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Yuletide Blessing in Disguise	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 123768 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related properties--all rights belong to Rowling. Nor do I make any money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
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La Petite Mort

The daytrip to London with Dora and Fleur had been a welcome respite, and Harry and Hermione both felt much more relaxed. Upon their return to the castle, Hermione decided to take the opportunity for another tryst with Harry, as they really hadn’t had a proper chance since before the Second Task.
Harry had been more than amenable to the idea of Hermione staying the night again, and they retired to his quarters. While he cleaned his teeth and changed into his pyjamas Hermione bit her lip and peered again at the vial of potion which Madam Pomfrey had given her.
She almost didn’t hear Harry returning from the bathroom and hurriedly shoved the vial into her bag, snatching her hand back and trying to look as nonchalant as possible, her heart thudding in her ears.
“Er… everything alright, Hermione?” asked Harry, a puzzled expression on his face.
Hermione’s eyes widened, her cheeks growing hotter.
“What? Oh, er… just fine,” she squeaked.
Harry hesitated a moment, but thankfully seemed to take her at her word. Hermione grabbed her bag and quickly made her way to the bathroom. When she returned, wearing her nightie and teeth cleaned, Harry was lying in bed chuckling and reading one of the graphic novels she had bought him.
“You were right, Hermione,” he said, looking up at her, “These are brilliant! Captain Haddock and Professor Calculus are hilarious. … And Thomson and Thompson sort of remind me of twin Fudges with bushy moustaches…”
Hermione climbed into bed and curled up next to Harry, her anxiety melting away. She kissed him on the cheek and sighed happily, and read the Tintin book along with him, not surprised that Harry had picked Destination Moon to read first.
When they had finished reading the graphic novel, Harry gave Hermione a soft green look with those pretty eyes of his, setting her heart aflutter. She wasn’t sure who started the kiss, but their lips connected, her hands pressed against his back, one of his tangled in her messy curls and cradling her head.
Hermione felt all floaty, and gradually faded into oblivion…

~o0o~
Hermione woke up the next morning, her arm across Harry’s chest, her bushy head resting on his shoulder, feeling at once both happy that Harry was perfectly willing to let her move things along at her own pace, and determined not to let the next opportunity slip away. She wasn’t quite certain why she was so nervous about picking back up where they had left off after that shower together days before the Second Task.
She had thought it had something to do with all that silly “Secret Harem” stuff making her feel self-conscious at first, but it was clearly more than that.
The gears in Hermione’s head started whirring as she worked through it while she listened to Harry’s gentle breathing. Ever since Madam Pomfrey had given her the potion Hermione had been holding back. As Hermione thought more about it things began falling into place.
On the one hand, having the potion opened up the exciting prospect of not having to worry if things inadvertently progressed to the next level while she and Harry were messing around, but on the other, taking the potion as a precaution seemed like a commitment to something Hermione wasn’t sure she was ready for yet.
Hermione was determined to have a bit more randy fun with Harry next weekend and she was tempted to just forget about the vial instead of working herself into a dither, but intellectually she knew that it was better to be safe than sorry just in case things did go “too far” while they were both getting hot and heavy.
Bother it! She was just going to have to be a Gryffindor about things and that was that… Hermione felt lips pressing against the top of her bushy head.
“Everything okay?”
“What? … Oh, er, yes,” squeaked Hermione; she tilted her head up, wondering how long he had been awake. “Just thinking. Good Morning, Harry.”
“‘Morning, Hermione.” He gave her a smile with that soft green look in his eyes again, then kissed her forehead.
Hermione’s toes curled; she looked at Harry, her eyelashes fluttering shyly, feeling safe in Harry’s arms. They cuddled for a bit more, but then Harry began to extricate himself.
“Sorry, Hermione. Gotta use the loo… have a shower.”
“Of course,” she said, feeling slightly guilty as he clambered to his feet when her eyes caught the tent in his pyjama bottoms.
“Wait,” she called out when he was half-way to the bathroom door, “I’ll join you.”
Harry hesitated a moment.
“Only if you really want to. You don’t have to,” he said when the moment passed.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Hermione was on her feet, trotting over to Harry’s side. She took his hand and kissed him on the cheek.
“I want to,” she said, beaming radiantly at him.
Hermione waited a moment for Harry to use the toilet then entered after she heard it flush. She tugged off her nightie and grinned. Moments later they were both naked, and in the shower, the steam rising around them.
First things first, thought Hermione as the hot water rained down on her and Harry; she reached out to gently clasp his erection and began to stroke it.
Grinning, Harry began to soap her breasts. Hermione felt a bit giddy as he massaged them and playfully tugged her perking nipples. She began to wank Harry a bit more vigorously. The next thing she knew, his penis was twitching in her hands, ribbons of his seed jetting from the tip and spilling over her fingers.
As Harry’s spunk washed down the drain, he slid one of his hands down across her wet belly and between her thighs. Hermione bit her lip as his fingers slipped inside her and his thumb flicked her little button. She squirmed, her abdomen rippling and hips bucking, driving his fingers in deeper as the surge of euphoria swept through her. Gasping, she fell forward dizzily, her heaving breasts squashing against Harry’s chest.
They both held each other in the dazed afterglow under the hot spray of water, enjoying the moment. Then, both of them grinning, Hermione and Harry soaped each other all over, and by the time they had finished rinsing they had brought each other to completion once more.

~o0o~
Neville and Ron, both of whom were intently focused on their eggs and bacon, looked up when they heard giggles, and spotted Harry and Hermione arriving late for breakfast.
Students often rolled in late for breakfast on Sunday mornings though, so that wasn’t surprising in and of itself. Something did seem a bit different about them though, Ron thought. For one thing, they both looked more at ease than they had in ages, but that only made sense given their date in London yesterday. So why were Ginny and Luna, and Lavender and Parvati all giggling?
Ron shared a look with Neville, who looked equally bewildered.
Neville shrugged.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said quietly.
Ron eyed the giggling girls again and shook his head.
“Mental!” he muttered, stuffing an entire piece of jammy toast into his mouth.
A light seemed to go off in Neville’s head; he leaned in closer to Ron and whispered in his ear.
“Maybe Harry and Hermione—you know—maybe they, er… ‘did it’ last night. … Seamus told me that girls have a sixth sense for that sort of thing.”
Ron’s eyes boggled, and he choked on his toast. He coughed and wheezed. Alarmed, Neville smacked Ron on his back and Ron coughed up a piece of toast.
“Thanks, Nev,” said Ron hoarsely, taking a deep swig of water.
“Are you alright, Ron?” asked Hermione; she and Harry both shot him looks of concern.
“Oh… er, yeah!” said Ron, unable to look either of them in the eye, his ears reddening, “Just—you know—swallowed the wrong way.”
“That’s what you get for trying to eat a whole piece of toast at once,” Neville chimed in to reinforce Ron’s fib.
Fortunately, Harry and Hermione seemed to accept that story and Neville and Ron returned to their breakfasts, both of them looking a bit red in the face.

~o0o~
It was early Tuesday morning and Madam Amelia Bones had just sat down and taken her first sip of tea when her curly-haired secretary poked her head through the door.
“There’s Dumbledore and a French Auror here to see you Ma’am.”
Madam Bones quickly unscrewed her monocle and put her brand-new half-moon spectacles on instead.
“Send them in, send them in.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
A French Witch followed Dumbledore into Madam Bones’s office. The witch had high cheek bones, her sleek black hair was tied back, and she was wearing an elegantly cut pastel-blue trench-coat bearing the emblem of the French Auror office. Her glacier blue eyes were as piercing as Dumbledore’s.
“Would you like some tea?” Madam Bones offered politely.
“Ah, yes, thank you Amelia,” said Dumbledore.
“Merci, please,” said the French Auror, “Zat would be vairy nice.”
“If I may,” said Dumbledore while Madam Bones poured two cups of tea, “allow me to introduce Inspector Charlotte Duerre.”
“Indeed Albus. A pleasure to meet you, Inspector Duerre,” Madam Bones passed the French Auror a steaming teacup.
“Ze pleasure ees mine,” returned Inspector Duerre graciously, taking a sip of the tea.
“I presume the French investigation of the Sea-Serpent and the Water-Sprites is complete, then,” said Madam Bones after taking a sip of her own, hoping it would ease the knot of tension forming in the pit of her stomach.
“Quite so, Amelia,” said Dumbledore, his twinkles fading, which only served to increase Madam Bones’s unease. “I am afraid that things are just as I feared.”
“This ees ze full report,” said Inspector Duerre, placing a file-folder on Amelia’s desk. “In brief, I say zis—the Sea-Serpent, and ze Watair-Sprites, they show clear signs of tampering. Our forensic analysis revealed zat ze Confundus Charme and ze Targeting Charme were used on all creatures. … Ze Targeting Charmes were of course attuned to ‘Arry Pottair. Wizout the wands of ze casters, we cannot be certain who cast zem of course. But zat ees not within our purview.”
“No, it wouldn’t be,” Madam Bones sighed, setting her teacup on her saucer and massaging her forehead. “That would be mine—and unfortunately, there are very few who had both the access and the motivation to target Mr. Potter.”
“Indeed,” said Dumbledore gravely. “Though, it is highly doubtful that Percy Weasley—for all his closeness to the Senior Undersecretary—is the responsible party. That leaves Bagman himself, and whoever assisted him in stocking the lake with the sprites and the serpent. However, …”
“…it is most likely that he was either instructed by Dolores, or Lucius Malfoy, or both, to carry out the actions,” said Madam Bones. “But for the time being there is no proof. … If we can definitively tie Ludo to illegal goblin bookmakers, though, then we shall at least have something with which to pressure him into providing testimony as to whom ordered him to target Mr. Potter.”
“And how is that avenue of investigation coming along?” asked Dumbledore, stroking his long silvery beard pensively. “Have you heard yet from Kingsley?”
“He and his team do have a lead,” Madam Bones replied, hoping that it would pan out. “With a bit of luck, we should know more after next weekend.”
“Good!” Dumbledore nodded. “The sooner we can determine who is most responsible and make an arrest, the sooner we can focus on what is arguably the graver threat…”

~o0o~
By the time Friday rolled around, Hermione’s anticipation was high. No longer feeling as awkward and self-conscious about things, Hermione took Harry’s arm as they made their way to his quarters after dinner. Nonetheless, her cheeks did grow a bit warmer when Fleur and Dora said goodnight, giving them both canny looks.
This time, while Harry was changing and cleaning his teeth, without a second thought Hermione downed the entire contents of the crystal vial which had been in her bag for nearly three weeks. Now, whatever happened between her and Harry, she was completely prepared.
Hermione changed and cleaned her teeth after Harry, feeling more confident than ever. When she returned to Harry’s bedroom, Hermione was certain she would find him reading The Seven Crystal Balls, as he had read the sequel to Destination Moon last Sunday.
Instead, to Hermione’s surprise, she found Harry sitting on the bed, engrossed as he pored over a heavy, ancient looking tome. Her eyes widened as she drew nearer. The cracked leather binding and yellowed parchment looked unnervingly familiar. Harry glanced up suddenly at her, looking like a fox caught in headlights, and slammed the book shut.
Great! That was the last thing she needed, Hermione fumed internally, a panicked Harry now that she was all ready for whatever may come of things.
“Er… What are you reading, Harry?” she asked as evenly as possible, hoping that she was wrong.
“Nothing,” Harry said quickly, his cheeks looking like ripe cherries. “I mean… er, it’s just one of the old books on the bookshelf. It’s kind of boring really…”
Now that she was close enough, Hermione’s eyes could make out the embossed title and she inwardly groaned to have her suspicions confirmed: Charmes for the Boudoir of the Moste Beauteous.
Maybe the situation could still be salvaged though. If Harry was feeling even as half as aroused by reading that one certain chapter as she had been, she might be able coax him out of his anxiety. This would take a very cautious strategy.
“You know,” Hermione began, with what she hoped was a sultry look in her eye—the look she had seen Fleur give Dora more than once, “that looks like the book I found the spell to charm your mirror with, and I didn’t think it was boring at all. There was one chapter in particular which I found to be very interesting—exciting even.”
“Th-there was?” Harry gulped.
“There was! I was hoping that eventually we could put some of it to good use together.”
“Really?”
That tone was good—more confident. The expression on Harry’s face was good too—less guilty looking.
“Really,” said Hermione, sitting on the end of Harry’s bed.
“You don’t mind that I was looking at, er… pictures of other girls, erm… doing things?”
“Do you mind that I was looking at the pictures of other girls doing things?” asked Hermione, fluttering her eyelashes innocently and biting her lower lip.
“Er… not really, no!” said Harry, looking as if he was trying to work out whether that was really the same thing or not.
“Well, I don’t really mind either,” she said, then added quickly, “as long as it makes you think of me.”
When Harry gave her a lopsided grin and said, “Always,” Hermione let out an inward sigh of relief and crawled up beside him.
“Then we don’t really need all this on, do we?”
She began to undo the buttons of Harry’s pyjama top and let it fall open, exposing his chest and abdomen, then she pulled her nightie over her head and chucked it to the end of the bed. Hermione helped Harry out of his shirt completely and straddled his waist, with nothing between her and the bare skin of his belly but the thin fabric of her knickers.
Hermione jiggled a bit and grinned at the goofy expression on Harry’s face as he eyeballed her bouncing boobs and perking peaks. His hands seemed to reach out of their own accord to fondle her breasts and she leaned over to kiss him heatedly.
The rising passion stirred them both and soon they were entwined, arms around one another, skin against skin, nuzzling each other’s necks, fingers running through messy brown curls and unruly black hair.
Emboldened, Harry’s lips traveled further than they had before and encircled one of Hermione’s tender pink nipples, flicking it tentatively with his tongue. She let out a little moan in response to the new sensation and he began to hungrily suck.
Hermione’s knickers grew wetter and wetter and she ground her sex against Harry’s lower abdomen. Sliding back and forth, she felt the head of his pyjama covered lance poking at the crevice between her bottom cheeks. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, as if by accident, she shifted until she felt the length of his erection directly under her.
Gasping, Hermione continued sliding, rubbing the fold of her sopping slit along Harry’s shaft, shockwaves of pleasure rippling through her body every time the tip struck her little pearl. Harry’s hips reacted instinctively, and they moved together feverishly, her wetness soaking through his pyjama bottoms.
Hermione was already dazed by the cascading crescendo of ecstasy rushing through her veins when Harry stiffened and groaned. She felt his shaft twitching beneath her and his stickiness seeping through the fabric with every pulse and throb.
Harry’s body slackened, and Hermione slumped atop him, her breasts flattened against chest, both of them sweaty and panting as one, fading into a foggy afterglow of bliss.

~o0o~
Certain that Harry and Hermione were bonking now, Ron’s libido was in full force. One by one, Ron peered at his half of the stack of photos that he and Neville had been collecting after checking Harry’s fan-mail for “booby-traps” the last couple of weeks, grateful that Harry had shown him how to use the Silencing Charm on his curtains at night.
His heart racing as he ogled the pictures of naked and scantily clad girls, Ron’s imagination ran wild and he reached his hand under the covers to sort himself out…

~o0o~
A thin layer of cloud passed across the full moon as the wind whistled under the eaves of the deteriorating ivy-covered manor at the top of the hill. Only the faintest glimmer of light in an upstairs window offered any indication that the abandoned, once-stately home might be inhabited.
Had anyone been brave enough to venture through the overgrown grounds during the dark of night, then to creep silently up the stairs after passing over the threshold, they would have witnessed a paunchy balding man with beady bloodshot eyes and a pointy nose groveling before a tattered armchair, eerie shadows cast by the sputtering candles in the dusty room full of cobwebs. They might have noticed an enormous snake shrouded in darkness as it lay curled near the open door. And they would have heard the voice, thin and icy as it professed to the man with rat-like features.
“I tire of waiting Wormtail—biding my time in the house of he who denied me—waiting to no purpose...”
Wormtail swallowed nervously as he prostrated himself before his master, hoping that the Dark Lord’s disappointment at not having the one he truly wanted would be assuaged enough by the prospect of soon being restored.
“The fools who believe I am dead shall suffer my immeasurable wrath,” the Dark Lord hissed, “And I can no longer tolerate this residence, this reminder of imperfection, while waiting for something which will never happen—waiting for the Blood of Potter when there are none to retrieve him for me by stealth—or waiting for his death at the hand of another when by rights Potter’s life belongs to me.
“You were right, Wormtail...”
Wormtail’s eyes grew a little bigger, his trepidation easing at the barest hint of praise.
“…And if I must forgo Potter’s Blood, then no purpose is served by taking the Bone of the Father... You did well to find me a young Pureblood in Potter’s stead... Bring forth the boy, Wormtail, that the ritual might begin—midnight fast approaches.”
“Y-yes Master... of course...”
Thrilled at his good fortune, and delighted that everything was going as planned, Wormtail scurried across the room and lifted what looked like a small bundle being guarded near the doorway by Nagini. His eyes glinting in the flickering candlelight, breath quickening with excitement, Wormtail placed the small petrified boy upon the makeshift altar. The Dark Lord’s oozing homunculus leaned forward in the threadbare armchair, his slit-like nostrils flaring in anticipation.
As he picked up a long silver dagger with the hand which was missing a finger, a savage joy curled the corners of Wormtail’s lips; he was thankful beyond measure that this particular ritual did not require the Flesh of the Servant. His voice nearly shaking with demented glee, Wormtail began to utter the incantation for the alternate ritual.
“One life for another, taken by force... Consumed by the Shadow, your flesh and your blood shall replace what was lost... Devoured by the Spirit, you shall resurrect Him...”
The ceremonial blade in Wormtail’s hand flashed as it came down, and a blood-curdling shriek echoed throughout the decaying manor.
AN:
@ BdwMedic: Thank you! ... :-)
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Yuletide Blessing in Disguise