tarie
in
sunandsmut
Gift fic for Sun and Smut participants and watchers!
TO: The sunandsmut participants and watchers!
FROM: ANONYMOUS
TITLE: Without You
PAIRING: Harry/Hermione, mention of Hermione/Victor
RATING:NC-17
SUMMARY: If Ron can’t have Hermione then Harry will.
WARNINGS: Non Linear, Dark themes, Adultery (sort of) Violence. If you’re sensitive about right to die issues, you probably shouldn’t read this fic -some wizard technology that isn’t canon.
DISCLAIMER: JKR owns them. I just corrupt them. No money is being made by me.
AUTHOR NOTES: Thanks to my fantastical beta, S. A nod of thanks to tarie and florahart.
After the war, the population of Dementors is out of control. Harry and Ron become Aurors and Hermione tries to get S.P.E.W off the ground.
All the notions Hermione Granger’s ever entertained about sex with Harry (not that there have been many) don’t begin to compare to what it actually is like.
For one thing, the possessiveness.
“You're mine, Hermione.” He pushes into a spot he found a half hour ago and hasn’t stopped exploiting since. “Say it. Tell me you're mine.”
There’s a momentary pause when the vial of Ronald Weasley’s blood, which Harry carries in a locket, falls forward from his neck and hits her in the chin. He grabs it quickly, guiltily and pulls it around so it’s resting on his back.
Her body is thrumming with pleasure, pulsating with it, and yet her mind can’t help but read into his small gesture.
Green hazy eyes meet with hers.
“Tell me.” He rests his hand gently over her forehead pushing back damp curls and running his finger over the curve of her cheek.
“No, Harry, I can’t.”
He smiles. God, it’s been such a long time since she’s seen him do that. Harry is the only wizard that can pull souls back out of a Dementor. The only problem is little pieces of your own soul get torn in the process.
“All right, if you need more convincing.” He pushes in even deeper, pleasure spikes harder as his mouth finds her nipple.
Her bedroom looks so normal, heavy blue curtains blocking out the strength of the afternoon sun, her book shelf neat and orderly. Every thing is in its place, except her underneath Harry.
~~~~~***~~~~~
There was a summer heat wave, and no matter what, the cooling charms in her bedroom weren’t sticking, though they were all working perfectly normal in the other parts of the house. She had all sorts of cooling charm experts over and none of them could figure it out. She was offhandedly telling Harry about it over lunch, and he offered to come have a look at it.
He worked it out almost immediately. “So Vicky couldn’t fix it for you?” Harry had asked casually.
That shocked her a little. He’d said it without the faintest hint of sarcasm, but he did use the old condescending name Ron had for ViKtor.
“He’s a Quidditch coach Harry, not a maintenance wizard,” Hermione said, somewhat defensively.
“I’m an Auror, not a maintenance wizard,” Harry said lightly. He looked down at her, and she could swear he was staring at her lips. “Still, I think you’ll find there are all sorts of things I can do for you that he can’t.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. For a moment, Hermione was afraid he was going to kiss her, but he just to pulled her into a hug.
It all felt so nice, so safe, the air becoming a bearable temperature around them, the reconnecting friendship between them. It seemed to be a renaissance period in her life. Six months ago, she ran into ViKtor and they rekindled a romance that had never really gotten started. Three months after that, Harry had floo’d her and asked if she would have dinner with him.
His hand sneaked into her hair. His lips brushed against her cheek. “I’ve missed you.” Those three words made Hermione’s heart swell and ache. He’d hurt her so bad.
She’d forgiven him though, because he hadn’t been himself when he’d done it. There was no telling how many Dementors he’d sucked souls back from, little pieces of his own soul being torn in the process, trying to reunite Ron’s soul with his body.
The memory still reverberated in her head. She’d come to visit Ron, and Harry was there sitting by his bed side. Harry looked sick and pale, dark black circles under his eyes like he was... wasting away.
She tried to convince him to stop, and he flew off the handle. He slapped her, accusing her of never loving Ron enough. She started to cry, and it enraged him further. He slammed her into the green walls of Ron’s room and spit orders into her face never to return again unless she wanted to become a patient.
He sat down on the bed and pulled her in between his legs, hugging her tight around the waist. “Missed you so much,” he repeated, pressing his face into her stomach. Harry breathed hot and wet into the space where her shirt had slightly ridden up.
Viktor had told Hermione that Harry wanted her, she laughed and begged Viktor not to be jealous; they were just old friends trying to reconnect after something extremely painful, even so, she tried to keep Harry at a distance.
At first, all she would do was meet him for lunch, but the time they spent dining together became longer and longer. He went to S.P.E.W rallies with her, which always generated positive press for her cause. After about six weeks, things were normalizing again, and she didn’t see the harm in inviting Harry over to watch the world cup. Viktor would be there, along with some other friends; his team hadn’t made it to the finals, and they were coming over to watch the match at her house.
“Oh... oh, Hermione,” he cries out after she reaches up kissing him until she needs air. He’s going to come, she can tell, and then, quite suddenly, she’s being dragged forward onto Harry’s thighs, her lower back and hips resting on his bent legs.
“I’m better at this than Viktor.” His hands encompass her thighs spreading them further apart, and she watches him watch himself slide in and out of her with torturous, short strokes. “Everything about me is better,” he says, sounding more like Draco Malfoy than she ever thought he could, which makes her remember that he’d almost been sorted into Slytherin, which makes her realize that...
“The cooling charm,” she says, propping herself up onto her elbows and looking up at him. “The cooling charm stopped working the last time you were over to watch the game.” He laughs and doesn’t deny it at all, just laughs and places his finger on her clit.
“That’s my Hermione,” he answers darkly and makes deft little circles that cause her back to arch into the intermittent pressure building, begging for release. “Always so clever.”
“You... you,” She starts, but doesn’t finish.
“Of course I did Hermione.” Lifting her hips, he pulls her forward, dragging her onto his cock, before everything goes fluid. “I had to have you back.”
A smooth motion, and he straightens his legs so he’s lying back on top of her, his penis angled into that perfect position once again. A warm feeling bursts about an inch underneath her navel, while he whispers that he loves her into her ear.
Harry makes a high pitched whistling sound while he snores still lying on top of her with his head pillowed just under her breasts. She runs her fingers through his dark hair, and everything is clear to her now. After the war, the population of Dementors was out of control. Harry and Ron became Aurors, and a large part of their duties was to tag Dementors and bring them back under ministry control.
She knows that Harry will never stop looking for the Dementor that kissed Ron, but she also knows there just aren’t that many untagged Dementors left, and Harry is getting better and becoming his old self again.
Also, she will have to end things with Victor. She almost regrets it until Harry groans in his sleep; his arms that were sort of out to the side come in and rest on her hip and shoulder, and she knows he’s right: there shouldn’t be anymore time between them.
FROM: ANONYMOUS
TITLE: Without You
PAIRING: Harry/Hermione, mention of Hermione/Victor
RATING:NC-17
SUMMARY: If Ron can’t have Hermione then Harry will.
WARNINGS: Non Linear, Dark themes, Adultery (sort of) Violence. If you’re sensitive about right to die issues, you probably shouldn’t read this fic -some wizard technology that isn’t canon.
DISCLAIMER: JKR owns them. I just corrupt them. No money is being made by me.
AUTHOR NOTES: Thanks to my fantastical beta, S. A nod of thanks to tarie and florahart.
After the war, the population of Dementors is out of control. Harry and Ron become Aurors and Hermione tries to get S.P.E.W off the ground.
All the notions Hermione Granger’s ever entertained about sex with Harry (not that there have been many) don’t begin to compare to what it actually is like.
For one thing, the possessiveness.
“You're mine, Hermione.” He pushes into a spot he found a half hour ago and hasn’t stopped exploiting since. “Say it. Tell me you're mine.”
There’s a momentary pause when the vial of Ronald Weasley’s blood, which Harry carries in a locket, falls forward from his neck and hits her in the chin. He grabs it quickly, guiltily and pulls it around so it’s resting on his back.
Her body is thrumming with pleasure, pulsating with it, and yet her mind can’t help but read into his small gesture.
Green hazy eyes meet with hers.
“Tell me.” He rests his hand gently over her forehead pushing back damp curls and running his finger over the curve of her cheek.
“No, Harry, I can’t.”
He smiles. God, it’s been such a long time since she’s seen him do that. Harry is the only wizard that can pull souls back out of a Dementor. The only problem is little pieces of your own soul get torn in the process.
“All right, if you need more convincing.” He pushes in even deeper, pleasure spikes harder as his mouth finds her nipple.
Her bedroom looks so normal, heavy blue curtains blocking out the strength of the afternoon sun, her book shelf neat and orderly. Every thing is in its place, except her underneath Harry.
~~~~~***~~~~~
There was a summer heat wave, and no matter what, the cooling charms in her bedroom weren’t sticking, though they were all working perfectly normal in the other parts of the house. She had all sorts of cooling charm experts over and none of them could figure it out. She was offhandedly telling Harry about it over lunch, and he offered to come have a look at it.
He worked it out almost immediately. “So Vicky couldn’t fix it for you?” Harry had asked casually.
That shocked her a little. He’d said it without the faintest hint of sarcasm, but he did use the old condescending name Ron had for ViKtor.
“He’s a Quidditch coach Harry, not a maintenance wizard,” Hermione said, somewhat defensively.
“I’m an Auror, not a maintenance wizard,” Harry said lightly. He looked down at her, and she could swear he was staring at her lips. “Still, I think you’ll find there are all sorts of things I can do for you that he can’t.” He placed his hand on her shoulder. For a moment, Hermione was afraid he was going to kiss her, but he just to pulled her into a hug.
It all felt so nice, so safe, the air becoming a bearable temperature around them, the reconnecting friendship between them. It seemed to be a renaissance period in her life. Six months ago, she ran into ViKtor and they rekindled a romance that had never really gotten started. Three months after that, Harry had floo’d her and asked if she would have dinner with him.
His hand sneaked into her hair. His lips brushed against her cheek. “I’ve missed you.” Those three words made Hermione’s heart swell and ache. He’d hurt her so bad.
She’d forgiven him though, because he hadn’t been himself when he’d done it. There was no telling how many Dementors he’d sucked souls back from, little pieces of his own soul being torn in the process, trying to reunite Ron’s soul with his body.
The memory still reverberated in her head. She’d come to visit Ron, and Harry was there sitting by his bed side. Harry looked sick and pale, dark black circles under his eyes like he was... wasting away.
She tried to convince him to stop, and he flew off the handle. He slapped her, accusing her of never loving Ron enough. She started to cry, and it enraged him further. He slammed her into the green walls of Ron’s room and spit orders into her face never to return again unless she wanted to become a patient.
He sat down on the bed and pulled her in between his legs, hugging her tight around the waist. “Missed you so much,” he repeated, pressing his face into her stomach. Harry breathed hot and wet into the space where her shirt had slightly ridden up.
Viktor had told Hermione that Harry wanted her, she laughed and begged Viktor not to be jealous; they were just old friends trying to reconnect after something extremely painful, even so, she tried to keep Harry at a distance.
At first, all she would do was meet him for lunch, but the time they spent dining together became longer and longer. He went to S.P.E.W rallies with her, which always generated positive press for her cause. After about six weeks, things were normalizing again, and she didn’t see the harm in inviting Harry over to watch the world cup. Viktor would be there, along with some other friends; his team hadn’t made it to the finals, and they were coming over to watch the match at her house.
“Oh... oh, Hermione,” he cries out after she reaches up kissing him until she needs air. He’s going to come, she can tell, and then, quite suddenly, she’s being dragged forward onto Harry’s thighs, her lower back and hips resting on his bent legs.
“I’m better at this than Viktor.” His hands encompass her thighs spreading them further apart, and she watches him watch himself slide in and out of her with torturous, short strokes. “Everything about me is better,” he says, sounding more like Draco Malfoy than she ever thought he could, which makes her remember that he’d almost been sorted into Slytherin, which makes her realize that...
“The cooling charm,” she says, propping herself up onto her elbows and looking up at him. “The cooling charm stopped working the last time you were over to watch the game.” He laughs and doesn’t deny it at all, just laughs and places his finger on her clit.
“That’s my Hermione,” he answers darkly and makes deft little circles that cause her back to arch into the intermittent pressure building, begging for release. “Always so clever.”
“You... you,” She starts, but doesn’t finish.
“Of course I did Hermione.” Lifting her hips, he pulls her forward, dragging her onto his cock, before everything goes fluid. “I had to have you back.”
A smooth motion, and he straightens his legs so he’s lying back on top of her, his penis angled into that perfect position once again. A warm feeling bursts about an inch underneath her navel, while he whispers that he loves her into her ear.
Harry makes a high pitched whistling sound while he snores still lying on top of her with his head pillowed just under her breasts. She runs her fingers through his dark hair, and everything is clear to her now. After the war, the population of Dementors was out of control. Harry and Ron became Aurors, and a large part of their duties was to tag Dementors and bring them back under ministry control.
She knows that Harry will never stop looking for the Dementor that kissed Ron, but she also knows there just aren’t that many untagged Dementors left, and Harry is getting better and becoming his old self again.
Also, she will have to end things with Victor. She almost regrets it until Harry groans in his sleep; his arms that were sort of out to the side come in and rest on her hip and shoulder, and she knows he’s right: there shouldn’t be anymore time between them.