Hermione Granger was a clever girl. 'The brightest witch of her age' some called her. She much preferred the coined phrase in comparison to the other nicknames branded on her in hushed whispers: 'know-it-all.' 'Prissy bint.' 'Teacher's pet.' She would never apologize for being intelligent. After all, it was her brains which saved her and her friends time and time again.
So maybe that was why, on Christmas Eve, when all the Weasleys had turned in after Christmas supper, Hermione stayed behind to watch Ron pace in front of the fireplace, knowing that if she didn't, she would never hear the end of it tomorrow.
"He didn't show up."
"Ron…"
"He knew this was important to Mum," Ron glowered at the floor, clenching and unclenching his fists, frustration set in his eyes. "He said he'd be here. Didn't he?" He looked to Hermione for confirmation, and she nodded.
"Yes, Ron, he did. But I'm sure there's a reason Harry didn't come. He wouldn't skip out on this without one."
"Like what, Hermione? We asked off from the Auror Division specifically for tonight. Three months advanced notice! And for what? For him to stand us all up? We're his family, 'Mione. The only family he's got."
"Well, that isn't entirely true, is it?" Hermione offered. "He has his Aunt and Uncle, yes? And his cousin-"
"-Who've treated him like muck all his life! Nah. He didn't skimp out on us for them."
"I never said he did, Ronald. I simply stated we're not his only family."
"Did you see the way Gin looked before she left? Heartbroken."
"Yes, well, I imagine that happens after a bad breakup…"
"But Harry said he was gonna talk to her tonight. He got her hopes up and then pissed all over them."
"Harry isn't one to… urinate himself… over anyone's hopes, Ron. Something must have come up." She reached for her beaded bag next to her feet and arose from the sofa.
"Where are you going?"
"To talk to Harry," she said with a nod of the head.
"Right." Ron stopped his pacing. "I'll go with you."
"No!" Hermione shouted at once, and then said, much softer this time, "I mean… you're sort of a hot head, Ron. I think you'll only make the situation worse. Besides, I think the last thing Harry needs right now is a crowd."
"Since when am I a crowd?" his eyebrows knitted together.
"Just… trust me." She leaned up and pecked his cheek. "I'll call you soon."
"Ah, come on, 'Mione. Don't make me use the phone. Owl me like a normal person would."
"SInce when have we ever been particularly normal?" Hermione smiled, backing her way toward the door. "Give Luna my love, will you?"
"I'm sure she'll send it back in bowtruckle droppings or whatever." Ron rolled his eyes, though they held a bit of amusement behind them. He waved her off, and Hermione shut the door behind her, stepping out into the crisp evening air. As she walked to the edge of the perimeter, where she would soon be open to Disapparate, she caught a glance up at the silvery moon that hung over tonight's festivities. Such a beautiful night, she thought. And Harry was nowhere to be found.
Sighing, she made it to the edge of the field outside the Burrow's circumference and concentrated all her efforts on one location in her mind's eye. The next moment, she was thrown into a spiraling vortex and disappeared into the night air.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Harry," Hermione whispered against the door of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. "Harry, if you're there, let me in." Silence was her only answer. With a sigh, she waved her wand and alohomora'd the door open. It gave a heavy groan as it moved to let her pass.
After the War, Hermione and Ginny insisted on giving Grimmauld Place a sprucing up -a makeover of sorts to help Harry over the loss of Sirius. It still honored the Black family to an extent; though, the grumpy, racist paintings had all been moved up stairs, and the darker objects all given to the Ministry for observation. A new coat of paint hung on every wall, as well as new trim, furniture, and carpeting. It was a far cry from the moldy, ominous abode it once was, but stepping inside tonight still sent a chill down Hermione's spine as the door creaked shut behind her.
"Harry," she called again, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck and hanging it on the coatrack nearby. "Harry James Potter!" No one answered. Removing her coat and gloves, Hermione warmed her hands by the slowly dying fireplace, and, after feeding it more wood, she proceeded to make her way deeper into the bowels of the former Black estate, on the careful lookout for Kreacher, should he be working. He was distraught when Harry had presented him with a baseball cap and freed him. He insisted on staying and working himself to the grave anyway, but Harry said he wouldn't allow him to without equal pay and nights off. Kreacher, after fully cursing out Hermione and Ron nearby (because it must have been their fault, yes?), the elderly house elf finally conceded to his former master's requests.
"Kreacher?" she took a chance, hollering for the hobbled elf. "Are you here?"
She was beginning to greet the silence as a friend. After all, it was the only thing to meet her.
Hermione sighed. "Exactly what I was afraid of." She checked the kitchens to no avail, then the den; she checked the Family Tree room, the bathrooms, and even the cupboard under the stairs. Nothing. No one.
There were only two directions to go, now. Up the rickety staircase, or down the daunting set of stairs to the basement. Up, she decided. Up sounded much better than down. She lit the candles in the foyer and began her ascent upstairs, careful to hold the railing should she become surprised and slip.
Harry's room was surprisingly organized. The usually careless Auror now kept his clothes folded neatly on top of a trunk in the corner of the room. His bed was made, and the owl stand held only a fair amount of droppings. She raised an eyebrow and noticed the only unorganized mess was the several piles of books scattered about the room in different intervals. How very strange… she walked over to the closest pile and picked up the top tome. It was an older potions textbook; three hundred and ninety four pages in, a folded doggy-ear signified where he left off. Hermione huffed. All these years, and Harry still couldn't find the will to use a proper bookmark.
"This is…" she scanned her eyes over the page, thoroughly entranced. Surely not. She set the book down carefully on the bed and walked over to another stack of books, reading each cover with careful consideration. The pieces began to shift together like a puzzle in its final stages of completion just as a husky voice sounded from the doorway.
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Harry!" Hermione jumped at the sight of the Auror in the doorway -she hadn't heard him approach. His onyx hair stood at odd angles, even more so than usual, and he wore thick stubble over his chin and cheeks. His glasses appeared cracked on the left lense, giving the illusion of him just returning from some nasty battle. He wore a simple long sleeve sweater, the one Ginny gave him last Christmas, and muggle jeans. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days.
Hermione frowned. "You gave me such a fright!"
"Sorry," Harry replied, leaning against the doorway. "Don't you know it's impolite to go through someone's room without their permission?"
"Don't get me started on impolite, Harry Potter." Hermione pointed an accusing finger at him, making him blush. "Everyone is thoroughly miffed you stood us all up tonight."
"Sorry about that."
"You seem to be doing an awful lot of apologizing, and yet you haven't offered a single shred of explanation."
Harry shrugged, impassive. "I was… busy."
"Busy?"
"Yeah. Er… things… came up."
"Things came up?" The witch gave a chastising laugh. "You know I'm not buying that for a second, right?"
It was obvious from the crease between Harry's brows her instincts were correct. He'd never been a particularly good liar, especially when it came to lying to her. Hermione probed harder.
"Doing a bit of light reading?" She held up a thick book bound in leather, the title blaring at him like a siren. Harry tried to appear nonchalant, but the sudden look of alarm in his eyes confirmed her suspicions. Hermione's stomach dropped like a weight, anchoring her to the bed. She didn't dare move. "Harry…"
"It's nothing, Hermione." He gestured to the different piles of books. "Research. Honestly. Auror stuff."
"Since when does the Auror Division research," she turned the book around and read the title out loud, "Werwölfe Sind Wehrhaft. -Do you even know how to read German?"
Harry's jaw tightened. "I think we're through here, Hermione. Can you just…" he closed his eyes. "Can you just go?"
"I'm not going anywhere," she replied definitively, standing (or rather sitting) her ground. Her knees began to shake beneath her skirt, but she willed them still, adrenaline and concern coursing through her veins. "Show me."
His green eyes came back open, and he stared at her, dumbstruck."Huh?"
"Show me," she said again, much slower this time. "I'm not leaving here until you do."
"I… haven't a clue… I don't-"
"Don't lie to me, Harry!" Hermione nearly threw the book at him. Her arm reared back, book in hand, ready to pummel it at his head, but she caught herself last moment and decided damaging the book wasn't worth it. Her arm drew back down into her lap, and with it, the book. Tears began to form in her eyes. "I'm your best friend. You should have come to me as soon as it happened. Don't you know I would have been here for you?"
Running his fingers through his hair, Harry gave a sigh and ducked his chin. "Hermione… I had to be sure… before I told anyone…"
"Show me."
Obediently, and from years of trust, Harry crossed the room, took a seat on the bed next to her, and grabbed her hand, giving it a light squeeze. "Alright." He released her hand and reached for the back of his shirt, drawing it up over his head. His arms still in his sleeves, he exposed his back and shoulders, and the nasty wound, still red and raw, just above his right shoulder blade.
Hermione didn't gasp. She didn't cry out or jerk away. She simply placed a soothing hand on Harry's lower back, eyeing the injury with clinical scrutiny. His muscles tensed under her hand, so she traced small circles along his backbone, leaning in closer to get a better look.
"When?" she asked.
"A month ago." Harry seemed to relax at her touch, leaning closer to her unconsciously. "I was trailing this lead in Naples… I didn't know I was being followed, and that night, they jumped me…"
"What did Auror Roberds have to say?" She waited for an answer, but it didn't come. "Harry, you told your superiors, didn't you?"
"I couldn't."
"Well, of course you could! It's dangerous keeping this to yourself."
"You think I don't know that?" Harry shrugged away from her, scooting away from her on the bed and slipping his shirt back on. "I know it's risky, Hermione. But I needed to be sure."
"And… are you?"
Harry set his face in his hands and rubbed his reddening eyes. He was so very close to crying, but he did his best to hold strong, like he always did. If there was one thing Harry was good at, it was keeping it together when the odds were stacked against him. "Last night... "
Hermione found herself shaking again, but this time for an entirely different reason. Every fiber of her body wanted to throw herself across the bed and wrap her arms around him. She wanted to hold her best friend and tell him everything was going to be alright. She wanted him to know he wasn't alone, and she would be here no matter what. But she knew, no matter what she said, it wouldn't take back what had been done to Harry. It wouldn't solve his life-changing problem.
"Remove your shirt, Harry."
He cast his eyes over toward her, full of confusion. "What?"
"You heard me. Pip pip." She snapped her fingers at him, using her best authoritative tone. It worked, and Harry removed his shirt completely this time, setting it next to him on the bed. Hermione stood, walking over to his work desk in the corner of the room. There, she began to shift through the contents on it, looking for a specific object. "The letter opener I gave you for your birthday. Where do you keep it?"
"Oh. Um… in the right hand drawer."
Hermione pulled it open and found the letter opener, silver molded with a hippogriff into the hilt. She turned and approached him, noticing the look of apprehension in his eyes.
"What're you…?"
"Do you trust me, Harry?"
His confusion turned to a gentle smile. "With my life."
"Turn around, then."
Nodding, Harry gulped and scooted around on the bed, shifting toward the center, legs crossed and back exposed. Hermione took a deep breath and braced her knees on the edge of the bed, bringing the silver letter opener down carefully onto Harry's wound. He hissed a pained breath as the flesh began to seal, the skin bubbling as it repaired itself. Soon, all that was left of the incident were two crescent-shaped scars opposite of each other. Teeth marks. "Contrary to what muggles believe, silver can heal a werewolf bite."
The word hung out in the air like a bated breath. Harry's hand reached back and clasped over Hermione's. Startled, she dropped the letter opener on the bed between them as Harry pulled her hand forward and around his shoulder before he nuzzled his face into her sleeve and inhaled. "Thank you."
Her lips twitched, and a smile breached her face. Well, this was better than him keeping her at arm's length, she supposed. Gently, she scooted forward on the bed, setting the letter opener behind her on the floor. It landed with a plink while she rested her chin on Harry's good shoulder and whispered, "You're welcome."
The two sat there for a time, with Harry's face buried in her sleeve, neither of them saying a word. They didn't have to. Their friendship was something profound and tangible. It wasn't until Harry gave a shaky sigh that Hermione decided to speak again, tracing her thumb over his newly scarred skin.
"It's why you ended with Ginny last month, isn't it?"
"She deserves better."
"Harry," Hermione scolded, pulling herself out of his embrace so she could crawl over to the other side of the bed to face him. She sat opposite of him, legs crossed, and took both his hands in hers. "Remus Lupin was a lycanthrope, and he lived a very productive life. You can't think that way."
"I don't mean… I know all that, Hermione. I do. What I mean is… Gin… she's been through enough, you know?"
"Her brother was attacked by a werewolf. I think she would understand, out of anyone-"
"-It's not just that." Harry's face contorted to one of pained embarrassment. "I… she smelled different."
"Different?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. This was new territory for her. "How so?"
"It's like, no matter how much I wanted her to smell good to me, she just… it's like I could smell her… pheromones or something."
She couldn't help it. She giggled.
"It isn't funny, Hermione!"
"I'm sorry!" She brought her hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I… well, I know it isn't. It's only… hearing you say the word pheromone is a little amusing…"
"Great. Glad to know this is funny to you."
She cleared her throat, forcing a serious look on her face. "I'm sorry. Go on."
"I'm good."
"Seriously, go on. I won't laugh."
"Forget it."
"I most certainly will not!" Hermione straightened her posture. "Let me see… you're telling me that Ginny's scent doesn't appeal to you, and the wolfish qualities you now possess are confusing you, because they no longer find Ginny sexually gratifying."
A thin ring of red scattered across the bridge of Harry's nose, and his eyes went wide. "Bloody Hell. Do you have to sound so clinical when you say it?"
"I can't help it. It's fascinating."
Harry laughed. "Only you would find this sort of thing fascinating, Hermione."
"That isn't true! There are loads of scholars out there who would be interested in knowing what goes on in the mind of a werewolf in the prime of his life."
"Could you stop calling me that? I'm… Harry. Okay? Just Harry."
Her amusement sobered, and she chewed her lower lip compliantly. "Of course. I'm sorry. It's… a lot to take in, all at once."
"You're telling me," he smirked. Next, Hermione produced her wand and pointed it at his face. "Erm, what are you-" but he was cut off when she waved her wand and stated,
"Oculus Reparo."
Harry reached up and tugged his glasses off, looking over his newly repaired lense. "You're brilliant, you know."
She grinned. "It's only a spell. One you would do well to remember." She reached over and pinched his arm.
Harry's hand came up and clasped around her fist, tugging it back into his chest. Another thin smirk graced his lips. "Maybe I do. Maybe I just know you'd fix them for me." He slipped his glasses back up his nose and stared into her eyes. There was something different in the way he looked at her this time, as if he was seeing her clearly for the first time. The hand around hers tightened ever so slightly, and his pupils dilated. "You're… really pretty, Hermione."
It was her turn to blush, and she dipped her head low, glancing down at their hands. "Your hormones are going to be off balance for a while. Especially so close after a transformation."
"You've always been pretty," he told her. "And you smell… so good…"
Hermione's heart began to race, and she placed her free hand on his chest to halt him. "Harry…" The feeling of his pectorals beneath her palm, so warm and firm, caused a spike in her hormones as well. It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed the way Harry had filled out in the last few years as an Auror. His skinny frame was replaced with lean, rippling muscle sprinkled under small patches of dark brown hair. He was a solid, masculine sight to behold. Not in the way Viktor Krum had been, but rather more in the lines of a stealthy athlete. Of course, she'd never allowed herself to look for too long. Harry was her best friend, and had been Ginny's for so long…
"You feel it too, don't you?" he asked, just above a whisper.
"It's… um… it's your physiology," she explained, her mouth suddenly arid. "It's just your body's natural placement of hormones after the full moon. Many lycanthrope are known to be… aroused… after a transformation…"
"I'm 'aroused' am I?" Harry teased, causing Hermione to stir in her spot on the bed and attempt to free her hand from his. He wouldn't be budged, however, and kept a nice grip on her.
"All signs point to…" she gestured down to his trousers, completely aware of the way they tented in the crotch area. Embarrassment shivered down her spine, and she dragged her lip between her teeth, muttering, "We should get you into bed. You look as if you haven't slept in a week."
His breathing quickened as his emerald eyes studied her face with interest. "You want to get me into bed, Hermione?"
He was met with a swat on the chest. "Stop it."
He all out laughed, though it wasn't his usual timbre. The back of his throat ground his vocal chords like a blender, giving him a gravelly undertone. Harry, playfully, slid her hand that was in his fist down his chest and abdomen at a gruelingly slow pace. His other hand reached out and touched her knee, spreading his fingers over the surface like water. "Hermione, you smell really good…"
"Molly's home cooking, I imagine," she countered. The strength he held her with was commanding, and yet gentle. When her hand reached his navel, her fingers traced over the grooves in his abdomen, and her breathing stilled. There was something so… carnal in the way he looked at her. Hermione had never been looked at in such a way… like she was being devoured with just his eyes.
"Thank you," he said to her. "You're always there for me, Hermione. I don't know what I'd do without you."
She blushed. "Yes. I know." He released her hands, and she placed one hand, and then the other, on his shoulders, leaning him back onto the bed. Harry went willingly, his head hitting the soft pillowtop with little effort. Hovering above him, Hermione leaned down and brushed her lips over his forehead, on his scar. "Get some rest, Harry."
His hand came up and brushed against her elbow. "It's Christmas Eve."
"I'm well aware." They were nose to nose now.
"Stay with me."
"Harry-"
"-Just for tonight. I don't… I don't want to be alone. Please."
Hermione had never been good with telling Harry no -especially when it came to making him feel better. So, she nodded and tucked herself in next to him. They curled the covers around them, and Harry put his arm underneath her neck, holding her against his side. Hermione hadn't shared a bed with Harry since their days on the run during the Second War. On the nights following Ron's departure from them, there had been evenings of bitter cold where she and Harry had needed to sleep in one bed just to preserve body heat. It had been so innocent, back then, but it didn't feel that way at all tonight. His fingers traced up and down her arm as he drew the blinds closed and blew out all but one candle with a wave of his other hand.
"You're becoming quite the wizard with wandless magic," she observed.
"I had a great tutor," he replied.
She smiled. "I'm glad to know you were paying attention."
"I don't want to tell Ron… about all of this. Not yet."
"Were you ever going to tell any of us?" she asked.
Harry paused, considering his answer. Then he said, "I knew you'd figure it out before anyone else. I think that's why I wanted to get a jump on my knowledge before you did. I didn't want to sound like an idiot about my own condition."
"Harry…"
"I'm only teasing. Well, sort of." He hugged her close to him. "I'm glad you came tonight."
"I am too."
Another pause, and then, "Would you like to come… in the other sense?"
Hermione bolted upright in the bed and set a scowl in Harry's direction. "Harry!" She gathered up the pillow behind him and smacked him in the face.
He laughed, catching the pillow and tossing it to the floor. "I'm sorry, Hermione! I can't help it! I'm… 'aroused' as you call it."
"Perhaps I should go."
"Oh, come on. I'm only taking the mickey. You know, lightening the mood a little. Your best friend discovering your darkest secret before you can even process it can really put your head in a fog." He poked her in the side. "Too damn smart for your own good."
"So I've been told," she rolled her eyes, poking him back.
"Don't get me wrong," poke, poke, "I think your intelligence is amazing. I wish I could be as smart as you. It'd take the guesswork out of a lot of things."
"I imagine your life is a lot less boring, though, since you can never figure anything out on your own!"
Harry rolled onto his side and placed a hand on her stomach. "Funny." Then he dug his fingers into her stomach and began to tickle her mercilessly, causing Hermione to double over and throw her head back simultaneously in a fit of laughter.
"Ahaha! Stop! Stop!" She sniggered, closing her eyes as endorphins flooded her brain. The next thing she knew, the hand on her stomach had ceased its movements as Harry latched his teeth around her earlobe and tugged on it tenderly.
Confused. Hermione was so confused. And overwhelmed. And… oh, that felt good. An involuntary moan escaped her lips as Harry's palm rested against her navel, fingers spread. He released her lobe to lick gingerly around the shell of her ear and whisper, "You have the most amazing smile."
His palm pressed firmly into her abdomen as his fingers caressed her. His mouth found the skin just below her ear, and he began to trail warm, sensual kisses down her neck.
Hermione wasn't sure what was happening, but her body reacted positively, enjoying the smooth skin of Harry's lips and the wetness of his tongue. His breath ghosted against her skin, enticing her.
"Mmm…" she heard herself groan as his tongue lapped at her pulse point. "This… is…"
"Shh," he simpered, "Do you like it?"
"Ye-yes…"
"Good." A soft kiss under her jaw was her reward. "That's good, Hermione." The way Harry spoke her name was like him muttering a beautiful charm. She didn't know her name could sound so beautiful on someone's tongue. "I'm going to continue now, alright?"
Timidly, and against her better judgment, she nodded. The next moment, Harry wrapped his arm around her stomach and curled over on her side, facing away from him, and backed her up until he spooned her. Their bodies fit together like two jigsaw pieces; his legs fit behind hers in just the right way, as did the rest of his form. He brushed her curls to the side and began to kiss her neck again, this time with much more zealousness.
"This is your hormones talking," she tried to reason with him, even as his hand snaked under her shirt and brushed along her toned stomach.
"Don't care," he murmured against her skin.
"You aren't really attracted to me."
The arm around her stiffened, and she was jerked even closer against him. "I've always been attracted to you." The prominent evidence of said attraction pressed against Hermione's bum, proving his point. "You're always getting me out of jams," he licked down the back of her neck, "And believing in me," his free hand moved up the back of her neck and gripped the hair at the nape of her neck, "And there isn't a moment I don't appreciate you." He moved against her. "Let me show you how much I appreciate you."
"This is just the wolf in you."
"Well, the wolf in me wants to be in you, too."
Maybe it was the words, or the way in which Harry growled them against her shoulder, or his body heat, or the near animalistic way in which he held her against him, but Hermione felt a gush of wetness between her legs and blushed magenta. "Harry…"
The hand on her stomach trailed down, down, down to the hem of her skirt. Then, he inhaled. "You're so wet for me already." He bit down on her shoulder through her blouse. "This is in the way. Take it off for me."
"I-"
"Now." It wasn't forceful, but it certainly was a demand. One in which Harry intended her to obey. Hermione had never felt this way, pressed against someone with little to no self control. Did this stem from Harry's carnal instincts and testosterone no doubt pulsing inside of him this very moment, or had this sexual tension always been there, underneath the surface, just waiting for an excuse to make itself known? Either way, it caused Hermione to reach down to the bottom of her shirt and tug it up. Harry helped her with the rest, shimmying it up over her arms and head before tossing it across the bed to the floor.
Once again, Hermione found herself being ushered around by Harry's strong arms, this time to roll on her back as he climbed on top of her, pinning her down with the weight of his legs around her hips. From there, he stared down at her, pupils blown to the nines, breathing elevated a glaze of lust across his features. He licked his upper lip as he took in the creamy texture of her skin all the way to her pewter colored bra.
"That needs to go, too," he smirked, nudging to the bra. When he went to remove it, aggressively tugging at the front to rip it, Hermione swatted him on the arm and said, "It's expensive!" The two caught eyes and laughed; she didn't know it would feel so… natural to be beneath him like this. So comfortable.
"Sorry," he grinned. "Wanna roll over, then? I'll be gentle."
"Should we… be doing this?" she bit on her lower lip and watched as Harry visibly squirmed at the sight.
"I'm all in," he told her, reaching down to cup her cheek with his hand. It was warm, and familiar, and it made Hermione's insides melt. There was a hint of the human Harry which peeked through the exterior of this new, wolfish side. It put her at ease, and she nodded. Somehow, for some reason, she knew she wouldn't back out of this now. Even if this was sudden and forbidden. After all, the road from friends to something more was always paved with good intentions, but it wasn't a guarantee it wouldn't end in a mess. So why was she allowing this to happen? Why couldn't she see reason and tell him to go to bed, and she would see him in the morning?
Maybe because, deep down, she wanted this sort of sexual gratification for a very, very long time.
Maybe because she secretly enjoyed this new side of Harry, so bold and commanding.
Maybe because she didn't need a reason at all.
Before she could tell him she was all in too, Harry slipped his hand from her cheek down behind her neck and tilted it up, exposing it to him. Then he leaned forward and captured her throat in a flourish of thrilling, sensual kisses. He really was a wolf devouring his kill in this moment, and Hermione moaned beneath him, eyes fluttering shut and back arching. The ruggish Auror slipped his free arm underneath her and, with one swift motion, unclasped the buckle of her bra and tugged it forward. The cold air hit her chest, and Hermione gasped, her back falling against the bed, allowing the opportunity Harry needed to slip the straps of her bra down her arms and hold it between them in pride. "Oh, look. You didn't need to roll over after all." Then he tossed the garment over his shoulder and captured Hermione's lips in a velvety kiss.
Her hands found his hair. His tongue found its way against her own. He tasted like mint tea and smelled like sexually charged energy. His body commanded her attention as he pinned one arm, and then the other, around her head, framing it. Between kisses, he caught her lips between his teeth and nipped. His fingers played with the soft curls of her hair, twirling the coffee colored ringlets around his fingers.
"Mmm…" he broke the kiss to brush his nose against her ear. "I can smell how stimulated you are. I can hear your pulse beating under the surface of your skin. And you taste," he licked down her neck, "delicious."
"God…" Hermione gasped, gripping his hair tighter.
"Can I taste the rest of you, Hermione?"
"Yes," she heard herself say between pants.
Harry traveled lower, nipping at her collarbone. "Ron was an idiot. He couldn't appreciate what he had in front of him." His lips glided down her sternum, resting between her heaving breasts. He trailed his nose across her skin and brushed it across her left nipple before capturing it between his teeth.
"Fuck," Hermione moaned as he rolled the tiny bud between his teeth. He suckled at the pebbled nub, hardening it to its fullest potential. When he began to flick his tongue across her nipple while sucking and massaging her breast, Hermione all but lost it and ground her hips against his, begging, "Don't stop, Harry. God… feels amazing…"
To her dismay, Harry did stop his ministrations, but only to move to the opposite breast and repeat the motions, earning a quivering near scream of pleasure from the brunette beneath him. No one had touched her this way - yes, she'd had lovers, but none who acted on such a primal level of desire to please her. She could feel the slickness between her legs, knowing it was Harry who made her this way. Somehow, it made the event that much more stimulating. He knew her hopes, her dreams, her weaknesses and her strengths. He knew nearly everything there was to know about the young witch, and now… now he would know her entirely.
When he finished the adoration of her breasts, Harry trailed his tongue down the center of her stomach, over the dip in her belly button, and further still until he met the edge of her skirt. Licking his lips, he glanced up to her and said, "Spread your legs for me." As Hermione did so, Harry smiled, pleased at her obedience. "Good girl."
'Good girl?' she thought. 'Oh, that's entirely too hot.'
And then Harry moved her skirt up her thighs, slowly, revealing what lay beneath clad only in a thin, silk strip of cloth. He shifted down between her legs, brushing his stubble against her thigh. "I've wanted this for a really long time," she heard him say as he hooked his thumbs underneath her underwear and tugged them down. "So long, but I couldn't…" Frustrated, he ripped at the material and tore it at the seams. Then he brought the garment up to his face and breathed in her aroma. "God, Hermione. I can't help myself." The next moment, he wrapped both of his toned arms around her thighs, tilting her hips up before he took his prize into his mouth.
Hermione all but shuddered beneath him as his warm tongue came in contact with her slickened folds. The first taste had him eating her like she was a last meal; he was predatory in his actions, lapping eagerly at her wet seam and trailing his tongue over her pulsing clit. Gone was the timid boy she knew from Hogwarts, and in his place was a strong, confident man full of raging testosterone and one goal in mind: Hermione Granger's pleasure and submission.
"Harry!" she cried out, fisting his hair as she marveled at his skilled tongue. "That's it. Right there. Ooh, damn…"
Harry swirled his tongue gently over her clit before kissing it. "I could eat your pussy all night," he confessed with ardent exhilaration. It caused Hermione to blush crimson, and she was thankful for the low lighting to hide it. She'd never imagined Harry having such a naughty vocabulary, and it was positively… yummy. Yummy like the way he continued stimulating her clit with his tongue while he curled one, sure finger inside of her.
"Oh, good Circe!" Hermione threw her head back and moved against his finger, pressing it further into her and making her moan. Harry rocked his finger inside of her, filling her up to his knuckle. Then, he searched for the soft bundle of tissue inside of her while licking her pussy with dazzling thoroughness. When he made a come-here motion with his finger, he found it, and Hermione screamed softly, hips jerking and eyes falling shut.
"Moan for me," he encouraged. His finger began to curl inside of her again and again, moving her hips and causing her to grind her clit across his tongue.
Hermione was in ecstasy. "Harry… oh, Harry, you're going… to make me…" She didn't know how he forced it so quickly from her, but her walls clenched up around his finger while his tongue darted quickly over her clitorous in rapid movements.
Stars burst behind her eyes, and Hermione screamed out in pleasure, legs quivering, skin slightly damp with the dew of her euphoria.
Harry continued to pump his finger inside of her, licking anywhere he could to taste her as she came. "Again," he whispered against her sensitive button before starting the entire process over. This time, he slipped a second finger into her soaking passage and quickened the pace. As he slammed his fingers inside of her, he whispered the most erotic things ever been spoken to Hermione Granger.
"All those nights on the run, I lost count of how many times I wanted to shove my fingers in you and make you moan like this. I used to touch myself at night while you were sleeping, thinking of what it would be like to have you bent over the bed with my cock inside you. Would you like that, Hermione? You want to take it from behind and let me show you all the years we've been missing?"
"Yes. Fuck, yes, please…"
And then, Hermione was on her stomach before she could think. Harry had flipped her over, licking the sweetness of her juices from her fingers as he did so. His strength was astounding and inhuman as he lifted her hips up and forced her on all fours. Hermione didn't have the strength -nor the will- to argue. Instead, she openly embraced this sexual conquest, full submersed in the sensations. The next moment, Harry slapped her hard on the ass and gripped her hip possessively. There was the sound of a belt buckle coming undone and the shuffle of fabric. "My Hermione." He didn't sound at all like himself, but rather the feral creature trapped beneath the surface. She felt something hot and hard press against her entrance, and Hermione braced a hand on the headboard just as he thrust forward and entered her.
"Ah!" Her eyes pinched shut as she took in the full sensation of his cock inside her. Used to being taken slow, there was a twist in her stomach as she was filled up all at once; it was the sort of sensation one felt when being dropped by a roller coaster from a large height. She could hear Harry's ragged breathing behind her as he stroked down her spine with one hand.
"Fuck." The fingers on her hip dug in deeper. "So… tight... " He came to his senses for a moment, leaning forward to kiss along her shoulder. "Is this… are you alright?" There was his human side again, playing the bait and switch. It took everything inside of Hermione not to beg.
"Move, Harry," she whispered, "I need it. Don't tease me."
He licked along her neck and, with slow precision, rocked his hips forward. Hermione gripped the bed sheet beneath her, taking in every last inch of him.
"Yess…" Her eyes fell open, and she drifted her gaze over her shoulder, catching his stare. There was a hint of blush along his cheeks, but otherwise he looked entirely comfortable in the moment, leaning forward to brush his lips against hers.
"How do you want it? Soft?" He leaned upright and rolled his hips in slow, circular motions. "Or hard?" He snapped his hips suddenly, causing Hermione to let out a shrill scream and fall to her elbows. "Oh, I think the lady likes it rough." He gave an amused chuckle before he thrust hard into her again, his sack slapping against her clit.
Hermione couldn't think, or taste, or smell, or hardly see for that matter. All she could do was feel as Harry filled her up again and again with his dick in the roughest, most immodest way possible. It had her moaning like a whore and feeling twice as vulnerable. But vulnerable around Harry, she found, wasn't nearly as bad as she thought it would be. She trusted him with her life, and she with his. It only made sense she could trust him with this, too. So, she gave in to her primal desires and let the feeling take her.
"Mmm… fuck, Harry... "
"You look so beautiful like this, Hermione." Smack! He struck her hard on the ass. "Taking it like a good girl should. You're my good girl, aren't you?"
"Y-yes! I'm your good girl." She bit her lower lip to keep from screaming.
"You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?"
"Harry!"
"Wouldn't you?"
"Anything!" she gasped as he fisted her hair. "Whatever you want."
"I want you to be naughty." With his hand in her hair, he shoved her face down into the pillow, forcing her ass higher into the air. "It's the night before Christmas, Hermione. I think you need to be put on the naughty list for once."
Now that wasn't something she heard every day from Harry James Potter! Hermione felt her entire body flush with arousal as she was fucked hard into the bed.
"Mhmm…!" she agreed. "Punish me, Harry. I've been so naughty!"
"Fuck…" Harry pistoned in and out of her, driving her to the brink. The stimulation from his sack slapping against her clit and the angle of which he slammed into her began her on her final ascent.
"So close... mmm… make me come… God, I want to… oh… God, yes! Yes!"
Once again, Hermione tumbled over into the abyss of pleasure, screaming Harry's name as she did. He grunted as her walls clenched around his cock, and with one last forceful thrust, he came undone as well, spilling himself inside of her.
"Herm...ione…" His breath was shallow as he rested his head against her back. The room filled with silence apart from their pants. Sweat glistened off both of their foreheads. They had, quite literally, fucked themselves silly, because when Harry fell over next to her on the bed, he began to laugh. Hermione did too, and soon the entire room was filled with their laughter.
"Why are you laughing!?" she shouted at him between sniggers, tucking her face under a pillow to hide her blush.
Harry wore the a grin worthy of a schoolboy as he replied back, "I just… what I said… the naughty list?"
Hermione peeked out from under the pillow and smiled. Even coming down from her orgasm, she still didn't feel the usual bout of embarrassment she thought she would after just having sex with her best friend. Instead, it felt… peaceful. A long time coming.
"Practically a Casanova," she teased. Harry hooked an arm around her stomach and pulled her to him, this time chest to chest. All their laughing died away as he rubbed his nose against her cheek and smiled.
"Thank you," he said.
"...For the sex?"
"Um, well, I meant for coming over to check on me. For being there for me and not running away." He paused, and then he smirked. "But I can thank you for the sex, too, if you'd like."
She tucked her head into his chest and babbled out, "I'm always going to be here for you, Harry."
Harry considered her words and then wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a hug. "I know, Hermione. And I love that… I really don't know what I'd do without you." He kissed the top of her head and inhaled the smell of her hair. "I don't regret what we just did."
The corners of Hermione's lips pried upwards. "Neither do I." She untucked her head to look him in the eyes. "And I understand why it happened." Her rational side sprung up, and she added quickly, "Your condition is bound to throw you through some hormonal loops, and I hope you didn't think I took advantage of you in your current state."
"Take advantage of me?" Harry's brows furrowed. "I think I'm the one who took advantage of you, Hermione."
She shook her head. "You didn't. Honestly, I-" Oh, there was the embarrassment! It certainly took its time, didn't it? "-I enjoyed myself."
Harry grinned. "Did you?"
"I did."
"So… I guess there's actually some perks to this wolf side of me?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow, and Hermione flicked him on the cheek with her finger.
"Don't get a big head, now."
"Me? The Chosen One? Never." He flashed her a wink. Then his face grew serious, and he tucked a finger under her chin, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "I dunno if this would be a good time to ask you out for coffee… or…?"
"I hate coffee."
"Stay, then?" His eyes were hopeful. "I promise, I'll let you chew me out in the morning, and give me a lecture, and tell me off for not telling anyone. I'll let you reprimand me and all that. But just… stay."
Hermione could never say no to Harry. Not with those gentle emerald eyes and that lopsided grin. He was her Harry. And she loved him very, very much.
"Of course I'll stay," she whispered. "Tomorrow's Christmas, after all."
"Not just tonight," Harry shook his head. "Please, Hermione. I… I don't know if I can get through this without you."
Hermione leaned forward, placed a gentle kiss on Harry's lips, and curled herself in his arms. "I've never abandoned you, Harry Potter. And I'm not about to start now."