Quidditch Robes | By : bohemianlove Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 24329 -:- 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. |
Title:
Quidditch Robes
Category:
Erm. Smut. But with substance.
Pairing:
H/Hr.
Rating:
NC-17
Summary:
Hermione likes Quidditch players. Really
good Quidditch players.
Disclaimer:
Dude, so not mine. Really. And please, JKR, I know we’re not at all on friendly
terms, but please don’t sue me for doing naughty things with your
characters. Honestly, if you’d just put
the right people together in the books, I might not need to write out my imaginings in fanfic!
A
sharp stab of desire shot through Hermione as Harry walked into the common
room, sweaty and disheveled from Quidditch practice. There was something about seeing him in the
uniform, she decided, smiling at him as he walked toward her. She hoped the severe extent to which she
wanted him at that moment wasn't glaringly obvious. Her face was flushed, she was sure, but that
could easily be blamed on the roaring fire nearby. As long as she didn't let on how he affected
her…
"Hey,
Hermione. Not knitting tonight?" he
teased, grinning. Oh, the grin, the
grin. The grin and the Quidditch uniform.
She wasn't built for this.
"No,
not knitting. Is that all you think I
do, besides homework?" Argh.
She was smiling in her stupid, please-take-me-now sort of way…he was
sure to notice…
"Oh,
I'm sure you have many other hobbies
that you've never told me about in six years," he said. Stop
grinning at me, you idiot…do you want
me to molest you right now? Hmm. If you're anything like Ron… "Hermione? You all right?"
"Oh
- yes - fine, just…it's a little warm in here, don't you think?" she
stammered, turning redder. Shag-me red, even.
"A
bit," Harry said. He frowned
slightly. "Maybe you should lie
down? You look a bit faint." Faint. Weak in the knees. About to pass out with desire. Yeah…I should probably lie down for a bit.
"Perhaps. Yes, that might be for the best…." But can
I do it in your bed? Underneath you, perchance? Naked?
Argh, no, bad Hermione! You can't keep doing that…this is Harry, and it can’t ever happen… Blast, if only my clit
would listen to my conscience.
"Well…lie
down for a bit. I'm going to hit the
shower…hard practice. I'm sure I'm
repelling people as I speak."
Hermione
smiled at that. Oh…oh, heavens no, not repelling me…damnit, if only you could…
He left her there, pondering things…but that only led to imagining Harry
in the shower, which wasn't helping her with her little problem. How on earth could she ever get over him with
those thoughts?
Maybe, if I could have him
just once…maybe I could get over this.
But Harry would never…no, stupid idea, Granger, just…
…Well, maybe not. He is a teenage
boy. And he'd do anything for me, same
as I would for him… So why wouldn't
he? This probably isn't what he has in
mind for 'anything,' but it's worth a try…
Oh, god, I just want to ride
him…
Determined,
she headed upstairs, grateful that the Founders had thought girls to be
trustworthy in their intentions, though she was proving them very wrong with
each step she took. She reached the
seventh year boys’ room and peered inside.
Harry was still there. His robes
and shirt were already off; she faltered, watching for a moment as he bent over
to pull a T-shirt out of his trunk.
Merlin, it was a nice view.
Harry
turned around and saw her there and fidgeted awkwardly. They were both very aware that Harry was
shirtless. “Um, do you need something,
Hermione?”
“Well,
I – I, um…Iwanttohavesexwithyou.”
Harry
dropped his T-shirt. “You what?”
Hermione
took a deep breath, blushing down to her toes.
“I just – I want to be with you, just once – I…well, I can’t stop
thinking about you in ways that I shouldn’t be thinking and if I could just
have sex with you once, I think that maybe I could get over it and move on.”
“Um…Hermione…much
as I…er…well…aren’t you a virgin?” Harry muttered, cheeks flaming.
“Well,
yes,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.
“...Hermione,
I can’t be the one to – I mean, you deserve more than ‘just once’ if it’s your
first time, and –“
“Harry…if
I didn’t want you to be the first, I
wouldn’t be asking you for this. I mean,
the way I see it…I should be with someone I trust, and you’re the person I
trust most in the world.”
His
face was red as a cherry. “Well…er…I…I
don’t know what to say.”
Hermione
sighed impatiently. There he was, all
shirtless and delectable, and they were discussing virginity. “Do you want to, Harry?”
“Well
– I – of course I want to,” he
stammered, “but I’m not sure if this is quite the way to go about it.”
Nice attempt at being nice
about it, Potter. “I understand. You just don’t want me –“
“I
told you, I want to…and I do, er, want you,” he said, blushing even more. “But, well, just having sex doesn’t seem like the greatest plan. I mean, we’re best friends, and if we just do
that, it’ll change things….”
Hermione
frowned, knowing he was right and determined to make her plan work anyway. “Why does it have to change anything? If we don’t make a big deal about it, things
can stay as they always have.”
He
made that face – the one that he adopted when he was about to give in but
needed just a little more incentive. She
smiled to herself; she could give him what he needed.
Hermione
took a few steps forward, until there were barely inches between them. She heard his breath becoming rapid. She gave him the most seductive smile that
she could muster as she ran a hand down the center of his chest, trailing down
his abdomen to the button of his Quidditch trousers.
"Hermione…"
"If
you want me," she whispered to him, so close that her lips brushed his
earlobe, "Then I'm yours."
She
felt him shiver. "God,
'Mione," he moaned as he crushed her to him, taking her lips in a kiss
that was far from gentle. He wasted no
time in pushing her robes off her shoulders, and she unbuttoned his
trousers. She could feel him as she
unzipped them and pushed them off his hips, already hard. A thrill of satisfaction shot through her – he
wanted her, and she’d barely done
anything.
Hermione
helped him unbutton her blouse, tossing it to the ground once she'd shrugged it
off her shoulders, and he moved on to the zipper of her skirt, lips trailing
down her neck as he did so. Her skirt
fell to the floor, and she pressed her pelvis against him, hearing a gratifying
moan in response.
"You're
so perfect," she vaguely heard him murmur as he reached behind her to
unsnap her bra, and she shivered. It
sprang loose, and she let Harry take his time in pulling it down her arms and
letting it drop to the ground, her warm breasts reacting strongly to the cool
air around them. She felt her skin flush
further as he gazed at her, eyes dark and hazy.
"Touch
me," she demanded breathlessly, and he obeyed and then some, dipping down
to take a nipple into his mouth, rolling the other between his fingers. She moaned loudly and shamelessly, fisting
her hands in his hair. This feeling was
incredible. While she’d known that this
would be enjoyable – Harry was simply too delectable for it not to be, no
matter how clumsy he might have been – she’d never imagined the thrills running
through her body could short-circuit her brain and make her feel so free, so
sexual – so completely uninhibited and brazen.
“Bed,”
Hermione commanded as her legs began to tremble, and she stifled a whimper when
his lips left her. They stumbled back
together until Hermione felt the foot of Harry’s bed against her thighs and
fell onto it, pulling him with her.
Harry landed heavily on top of her and the feel of his hardness pushing
into her through their undergarments made her head swim.
“Sorry,”
Harry mumbled, lifting his body off hers.
She scooted back toward the pillows and tugged at him to get him to move
with her.
Harry
settled between her legs and ran his hands slowly up her thighs as she pulled
him down to her for a kiss. Running her
hands over his back, she could feel the thin coating of sweat that was forming
over his skin and his muscles tensing under her touch. She wanted to feel more of him.
Harry
progressed downward again, forcing Hermione to forget about everything but his
mouth and his hands and the wicked, wicked magic they were performing. His tongue darted out teasingly against her
abdomen and his thumbs traced the edges of her panties, hovering dangerously
near where she wanted him.
Harry’s
fingers hooked in the waistband of her knickers and began pulling them slowly
down her legs, his heated gaze never leaving the one part of her body he had
yet to explore. Her breath hitched in
anticipation of what was to come as her last article of clothing hit the floor
and Harry’s calloused hands made their way back up her legs.
Hermione
arched her back as Harry touched her aching clitoris for the first time. He grinned devilishly and dipped a finger
into her.
I’m not the first girl he’s
touched this way, she thought through the zap of pleasure that coursed through her,
feeling a surge of jealousy and possessiveness rush in, filling her chest. Suddenly she wasn’t content to be a single
notch on his bedpost – she didn’t want
this to be just once.
“Hermione?”
Harry
was looking up at her with concern. “Is
everything all right? Do you want to
stop?”
One
look at his familiar face filled her with determination. No matter what happened after that afternoon,
no matter who else he touched this way, she was going to make sure that he
never, ever forgot this.
She
wiped the worried expression off his face by pulling him up to her for a rough
kiss. Pushing him onto his back, she
tugged down his boxers and tossed them to the floor. For a moment she stared openly at his penis,
too eager to satisfy her own curiosity to care if she made him
uncomfortable. While Hermione knew very
little about this particular piece of male anatomy, some primal part of her
brain told her that Harry’s was of rather decent size, long enough to please
but not thick enough to hurt.
Experimentally she began to stroke him, and she would have been amused
by the whimper Harry let out if she hadn’t been preoccupied with giving him one
of the best and most memorable sexual experiences of his life – that, and
trying out everything she possibly could with him in the chance she was given.
Without
the slightest bit of hesitancy, she lowered her mouth to his abdomen as she
continued stroking him, trailing her tongue along those firm muscles she’d
suspected he’d been hiding under those baggy sweaters, traveling downward until
she reached the line of dark hair that led right back to where her hand was
currently employed.
Slowly,
so that he would know exactly what she meant to do and be tortured with the
anticipation of it, she slid backward on the bed and, with great care, gave a
firm lick to the head of his fully erect penis.
Harry
cried out something indiscernible as he threw his head back against the pillows
and clutched at the blankets until his knuckles were white. Hermione delighted in her newfound power over
him when she took him fully into her mouth and watched him quiver
uncontrollably with the effort not to thrust upward, further into her. She suckled almost greedily on his taut
flesh, memorizing the indescribable taste of him, studying his features as he
twisted in the throes of physical pleasure, understanding more with every
passing second that what she felt for him had progressed far beyond a carnal
desire.
Eventually
she moved off of him, sensing he was nearing his breaking point, and had to
smile at his unintelligible protests.
“Sorry,”
she said quietly, huskily, in a tone she hoped sounded sexy and not affected,
“but I had to stop. I’m not quite done
with you yet.”
Hermione
moved back up the bed and kissed him, coaxing her way into his mouth, an action
met with his enthusiastic approval. She
wanted him to taste his flavor on her tongue, to know without a doubt that she had indeed been the one to have him
so intimately – her, his bookish, innocent best friend.
Not so innocent anymore, are
you? Really, not innocent since the
first time you imagined what he might look like in the showers after Quidditch
practice…
And
that little thought reminded her exactly why she’d followed Harry up here in
the first place – not to prove a point to him, but to learn what that lithe
body of his might do to hers.
She
pressed more firmly into him, trying to communicate without relinquishing his
lips that she was ready for more of him now, more of his boyishly rough hands
on her skin, more of the heady, intoxicating feeling that only he could give
her.
Harry
took the hint as well as the lead, rolling her onto her back, and set about the
business of exploring her once more. He
touched and kissed her in all the right places, even the ones she hadn’t
previously been aware of – that spot under her neck, that exact vein in her
wrist – perhaps by accident, perhaps by some strange intuition. She didn’t know nor care, having abandoned
thought a long time ago. All the while,
she could feel his hardened member teasing the damp, hyper-sensitized flesh of
her sex, and it was quickly becoming more than she could bear.
Not
knowing how to vocalize this particular desire, she bucked pleadingly against
him and finally reached a hand down to guide him forward.
He
glanced downward, surprised, and looked back to her, hesitation written all
over his face.
“Hermione,
are you –“
“Yes,
I’m sure,” she interrupted, knowing instinctively what he meant to say.
“And
you’re…er…protected?” he asked delicately.
“Yes.” She’d been taking the potion since things had
become serious with her last boyfriend and hadn’t stopped after the
relationship dwindled to its natural end, more out of habit than of any real
expectation of needing it. Now she was
glad for her choice – both not to waste the potion on that stuffy Ravenclaw and
to have been prepared for this rash but worthwhile idea.
Harry
nodded wordlessly and skillfully brought her arousal back to its peak with a
languid kiss. And then he was back where
she wanted him, positioning himself before thrusting forward in a swift,
piercing movement.
It
was painful. She dug her fingers into
his back and clung to him for dear life, waiting for it to pass. Beyond the pain, though, she could feel
herself already becoming addicted to the sensation of Harry filling her, could
understand just what people found so alluring about this act of ultimate
intimacy.
“Hermione?”
Harry whispered in her ear, remaining rigidly still above her. “Are you all right?”
Hermione
nodded, releasing her grip on him a little.
“I’m fine now. Keep going.”
He
kissed her as he pulled out a little and pushed back in. The pain was quickly receding, forced further
away with each thrust Harry made, and soon she was gasping not out of pain, but
rather a more overwhelming warmth that spread through her nerves and across her
skin.
She
watched Harry’s control slowly unravel…
His hips rocked against hers, a little harder, a little faster with each
passing moment. His eyes would flutter
closed and open again and he breathed heavily, a layer of sweat coating his
back. His body trembled with the force
of his efforts to restrain himself.
Hermione liked seeing him this way, losing himself in her.
Harry’s
movements became more frantic and his pants and groans in her ear drove her
even closer to release. There was
something about him, something she
knew wouldn’t be the same if it were anyone else.
The
warmth was growing now, pooling between her legs until it burst, pulsing
throughout her skin and sending her mind flying away from everything except
what Harry was doing to her.
As
she came down from her high, she felt Harry reach his climax. He slumped against her and nuzzled her neck,
evidently having forgotten that this was supposed to be nothing more than a
favor between friends. Unfortunately,
Hermione hadn’t forgotten, and the contentment lingering in her bones slipped
away, supplanted by a deep sadness she hadn’t been expecting.
Harry
pushed himself off her and lay beside her.
He’d taken off his glasses at some point without her noticing; he looked
younger without them. It reminded her of
the Harry she’d first met on the train six years ago, the Harry she’d stood by
through trolls and basilisks, dragons and Death Eaters...the Harry she’d built
her entire life around. How stupid she’d
been, thinking that she could simply feel lust for him, isolated from all the
other emotions involved.
The
beginnings of panic began to well up in her chest, and she left the bed,
searching frantically for her clothes so that she could flee, flee and pretend
it hadn’t happened, that she hadn’t fallen in love with her best friend.
“Hermione?”
Harry said, forcing her to turn, clutching a wad of clothing to her chest. “Where are you going?”
“I
– I just thought –“
“Stay
awhile,” he said drowsily, his eyes closed.
“What
about the other boys? They’ll be wanting
in soon…”
Harry
sat up, grabbed his wand from his bedside cabinet, and with a few flicks had
their clothes hidden away in his trunk.
“Come
on. You can sneak out later,” Harry
said, and she tentatively went back to the bed.
Harry closed the curtains around them, and together they slipped under
the covers. Harry curled his body around
hers, which eased her heart a little.
Maybe things would work out after all.
“Well…did
it work?” he asked eventually.
Hermione
started. “What? Did what work?”
“You
said you needed to get me out of your system.
Did it work?”
Hermione
shifted to look over her shoulder at him.
“Honestly?”
“Of
course honestly,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.
Hermione
sighed. “Honestly…no. It didn’t work.”
To
her surprise, Harry smiled. “Yeah, it
didn’t work for me, either.”
“You? I was in your system?”
Harry
grinned sheepishly. “Maybe just a
little. You are beautiful…you know that,
don’t you?”
Hermione
blushed. “So…you think, maybe, that I
was a bit hasty in saying that it would be ‘just once?’”
“Definitely,”
Harry said, tightening his arms about her.
“I think that for once, you weren’t thinking straight at all, Miss
Granger.”
“Oh,
stop smirking,” Hermione said, although she couldn’t stop the smile on her
lips. “It’s not my fault you waltzed in
wearing those Quidditch robes.”
Harry
laughed. “The Quidditch robes, eh? You really do like your seekers, don’t you?”
Hermione
turned completely in his arms to face him.
“Yes, I suppose I do.” She turned
sober, needing to voice her new anxieties.
“Harry…you realize this is going to change everything, don’t you?”
Harry
nodded. “I suppose it will. But we’ve already come this far, haven’t
we? I know I can’t go back now. Could you?”
Hermione
smiled at him, knowing that she’d received far more than she’d bargained for in
following Harry upstairs, and feeling sure that every risk she’d taken was
completely worth it. “No, I couldn’t.”
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