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To Continue Thriving	By : MmeFleiss Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 25598 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-To Continue Thriving
- 1
Title: To Continue Thriving

Author: MmeFleiss

Spoilers: Books 1-6

Summary: Harry and Hermione try out some *interesting* magic on Halloween.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
*~*~*~*~*
He found her sitting alone on a small island in the middle of the lake. As per her instructions from the owl she�d sent him a week before, a rowboat bobbed next to the rickety dock just waiting for him, the waterlogged oak barely visible in the moonlight.

Harry gingerly put one foot in front of the other, praying for the ancient wood to withstand his weight even as he cursed the anti-apparition wards placed on Hogwarts grounds. The plank beneath him gave an ominous creak just as he was about to step down onto Hermione�s choice of transport and he froze. The last thing he wanted was a dunking in the lake�s freezing waters.
When another minute passed without incident, Harry exhaled softly and tried again: his knuckles white as he held the post with a death grip while he tried to retain his balance on the swaying craft. It didn�t take long before he had the frayed rope unknotted and he was poised to row the considerable distance to where Hermione sat.
There was a brief moment of panic as he tried to remember how to move forward instead of spinning the boat around in tight, dizzying circles. Thankfully, his body still recalled the proper motions, and soon he was comfortable enough to watch--mesmerized--as his oars sluiced through the water, causing the reflection of the glittering stars above to ripple momentarily before reforming into a perfect mirror image as if he hadn�t been by to disturb it at all.
As Harry drew closer, he couldn�t help but notice that Hermione wore nothing more than a plain, white gown almost silver in the moonlight. Her wild hair was unbound, the mahogany strands coiling around her like roots seeking nourishment from the soft earth below. She appeared to him at that moment almost like an earth goddess communing with her vassals: her eyes closed and a slight upward tilt on the corner of her lips as if she�d just been imparted a secret that amused her.
Harry was suddenly glad he agreed to this meeting, glad that he could have this moment alone with his best friend instead of going to the Ministry�s Halloween ball with his co-workers and watching them become progressively drunk over the course of the night. He was also glad that Mother Nature had apparently conspired with Hermione�s plans and kept the temperature warm enough to warrant nothing heavier than a short sleeved shirt and his favorite pair of jeans--almost threadbare in some spots from frequent washings.
Harry dragged his boat out of the water and left it resting next to hers before flopping down on the ground next to Hermione. She made no movements to acknowledge his presence, so he couldn�t help but let out a yelp when she unexpectedly murmured, �The ancient Celts used to believe that time ceased to exist during Samhain.�
He turned to face her but found her in the exact same position as before, the fluttering hem of her dress against his leg and the faint scent of her orange blossom shampoo wafting in the breeze the only reassurance that she wasn�t merely a statue resembling his best friend.
Harry switched his gaze to the moonlight reflected on the water, wondering what some ancient belief had to do with Hermione insisting that he meet her specifically on Hogwarts� grounds during All Hallows eve. But no answer came to him, and knowing that she�d cover the questions she raised in her own time, he leaned back against the rough bark of a nearby oak tree and simply let himself bask in the companionable silence.
Harry must�ve dozed off, because when consciousness returned, it was to the feel of Hermione�s warm hands making a slow ascent up his right arm. He turned to look at her in askance, only to find himself trapped under her amber gaze. �The ancient Celts also believed that magic was at its strongest during this period,� she continued in a voice barely above a whisper, her splayed hands pausing momentarily above his chest to feel his heartbeat before languidly continuing down towards his waistband.

Harry placed his hand over hers, eyes wide and his heart beating an insistent tattoo. �What are you doing?� he asked with voice equally muted, irrationally half-afraid that she would stop.

�Don�t you want to hear the rest, Harry?�
He bit his lip, what he knew he should say and long-held desire struggling for dominance. But she was looking at him with eyes suspiciously shiny in the half-light, and he felt his resolve weaken enough to let her hand go.
�They thought that the veil between past, present, and future was at its thinnest at this time, so that divination was at its most potent.�
Harry inhaled sharply as she undid the snap of his jeans. �I-I thought you said that was all rubbish.�
�Did you know that Celtic society was highly structured and organized?� Hermione said instead, ignoring his low whine of protest as she moved her hands up to unbutton his blue shirt and tossed it to the side. �Samhain was the only time they allowed themselves to act�� her hands paused at the warm bulge jutting out of the front of his trousers and gave it a light squeeze, ��differently.�
The resounding beat turned glacial as he began to get an inkling what this was all about. Harry suddenly wanted to be far away from Hermione, seducing him with her siren ways that rang of betrayal. Though why he should feel so when she made no promises apart from her intentions for tonight, he wasn�t sure. "So it's an excuse to take action without recrimination, then?"
"No." He visibly relaxed as her hands skimmed over the bumpy ridges of his zipper before pulling the tab down, the sound of grating metal defeaning in the still night air. "Merely a chance to let oneself consider other possibilities and perhaps reshape one�s future. Routine needs change if it is to continue thriving."
�And these rituals could only be performed in certain places?� he asked before his lips began to trail down the path towards the hollow of her throat, pulling the thin strap of her dress down until her breasts were exposed to his eager mouth.

�N-No," she panted, her earlier finesse momentarily abandoned as she fumbled to take his jeans and boxers off. �But it's especially strong in sites of--ah!--ancient magic like Hogwarts. Can't you feel it?"
Harry placed his hand over hers as he lifted his hips up and kicked the rest of his clothes to the vicinity of his discarded shirt, all the while feeling the insistent strum of his pulse beneath his skin; however, whether that was the effect of the magical night or from the feel of her body pressed against his, he couldn't say. �And how did those Druids foretell the future?�
Hermione gently pushed him down until his back was against the moist earth, sliding down farther on his legs before giving him an impish smile and saying, �Sometimes they bobbed for apples.�
Before Harry could attempt to decipher that statement, her hot mouth was on his cock and her tongue was swirling around the head until he was afraid he was about to embarrass himself rather spectacularly. But it was better than anything he�d experienced before: better than Mrs. Weasley�s home cooking, Sunday pickup games of Quidditch, and all the daydreams he had over the years of Hermione letting him do this with her combined.
He chanted under his breath to God, Allah, and whoever else might be listening that he would never do anything bad ever again, oh please, if he could just last a little bit longer. His hands wove around her bushy hair, every bit of willpower concentrated on the idea that he mustn�t try to control the pace. The strain must have shown on his face because she smiled again before dipping her head lower to encase him completely in wet heat.
Harry�s whole world shrank to their point of contact, his pleasure fully dependent on the whims of the goddess hovering above him. Hermione looked ethereal with her skin luminescent under the moonlight; he was almost afraid to touch her lest she dissolve under his grasp and prove this encounter to be nothing more than an illusion. However, a particularly hard flick of her tongue had his toes curling, her name on his lips as he involuntarily gripped her waist hard enough to leave an impression of his fingers on her skin.
Mortified at having his instincts overpower reason, Harry hoarsely pleaded for her to stop, growling in frustration when she merely continued on as if uninterrupted. �Don�t say I didn�t warn you,� he said as he pulled her off, bunching the silky material of her dress on his fists before yanking it up and leaving it to flutter to the ground.

Then Harry turned Hermione around until her hands rested on one of the oak�s lower limbs, his hands unerringly finding the soaking apex of her thighs and the bundle of nerves just weeping for his attention.

He started off gently. His hands barely grazed her clit until she was squirming beneath him and murmuring his name. Harry decided to oblige her and began to rub in earnest, the two fingers from his other hand plunging deeply into her wet opening. He didn�t think he�d even seen a sexier sight than that of Hermione�s body greedily accepting his invasion, the urge to mindlessly drive into her almost unbearable.
It didn�t take long before the heightened stimulation had her panting and close to the edge. �What else did they do?� he demanded when her grip around the tree limb tightened enough to possibly snap it in half.
�Um�� she replied as both his hands began to alternately speed up for a couple of strokes followed by a couple of languid ones. �Er�� Hermione tried to say again, only to falter when his two fingers were replaced by the head of his cock teasingly skimming over her entrance.
�What?� Harry prompted once more, followed by a shallow thrust that left an imprint on her body of the tantalizing promise of more.
�T-They gave a gift!� she nearly sobbed, thrusting her hips back just as he decided to comply with her demand so that he filled her completely in one stroke.

He was wrong earlier. This was the best thing he�d ever experienced; not only because he had to worry less about constraining himself, but also because of the knowledge that he could make her feel just as good as she was making him feel.
Harry began to thrust into her in earnest, his movements almost frenzied. Hermione didn�t seem to mind as she merely arched her back and dug her fingers harder against the tree limb. He wished he could make this better for her, but years of anticipation were conspiring against him. They�d barely started and already he was so close to the edge.

His hands sought her clit again in penance, his fingers barely brushing against the hard nub before she came with a shriek, leaving him afraid that someone in the castle might�ve heard her before the feel of her clamping around him started the chain reaction he�d so dreaded.
For a couple of minutes afterwards, Harry and Hermione could do nothing more than to continue leaning against the branch, their gasps for breath the only sound. �So what kind of future did you see from tonight's little divination exercise?� he murmured against her ear before giving it a quick nip.
�Why don�t you kiss me again and I�ll show you?�
r*~*~*~*~*

Notes: This PWP was written for the hhr_serendipity ficathon on livejournal. Special thanks to tome_raider, sectum_sempra_, and Jenn for helping me work out the kinks in my draft.

Info about the old Samhain celebration was taken from: http://www.neopagan.net/Halloween-Origins.html. Leave it to Hermione to actually require research for one of her seduction attempts, eh?
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To Continue Thriving