hot, wet kisses, delighting in every moan and gasp of pleasure that he pulled from her throat. But when he slipped a hand between them, and felt the hot slickness of her pussy, he was the one to groan. "Oh fuck, Hermione. You're so wet," he muttered as he slid his fingers along her wet lips, stroking her engorged clit before slipping first one, then another finger into her cunt.
Hermione arched against him, letting out a wail of pleasure. "Oh god, Harry! Please, now! I need you now!" She could wait no longer; he had driven her insane with wanting, her cunt was heavy and aching and it needed to be satisfied.
She pushed him off of her so that he was sitting up, and before he could protest in surprise, she quickly straddled him in all her naked glory, kissing him with a soul-ripping passion even as she began to grind on his lap.
Harry lost no time, and hastily undid his trousers, pushing them and his pants down enough to free his cock. Hermione was just as impatient, and quickly brought herself down on him, encasing his hardness with her wet, soft heat.
"Oh, fuck!" Harry yelled out as she brought herself down on him again and again, riding him as she moved harder and harder on top of him, her firm breasts bouncing as she gripped his shoulders.
"Yes, Harry, god, I love your cock, oh god, it fills me, you fill me," she muttered as she continued to ride him, her walls tightening around him with every upstroke, just to relax and slam against him as she came back down. Harry was gripping her hips so tightly that it hurt, but Hermione loved it, loved that he wanted her so badly that he had almost no control left at all.
Feeling his hardness within her, his clothing against her bare skin, the urgency of his mouth as he kissed her… It was all too much and soon she was screaming as she came around him, her body shaking as the strength of her orgasm washed over her.
Harry watched her come, and was sure that that moment would be etched in his mind forever. Her head thrown back, his name on her lips as the pleasure wracked her lithe body. She was his, and no one else would ever see her, feel her, know her or love her the way that he would.
As her climax began to wane, he held onto her hips and suddenly moved them so that she was pressed back against the chaise as he began to pound into her still shuddering body. She wrapped her legs around him and urged him on with her hands on his ass.
"Come for me Harry," she whispered against his shoulder. "Come inside me... you belong inside me."
And at her words, Harry felt it. The tightening, the release, the orgasm that started from so deep inside him, it felt like a tidal wave of pleasure as he thrust within her. He came hard, releasing himself inside her for what seemed like ages, shouting her name again and again until he was finally finished, his body spent and sated as she wrapped her arms and legs tighter around him, laying soft kisses on his dampened forehead.
After a few moments, he finally rolled off of her, and pulled up his trousers and pants, before pulling her to his side. It was a tight fit-the chaise wasn't very wide-but that only made it better, in his opinion. From Hermione's humming and the way her hand was absently stroking his chest, he could tell she was just as satisfied as he was, basking in the afterglow of their love.
He turned slightly to her, and let his hand run up and down her hip and thigh. She had such a lovely body. "You know, maybe you shouldn't wear clothes," he murmured as he leaned forward to kiss her shoulder.
"But then you wouldn't be able to take them off me," Hermione countered with a smile.
"True enough," Harry agreed, lifting his head to look into her eyes. "As long as we agree that I'm the only one who gets to take them off you, I guess it's a pretty good deal for me."
Hermione rolled her eyes and then laughed. "Of course. It's only you. Like always."
The words brought a huge smile to his face. "Like always," he agreed.
The End.
OKAY. Is that drawing not GORGEOUS? click on it to see it in better detail, and leave a comment for him about its gorgeousness! lol, no, seriously, DO IT. I'm just soooo thrilled that he's back and drawing H/Hr and I want everyone to tell him how much they appreciate it. Come on, it's scribooty's special day! :D
ETA: OH. MY. GOD. muddgutts drew an insanely hot picture to go with this fic. SO NOT WORK SAFE. (It's a locked post, so you're going to have to be a member of harryhermione to see it, but I figure most of the people reading my fics probably belong.) AMAZING RIGHT?!?
Title: Stripped
Rating: Mature
Category: lol, is there a "Fluffy PWP" category?
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Word Count: 4020
Summary: Harry strips Hermione bare.
Notes: Inspired by muddgutts's gorgeous drawing. Who knows, if we're all really nice to him, we might get some more.
Hermione hummed to herself as she walked through the house, tea cup in hand. She smiled as she paused before the large windows in sitting room, watching the snow fall over the trees and shrubs in peaceful, lazy drifts.
As she ran her free hand along the windowsill, she smiled as her fingertips found the small flowers that had been carved into the dark, stained wood. She and Harry had only moved into the house a couple of weeks earlier, and they were still like a couple of happy children on Christmas morning, delighting over all the tiny details that they were discovering together. She made a mental note to show Harry the flowers later, and continued her humming as she aimlessly wandered around the house.
With every day that she spent in it, she felt more and more happy in her new home. Which was a little difficult to believe, considering that both she and Harry had both already fallen completely in love with the old farmhouse at first sight. They hadn't really considered buying a home so soon-they had been a couple for less than a year-but on a whim they had asked to see the house after reading an ad for it in the Prophet.
It had been vacant, standing empty for over fifty years, and with rather horrendous doxy and garden gnome infestations. But the minute Harry and Hermione saw it, they knew it was the right house for them. Nearby Ottery St. Catchpole, the house had been solidly and cleverly built by a wizarding family hundreds of years earlier. With two main living floors and an attic built under the eaves, it was large enough for spare rooms for all of their friends to visit-and, for "the future," as Harry had put it with a smile-but not so big that the two of them had felt overwhelmed by its size.
There was a wonderful, oversized, stone fireplace in the entry hall for flooing, a small, secluded field for quidditch, and numerous well-placed charms built into the house. Hermione had marveled at how well the charms must have been constructed, for them all to still be so strongly in effect; the rooms were all fairly temperate, and the cupboards and drawers had all been enlarged on the insides. They had already found one "secret" room-a small study tucked off of the main bedroom-and Harry was already putting his Auror skills to work in discovering all the other hidden nooks that he was certain the house contained.
Hermione smiled again and made her way up two flights of stairs and into the huge attic. Harry had gone back to work after taking some time off when they first moved in, but she still had another week before starting her new job with the Office of Magical Law Enforcement. She had decided that she would look through the attic, and see if there was anything worth salvaging among the plethora of boxes and trunks that had accumulated in the space over the centuries.
As she muttered the charm to light the candle sconces placed along the perimeter of the room, she sighed. Plethora was perhaps an underestimate. There were literally hundreds of boxes, trunks and crates-along with the random bits of furniture and accessories-stacked around the space. It would most probably take the entire week to go through the whole thing.
"Oh well, no time like the present," Hermione spoke aloud as she placed an expression of resolve on her face. Carefully setting her now-empty teacup down on a wobbly table, she started at the end closest to her, methodically going through the items and placing them into either a "keep" or "toss" pile.
After taking a break for lunch, Hermione resumed her mission. Luckily, while it was a good deal of effort, it was the type of work that appealed to her. Going through the boxes, sorting the items, it all beckoned to the neat and tidy organizer within her.
Granted, most of what she found was rubbish that she would either toss in a bin or donate. But every once in a while, she found some treasures amongst the junk: a lovely painted vase, with fauns literally dancing around it as they silently blew on their pan-pipes. Or a pocket-watch much like the clock in Mrs. Weasley's kitchen, with hands pointing to various names. She even uncovered a rug that had been weighted down to keep it from floating off the ground. She was grateful that the Ministry had finally rescinded its ban on vintage flying carpets, for she would have hated to have turned it in as an illegal good.
Hermione blew a lock of unruly hair out of her eyes and placed her hands on her hips as she surveyed the space. She had made good progress, and had cleared out a sizable portion of the attic. She looked out of one of the low, small windows and saw that it was already dusk and that Harry would be home soon, but she decided to get through one last box.
She pointed her wand at a dusty, faded chaise lounge and charmed most of the dust off of it, and with a quick Wingardium Leviosa, placed a sizable trunk in front of it. Sitting on the chaise, Hermione opened the trunk, holding her breath in anticipation as to what might lie within it.
As she pushed away layers of tissue paper, she exhaled and a grin broke out on her face. The trunk was filled with clothes. And not just any clothes, but the familiar gray wool of the Hogwarts uniform. But, they weren't the plain, utilitarian uniforms that she was familiar with. Instead, there were a variety of pieces-some that were over a hundred years old-with both delicate and elaborate detailing that caught the eye and begged her fingers to run over them.
Waistcoats, scarves, stockings, shoes, and cloaks filled the trunk to brimming. Hermione guessed that the tissue paper must have been charmed for all of the pieces to look-and smell-like they had only recently been packed away. No musty odors, no moth-eaten holes. Just pieces of history which linked her to the generations of women who had lived in this wonderful house before her.
As she pulled out a black cloak with a gold clip, she stroked the beautiful fabric, a soft wool flannel that had been brushed until it felt like velvet. The clip was accented with a small scarf in crimson and gold, causing Hermione to smile. It seemed fitting that the women who had worn these pieces had also been Gryffindors.
The idea entered her head quickly, and with a bit of a blush, she pulled off the jeans and top she had been wearing, and kicked off her trainers and socks. She held up various blouses to her until she found one that looked like a good fit: a lovely Victorian-era concoction with a high, ruffled collar and long, almost billowy, sleeves. There were tiny brass buttons along the long cuffs and a Gryffindor brooch at the throat. She found a waistcoat (that was a little more fitted than she was used to) with a crimson pocket square, as well as a pair of dark, over the knee stockings. After a little more rummaging, she finally found a skirt that fit, as well as some low-heeled black shoes that had cunning straps and buckles to keep them closed, rather than laces. She donned the clothes and threw the cloak over her shoulders, and decided it was time to see what she looked like.
With a impish grin on her face, she pointed her wand at the wall. "Reflecto!" she intoned, and was pleased to see her reflection pointing its wand back at her.
She turned this way and that, enjoying the way the cloak fell around her. She ran her hands over herself, feeling all the different textures and the tiny buttons. Hermione wasn't the type of woman who normally dressed on overly romantic, girly clothing, but she had to admit that seeing herself with the frilled details was fun; she certainly felt feminine in them.
However, on further examination, she frowned at the skirt, which was much longer than what she had worn in school, ending several inches past her knees. While it made sense that a proper, Victorian young miss wouldn't dare show her knees in public, Hermione had to admit that the historical accuracy was a bit dowdy. So, with a mischievous grin, she pointed her wand at the skirt and shortened it until it fell to about mid-thigh, just short enough to occasionally show a flash of her skin above her stockings as she moved about.
"Hermione? Are you up there?"
Hermione spun around to the doorway, where she could clearly hear Harry making his way into the attic. She had been so involved with her new hobby that she had completely lost track of time. She blushed a bit at what Harry might say once her saw her in the clothes. "I'm in here," she called out. "Now, before you start teasing me," she announced once he entered the attic, still dressed in his full winter Auror dress robes, "let me just explain…"
Hermione didn't finish her sentence. She found that she couldn't. Not with the way that Harry was staring at her. She had expected a stare, of course. A "what-in-the-world- are-you-doing-in-that-get-up" sort of stare. But that wasn't the stare Harry was using. It was more of an "I-can't-take-my-eyes-off-you-in-a-good- way" sort of stare.
And he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Harry had always thought Hermione was pretty, in an understated and natural kind of way. But as she stood there, with the dust particles in the air almost glowing in the candle-lit duskiness of the attic, wearing those clothes, Harry was sure that she was more than pretty. She was beautiful to him.
He stepped close to her, his eyes moving all over her body, and he reached with his hand to skim his fingers over the ruffled frill of her collar and the red brooch at her throat. "What are you wearing?" he asked, his voice low and a bit raspy.
Hermione closed her eyes as her body trembled slightly at the need she heard in his voice, even as his fingers continued to lightly skim and trace the details of her clothing. "It's… It's an old uniform I found up here in a trunk," she finally got the words out of her mouth in a whisper.
She opened her eyes to look into his, only to see that their brilliant green had darkened. Hermione knew that look, and another soft tremble shook through her body. "Do you like it?" she asked, almost annoyed with herself for how breathy her voice sounded.
Harry smiled a slow, wicked smile. "I do," he answered as he stepped even closer to her. "But I think I'd like it even better as I'm taking it off of you."
Hermione said nothing, she could only close her eyes as he ran his hands over her shoulders and down her back, stroking the velvety softness of the cloak. He leaned his face down and whispered into her ear, "This comes off first." She couldn't help but let out a tiny moan as his hot breath washed over her neck.
Harry just smiled again, excited that she was feeling the same stirrings of desire that he was. He slowly and carefully unclasped her cloak and then laid it over the chaise before pulling her towards the lounge.
Hermione lay on top of the cloak, feeling strangely nervous. Though they had been lovers for many months, Harry's intensity at that moment was powerful, drugging her into a lust-filled haze. "Like this?" she whispered as she positioned herself.
Harry couldn't talk, so he simply nodded. Seeing her like that, her beautiful body before him like a gift, it affected him in a way he hadn't expected. She was a gift, he realized. A gift to help make up for every bad thing that had ever happened in his life. And, for everything bad that had yet to happen, it wouldn't hurt as much, because he had her at his side.
He sat at the foot of the chaise and let his hands run up and down her stocking-covered legs. "I love you," he whispered, his hands tightening around her calves as he said the words.
A beautiful flush spread over her cheeks. "I love you, too," she replied, her voice caressing him just as his hands caressed her body.
Harry's chest tightened at her words. He would never tire of hearing her say them. She was a gift, he thought again. And as he looked her over, that wicked grin returned to his face. A gift that needed to be unwrapped. "Shoes first?" he asked as he pulled first one foot and then the other into his lap. He carefully unbuckled each shoe and slipped them off, before rubbing and massaging each foot, kneading her arches with his thumbs until she was sighing in contentment.
Hermione was in heaven. Harry's hands were large and strong, and she felt her body becoming more and more relaxed as he rubbed each foot. But he soon stopped, and Hermione couldn't help but hold her breath in anticipation as he moved those hands up along her legs until they reached the tops of her stockings.
With an agonizing slowness, Harry carefully peeled away first one stocking and then the other, kissing her skin as he bared her legs, inch by inch. Hermione was practically squirming as he laid hot, wet kisses along her thighs and knees. And when he kissed the bottom of her feet, his tongue gently lapping against her arches, she couldn't help but let out a moan.
Her moan went straight to Harry's groin and his hardening cock. With a last kiss of her foot, he set her leg down and repositioned them so that he could lean forward and begin unbuttoning her waistcoat. There were over a dozen of the tiny discs, and he took his time, carefully loosening each brass button from its hole, until he was able to push the waistcoat away from her chest.
He chuckled when he saw her blouse had another row of tiny buttons to undo. At another time, he might have wanted to just rip the blouse off of her, but undoing each and every button was exciting to him, prolonging the anticipation for the moment when he would finally see her naked body.
Hermione had never known that she could be so turned on by Harry undressing her. While she had never been one to fantasize about being a damsel in distress, she had to admit that Harry's ministrations made her feel delicate as well as desirable. She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek and smiled when he turned her palm to his lips and placed a warm, open-mouthed kiss against it.
"Buttons even here," he muttered against her palm, sending small tremors of pleasure down her arm. And then he slowly unbuttoned each of her cuffs, kissing her hands and wrists as he did so.
When her cuffs were finally undone, he smirked a bit as he removed the brooch engraved with a "G" from her neck. Moving them so that he was almost kneeling above her, he began to undo the buttons of her blouse, starting at her throat and moving down her body, kissing each bit of sensitive skin as he uncovered it from the fine, white cotton.
They were soft, light kisses, his lips just barely grazing her warm skin as his hands continued to carefully and methodically work at the buttons. They were so tiny that it was difficult for his large hands to manage them, but slowly each one gave way to his mouth on her skin, his tongue darting out to lightly lap at her throat, between her breasts, and down to her sensitive belly.
Finally, he was able to push the opened blouse and waistcoat off of her completely, the articles of clothing joining the others on the floor. Hermione was practically panting with need by that point, and she reached out to grab him, to drag his lips to hers. But he playfully swatted her hands away. "I'm not done yet," he tsked at her as he brought his hands to her waistband, finally undoing the last button left on her.
Hermione sent him a playful glare even as she lifted her hips so that he could slide the skirt off of her. Finally, she lay before him, with him kneeling between her legs, clad only in her knickers and bra.
She could not remember the last time she had wanted him so badly, been so aroused. She was shamelessly writhing against the chaise, her ass clenching against the heat and need that was beginning to pool in her pussy. "Please, Harry," she moaned as he began to rub his thumbs against her hard nipples through her sheer bra.
Harry gave her an evil grin. "I still have more to unwrap," he chastised before pushing the fabric of her bra out of the way and placing his warm mouth on her breast
Hermione moaned at the sensations, her throaty sounds of pleasure echoing in the dusty attic. He teased the nipple with his tongue and teeth, pulling with just enough force and heat to cause Hermione to throw her head against the back of the chaise, and let out a sensual moan that caused Harry to harden even more. She tasted amazing, and he moved from one breast to another, licking and suckling with greed until she was writhing beneath him, begging him to fill her as only he could.
"Oh god, Harry! Please!" she shouted, the agonizing pleasure causing her voice to crack in need. "I need you, I need you inside me!"
And with that admission, Harry's resolve finally broke. As careful as he had been with the vintage clothing, he was too filled with a lust-fueled impatience to do any more than rip the tiny undergarments off of her, and cover her stripped-naked body with his own.
He brought his lips onto hers, and finally tasted her mouth for the first time that night. He groaned into her mouth as his tongue plunged in, twisting with hers as she suckled at it, pulling his very breath and soul into her.
Hermione kissed him with all the wanton abandon her body demanded. She moaned as she wrapped her legs around his still fully clothed body, the rough texture of his Auror uniform coarse and exciting against her soft, fevered skin. And when Harry began to roughly knead at her breast, she gasped in pleasure even as she began to grind her groin against his, unable to stop herself in her need to feel him, to feel that amazing pressure against her clit.
"Fuck, Hermione!" Harry rasped as she tightened her legs around his hips, grinding with even more pressure against his now painfully hard cock. "Let me get my clothes off, first," he muttered in between fevered kisses.
"No," Hermione answered, surprising him so much that he pulled away to look at her face. Her eyes were darkened with lust, and her body was flushed. "Keep them on. I want them to smell like me... like us... fucking."
Harry groaned at the thought of her marking him, like a wild animal marking its mate, and attacked her mouth, ravishing it with hot, wet kisses, delighting in every moan and gasp of pleasure that he pulled from her throat. But when he slipped a hand between them, and felt the hot slickness of her pussy, he was the one to groan. "Oh fuck, Hermione. You're so wet," he muttered as he slid his fingers along her wet lips, stroking her engorged clit before slipping first one, then another finger into her cunt.
Hermione arched against him, letting out a wail of pleasure. "Oh god, Harry! Please, now! I need you now!" She could wait no longer; he had driven her insane with wanting, her cunt was heavy and aching and it needed to be satisfied.
She pushed him off of her so that he was sitting up, and before he could protest in surprise, she quickly straddled him in all her naked glory, kissing him with a soul-ripping passion even as she began to grind on his lap.
Harry lost no time, and hastily undid his trousers, pushing them and his pants down enough to free his cock. Hermione was just as impatient, and quickly brought herself down on him, encasing his hardness with her wet, soft heat.
"Oh, fuck!" Harry yelled out as she brought herself down on him again and again, riding him as she moved harder and harder on top of him, her firm breasts bouncing as she gripped his shoulders.
"Yes, Harry, god, I love your cock, oh god, it fills me, you fill me," she muttered as she continued to ride him, her walls tightening around him with every upstroke, just to relax and slam against him as she came back down. Harry was gripping her hips so tightly that it hurt, but Hermione loved it, loved that he wanted her so badly that he had almost no control left at all.
Feeling his hardness within her, his clothing against her bare skin, the urgency of his mouth as he kissed her… It was all too much and soon she was screaming as she came around him, her body shaking as the strength of her orgasm washed over her.
Harry watched her come, and was sure that that moment would be etched in his mind forever. Her head thrown back, his name on her lips as the pleasure wracked her lithe body. She was his, and no one else would ever see her, feel her, know her or love her the way that he would.
As her climax began to wane, he held onto her hips and suddenly moved them so that she was pressed back against the chaise as he began to pound into her still shuddering body. She wrapped her legs around him and urged him on with her hands on his ass.
"Come for me Harry," she whispered against his shoulder. "Come inside me... you belong inside me."
And at her words, Harry felt it. The tightening, the release, the orgasm that started from so deep inside him, it felt like a tidal wave of pleasure as he thrust within her. He came hard, releasing himself inside her for what seemed like ages, shouting her name again and again until he was finally finished, his body spent and sated as she wrapped her arms and legs tighter around him, laying soft kisses on his dampened forehead.
After a few moments, he finally rolled off of her, and pulled up his trousers and pants, before pulling her to his side. It was a tight fit-the chaise wasn't very wide-but that only made it better, in his opinion. From Hermione's humming and the way her hand was absently stroking his chest, he could tell she was just as satisfied as he was, basking in the afterglow of their love.
He turned slightly to her, and let his hand run up and down her hip and thigh. She had such a lovely body. "You know, maybe you shouldn't wear clothes," he murmured as he leaned forward to kiss her shoulder.
"But then you wouldn't be able to take them off me," Hermione countered with a smile.
"True enough," Harry agreed, lifting his head to look into her eyes. "As long as we agree that I'm the only one who gets to take them off you, I guess it's a pretty good deal for me."
Hermione rolled her eyes and then laughed. "Of course. It's only you. Like always."
The words brought a huge smile to his face. "Like always," he agreed.
The End.
OKAY. Is that drawing not GORGEOUS? click on it to see it in better detail, and leave a comment for him about its gorgeousness! lol, no, seriously, DO IT. I'm just soooo thrilled that he's back and drawing H/Hr and I want everyone to tell him how much they appreciate it. Come on, it's scribooty's special day! :D
ETA: OH. MY. GOD. muddgutts drew an insanely hot picture to go with this fic. SO NOT WORK SAFE. (It's a locked post, so you're going to have to be a member of harryhermione to see it, but I figure most of the people reading my fics probably belong.) AMAZING RIGHT?!?