WARNING: This story contains adult situations and sexual content. If it offends you, please leave. However, we all know you wouldn't have clicked on this fanfiction if you didn't want to wank off.
There's a bit of a plot here, so the first several paragraphs won't have the stuff you're waiting for. Everything up to this point is canon, but it doesn't matter, not really, anyway.
This is my first time writing smut, so I pretty much don't mind if you hate it. Although I would absolutely love compliments :)
DISCLAIMER: If I did own Harry Potter, this wouldn't be on .
"—and it's not like I'm having the time of my life here, with my bloody arm mangled and nothing to eat," Ron spat. "Freezing my backside off every night. We just hoped, you know, after we'd been running around for weeks, we'd had achieved something."
Harry felt rage and fury well up with him. "What did you expect this to be, a picnic?" he snapped back, having no qualms at lashing out at Ron. He'd had it with the redhead's insufferable attitude ever since they'd escaped from the clutches of the Ministry and been on the run, scavenging for food here and there. "I told you that we'd be spending a long time, possibly years trying to find all of the Horcruxes and finishing You-Know-Who! What part of it isn't living up to your expectations, Ronald? Did you think we'd be living in a five-star hotel, probably be back to Mummy by Christmas!"
"We thought you knew what you were doing, something!" Ron yelled angrily. "We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do! We thought you had a plan!"
Hermione was standing between them, biting her quivering lower lip as she watched her two friends quarrelling as if their lives depended on it. At seventeen, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were three of the biggest targets of the Ministry. They'd been given one job by a slowly dying Albus Dumbledore – destroy the remainder of Voldemort's Horcruxes, which would eventually lead to the bigoted Dark wizard's downfall. That was a task they'd been ready to take up, although they had never truly laid out plans to carry out the dangerous tasks.
Harry's nostrils flared, in a way similar to Minerva McGonagall. "Well, sorry to let you down, Weasley. I've told you everything Dumbledore told me. And if your tiny brain hasn't realized, we've managed to snag one Horcrux—"
"Yeah, and we're nowhere effing to getting rid of it, let alone finding the rest of the bloody things!"
It wasn't uncommon for fights to break out between the three of them, despite being best friends for more than six and a half years. In fact, in their current predicament, it was far more uncommon for them to not fight for any period of time, and the chances of a squabble skyrocketed whenever Ron was hungry, tired, or at least one of them had heard particularly bad news, either via radios or by eavesdropping on muggleborns trying to escape the bigoted Dark Lord and his equally bigoted Death Eaters.
Tonight, all three factors were out in full force, especially since neither of them had eaten the entire day, and the three of them were particularly tired after narrowly escaping a wandering group of Snatchers that they had accidentally Apparated into when they decided to once again change camping locations. The only thing that was going to be abated soon was Ron's hunger issues, since dinner was slowly simmering over the fire.
"Take the locket off, Ron," Hermione said quietly, looking close to tearing up. Ron turned to glare at her, his eyes made of anger, making her flinch as if she'd been slapped, but Hermione pressed on. "You wouldn't be talking like this if you weren't wearing—"
"Yeah he would," Harry interjected, taking a step forward when Ron did the same. There was no excuse for Ron's appalling behavior, and he wasn't going to let Hermione shield him. "You think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back—"
Hermione rapidly blinked the quickly forming tears in her eyes. "No, Harry, we weren't!"
"Don't lie!" Ron growled angrily, rounding on her once again. "You yourself said that he didn't have any more to go on—"
"No Ron, I— Harry, I didn't!"
"Then why are you still here?" Harry demanded, looking at Ron.
"Search me," Ron hissed back, sneering in a very Malfoy-ish manner.
Harry clenched his fists. "You don't understand, do you?" Ron muttered, glaring hard at Harry. "Didn't you hear what they said about my sister, Potter? You don't give a rat's fart about my sister going into the Forbidden Forest, do you, Mister Harry I've-Faced-Worse Potter, with all the giant spiders and mental stuff—"
"You think I don't understand?" he hissed, his eyes going misty as he thought about Ginny undergoing torture the blood-traitors and muggleborns had to face at Hogwarts. "You think I don't know how it feels?"
"No you don't know how it feels!" Ron screamed. "Your parents are dead – you have no family!"
Harry saw red.
Hermione shrieked just as Harry's fist crashed into Ron's jaw. His chest heaving with large yet short breaths, Harry watched as Ron fell backwards from the impact. He felt a burst of vindictive pleasure as he saw a red welt begin to form where he'd struck his former friend, but let his guard down enough for Ron to retaliate.
Ron was larger than Harry, but he packed far less strength that the Boy-Who-Lived. Still, Harry doubled over as Ron's meaty fist slammed into his gut, before the man shoved the redhead back and kicked him as he stumbled away for good measure.
"P-Protego!" Hermione stuttered when she'd gotten out of her shock. A translucent shield formed between Harry and Ron, separating the two of them, with Hermione on Harry's side.
"Stop, you two!" Hermione shrieked, unadulterated tears now streaming openly down her face. She placed a shaking palm in a placating manner on Harry's chest, hindering his movement.
"Should've known you'd fight like a filthy muggle, Potter," Ron snarled, leering at Hermione, making her flinch back. Harry stared at Ron in shock. The redhead's left hand was clutching his aching jaw, while his right held his wand tightly, but only because Harry had drawn his own for insulting his best friend.
"Don't you see, Weasley?" he said softly. They were done with first names. "You're turning into a pureblood bigot yourself! You're no better than a Death Eater if you can look Hermione in the eye and say that bullshit!"
Ron's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
The fury within Harry hadn't abated, so he decided to end things then and there. "Leave the Horcrux, traitor." Weasley's temper flared, but he ripped the locket from his neck and hurled it harshly at the floor, glaring at Hermione a split-second later.
"Well?" he said curtly.
"Are you staying or what?"
Hermione spluttered. "Ron, I – Dumbledore, he told us—"
Ron's voice turned colder than ice. "I get it," he whispered harshly. "You choose him."
"No, Ron," said Hermione, panicking as Ron began to walk away. "No – listen, please, it's not like that – Ron, come back!"
Harry watched him leave with impassive eyes, trained on the redhead's back as Hermione struggled against her shield charm until she hastily pulled out her wand and cancelled it. With a loud sob, she rushed in Ron's direction, screaming and pleading like one of Voldemort's victims, for him to come back.
There was a loud crack, and then the pleading abruptly stopped.
Harry turned around and fell to the floor. There was no turning back. Ron had left – not that he cared, especially after what the traitor had said.
A few minutes later, a hysterical and sobbing Hermione entered the tent, her hair plastered to her face, wet by the stinging rain. Her eyes were wide, a look of disbelief etched across her face. "He— he's gone, he left!"
Harry gave a non-committal grunt of acknowledgement as Hermione sat down next to him.
"I can't believe it – he left – Ron—" Hermione was muttering hysterically.
"I guess we didn't know him," Harry said darkly. "Especially after how he insulted you."
She screamed as her heart ached, dropping to her knees with a thud.
Hermione sniffled. "Oh, Harry…"
Suddenly, she wrapped her arms around Harry, her head digging into Harry's neck. Sad at the betrayal not moments ago, Harry returned the innocent gesture, pulling her into a one-armed hug as she cried in his arms.
"I thought…" She sniffled. "I thought he was the one, you know. That h-he loved me." She laughed bitterly, wiping a tear from her cheek with her shoulder. "I guess I'm not the smartest witch of our age, after all."
"Hey," Harry soothed in a comforting tone. "We'll get through this, Hermione. We don't need Ron. Dumbledore left us a job – it wasn't like Ron was helping much, anyway."
He knew that it was his rage that was making him say such things, but he could find no wrong in what he said. Ron was, in short, a glory hound. He'd done nothing but follow Harry for seven years, trying to pick up on his fame, but never doing anything to achieve glory on his own merit.
Hermione shuddered, then she began to break in a fit of uncontrollable sobs. Her body was wracked with tremors as tears spilled out of her eyes, wetting the floor of the magical tent. With a sigh, he tightened his arms around her, laid his head on top of hers, and wondered why his eyes were completely dry. He had no idea what to say. He wished he had further words of comfort to offer Hermione, but if she felt what he did, then there were no words.
He silently wished Ron Weasley would die a slow, painful death for bringing this pain on Hermione and himself.
He heard her murmur something, and his eyes widened in surprise.
"Wh-Wha?" he asked.
She nuzzled against his neck, muttering, "Stay with me, Harry."
Warmth ricocheted through his soul like a bullet. Not knowing what to do, he remained there, one hand around Hermione's neck, his cheeks growing hot. Her fingers had been pulling his waist to her, but now they were…moving. Roving up his body, making him stiffen.
"Hermione…" he protested half-heartedly.
Tears began to stream down her cheek again. "Harry, please…" She looked up, her watery eyes staring deeply into his green.
She kissed him. Grabbing the back of his head, she pushed him into her. He wasn't so much kissing back as being kicked, mostly because he'd been taken completely by surprise. Her fingers splayed across his chest, nails digging into the cloth of his shirt.
She didn't intend to kiss him. Not like that. But she couldn't help herself.
He could've sworn he heard her moan.
It was nice. It was surprising.
But when things started to get friskier, he decided to put an end to it. One second her hand was gingerly cradling his head, the next it was slowly inching its way towards his waist. The kiss was making him drunk with passion, but a small ounce of soberness within him made him realize what she was about to do—
"Hermione," he said forcefully, gently pushing her away as her lips began dragging up and down his neck. But the relief that brought him kept him from shoving her away. Instead, he found his own slips sliding against hers, parting slightly to fit better. "We— we need to s-stop."
He knew she was going to regret it later. In the end, it was always Ron. Never Harry.
"Don't talk about him!" she shrieked, a sob splitting her words.
Harry half-heartedly met her lips, but managed to free himself from her grasp. "We mustn't...You'll regret it later. You don't need to do this."
She looked up at him, unsure, but her eyes were glazed with lust. "I need you, Harry…" she whined. "I need it…"
Looking into her eyes, he realized that he needed it, too.
And lifting her chin, he kissed her.
His lips were so hard and soft and sweet, that she melted – no, boiled in his arms. A hand ran along her wet hair, while another cradled the back of her neck, stroking it like a pet. They smelled like wildflowers and wet earth and a million other things that didn't go well together, but did. But it didn't matter. Not really, anyway.
He felt dizzy. He felt lost. And he didn't want it to end.
He latched onto another throaty kiss and poured out everything into it – his grief, fear, hope, happiness, everything that he'd felt for the past ten years. Teeth scraped together, marks forming along their skin, but they didn't care.
They just wanted to savor this moment.
Hermione was doing a thorough job of messing up Harry's hair as she held onto him. He could feel her start up on the soft moans as he nipped her lips, and he couldn't help but groan in return. The sane part of him took a moment to realize that the reason that they'd begun to moan was that she'd scooted closer and was now sitting up against the tent in his pants, and seemed to be rubbing it slightly.
His hand ran along her back, accidentally pushing her shirt up as he did so, but if Hermione realized she didn't really care. Dragging her lips across his face, they latched onto his earlobe, the sensation making Harry groan as his right hand traversed down to her thigh.
"Gods, Hermione…" he moaned. His heart was beating so fast that it was a wonder it didn't burst from his chest.
She smiled into his lips. "Please don't stop," she begged.
As if that was a question.
Eventually, Harry grew bolder, and settled his left hand on her breast, testing out her response. She moaned into his mouth, positively turning limp and he began kneading it gently, like as if it were dough – just softer and warmer. He felt like he could play with them for hours.
His mind was drenched in pleasure, but a small part of his conscience wanted him to stop. Think about Ginny, he thought to himself angrily, remembering the fiery redhead he'd left behind at the Burrow. Think about Ron. Mrs Weasley. They wouldn't want this.
He tried to resist. He really did. But it was like trying to push Christmas or happiness or joy. Like trying to push away life itself.
Hermione gave a quick nuzzle along Harry's neck, nestling her forehead against his shoulder. With little difficultly she managed to take hold of his zipper and pull it down, making Harry's breath hitch. Now his pants were held close with only a single button, and with a breath she popped it open.
Harry groaned throatily as he felt the pressure being lifted from his member, which only seemed to make him harder. It was as if he'd turned into steel as Hermione's small fingers hesitantly touched him through his cotton boxers. She was on top of him, now, grabbing his jeans and lowering it before she tucked her fingers under his boxers' waistband, but he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.
"You can see…" he murmured groggily. "But I want to see, too."
Her eyes widened at the implication, but she was too lustful to have second thoughts. "Okay," she whispered, and in one fluid motion her grimy tee-shirt was thrown off her body and tossed into a place neither of them saw.
The sight of her made his stomach tighten, and his cock turn painfully hard. The sight of her and her frilly, pale blue bra was too much for him to take, and he wondered why he wasn't getting a nosebleed. They stared into each others eyes for a long time, before she averted them, unclasping her bra and sliding it off her arms in a single motion.
His eyes flowed hungrily down her body, taking in her flat, firm stomach before he took in her ample yet perky breasts, a wave of raw desire washing over him as he surveyed them. Her pink, puffy nipples were already erect and she smashed her lips against his again, pulling him out of his reverie.
"Touch me, Harry." He could taste the tears off her cheeks, but the salty tang did nothing to lessen his mercilessly teased libido. "Please."
She gasped when he took a hardened nipple in his mouth, suckling gently, while the other lightly traced her firm stomach. A part of him wanted to take her, to be the aggressor, but the other wanted him to take it slowly, gently, murmuring words of encouragement and love in her ears.
As his tongue played around her areola, Hermione's hand dragged his shirt, revealing his refined torso, her fingers running appreciatively across the lines of his abs. "That's it, Harry," she moaned into his mouth as he shifted to her abandoned breast. "There…"
Growing bolder, Harry trailed soft kisses up collarbone, then her neck, until he pecked her chastely on her forehead before cupping her cheek and pulling her into another wet kiss, his other hand rowing towards her waist, savoring the softness of her skin. Unknowingly, Hermione spread her legs, allowing him to place his hand on her inner thigh and slowly caress it up and down.
The animal within him purred, practically made of lust. "'Mione…"
She gave a watery giggle. "I thought the deal was that if you saw me, I could see you," she teased.
He tried to protest with a laugh, but yelped suddenly when she roughly pulled his jeans and boxers to his ankles, his erection springing out red and angry, and he drew in a sharp breath as the air hit him.
It might've been cold, but Hermione felt overheated.
He hissed out when she gently wrapped her inexperienced hand around his veiny cock, and it felt as if she was barely touching him. His cock twitched positively in her hand, making her smile.
"Your skin is so soft," she whispered, exploring his velvety crown.
He moaned when her grip tightened and gave him an experimental squeeze. She'd never seen someone's manhood before, except for when Lavender and Parvati shared their porn mags, and even then it was only to satisfy her curiosity. This was not how she had imagined her first time to be – but she needed him, badly, and she wasn't going to back down.
She ran a finger along the length of him, testing the texture and feel of his skin. She rubbed her thumb lightly across his tip, making Harry grunt as his cock throbbed in her grip.
She took hold of his balls, rolling them in her hands, and feeling the softness of his say before retuning to his length. Then she pressed his erection down, and giggled when it bounced back up, like a flexible ruler when the same was done to it.
Harry gulped. He felt like he was going to cry. "Please, Hermione. You're killing me."
She looked up, caressing his cheeks. "What do you want me to do?" she asked softly.
"Just…Just stroke me," he suggested, and she complied.
Her curled fingers began moving up and down, barely touching him – slowly at first, but then she picked up speed in earnest. She marveled at how hot and soft his skin was. She'd read, in one of Lavender's, call it silk over steel, but it felt more like silk over clay, because it contorted when she squeezed it.
Harry hissed sharply as she began tugging him in earnest. Her ministrations were the perfect combination of rough and gentle, and it was quickly driving him mad. He could barely form any coherent thought as her soft fingers move up and down, and her nails occasionally grazed against him, although it didn't hurt.
He opened his eyes in bliss and saw Hermione's face directly above him. Her eyes were…nervous, as if she was wondering whether she was doing it right. He grabbed her by the back of her head and pulled her close, their foreheads touching and heat being exchanged due to the close proximity between the two.
"Do you…do you want me to use my mouth?" she asked hesitantly. Her hand had stopped moving, and had settled on the base of his stem.
His heart skipped a beat, but he swallowed thickly and nodded. "If you w-want to."
She froze, and he felt like he'd done something wrong, but she smiled nervously and began to slowly crawl down.
A soft suckle on his neck later, Hermione's face was directly in front on top of his cock, her eyes riveted on his bulbous tip. She stared at it for a long, everlasting second, before her tongue flicked out and gave him a hesitant lick.
"Ffffuuuuck…" he growled, shutting his eyes to savor the moment his bliss was multiplied tenfold. Her tongue ran up along his length, before swirling around his head in repeated circles, then softly caressing the underside of his crown.
She continued this for a few more seconds, before she opened her mouth wide and took the whole of him in his mouth. Harry felt like he was going to die with pleasure on the spot. Every nerve ending seemed to be relocated at his length, which was being wrapped around with Hermione's lips, her wet tongue letting it rest on it. Then she began to move, and he felt euphoria beyond belief, Hermione lapping up every drop of precome he oozed.
She couldn't swallow his entire length, so she decided to stroke the rest of his inches with her hand as she gave him the blowjob of a lifetime. Her knickers were undoubtedly soaked by now, and it wouldn't come as a surprise if the same had happened to her jeans. She withdrew to gasp for air, but a second later she returned, with renewed vigor.
"Fuck!" he hissed, grabbing her hair unconsciously. "Hermione, I'm close, I'm so fucking close—"
She removed her mouth and pointed it straight into the air, and it was only a few seconds later before he lost all control. With an almighty grunt, his fists clenched and his cock bucked as he spurted an enormous load straight into the air, a few strands coating his chest while the rest pooled around the base of his cock.
"Holy fucking Merlin," he gasped, as Hermione grabbed for her wand and vanished the thick, white cum into nothingness, and he felt his cock go limp. He felt like he'd just died and gone to heaven. He could barely move, and his pants came in short breaths.
Hermione crawled up to him, nuzzling against him as she dragged her lips and tongue around his own. "Harry," she muttered, and when he didn't respond, she talked forcefully. "Harry!"
He blinked himself awake. "Huh?" He smiled when he found himself staring into Hermione's pleased face. "That was 'mazing, 'Mione."
She smiled weakly. "I guess you need to return the favor," she said naughtily.
His eyes widened at her implications. "Hermione…" he began warily. He could feel her involuntarily stroking his length back to hardness. "Are you su—"
"I'm sure, Harry!" she snapped, then she pulled him into a hug and cried into his chest. "I'm scared, but I need to be touched, my body won't stop shaking, Harry, please…"
She leaned into him, peppering him with kisses for the millionth time. Her hands were feeling every inch of his body while his did the same, moving up and down the arch of her spine before moving up her front, then going to her back once again. He felt like he could touch her body for all eternity, felt like permanently sticking his hands to her skin, her neck, every square inch of her voluptuous body.
She pulled away and looked in his eyes as the two gasped simultaneously. Both of her hands then moved to her waist, reaching to find the zipper of her pant. Her lips twitched when she felt the tip of her member faintly touching the back of her hand as she dragged the zipper down, at full attention once again. She blushed, looked at him, and said, "Can you…can you close your eyes? For a moment?"
He was so captivated by her beauty that he nodded thickly before closing his eyes shut. He could hear her zipper slowly reach the end, before there was the sound of denim and cotton scratching against skin. Whimpers of fright and anticipation from her end made up for Harry's sight, and he felt like he'd been closing his eyes for years before she cleared her throat.
"You can look now."
He opened his eyes slowly, heart pounding at the sight of his – friend? girlfriend? lover? – all but naked. Her pose was somewhat modest, sitting on her legs, which were shut tight, so he hadn't looked at her in the same way she'd looked at him mere moments ago.
"Can I…?" He left the question hanging in the air.
She nodded, head bobbing, before parting her legs slowly. He crawled towards her, gently placing his hands on her thighs, and she shivered. She reclined, head hitting the rugged floor of the tent, and then revealed herself to Harry in all her glory.
His eyes hungrily roved to the promised land. His heart pounded as he drank in the sight of a patch of carefully trimmed hair, which surprised him, but realized that it simply made her look sexier, stopping at the two fleshy pink lips that seemed to call him out in attention. He noticed her looking at him slightly, sheer vulnerability in her eyes. Despite his reservations, he wanted to mount her then and there and just get it over with.
He lay down next to her, gazing into her eyes. "What…What do I do?"
She giggled. "Just…explore. Like I did."
He swallowed thickly and obeyed, moving his left hand across her abdomen, taking in the warmth of her pale skin. He teased her belly, making her giggle, then cupped her breast, squeezing it playfully and turning the laugh into a moan.
Tweaking her nipple, he latched his lips on her neck, savoring the warmth and spike of joy he felt when she moaned even louder. His teeth nibbled on her shoulder and the nape of her neck, hickeys forming as a result. She gasped, arching her back, and cupped his cheek with a shaking hand as he rolled her nipples between his fingers.
When he finally mustered the strength to do so, his hand moved slowly down her torso, making her shudder as his cold fingers tickled her waist. Her legs parted when he reached her inner thigh, giving him unadulterated entrance to her sex.
She hissed in pleasure when he cupped her mound, and he couldn't believe the dampness and heat radiating from it. Her eyelids fluttered as his fingers ran along her outer lips, whimpers escaping her throat, begging him to take her to paradise.
Harry leaned forward, ignoring his aching knees. His eyes were locked onto her face, which was directly above her breasts. With a gulp and a sigh, he placed his finger along her slit.
It was strange, having his fingers, so cold and dry, over something so hot and damp. His soft touches were bringing him arousing moans that simply drove him crazy. He now wondered why he'd fallen for Ginevra – while she was undoubtedly pretty, Hermione was beautiful. She was rare. She was angelic.
His fingers were practically drowning, and they were sliding easily between her lips by the slickness of her cunt. His mouth was a stark contrast, dry due to his friend's undeniable beauty. His cock, at full mast, was digging into her hip as he scooted closer, but neither of them cared.
His thumb flicked across the protruding nub, and she groaned before wildly attacking her with her lips. Unlike before, this one was filled with far more urgency, and seemed almost…feral.
He gently probed her lips, then felt his middle finger slip inside her, and suddenly he felt something far warmer and wetter. His jaws were slack in awe. You, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-in-the-Cupboard-Under-the-Stairs, are fingering a girl.
She gasped. "That's the stuff, Harry."
Then he moved his finger and she shuddered again. She seemed capable to speak only one word – his name, spoken in between pants and moans and sweet little whimpers. He reveled in the sounds she made as he wriggled and moved his middle finger inside of her.
"Another," Hermione murmured. When Harry asked her to repeat herself, she did, motioning to his hand. He complied, adding his index finger to the fray.
Over the next few minutes he developed a rhythm, rubbing her clit with her thumb as he slowly pushed his fingers deeper into her warm, wet cunt, drowning them in the damp inner walls of her pussy. The way her face twisted and bent in pleasure was driving him crazy, and he began to stroke her in earnest.
He resisted the urge to yelp when she suddenly gripped her cock with strength a person of her size and build was incapable of. She was holding it so tight, as if life depended on it. It seemed like she was trying to break it in half.
"I'm close, Harry," Hermione moaned, her painful grip moving up and down his length. Her chest was rising and falling, her full breasts bouncing as a result.
Harry moved closer until he was practically on top of her. His rhythm increased in pace and strength, jamming his fingers feverishly into her sex. She made a keening, high-pitched sound of painful ecstasy as he pounded her with his fingers. He pulled her into a kiss, murmuring words of comfort and love as he brought her closer to orgasm.
Three strokes later, she gave a strangled cry. He saw spasms pass through her as her walls clenched around his fingers again and again. Her back arched as if she wanted to snap herself in half and he had to yelp as her small fingers closed even further around his cock.
"Merlin," she groaned. He felt her hold slacken and pulled his fingers out her of her. He rolled over her, resting next to her for a few seconds, Hermione crawling on top of him moments later.
"You made a mess," he said, grinning, her slick juices flowing onto his thigh, upon which her cunt was now resting.
She smacked him playfully. "It's your fault," she retorted. She smiled, pressing her lips to the nape of his neck. He held her around her waist, the other pulling her right leg up as he gripped her calf.
Harry looked at her. He wanted to continue very, very badly. He knew that…whatever this was…was only for the two of them to let out the emotions they'd kept within the past several months – years, in Harry's case. His erection was throbbing, and he really needed to relieve himself. The only thing was that he didn't want to pressurize Hermione into...The very thought made him blush.
"What?" she said suddenly, making him flinch.
"N-Nothing," he dismissed. She frowned and propped herself on her elbows on either side of his body.
"You can…you can tell me, Harry," she said. "There's no one for us right now except for you and I…" Suddenly, she burst into tears.
"Hermione!" He sat up and pulled her into a tight, comforting hug, having no qualms about being naked as they did so. "Shush…Don't cry, Hermione…"
Huge, wet tears spilled out of her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and onto his chest. "I – I'm s-sorry, Harry," she sobbed. "It's just…" She shook her head. "You can trust me, you know."
He looked down. "You probably won't like it."
Hermione huffed, choking back a sob. "Try me. I don't think it will bother me, especially after we…" She spread her hands, her cheeks growing hot.
Harry laughed. If someone had told him that he'd have sex with Hermione, he'd tell them to take an appointment at St Mungo's, after giving him a punch or two.
"Well?" she prompted. "What were you thinking?"
"Well…I was thinking…what if…if we continued?" he said in a barely audible voice, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat.
"Continued?" she urged, her heart pounding madly.
He gulped. "Well, it's okay if you, uh, don't want to, I mean, I don't want to pressurize you into doing anything, we can just, uh, what I mean to say is—" He was talking very quickly, not knowing how to voice his thoughts, but Hermione shushed.
"If you want to," she said quietly. Hermione knew what he was talking about, and she, too, wanted it very, very badly. Heat began to pool around her cunt and the slickness between her thighs began to increase.
He looked at her. "Are you sure?" he asked, hoping she would say yes.
She hesitated, and he felt his heart drop for a second, before she nodded jerkily and pounced on him.
He barely had time to react before his back hit the floor and she was on top of him, straddling him as she kissed him wildly. Her hands were all over him, his head, hands, chest, arse, and it was only moments later, when he realized what was happening, that he did the same.
He resisted the urge to scream when she suddenly scooted up and felt an indescribable heat and wetness over his cock. It was with a start that he realized that the prize was over him, and he groaned before scratching her back with his palms. He grabbed her by the arse and squeezed her, and she erupted in moans. His cock was trapped against her, and she rubbed her wet lips against it, arching upwards as she grinded against his length.
He looked up at her. "Are you r-ready?" he asked, wanting to end his merciless teasing and take the prize immediately.
She hesitated. "It's supposed to hurt…" she said.
He frowned. "We can wait," he replied, but before he could add 'for a few more minutes', she shook her head stubbornly.
"No. I've been waiting for this for a long time, and I've been through much more painful things at Hogwarts," she said.
She nodded. Then she blurted, "I always thought I'd lose it to, you know…" She couldn't say the traitor's name. The name struck her heart like an assassin's dagger each time she said it.
"Hey," he growled, patience growing thin. "All this mushy stuff…If you keep crying I'll be busy cuddling you to death," he added, smiling, and she giggled.
"I know— I want it so bad," she said. She bit her lip. With a flutter of her eyelids, she held his cock upright, then positioned herself above it, before closing her eyes and slowly going down.
Hermione's gasp of pain was drowned out by Harry's euphoric moan, but that didn't stop him from worry about her. He looked up in concern, and saw her gritting her teeth as he stretched her hymen and slowly entered her. Her nails were digging into his chest, and she was gritting her teeth as tears leaked from her eyes.
"'Mione?" he asked concernedly.
"Fine," she managed to say through gritted teeth. "Big."
He was oddly pleased when she said that, but his concern for her didn't go. He wondered whether he should start moving, but let her decide for herself.
Grinding her teeth, she lowered herself, enveloping more and more of Harry's member into her wet, velvet-soft heat. She was incredibly tight and it only served to make him harder. It took a whole minute for Hermione to completely sheath him, and he literally feel himself stretching her walls to accommodate his length and girth with her cunt.
When he was buried to the hilt, she stopped moving, savoring the feeling as well as trying to bear the pain. It felt like she was treading a fine line between pleasure and agony, and she relished it.
The pleasure was so strong that she was barely able to move. She was scared of hurting herself, but she wanted to feel good. She wanted Harry to make her feel good.
Harry closed his eyes as he felt her already tight walls clench around him. The friction was killing him, and he could barely keep his eyes open as he felt himself being engulfed in heat again.
Hermione braced herself for the stings of pain, and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Here we go, Harry," she murmured, rocking her hips in a slow, undulating motion.
He felt like his arms were going to go limp, and she took a hand and attached it to her breast. He took it eagerly, kneading and squeezing and twisting her painfully hard nipples, making her groan along with him.
Once she'd grown used to the pain, she quickened her pace. Her whimpers and hisses and moans increased in frequency, and a hand was roving all over his body, the other alternatively moving from her clit to her breasts.
Whenever she felt his abdominal muscles tense, she stopped, kissing him until his release lessened. She was teasing him, killing him by her technique, and he could do nothing as long as he was in her power.
She drew out until only his head was sheathed within, then she slammed hard, making him groan and grunt at the feeling. She developed a quick rhythm, doing so every four or five rocks, the top half of her body bending low to press his lips to her breast.
When he came close for the sixth time and she stopped, Harry snapped. Grabbing her by the wrists, he flipped her onto her back, ignoring her yelp of surprise as he quickly mounted her. He grabbed her legs by the ankles and snapped her legs open before he began to pound her at a feverish rate, overcome by lust and wanting to feel her heat wrapped around his cock.
Hermione squeaked as his hands let go of her legs and grabbed her back, pulling her close as he attacked her tits with his mouth. His swirling tongue switched from left to right, adding further to her impeding climax.
She was so slick with lubrication that her overwhelming tightness hardly mattered.
"I'm…close…" he said between pants when she began rubbing her glorious clit.
"S-Same here," she murmured.
"I-In," she stuttered as he pounded halfway through her reply. He almost stopped for a moment, looked at her if she was sure, and she nodded, adding, "I want you to, Harry. Please…"
Three strokes later she came, tremors wracking her body as her walls clenched tightly around his cock. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and her toes curled as she climaxed, her arms trembling from the undeniable pleasure. The feeling itself was enough to send him over the edge, and he put all of his grief, want, and love into a kiss and she melted in his arms as he spurted inside her.
"Ffffuuuuck, 'Mione…" He stayed inside her for a few seconds, relishing the heat around his softening cock, before pulling out of her and laying next to her. Their bodies were beaded in sweat and their hearts pounding like mad. Harry had never thought that this would ever happen to him. But it had.
"Harry…" She spoke in a cute, babyish tone as she scooted closer and cuddled with him, draping an arm across his torso as her body rolled on top of her. His right hand settled on her arse, squeezing it lightly, and she giggled.
They were getting cold, so Harry absent-mindedly grabbed a random bedsheet that was hanging off the bed and covered him and her with it. They didn't know how long they lay that way, only that they absolutely loved it.
He suddenly felt a lump of guilt form in his throat as he suddenly thought of what Ginny and the rest of Weasleys would say. He knew what he did was wrong. But his feelings for that feisty redhead were…complicated. And now that Hermione had come into the fray, he was not sure who he loved more.
He swallowed thickly. "I…I'm sorry, Hermione." He voice was raspy, as if it was parched.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, frowning. "What for?" She looked so beautiful that way, her eyes narrowed, small creases on her forehead, her mouth formed into a half-pout.
"For taking advantage of you." He sighed. "I knew why you did this, Hermione. I know you love Ron, however stupid the git is. I know Ginny loves me. I—"
"Shush, Harry." She pecked him on the cheeks. "No more talking."
He nodded. "Alright. Let's just…stay this way. For the rest of the night. Maybe shag a couple of times when we wake up." He smirked at his own suggestion. "Who knows?"
She laughed. "You're mad, you know."
"Mad about you."
She smacked him affectionately on his arm. "Harry James Potter!" she reprimanded.
She sighed. She looked like she was struggling to say something, but then decided she did, whispering something that he half heard. He looked at her.
"I love you, Harry," she repeated.
It was strange to hear that from her.
He wondered if she actually meant it, but then he looked at her. In the light of the burning lamps, she looked truly beautiful. Strings of her hair, wet from the rain when she'd chased Ron, ran down her face, the rest plastered across her back and neck. Her eyes seemed to shimmer, and he realized that there were still tears in them.
She meant it.
He wanted to lie, in that moment.
He badly wanted to say that he loved her back, but he wasn't sure he did. He was glad that she did, but he wasn't going to lie to her – he was too good, too noble to do that, even though it would please her immensely. So instead, he told her the truth.
He pushed the strands of hair from her face kissed her softly on her forehead. "I know."
And she smiled.