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Fumbling Towards Ecstasy	By : MmeFleiss Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 13964 -:- 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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�Fumbling Towards Ecstasy� (2/6)

by MmeFleiss

*~*~*~*~*

Taking care of Hermione for the rest of that afternoon
turned out to be an exercise in self control. By the time I managed to rush
home with some excuse or other involving unfinished paperwork, I was
half-convinced that my erection had managed to leave a permanent crease on my
trousers.

Unfortunately, the added distance did nothing to curb my
inappropriate thoughts involving my best friend, and I was so distracted that I
nearly spilled the entire contents of my tea kettle all over my lap.

I gave up all pretences of being functional after that and
sat down next to my fireplace with a groan. How was I going to look her in the
eye after this? Surely, there was some kind of rule about how one shalt not lust after one�s best friend; the disaster that
was Ron and Hermione�s relationship during the Horcrux
hunt made that perfectly obvious.

The best course of action would be to just try and forget my
new awareness of her. I managed not to notice for over a decade, so this brief
lapse of sanity ought to be easy enough to ignore.

That resolve lasted about five seconds until my eyes
wandered to a photograph of the three of us on my mantle. It had been taken
during Ginny�s wedding reception two years ago. We were standing in front of
the buffet with plates in hand, and every once in a while Ron would reach over
to swipe his index finger on the cake�s icing and put it in his mouth, leading
Hermione to swat him on the arm while I stood on his other side laughing at
their antics.

At least, that was what was supposed to happen.

The picture me had abandoned his role and was making an
unsuccessful effort of reaching around Ron to snog
Hermione senseless. Ron looked annoyed at having his taste of the cake
interrupted and was pushing me practically off the frame, whilst Hermione stood
oblivious on the opposite corner trying to decide between an �clair and a slice
of pie.

I ignored the tinny sound of their protests and flipped the
photo to face the wall, doing the same to any others that featured the witch in
question for good measure. I wasn�t quite sure how to feel when I noticed that
some of my replicas actually succeeded with their quest.

Crisis averted, I plunked down onto the sofa with a sigh, only to tense back up as an image of how she�d looked
earlier emerged behind my closed eyelids.

Somehow, my hand ended up resting on the insistent bulge in
my lap; it just felt so fucking brilliant that my trousers and boxers were
pushed down to my knees before I could worry about the implications of wanking to a mental picture of one of my best friends.

Like before she was leaning forward with her chest inches
from my face. Her left hand was sliding up my thigh, coming to rest on my
exposed member. Just that brief contact was enough to leave me moaning and
arching my back like some virginal teenager receiving his first hand job.
Hermione didn�t seem to mind, however, and simply had a faint smile on her lips
identical to whenever she found herself coming across a particularly
informative book.

I twined my fingers around her curls and pulled her against
me, my mouth zeroing in on the shoulder exposed by the loose neckline. Her
thumb traced a maddening pattern around the crown of my cock that left me
gasping�giving her the opportunity to fuse her lips against mine, her tongue
mimicking the tempo down below.

I bucked up against the warmth of her hand when she
tightened her grip before pumping in earnest. I had never felt so grateful in
my life that Hermione never developed an interest in actually playing
Quidditch, because her hands remained soft�like fucking silk�and when her mouth
moved down to join her fingers I was convinced that all that good karma I built
up from defeating Voldemort was finally good for something.

I willed my clenched fists to loosen their hold, opting
instead to throw the now-dangling clip over my shoulder before running my
fingers through her hair.� She trembled
all the way down to our most intimate point of contact whenever I brushed
against her ears, and even when my head fell backwards whenever she flicked her
tongue a certain way, I made sure to give those newly discovered sensitive
spots proper attention.

Just when I was beginning to think that I had a chance of
not embarrassing myself spectacularly by desperately trying to list the twelve
uses of dragon�s blood in my head, Hermione changed tactics by sucking my cock
hard. It felt a lot like the time Dudley tricked me into
using a Chinese finger trap when I was eight�the difference being that I never
wanted this to ever stop.

I think I might have cried out my appreciation, probably
more than once. She responded by stroking her tongue against me again in that
same distracting pattern without a noticeable change in pressure.

My hips jerked towards her involuntarily, wanting nothing
more than to meld with the wet warmth of her mouth. She let out a surprised
gasp that sent an unexpected current of cold air to graze my heated member. I
barely had time to pull her off before I came, her name on my lips as reality
crashed back down.

�Shit,� I muttered when I finally managed to catch my
breath. Never mind being unable to look Hermione in the eye.
After that, I doubt I could look at any part of her again without sporting a
hard-on. I was so dead.

*~*~*~*~*

There were a few things in life that I�ve always taken for
granted: the sun will rise from the east, Hagrid�s
cakes could be counted on to inflict physical damage, and talking with Hermione
was as natural as breathing. Of course, until I ended up sitting alone with her
with my rather involved fantasy from the night before replaying in my head in
lurid Technicolor, there had been little evidence to make me doubt life as I
knew it.

I could feel her watching me intently as I attempted to
coordinate my vocal cords with the flapping of my mouth. After another minute
passed without progress, she put the pub�s sticky lunch menu down and reached
across the table to take my hand. �Harry, what�s wrong? Did something happen at
work this morning?�

I bit back a groan as I stared down at our twined fingers,
toying with the idea of exploiting that excuse as my resolve to not turn my
dream into reality right there
flagged down exponentially with each passing second. Unfortunately, my latest
case of an unregistered Animagus going around the
countryside as a bat and seducing susceptible young women in flimsy
nightdresses could not be turned into
the next Dark Lord wannabe, no matter how many
creative facts I manage to add to the mix. �No,� I finally said after another
long pause.

�Well then?� she asked, cupping my cheek with her free hand
to force me to look at her. All I had to do was tilt my head a fraction of an
inch, and I could�ve traced my tongue on the pulse point beneath her palm. I
wondered if it would tickle or send a flash of desire through her body so
strong that it would match mine.

I noticed with a start that Hermione was waiting for me to
say more, and so I began with a rather promising, �Er��
until I realized I didn�t quite know what to say afterwards. My next attempt
with, �The thing is�� died an equally painful death for the exact same reason.

I could tell that she was beginning to lose her patience by
the way her fingers tightened around mine: no doubt wishing they were around my
neck. In my defense, it was a bit hard to be coherent when she looked at me
with her cheeks all flushed like that. How was a bloke supposed to not think
about other ways to bring about that sort of response?� Didn�t she know how much time men devoted to
thinking about that sort of thing? Honestly, it was like waving a red flag in
front of a charging bull.

No wonder Ron fought with her throughout our teen years�that
sly bastard. I would try it, but I doubt my ego could survive that sort of
beating on a regular basis.

Speaking of whom, our perpetually-late best friend chose
that moment to appear, saving me from having to conjure up an actual reply.

�Sorry, we had some trouble at the shop,� he said before
grabbing the seat next to Hermione. �Fred and George decided to see who could eat
the most of the wrong ends of the Puking Pastilles before needing to get sent
off to St. Mungo�s.�

Her jaw dropped. �But they could have been killed!�

Ron merely shrugged and began scanning the menu. �Lee dared
them to do it,� he eventually said as if it explained everything. Which of course it did.

�When he didn�t seem
inclined to continue, I threw a cautious look at our fuming best friend before
asking, �So who won?�

�Harry!�

The grin Ron had been trying so hard to suppress emerged as
he leaned forward and said, �Fred, but only by two pieces. Hannah looked mad
enough to throw an Unforgivable at him. I reckon he�ll be sleeping on the sofa
for at least a week�well, a week after they let him out of the Potion and Plant
Poisoning Ward at any rate.�

Hermione began to open her mouth with the likely intent to
either berate us over our blas� reaction to the twins� predicament or to
continue our earlier discussion. Either way, I found it in my best interest to
head her off.

I nodded towards the Wireless in the corner where the
announcers were discussing the Wimbourne Wasps�
Seeker trade to the Chudley Cannons. Judging from the
barrage of Floo calls the program was receiving from
fans, it seemed to be a move that some found more upsetting than the news of Voldemort�s second coming. �So what do you think your
team�s prospects are now that you�ve got Shah?�

�It�s definitely looking up. I think this might be the year
we get the Cup.� Ron then continued to expound on his favorite topic, barely
pausing to let anyone else get a word in edgewise.

Unfortunately, Hermione could in no way be accused of being
daft enough not to notice my rather pitiful attempt at subterfuge, and she kept
sending me glares that promised an eventual return to our previous discussion.

I slumped down in my chair and began to furiously think of a
long-term plan.

*~*~*~*~*

�You�ve been avoiding me.�

Okay, so perhaps citing a burgeoning caseload to avoid our
lunches, ducking behind office doors whenever she came nearby at work, and
putting my flat under a Fidelius charm wasn�t
particularly subtle�or apparently, effective. To be fair, though, it did work
for a good three days before she caught me unawares.

I turned around so fast that I almost knocked off a whole
shelf of quills with my elbow. The supply cupboard for Level 2 roughly
contained the same square footage as my first bedroom in Privet
Drive. The rows of office paraphernalia spread out
from floor to ceiling, combined with Hermione blocking the only way out, made
it downright claustrophobic.

I cursed The Ministry�s Anti-Apparition wards and pressed my
back closer to the shelves of invisible ink with faint hopes of proving that
they worked equally well in concealing mortified wizards.

If the Gods had any sort of pity for what I�d endured the
first eighteen years of my life, they�d have found some way for me to keep
avoiding this confrontation. I wasn�t asking for much: perhaps an irate boss
finding a sudden need to speak with one of us or a sudden bout of food
poisoning that would keep me too occupied to talk. Hell, I�d have taken even
the reemergence of Voldemort by that point.

Anything was better than facing an annoyed Hermione Granger
unprepared. The fact that the sole plan my panicked brain could come up with
consisted of pushing her up against the wall and shagging her brains out wasn�t
helping; I happened to like my bits right where they were.

But God, she wasn�t making my resolve to keep my hands to
myself easy. Her usual starched work robes had been discarded as a concession
to the overworked heating charms, leaving her in a form-fitting, ivory blouse
that accentuated every enticing curve of her torso. Even the fact that it
contained the same amount of cleavage as a nun�s habit did nothing to
extinguish my curiosity over what she wore beneath.

Her black skirt was equally conservative, falling just past
her knees. That didn�t stop me from admiring the gentle swell of her calves,
her trim ankles, and the day�s pair of fuck me stilettos adorning her feet.

Hermione�s passion for sexy shoes was one of those
idiosyncrasies that I�d found amusing over the years. In fact, I�d probably
done more than my share of adding to her collection, having bought her every
outrageous pair I�d ever come across.

My dreams the past four nights gave me a new appreciation
for her hobby. I paid rapt attention to how they made her breasts jut out when
she stood, how they made her hips shake just
so with each step�but my favorite was imagining how they�d look against my
shoulders while I repeatedly pounded into her.

I somehow found myself gripping her waist. I wanted nothing
more than to prop her up against one of the shelves and make the world tilt
beneath her so hard that they�d be Reparoing the contents of the supply cupboard for weeks.

Sanity returned, however, and I snatched my hands back
before temptation overtook common sense once more. I didn�t notice when the
sudden movement made my head brush against the stack of requisition forms
behind me, sending a shower of parchment overhead; nor did I notice my elbow
knocking over a nearby bottle, sending black ink to bloom on the sleeve of my
white dress shirt.

The entirety of my being was focused on her harsh breathing
and flushed cheeks�and a slowly growing hope that perhaps she might want me, too.

*~*~*~*~*

Author's Note: The
scene with them in the pub was the original beginning (with a few major
differences), but a throwaway line in its previous incarnation
inspired what ended up becoming the actual first scene of this story.
The pub conversation actually got deleted during the first rewrite, but I just
liked it too much to let it go. And both the parts involving the moving photos
and the twins pretty much wrote themselves; I'm not quite sure what that says
about my thought process!

Thanks to Jenn for betaing this. Any mistakes left are mine. Also special
thanks to Dave Barry's Complete Guide to Guys
and my bf for putting up with all my questions on typical male behavior.
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Fumbling Towards Ecstasy