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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� (3/6)

by MmeFleiss

*~*~*~*~*

Times like these are when I remember exactly why Hermione is
the brains of our little operation.

Having become aware the day before that my sudden attraction
towards my female best friend might in fact be mutual, I decided�after much
tossing and turning in bed�that a consultation with the one other person who
knew her best was in order.

The workday leading up to it crawled at a glacial pace,
especially after I found it impossible at lunch to carry out a private
conversation with Ron that didn�t make the source of my problem suspicious. By
the time five o�clock rolled around,
my partner had become so nauseous from watching me pace around the office that
he threatened to spew all over my best set of work robes unless I got out of
his sight. I ran out of there before he could notice the mountain of paperwork
left in my in-tray and change his mind.

Unfortunately, my luck didn�t hold, for a delay at the lift
occurred in the form of one of my more persistent admirers from Level 5 wearing
a perfume that secreted more pheromones than a Veela.
The entire car actually began to tilt dangerously to one side when she became
mobbed by practically all the males within. Fortunately, overexposure had long
since made me immune to love potions, leaving me a mere spectator. It seemed
like ages before someone came up with the brilliant idea to conjure a bucketful
of freezing water to drown out the effects.

I eventually found myself facing the familiar, eye-watering
storefront of Weasley�s Wizard Wheezes at Diagon Alley. Ron�s bright red hair was easy enough to spot
despite the blinding array of products that covered every inch of wall space.
He was bent over a cage of Pygmy Puffs, his creased
and slightly dusty magenta robes a testament to his equally long workday.

With the majority of their customers off at Hogwarts,
combined with the approaching hour for dinner, I wasn�t surprised to find the
shop relatively empty. I didn�t give him a chance to even say hello before I dragged
him by the collar towards the farthest corner away from where Verity was
helping out their lone customer.

It took a couple of false starts, but I eventually managed
to relay the earth-shattering events of the past week. After a half hour of
heavy brainstorming, however, the only things Ron and I came up with were
splitting headaches and the idea that perhaps�if possible�I should do something
to make her seriously consider me as more than just her best friend.

�The most logical thing to do, of course, would be to follow
Hermione�s example. Maybe if she sees you in something that women find sexy,
she�ll realize what she�s been missing.�

�And what exactly would that be? A woman can seduce almost
any man with the right lingerie, but what options does a man have? A pair of skimpy boxers and a prayer that she�ll take pity on him
and not laugh too hard?�

�Who knows what sort of mad things women find attractive. If
worse comes to worst, you could just sweep her off her feet by doing that bit
with your tongue that I read about on Which
Broomstick a couple of years back.�

�Yeah, if only I had some clue what� Wait, you read that where?� Before Ron could repeat what he
said, I blurted out, �You know what?�
Forget it. Not knowing is probably better for my peace of mind.�

�I never did understand what your problem is with all that.
If someone I shagged went around
giving me glowing recommendations to other women that I could also potentially
shag in the future, I�d sure as hell wouldn�t mind.�

I threw a Ton-Tongue Toffee towards his mouth in hopes that
he�d choke on it. �You�re a pig, you know that?�

�You just don�t understand the pain of being an average
bloke and not having women willing to drop their knickers for you all the
bloody time.�

�That�s loads better than having everyone and their mother
knowing the very next morning if you ever have an off night. Talk about
performance anxiety.�

Ron guffawed and gave me a friendly pat on the back that
almost sent me careening towards a rotating display of Wildfire Whiz-Bangs.
Fortunately, I managed to catch myself before I set off a conflagration that
would rival the Great Fire of London. Never a dull moment around when the twins
are involved.

��

�Then it�s a good thing you won�t ever have to worry about
that with our Hermione, yeah?� he said, bringing us back to the topic that
brought me �round the shop to begin with.

�I think that�s the least of my worries.�

*~*~*~*~*

I found myself later that day standing under the rapidly
cooling stream of my shower. It figured that she�d choose that day of all days
to be late.

Ever since her explosive breakup with Oliver Wood during her
birthday, she�d begun joining Ron and me for our weekly ritual of Friday Night
Quidditch. Perhaps two years of going out with the Montrose Magpies� Keeper had
rubbed the love of the game onto her or something.� I don�t know why else she�d want to subject
herself to hours of listening to us ridiculing the play-by-plays given over the
WWN. Whatever the reason, I was glad to spend the time with both of my best
friends, and even more glad that Ron agreed to do the shop�s inventory that
particular evening.

When my waterlogged skin began to turn an unhealthful shade
of blue with no Hermione in sight, I gave up on the harebrained scheme of
testing the water by �accidentally� answering the door with only a towel to
shield my modesty and started thinking up ways of getting the feeling back on
my numbed fingers.

I ignored the mirror�s dispiriting comparison of my nude
body to an Inferi�s as I toweled my hair dry and
opened the bathroom door�only to find her on the other side with her hand
poised up to knock.

That would have been the perfect time for those so-called
Seeker reflexes to kick in. Unfortunately, the freezing water had apparently
worked its way into my brain as well, and I wasted valuable seconds goggling in
surprise.

It was only when her eyes wandered down to my exposed cock
that I managed to slam the door in her face, sputtering, �It�s only like that
because of the cold water, I swear!�

I stared hard at the door and tried to calculate my chances
of killing myself by repeatedly banging my head against it. Maybe she�d forget
all about this if I�m dead. Only the mental images of the sort of headlines
that are likely to follow news of the fact that I�d been found without a stitch
of clothing on kept me from actually making an attempt.

�Well, nothing like humiliation to put some color back into
your cheeks,� my mirror interjected rather cheerfully. �Although still far from
what the recipient of Witch Weekly�s Most
Eligible Bachelor for eight years running should look like, I think.�

The glare I gave it appeared to be enough to set off what
little self-preservation instinct it possessed, for it didn�t make another
comment until the following week.

�I�m sorry for surprising you like that,� Hermione suddenly
said from the other side of the door, bringing me back to the more pressing
issue at hand. �I was already running late from my unplanned visit to the
veterinary clinic, and I thought you wouldn�t mind if I used the key you gave
me.�

I groaned and made a half-hearted attempt to bash my head in
despite my earlier resolve. Much as I would�ve liked to indulge in a bout of
righteous anger, there was really no reason for her to expect to catch me in such
a compromising position. After all, we were usually fully clothed and well into
drink by this time of night.

I just prayed that my voice didn�t sound as defeated as I
felt when I said, �Don�t worry about it. Why don�t you go and get our drinks
while I get dressed?�

�All right,� she answered, followed by the sounds of
clinking glassware. �I hope you have some food as well. My plans of having
dinner before coming here sort of fell through.�

�There should be a box of Chinese takeaway in the fridge,� I
said as I worked up the courage to leave the bathroom and began to hunt around
my wardrobe for a clean pair of jeans. �What kept you, anyway?�

�Crookshanks has been having territorial issues with my new
neighbor�s pet. I came back from work to find most of the hair on his tail
gone.�

I couldn�t help but snort at that particular mental image
despite the rather depressing turn of recent events. I spent considerable time
straightening out the fitted black turtleneck Fleur and Bill had given me for
Christmas and then afterwards wasted a couple more minutes trying to tame my
hair flat. It didn�t take long before my long-suffering bedroom mirror finally
snapped that what I wanted would require nothing short of a miracle.

With that distraction gone, I decided to pace around for a
bit before sitting down on the bed that I made up so carefully earlier in a
bout of wishful thinking. Fat chance of anything of that sort
happening on it anytime soon. When I couldn�t delay any further without
raising suspicion, I inched my way towards the living room, only to stop short
at the sight of Hermione bent over to tend the dying embers.

I was hard in the split-second it took me to plop down on
the sofa and cover my reaction with a convenient throw pillow�my earlier
embarrassment long forgotten. I couldn�t pry my gaze from where her green
v-neck jumper had ridden up, and it took all my willpower not to splay my
fingers against the milky whiteness of her back and make her shiver with want
for more.

I wanted to strip off every layer hampering my desire to
worship her body�move nice and slow, taking the time to anoint every inch of
newly exposed skin with my tongue. I wanted to watch her tremble as I partook
of the sweet offering between her legs, her hips moving in rhythm with my
probing fingers. And most of all, I wanted to be inside of her, to have her
pulsing heat surround me until reason and desire blurred together.

When she had the fire going once again and sat down next to
me, I had to swipe the back of my sleeve against my mouth to ensure that I
wasn�t actually drooling. It didn�t help that she was so near that I could feel
the heat of her body branding my skin.

The sportscast was barely discernable over the pounding of
my heart, and with the ostensible reason for our weeknight gathering not being
enough to distract me, I shifted my attention to the
coffee table as if it held the secrets of Merlin himself.

She�d bypassed our usual six pack of ale in favor of her
beloved merlot. Two glasses were already half-filled with the burgundy liquid,
next to a steaming plate of kung pao
chicken with an extra fork already set aside because she knew that I wouldn�t
be able to help appropriating part of it for myself.

It was a setup identical to countless meals I�ve shared with
her over the years.� For the first time,
however, the level of intimacy implied by that one detail really struck me.

How did I manage to be this close to Hermione for all these
years and only just realized that we could become something more? Even Ron,
whom she had once accused of having the emotional range of a teaspoon, realized
years before I did the possibilities that came with having a best friend who
also happened to be a girl. Didn�t that one fact prove me to be even thicker
than him? Good Lord.

She must�ve noticed the direction of my rather distracted
stare, because she suddenly murmured, �I hope you�re hungry,� leading me to
look back at her before I could stop myself.

In the firelight, her eyes remained shadowed�throwing the
sharp planes of her cheekbones in sharp relief. Her lips, already stained red
with wine, held the promise of a different sort of intoxication. But it was the
darkened space between her breasts that held my attention.

I longed to reach down and feel every hidden curve beneath
my lips, to memorize her scent, to make her arch her back in a way that would
bring her body flush against mine.

I downed the entire contents of my glass in one go while I
struggled to reign in my hormones. Getting thoroughly snogged
by her best friend was probably not something she�d appreciate without at least
some sort of warning, especially right on the heels of catching an unimpressive
eyeful of the bits involved. God knows that if it was me in her place and Ron
decided to surprise�

Ugh. Let�s stop that train of thought right there.

Well, no time like the
present to get the ball rolling, said the Sirius-like voice in my head that
I was beginning to think came equipped with horns and a handy pitchfork. The mood is right, and you have alcohol. If
she doesn�t take well to your idea, you can blame it on that and she�ll be none
the wiser!

I refilled my glass and gulped it all down in hopes of
gaining some much-needed liquid courage.

�That bottle isn�t going anywhere, you know. Perhaps you
should slow down.�

My stomach lurched dangerously when I almost made the
mistake of looking at her once more. I decided to have another round for good
measure.

Give me another Dark Lord over this any day.

*~*~*~*~*

Author's Note: I love writing Ron, but for some reason
I've never felt the urge to write a fic centering on
him. I'm not quite sure why. Yet another throwaway line (this time in the last
scene) inspired a whole scene that will pop up later on in the story.

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