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Tell Me COMPLETE	By : Nocturne Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 32375 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling. I do not own the Harry Potter fandom. I make no money on this fanfiction.

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The song “Wicked Games” by The Weeknd inspired me to write this chapter.

It doesn’t necessarily reflect the chapter but the vibe of the song is definitely on point.

Any following chapters will be titled with the name of my favourite baby-making songs. =P Suggestions would be great!

Her heart had been palpitating for nearly twelve minutes. Hermione slipped into the tent, waiting until she zipped it closed before falling to her knees. It almost happened.

She could still feel the warmth of his breath send vibrations through every inch of her body.

They had been so close – so close yet so incredibly far from where they started. He was her best, best friend. Would one night of ecstasy be worth the aftermath?

Perhaps if she had ever engaged in sex there would be an answer to that question but as far as Hermione knew, making love was as big a mystery as any other. The furthest she had gone with anyone was snogging Krum atop the Astronomy Tower during the Yule Ball. He was an excellent kisser, from what she could remember, and although he did cop a feel of her breasts in the heat of their kiss – nothing would ever compare to feeling Harry’s fingers brush the small of her back, delicate and evocative all at that same time.

It was a simple action, but the intensity of feeling him feeling her was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced.

She wondered, suddenly, how far he had gone with a girl. From what Ginny had told her they only ever kissed, but Hermione wasn’t so naïve to think her redheaded friend wouldn’t conceal a detail or two for the sake of her then boyfriend.

But somewhere within the whirlwind of possibilities, Hermione found she didn’t quite care how experienced he was.

The fact of the matter was that they shared an unequivocally charged moment just outside the tent and despite the fact that she excused herself from the situation before it got out of hand, Hermione knew it would only be a matter of time before they came face-to-face with whatever tension was ricocheting between them.

And it was all because they were left alone.

She couldn’t help but wonder if this attraction was always there, hiding beneath their warm hugs and friendly banter. Perhaps Ron’s departure wasn’t so much a cause as it was a catalyst.

Ron.

Hermione motioned to grab the locket, realizing her neck was bare. Harry had it, but she didn’t dare face him so soon after their…conversation.

~

He buried his face in his hands, having drowned the rest of the Firewhiskey in one heavy gulp. Harry thought to blame the alcohol for his thoughts, words and actions but he knew deep down that Firewhiskey had little to do with it.

The young man sighed with contempt – contempt for the feeling brewing deep in his core at the thought of her.

Her redolent gaze.

Her unrelenting magnetism.

It brought shivers to his spine to think of what would have happened had she stayed there, in his arms, victim to the brief yet demanding interlude of their platonic friendship.

Then came the underlying question. Were they actually platonic? Or was it just a matter of timing?

It was true, he had never felt physical attraction towards her during their days at Hogwarts but that was mostly because they were hardly, if ever, alone. When Ron wasn’t there, someone else was. The only other point in time he could remember being alone with Hermione was when they rescued Sirius from the Kiss. But they had only been thirteen at the time. He had never thought of any young woman in a sexual manner at that age.

Harry massaged his temples, knowing the further he delved into their mess of a situation, the deeper his fascination would grow.

But really, what wasn’t to like?

She had both brains and beauty – not to mention bravery and a killer wand reflex to boot.

“No,” he told himself. “You need to stay focused. Just destroy the Horcruxes and be done with it.”

Alas, if only life were that simple.

Two Hours Later

Harry awoke with a startle, his body covered in a thick layer of cold sweat. It seemed, somewhere between the morning’s events and his inner turmoil, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion had taken over. He heard the empty clink of the Firewhiskey bottle and suddenly everything made sense – his dizziness, headache and bewilderment.

With slight embarrassment from passing out drunk in the middle of nowhere, Harry rolled onto his side and propped his head up with one hand, groaning as his arm wriggled against the weight.

He felt weak.

“Merlin’s sake – Harry – What is – Get up!”

He craned his neck to the tent, making out the clear silhouette of his best friend and confidante, Hermione Granger. She was in different clothes than the last time he’d seen her. He recognized her lavender nightgown immediately seeing as Ginny had an identical one in blue. He figured the light garment was one of Mrs. Weasley’s creations.

Hermione rushed to his side, grabbing the nearby blanket, which lay crumpled at his feet and wrapped it around him with extended arms. “You’re bloody insane, you know that?” He missed her lectures, ironically enough. “Get inside. You’re freezing to the touch.”

Harry haphazardly obliged, noticing his drop in body temperature almost immediately after her comment. Apparently the fire had gone out while he slept.

She ushered him through the narrow slit at the tent’s entrance and over to the nearest bed – Ron’s bed.

“I’ll – Fire – Tea --”

The young man couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight of her panic. For someone who always knew what to do, Hermione sure loved to pretend otherwise. He watched as she withdrew her wand, setting the fireplace alight with bright, vibrant flames. He felt an instant wave of warmth engulf him, assuming she’d charmed it so.

She continued over to the kitchenette, rummaging through the cupboards until she found the teapot and some cups.

He lifted his legs from the floor and folded them beneath him, sitting Indian style as Hermione fired up a pot of tea. The soft citrus aroma of Sana Tea swept through the tent in a matter of seconds, easing the tension building in his temples.

“Thank Merlin for magical tea,” Harry thought aloud.

Hermione faced him as he spoke, folding her arms over her chest. Judging by the slight knolls resting atop her arms, he assumed she wasn’t wearing a bra.

“If you were tired, you should have come inside,” she said, frowning. “You could have caught pneumonia, Harry.”

“And I could have cured it in less than a second,” he concluded, lifting his wand.

She sighed with disregard. “That’s not the point.”

With one glance at the teapot, Hermione strolled over to him, motioning for him to lie down. He obliged, pausing for a moment as his boots got caught on the bed-frame. Harry went to take them off but only fumbled, as his fingers were still numb from the cold.

“Here,” Hermione knelt down by the bed. “Let me.”

It shouldn’t have affected him – not like that, not tremendously so – but it did. Harry leaned back on the bed, lifting his feet to give her more leeway as she yanked at the laces. Her small, slender, skillful fingers curved around his left boot, sliding it off with precision before moving on to the right. She repeated the same process, undoing the laces, loosening the folds and pulling it off.

His sock went with it, hanging loose from halfway down his foot as she set the right boot down. Harry bent over to pull it up but her hands were already there. She gripped the elastic rim, pausing for a moment before taking it off and doing the same with the other.

Who knew de-booting could be so sexy?

The feeling in Harry’s body slowly crept back as he watched his best friend at work. She had that same concentrated look in her eyes – determination he had only ever witnessed in the midst of challenge. But perhaps their current situation was a challenge. Merlin knew it felt like one.

Hermione shook her head, motioning to lift herself from the floor before taking a sharp breath. Harry’s hands were on her, gripping her shoulders as he raised his best friend from her knees.

She seemed to read his mind, because in a matter of seconds they were side-by-side, seated on the thin single mattress.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Harry said, voice so low it was barely audible.

Hermione nodded, misinterpreting his statement. “I know.”

The young man held a finger under her chin, tilting it forward so he could show her what he really meant. He could see her chocolate brown eyes flutter and the narrow slit of her mouth begin to part – not to speak but rather to catch his lips as they slowly met with hers.

She pulled back almost instantly, but their distance remained nonexistent. He could still taste her lips, breathe in her scent and feel her breath. It was brief, but their moment of weakness was arguably the most erotic thing Harry had ever felt. He wasn’t allowed to want her. He wasn’t aloud to dream of her. He wasn’t allowed to breathe her in or feel her – but that’s what made it all the more enthralling.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, unknowingly brushing her lips against his as she spoke.

Harry held both her hands in his, pressing them against his mouth with feather-light kisses. “You can leave anytime you want,” he said, trailing his kisses from her hands, along her arms and all the way to her shoulders. He could feel her breath catch under his touch and wondered if her heart was hammering against her ribcage as well. “You can, but you won’t.”

The bravery of his words left Hermione in the same state of vertigo. She squeezed his hands with nervousness the same way she always did when they were in a troublesome situation, but this time it was different. Harry reciprocated, holding still for fair warning before he continued onto the soft skin of her neck.

His senses detonated as she released a deep-throated, raspy breath – vaguely uttering his name.

It set him on fire to hear his name laced within her rapturous sounds. Until then he still wasn’t completely sure if their attraction was as mutual as he thought it was, but there was no time for doubts. Harry made his way back to her mouth, feverishly pulling her in for a kiss.

But this time she didn’t back away, and this time she returned his hunger with some of her own. They were predatory creatures feasting on the venison they had been deprived of for so very long.

Their lips moved together, bruising and bashing with magnificent force. He ran his hands along her sides, feeling her nightgown rise as his fingers caught hold of it in their journey.

“Don’t,” Hermione breathed.

Harry opened his mouth. “I – Sorry – I just – I didn’t mean –”

She held a finger on his lips. “I can’t risk you tearing it,” explained the young woman, rising to her feet before crisscrossing her arms over her torso and grabbing bunches of the fabric in her small hands. With eyes the size of Galleons Harry observed as his best friend slipped the nightgown over her head, revealing a pair of matching emerald knickers.

It was then that the thought occurred to him.

Hermione could have easily mended any torn fabric with the flick of her dragon heartstring wand, which meant she wasn’t worried about ruining her nightgown; she just wanted him to see her undress. The voyeuristic quality of it was innocent and provocative all at the same time.

His lower half ached with anticipation.

There were soft touches of pink on her cheeks as she let her nightgown fall smoothly to the floor, vulnerable to Harry’s eyes in their private disclosure.

He found the sight of her riveting. She wasn’t incredibly curvy – quite petite when it came down to it – but still stunning in every which way. Her dark brown tendrils of hair fell loosely to her elbows, shaping over the curvature under her camisole. It was made of silk with lace trimming along the upper rim. Her matching underwear was the same, except the lace was on the lower rim, disappearing between her thighs.

Harry blinked several times over, speechless.

When she didn’t move from her spot, he got up, feeling his heart grow mad with fervor as he ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it back, away from her front.

“You’re beautiful,” he exhaled, never so sure of his words for the past seventeen years.

Hermione didn’t say anything, instead glancing at his body, which at that moment was still covered. Harry understood her immediately, making to take his shirt off until her hands clasped over his, prohibiting any further movement.

“May I?” she asked nervously.

He nodded sharply, feeling a moment of shyness as her hands found the rim of his black long-sleeve shirt, lifting it from his torso.

Now, he had been shirtless in front of her before. In fact, he had been half-naked in front of thousands of people during the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament, but for some reason Harry felt incredibly anxious as her eyes studied him – traveling along his bare, seventeen-year-old torso.

Harry knew he wasn’t terribly fit but Quidditch had at least given him enough muscle to fill out his shirts. He glanced down as her hands found his front, gliding along the ridges of his abdominal muscles. Ginny had always described him as trim, but his thoughts were far from her.

Hermione tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, catching his expectant gaze with one of her own.

“Are we really doing this?” she asked.

He thought for less than a tenth of a second. “I would regret it terribly if we didn’t,” Harry answered, cluing into their previous discussion outside.

The rise and fall of Hermione's chest grew fierce as they closed in on one another. And just before the invasion, she whispered something under her breath.

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Tell Me *COMPLETE*

Tell Me COMPLETE