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Sharing Stories	By : LooneyLunaFan Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 1443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Characters and location do not belong to me. I'm not making any money from Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling, the characters, locations, publishers, producers, or any other well-known things thrown in here.

Chapter List
- 1-Sharing Stories
- 1
Title: Sharing Stories

Characters: Cormac/Hermione

Language: English

Chapters: 1, Words: 3,352

Title: Sharing Stories

"… The house still stands, atop the hill just on the edge of that town. Every once in a while someone is brave enough to enter on his own. None of them have ever been heard from again. The only clue anyone has to the goings on of the Marlington house is the dim candlelight that shines through the attic window. Harvey Marlington's ghost is unable to blow it out and is forever reminded of the night he lost everything."

It was silent save for the crackling of the large fire and the quiet hush of the other groups that were telling stories around their own fires. During Cormac's story the group of first years seated nearest him had huddled closer together. The second years, which had perched on the other side of Hermione where trying to look unaffected. It seemed that most of the others that had chosen to sit at their large fire were unimpressed or had heard the story before.

"Your turn, Hermione," Cormac prompted, leaning a bit closer in order to slip his arm behind her unnoticed. She stiffly leaned away and turned in her seat so that she was facing him a bit more. Perhaps she could catch his attempts to get handsy a little faster.

The fifth year perched on a log on the other side of the fire said, "Tell us a really scary one, Miss Granger." The others heartily agreed save for one of the first years who requested that it not be too scary. It didn't matter what they asked for because she really only knew one scary story, and it was a muggle one at that. It wasn't exactly suitable for the first years, so she hoped she could modify it accordingly.

Cormac had challenged her to come up with a scarier story than his own a few days before. As teaching assistants she didn't believe they should be creating competition in that way, but she knew she could, especially after the "ghost story" he had come up with. Really, his had been more heartbreaking than terrifying.

"London was a different place in 1888," she started. "Muggle London had uneven cobble stone streets. Hundreds walked it in flat shoes while the rich or the police were able to drive around in horse drawn carriages. Jobs were rare and paid little even if you worked all day. Some, like the grave digger, were always busy, especially when a flu or plague came through. Others, the unskilled who couldn't attend school, were left to create a living out of virtually nothing. Some women were reduced to offering their company to men in the late hours of the day." Cormac gave her a side glance while the seventh years sniggered.

"The woman in our story, Marie her name was, was not such a lady. Her family wasn't rich, but her father owned a bakery on Fleet Street. She had spent one evening with a dear friend and was walking the three blocks home. On the corner, she came across a woman that seemed barely clothed. Her dress had no sleeves and the skirt was missing several inches. Marie moved quickly passed the woman to get back home, appalled by her lack of dignity and smell. As she reached the front door of her home and pulled out the key, she thought she heard a muffled noise." There were a few gasps around the circle but Hermione pressed on.

"Marie saw no one nearby and the light from the lamp just outside her home didn't illuminate more than a few feet in any direction. Convinced that it was probably just a cat or something, she let herself into her house and went soundly to bed.

"The next morning, Marie left her house early to assist her father at work. She was surprised to see so many people a few blocks down. Naturally curious, she went over to see what all the fuss was about. She saw two police carriages parked along the sidewalk and hoped no one was in serious trouble. The street was already known for thievery and other misdeeds." It was difficult to come up with new ways to inadvertently say "prostitution", but Hermione kept on.

"'What's going on?' Marie asked, standing on her tip toes to try to see over the taller bodies.

"'A woman's been killed, a street woman,' someone told her. Whoever it had been was promptly scolded for saying such a harsh thing to a young lady. Marie was terrified and turned away before she could see or hear anymore. Her mind was plagued all day by the woman she had met possibly moments before the end of her life. She tried not to think of what had actually happened or of who had actually attacked her. They weren't everyone's favourite people, but they didn't deserve to die."

Some of the students seemed to be losing interest with the story. The first years were whispering to one another, possibly trying to figure out what a "night woman" was and what she actually did. A fourth year was idly pulling grass from the ground.

"In the days that followed, Marie was careful to be home before sundown. One evening, after she was safely home, her father asked her to go retrieve something he had left at the bakery. On any other occasion he would have done it himself, but he had broken his ankle recently and could hardly walk. Though she was apprehensive, Marie did as she was told." The older students perked their ears, identifying the set up Hermione had just given them.

"The young woman flitted from street light to street light as best she could until she reached the store. She locked the door behind her before digging for what her father had sent her to gather. She found it, a small bag in the back that he used to keep large notes when a big payment was made. Tucking it under her arm, she quickly made her way back home.

"Around every corner she thought she heard footsteps following her. Small whips of her hair fell from its tight knot and tickled the edge of her face every few seconds when she turned to look behind her. Her heart felt more alive and relived than ever before when she saw the street light just a few feet from her front porch. Its promise of safety invited her home. Sadly, she never made it to the soft glow of the candle light."

"Oh no!"

"What happened?"

"Did the night lady's ghost get her?"

"That's stupid, what could a ghost do to stop her?"

Hermione shot a stern look at the boy who had said so. "Sheldon, please, apologize for being so rude." Once he had and the group calmed down, Hermione finished the story.

"Marie and many other young women were victims of a man named Jack the Ripper. He stole through the dark streets of London, moving like a shadow and killing without reason. He attacked women that were alone, defenseless, and usually wouldn't be missed. Marie's father alerted the police later that night, but it was far too late. His daughter was already lost to a man that killed at least nine others before being identified and put in a mental ward. The man, a high class doctor on the west end, spent the rest of his days screaming out the window of his padded cell."

Again there was an eerie silence that befell the group and Hermione couldn't help but feel that she had overdone it. Even Cormac seemed to be in deep thought over the implications of the story. Eventually Hermione couldn't take it anymore. "Well, that's that, it's eleven forty five, you all have exactly fifteen minutes to be in your common rooms."

Most of the first years at the other fires had either drooped off to sleep where they were sitting or had gone off to bed already. The professors around the area were helping to escort the students to the castle, just in case anyone got the idea to wander off for a stroll in the woods. Cormac and Hermione had been assigned the duty of making sure all of the fires were put out.

They stood back from the crowd that steadily streamed back to the castle; the lit windows inviting them all home. Hermione counted the fire pits and observed the candy wrappers that had been left behind, calculating how long it would take to clean up. McLaggen stood with his arms crossed and brow creased.

"Is something wrong, Cormac?"

He didn't say anything for a moment and then his eyes shifted and bore down into hers. Suddenly he shook his head and smiled. "No, nothing just thinking. Sometimes it's hard to think that muggles can be as harsh as wizards." He pulled out his wand and distracted himself by dousing the closest fire with water.

"We are all human with our own selfish desires," Hermione countered. Cormac sniggered. "What's so funny?"

"Hermione Granger, I doubt you've ever had one selfish desire in your life, except maybe to horde all of the books in the world in your own bedroom." Her giggle cut through the unusually quiet night around them as the last fire was put out. Their bodies were outlined only by the light of the dazzling stars and a thin sliver of the nearly new moon. She muttered something quietly. "What was that?" Cormac asked quickly.

Hermione gathered up the garbage and vanished it away. "I said just because someone doesn't voice them doesn't mean they don't exist" She knew as soon as it slipped out that she had thrown the man a bone he would gnaw on for the rest of the night if she let him. "That is, my selfish desires are none of your concern."

To avoid digging herself a deeper hole, Hermione shut her mouth tightly and headed toward the castle. The grass on the sloping lawn was blown sideways by the light breeze and she itched to be as far away from Cormac as possible. She didn't make it more than a few steps, however, before his fingers encircled her right wrist. "Ah, but that's not fair. Enlighten me, what could the wizarding world's savior and princess secretly want?" Even in the darkness she could see his eyes roving her, trying to discern what she was hiding.

She bit her lower lip and looked up through her lashes cautiously. Finally, she stood on tip toe and put her mouth right next to his ear. "If I tell you," she whispered, pausing long enough to notice he was holding his breath, "it won't be a secret." Dropping down to her normal height, Hermione pulled her arm free and spun back around to face the castle.

Cormac huffed but was undeterred. He jogged to catch up and then cut Hermione off. "Come on, Granger. We've been playing this game for ages." He was right. She had used him in her sixth year to get at Ron, toying with him while it was fun. She had even been yanking his chain this year, seeking him out and then avoiding him. She simply couldn't decide whether to stay away from the unfamiliar waters or dive on in.

"I'll tell you one of mine if you tell me one of yours," he offered smoothly, placing two hands on her hips and closing the gap between them.

"That wouldn't be much of a trade," Hermione observed, "You haven't exactly kept your intentions hushed up."

Cormac smirked. "My dear, if you knew half of what I secretly wanted to do…" He let the sentence wander through Hermione's overthinking mind as he nuzzled her neck.

"Let's hear it then," Hermione challenged. Her voice was surprisingly steady despite his warm breath tickling her exposed skin. His fingers held tight to her lest she thought of pulling away again. Much the opposite, her fingers absently fiddled with the fabric of his robes. "And I'll even tell you one of mine in return." She felt astoundingly concealed in his arms, even though they were standing half way between the gates and the castle with not even a nearby tree to hide their embracing bodies.

McLaggen's hands closed in around her back, pressing her body flush against his own. His voice came out in a deliciously low tone, "Have you ever wondered what it might be like to be laid back over a desk and taken like a brilliant school girl?" Hermione's eyes fluttered closed and her heavy breathing fell in time with his. "I knew it was too good to be true, but I always imagined you walking around in that skirt with nothing on underneath, just waiting for me to find you at the right time."

A furnace of heat was building in Hermione's stomach and his words fed it like coal. "Perhaps alone one night in the library or even in the common room; frightened we'd be caught but unable to stop ourselves." It sounded like he had been thinking on the matter quite a lot and Hermione was enjoying the visuals he was providing. "Half dressed and hurried…" His lips planted hot kisses along her throat and down to her collar bone. "Desperate and tender." His tongue shot out and pulled her earlobe between his teeth for a half second. "…All over the castle."

Hermione felt as though she had been hit with a jelly legs jinx. The only thing still holding her upright where Cormac's strong arms and her tight grip on his clothes. "Your turn." There was a slight lift in his tone; he was giddy to hear what she kept tight lipped about.

Taking a steadying breath, Hermione tried to pick something to tell. He'd be crushed if she didn't share something as intimate, and yet she didn't think the words would actually be able to come out. She took another breath, gathered all the Gryffindor courage she had stored up in the last few years, and looked up at his face. He looked so calm and yet anticipatory. All of the air came out of her in a whoosh but no words with it.

Shaking her head, Hermione stepped back. Cormac's face fell faster than a quidditch player from his broom before Hermione grabbed his hand and began leading him toward the castle. "Come with me," she insisted. Looking only fractionally better, McLaggen obeyed.

At first it looked as though she was leading him back to the castle. At the very last minute, she veered left, taking him between the greenhouses and the forest, eventually coming to the edge of the lake. The dark water made almost no movement, despite the creatures they both knew to be living below.

"I don't really understand," Cormac confessed. Hermione turned back to face him and he watched as she unclasped her cloak and let it fall to the ground behind her. In one fell swoop, she was up against him, hands entwined, lips melding.

"I'll show you," she promised, backing up again. Confusion was etched all over the man's face and was shortly replaced by disbelief when Hermione undid the back of her robe and allowed it to flutter down to her ankles. A sudden chill raised goosebumps on her bared skin, but she took another step back; closer to the water. Cormac followed, unhooking his own cloak as Hermione toed out of her shoes and left them discarded on the shore.

McLaggen's robes were entirely too tight and he began loosening the ties. Unfortunately, his hands lost all ability to function when she turned from him and unlatched the black bra. His mind imagined her supple breasts falling free and he nearly tripped over a poorly placed divot in the sand. Not looking away, he peeled off his own shoes and socks just as she reached the water's edge.

Hermione turned back, her face doeful and sweet, before hooking her thumbs into the band of her knickers and bending at the waist to lower them. She folded the delicate pair in half and tossed them up the shore a ways. Cormac was still permanently imprinting the image of her lusciously round arse in his head.

The water was freezing, but Hermione took one bold step and then another further away from Cormac. When she was up to her hips, she turned back, wondering how he was responding. Much to her delight, he hadn't run off. He simply stood there, looking. Self-conscious, Hermione drew shapeless patterns on the water with her fingertips. "Is something the matter?" She asked nervously.

She heard him clear his throat. "No," he said quickly. He finished discarding his clothing and followed her path through the water.

Hermione blushed as he neared. Her nakedness didn't embarrass her nearly so much has his reaction. Despite the chilly temperature, Cormac's erection bobbed above the water's smooth surface. As if suddenly remembering who and where he was, Cormac wrapped his arms around the witch and kissed her deeply. "You're absolutely – breathtaking," he told her as their mouths molded together.

For a few moments they were just like that. Two bodies exploring, breathing, joining. His hands dipped down and kneaded the soft flesh of her rump. Her left leg hiked up and rested on his hip, their hot groins met in and both moaned into the other. Hermione pulled back, resting her hands on his biceps. "There's more," she breathed.

She pulled away again, this time Cormac was less apprehensive. Laying one hand atop the other overhead, Hermione suddenly dove backwards into the water, but not before giving her wizard a view of her entire body. She emerged a few feet away, her bushy hair flattened against her scalp and shoulders. She smiled and Cormac dove in after her, enchanted by her coyness.

They were deep enough to tread water but Cormac couldn't keep his hands off and relied solely on his legs to keep him afloat. The pale light shone off the ripples and made their skin glow. Hermione was all smiles as the exhilaration of their actions coupled with the hot white intensity of their touches sent her blood singing.

His fingertips glided over her breasts and down to her nether region, never staying in one place too long. She sighed deeply and then, struck with an idea, took a breath and sank below the water. Cormac looked left and right, but the black water hid her beautiful body from him. It wasn't until he felt her hands on his thighs and her warm mouth envelope his stick stiff cock that he was able to fully relax.

Hermione's mouth teased his length, sucking and humming, her hand stroking and fondling. But she couldn't stay in place for more than thirty seconds without coming up for air. After her third trip down and back up, Cormac caught her around the waist. "It seems I was bested at scary stories and secret fantasies tonight." He seemed to be completely satisfied at having lost twice in one night.

"There's nothing to say we can't carry out yours another time." The gears in Cormac's mind whirred happily at the prospects. Hermione pulled him in for another kiss and they sank below the surface, surfacing for air only when absolutely necessary.

After they were very wrinkled and thoroughly high on pent up sexual need, Cormac all but dragged Hermione to the shore and up to the nearest patch of grass. She shivered from the cool wind on her wet skin, but only until he sank deep within her needy folds. In a matter of a second she had forgotten all things that were not the heat coursing through her and the steady rhythm of their meeting hips.

Hermione's fingers dug into the earth as she came once very quickly and then again at the end of their session. Cormac stared down in disbelief at the beautiful woman beneath him. Unable to help himself, he smirked broadly and leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I knew you couldn't resist me forever, Granger."
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