Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Fondu Au Noir	By : Wander_Lust Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 77866 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor any of its characters nor am I profiting from this in anyway!

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Something has come over me. Maybe its the pull from the moon outside my window. My skin is hot. There's an need brewing between my hips, a yearning from between my thighs. I rub my legs together but there's no relieving me.
I huff, flip over onto my side and stare out at the red canopy with frustration.
I don't want to. It's so wrong but I feel so hot. I need...
A sigh escapes me. I know what I'm going to do even though its wrong. But Harry's face has been plaguing me all night long. Little images of him, his eyes, his lips, his fingers keep stirring me up. My skin is singing for his fingertips. I want more of him.
My hand moves with a mind of its own snaking underneath my knickers. I close my eyes, feel the wetness and spread it to my clit. My face is pinched. I wish I didn't feel this way but there's no stopping as lust pulsates through me.
I think of Harry.
I feel disgusting.
I can't stop.
Harry is watching me. He's here watching from underneath his invisibility cloak. His eyes are fixated on my hand moving furiously to pleasure myself. I kick off the covers, flip onto my back.
Breathing is getting harder. I'm excited. My hips are moving. I don't want to think anymore.
Harry is watching. He takes off the cloak so I can see him.
His eyes are heated. He wants to join. He wants to touch me. I moan, the sound a little frustrated. Touchmetouchmetouchme. Harry licks his lip like his throat has gone dry. He's feeling it too. His eyes are watching all of my movements with rapture.
"Fuck yourself harder."
I shiver at his command. His voice is low, like a gentle whisper, but there is excitement in his voice. I plunge my fingers inside my heat, pumping in and out.
Harry groans and the sound shoots straight through me. His cheeks a stained red and there's a bulge in his pants. I keep my eyes on him like he's doing to me, watching for each little reaction that thrills me. My breathing stops when his hand and those fingers reach for the zipper of his hand and pulls them down.
Will he...?
A thrill shoots straight to my clit when he pulls his cock out and gives himself a slow jerk. My head thrashes back as I gasp, the pleasure reaches new heights with this one action of his.
"Look at me."
I do as he says, my eyes riveted to him. His eyes lazily gaze at me as he jerks himself, his speed matching my fingers.
I can't handle it. It's too sinful. It feels too good.
"Harry!" I gasp out, my voice mirroring my pleasure, my need. I want to reach out and touch him. I want to get completely naked and explore even higher treachery. My eyes scream this to him. His breathing gets even more labored, the stain on his cheeks as he nears his peak appealing to my eyes.
"Fuck Hermione, look at you. I want to..." He doesn't finish the sentence as a shiver runs through him. I want to know what he was going to say. Harry's free hand reaches out for my bed frame as his pleasure rises and rises. I can see him losing control. I can see more him.
I look down at Harry's cock and lick my lips. I want to touch. I want to taste. There's precum coming out from the head. I'm utterly fascinated by him. I want to see him cum. I want us both to reach that high.
I feel a pressure in low in my belly. I'm about to climax. My body arches, hips thrashing and then its suddenly Harry's amazing long fingers driving into me. I explode. Heat seizes me and I lose it.
Harry! Oh Merlin its so good. Oh god! His fingers don't stop and its so good and don't stop, don't ever stop.
My hand shoots out to hold onto him as my body shakes. My hands hits the curtains as my walls tighten, clenching as my climax unfolds and It's so bloody good.
When I come back down my breathing is still labored. My muscles feel all relaxed but my body is sweaty and my fingers are wet. I open my eyes and stare at my empty bed surrounding.
There is a thought that I will hate myself for this later but I'm too satisfied in the moment to be arsed about it.
At least I'll get some sleep now.

Last class of the day before Christmas break has me in a very precarious spot, stuck in a classroom with both Harry, Weasley and Malfoy. I focus hard on the lesson, not allowing myself to look over at Harry like my eyes so want to.

The whole lesson I feel Draco's eyes on me too. I wonder if Harry notices. I know if he did he would be bothered by it. I don't care what Malfoy wants or why he's looking at me but a part of me hopes the situation will escalate so Harry would react to it.
But at the same time I know I won't let it, not where Malfoy is concerned. Plus, I have a pretty good feeling that he just wants to yell at me for leaving his princely self petrified outside. I've been avoiding him just so I won't have deal with his drama.
I guess I should have known that I couldn't avoid Malfoy forever.
I'm the first one out of the classroom, trying to make a break for it to no avail. He's been waiting and anticipating this moment and therefore, is one step- literately and figuratively- ahead of me, waiting just outside the door. I ignore him and press forward.
"Potter!" His voice is deliberately too loud even above the stream of people, drawing the attention of our classmates and most importantly, of Harry who just came to the threshold of the classroom.
I sneakily watch him from the corner of my eyes. I need to see his face. I need to know what he feels seeing Malfoy talk to me.
His eyes are narrow, jaw hard as he gazes at Malfoy, listening with rapt attention.
It is because of this that I don't just continue on, pay Malfoy's voice no heed. I tear my away from Harry and turn to face Malfoy who come before me with a cool look on his face.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" I ask calmly as Harry marches to us, Ron scrambling to catch up with a hollered 'oi' from inside the classroom still.
"Malfoy!" Harry bellows catching even more attention.
Malfoy looks at me deeply, as if trying to communicate with me telepathically that he's on to me, as if he knows my thoughts. I raise my brow at him in a you-asked-for-it manner just as Harry's hand lands on Malfoy's shoulder, pushing him so they are face to face.
"Pott-"
"What are you playing at? You're supposed to keep away from her!" Harry's tone is brisk, harsh, demanding, so unlike his usual voice. I am impressed by it since it is so different from the way Harry usually speaks.
Malfoy is not. His face is disgusted as he pinches the skin of Harry's hand to take it off him in an over-exaggerated fashion.
"Don't touch me, Potter. My house elf just pressed these robes." he says this with his usual condescending arrogant tone that makes him sound like an utter ninny.
Even though its ridiculous, I see it bothers Harry. His eyes flash behind his glasses and I can see a situation is in the making if I don't put a stop to it. Ron comes up behind Harry with his own dark look on his face, showing a united front.
"Get a bloody move on, Malfoy!" He chimes in unnecessarily without even knowing the situation. Typical Weasley. I have to restrain from rolling my eyes. Weasley's appearance irritates me. Why does he feel like he needs to put his two cents in? And why does Harry always let him? I want to scream out that it has nothing to do with him and to carry on but refrain.
I see Malfoy's hands clench, ready for a fight so I reach out to still Malfoy's forearm, giving him a sharp glare. Malfoy doesn't return my look but tenses as he sizes Harry up.
As if he stands a chance again Harry. His action makes me want to roll my eyes.
Instead, I turn them onto Harry. I pause as I note his eyes are fixed on the point where my hand is touching Malfoy and I feel a thrill of triumph run through me. I have to mask it as I reprimand him.
"Harry, stop that! Malfoy isn't doing anything to me. Honestly, the two of you are acting ridiculous. Not that it's any of your business but we have something we have to talk about."
Harry's eyes turn to slits as he looks at me, the air around him tense, coiled tight. My mouth closes automatically as his stare washes over me, holds me down, makes my feel like lead. Oh, he's angry. He looks at me like he's plotting all the ways he'd like to punish me. I wouldn't be surprised if he grabbed my arm to whisk me away again.
"No." he says, voice deep and practically growling. My heart skips a beat. His tone is commanding, the one he uses on me when we're at the Dursley's. This tone is different to the one he used before. It shreds his casual nature to pieces, oozes with darkness, and promises punishment. It is the one that says rational be damned.
I pushed the rights buttons apparently.
I smile slowly, my eyes meeting his intense stare. The other two don't realize what's happening here. This is us being transported back into that cupboard again, to that night before we were about to head to Hogwarts for the first time where Harry pushed me down onto my back, sat his weight heavily over me, held my shoulders down and demanded-no, commanded- that I follow him to where ever he may go, that I not let go of his hand and allow myself to be separated from him.
Malfoy moves to me, standing too close as he throws an arm over my shoulder and leans in toward Harry. His face looks like he's just itching to have it out with him, baiting him so they can row or worse.
My body automatically tenses and goes rigid. His proximity is completely unexpected, not to mention unwanted. I try not to breathe in Malfoy's smell, taking short breathes. I don't like this. I don't want him this close to me but to back away would be to lose a great opportunity to get a rise out of Harry.
I force a cool, detached look but cannot relax my body. I don't want Harry to notice. I eye him only to find just what I wanted. Harry's face is filled with jealousy, contempt, and possessiveness, all clenched fists and red cheeks. I duly note even Ronalds's ears going red.
"You don't really have a say in the manner, do you, Potter? Hermione can do what she wants."
Harry's jaw clenches, his eyes sliding over to me.
"Yeah! But not with a disgusting slimy snake like you, prat!" Ron bellows but it sounds far away. My eyes are locked with Harry's dark and frighteningly cold ones. For a long intense moment, he just gazes at me like that, staring at me in a way I've never seen before.
His look nibbles away at my hopeful feeling. He looks truly angry with me. I feel like a scolded child about to be in some serious trouble. A hot feeling of shame burns my face like the sharp sting of a slap.
Finally, he looks away and back at Malfoy. His expression turns even darker. He looks like he wants to hurt Malfoy. Badly. As if he is picturing the horrid things he wants to do to him as he looks at him. It's unnerving.
Malfoy ignores Ronald, his smirk getting more pronounced as he stares back at Harry. Pointedly, he pulls me even more into his side, his hand sliding up my arm.
I suck in a sharp breath as goosebumps rise on my skin. It is not a response born out of pleasure. Every nerve in my body wants to push him away but I don't. I feel like I must look like a cat that was just bathed. All wide-eyed, hackles raised and ready to crawl out of its own skin. Don'ttouchmedonttouchmedonttouchme!
"What? No comment?" he asked obnoxiously, his grin condescending. I don't know how he doesn't back down under Harry's look.
"Get the fuck away from her." Harry's voice is dead serious, his eyes predatory.
Malfoy pulls back, gives him a sarcastic look.
"And why would I do that? Because you told me to, Pottter? She's not saying anything, is she? So I don't have to listen to you-Omph!"
Harry's fists connect mercilessly into Malfoy's nose causing blood to erupt from his nose and his whole body to fall backward. It's a brutal fall but I don't flinch for him as Harry drops down on him and starts punching him over and over again with no chance of recovery. I don't feel pity for Malfoy even if I might be partially responsible. I didn't ask him to do this, he did it on his own.
Instead, I watch Harry. His feelings are the only thing I care about and I'm enthralled by what I find. I stare at his eyes, wide, cold, unforgiving as he punches Malfoy over and over. He looks cruel, hateful and beyond the point of rational. I can see in this moment that the damage the Dursley's inflicted does in fact still affect Harry. I see it in the way he can beat Malfoy with his fist without restraint, without empathy.
In my head, I've beaten Malfoy with my bare hands. And not only him but Ginny too and Ron and Snape and so many others. I've delivered my retribution and felt the empowering feeling of triumph and satisfaction at inflicting pain onto those who have wronged me. Except I haven't really done it in real life because my body doesn't have the strength to. But Harry's does.
I don't try to stop him. Let him have his retribution.
I understand this feeling very well, I feel it every time outsiders like the Weasley's try to put themselves between us. His knuckles are bloody, his gritted teeth bared and he is ferocious, powerful. I think I am the only one who can feel the electricity in the air around him.
People around are causing a commotion, jeering and running to watch, surrounding them to get a good view but its like they are all far away, muddled to my ears. I know any moment now a teacher or another prefect will catch wind of the fight and come over to issue out punishments.
I want Harry to be punished so I don't try to stop him even though it is my duty as a prefect and the proper thing to do but I rationalize that if he's serving detentions when we get back from holiday then he won't be with Ginny.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Ginny Weasley appears pushing through the crowd with a determined and angry expression on her face. She says something. Harry's name.
My fists clench at the sight of her, at the movement of her lips as they say, Harry. I want to slap her face, throw her to the ground and make her bleed. This Ginny Weasley who loves my Harry, who calls for my Harry, who yearns for my Harry. I hate her.
Ginny pulls out her wand and-stealing a page out of my book, I note- conjures a shield between the two, thrusting Harry off of Malfoy and ceasing the fight. Harry's dark angry eyes immediately land on her as she glares down at him with a hand on her hip and an eyebrow raised. She says something and this something makes Harry snap out of it, his eyes widening as he looks down at his bloody hands.
I watch as Ginny reaches down for his bloody hands to help pull him up. I'm in that void again. That void that scares me. I just watch as something that can only be called a special moment happens between them. Ginny taking hold of his bloody hands to help him up. Harry looks up at her, just watching her as he followers her lead as if he needs her help to move.
This is not my Harry. I turn away from them. I can't stand to see. I can't stand this horrible feeling.
Someone yells that a professor is coming. People are scattering and I move with them but then my eyes fall on Malfoy. He inadvertently worked to my wishes, poking at Harry to make him jealous just as I had wanted but I am not happy, not satisfied.
I think about leaving him there, unconscious on the floor like the loser he is and forgetting all about this, losing myself and all the empty feelings into the pages of a book. But I don't. My feet move me toward him and I point my wand at him, levitating him so we can make a quick getaway. Unable to stop myself, my eyes seek out Harry. I spot Harry looking at us as Ginny and Ron pull him away.
He looks guilty, regretful. I frown at him, turn away and head toward the entrance to the hall as Harry goes for the hidden alcove. Not my Harry, I think as I walk away. I have to separate the Harry that I know from this Harry that appears when in Hogwarts otherwise it hurts too much.
I need to distract myself. I take my time thinking what my next move should be with Malfoy.
I know I cant walk through the halls with a bloodied, unconscious, Malfoy especially with a teacher on the prowl so I quickly disillusion us before heading toward the nearest escape route, the entrance doors. Again it is cold outside so I put a strong warming charm on myself before reluctantly putting one on Malfoy too. I take us outside and head for the Whomping Willow.
This is the only place I can think of where no one will find us and I can heal the bloody prick even though I don't won't to. Bruises heal and this won't stop him from forcing his presence on me after we come back from Hogwarts, getting into my space, purposely seeking to make me uncomfortable.
A snowflake lands on my lashes. I blink it away and realize that it's pretty outside. Without the cold to make me yearn for the warmth of the castle, the grounds covered in beautiful white snow is almost inviting. I like the solitary it gives. The quiet.
I look down at the steps and remember Harry's hand up my skirt, plunging his fingers into me causing a thrill to shoot throughout my body. It's a good feeling so I replay those feelings over and over again in my head, let it erase the face Harry left me with just now, let it burn away Ginny Weasley helping up Harry.
I step down, walk away. My footsteps crunch in the snow, my breath escapes me in puffs. It all sounds so loud in this quiet. I move in this void of white to the Whomping Willow that starts flailing as I approach. I set Malfoy down in the snow so that I can levitate a stick to the notch on the tree.
When I turn back around I pause looking down at Malfoy. He looks paler than usual, his robes a stark contrast to his skin and the snow. His hair too looks tousled and only a shade or two darker than the snow he lays upon.
And the blood. It covers his lower face and neck and his eyes a puffy purplish red. There is something tragic looking at his beat-up face as he lays on the snow. It makes my emotions stir. I wish distantly that I had a camera to take a picture of him, there is something poetic about this image that I would like to see in a picture. It would look even better if his face was tilted a little more to the right.
I crouch down, getting a good look at his injuries and reach out a cold pale hand to move his face just so. There. Standing up I think that its a perfect picture now. Too bad I don't have a camera. I take a mental one instead.
With a flick, Malfoy is floating again and I direct him through the passageway and down the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. The shack groans and moves ever so slightly as I climb the stairs with paranoia. When Harry had discovered it after Fred and George gave him the map I had been furious that he would dare to go in here, scared that the unstable shack would collapse on us.
I forbade him from ever coming back here and yet here I am now breaking my own rule to help Malfoy, of all things. I enter the only room with a bed and lay Malfoy down onto it. I can't help but smile as I think how mortified Malfoy would feel to be on this filthy bed if he was awake.
I eye his messed up face again. I don't find all the blood and swelling gross or pitiful. I know what its like to get beaten, as does Harry. Harry especially. I think back on all the times I've tended to Harry's bruised and bloodied face but without magic. In my opinion, Malfoy is lucky. I can heal him almost new in just a few moments.
I clean his face first, then fix his broken nose and reduce the swelling in his eyes. It doesn't take long before Malfoy looks nearly normal again and I can't help but feel bitter at how easy it is to fix the damage Harry had inflicted with magic and how I couldn't use it to help Harry in the past just because of the ministry. How many times would magic have helped us if we'd been allowed to use it?

I break the quiet of the household with my labored breathing as I raise my shaky fingers to fumble with the latch of Harry's door. My heart beats frantically and there are tears pooled in my eyes but I squelch the need to cry. Harry needs me.

It had been torture listening to Harry's cries as Vernon beat him. I had beat my hands bloody banging on the door to my room begging him to stop, crying uselessly. It had taken me forever to climb out of the tiny window of my makeshift room onto the tree outside but I had done it. Immediately I raced to the back door, gotten the hidden key to open the door on and ran in. The eerie quiet had made my heart plummet and my world spin and now trying to open Harry's door I feel as if I'm about to be sick.
I get the latch to turn. With potent fear, I open Harry's room. I gasp at Harry's bruised and bloodied face, his body looking broken as if just tossed in here like the trash, not even bothering to put him in his bed. I fall down to my knees before him, checking his pulse and crying out with relief when I find it. I immediately race back out for the first aid kit. It's only ever been used for when Dudley has gotten a scratch from playing outside with his friends and it sickens me that they would use it for such a small thing but not for Harry who actually needs it so badly.
I tenderly take Harry's bloodied nearly unrecognizable face in my hands and move it so I can tend to him. I clean him carefully, fixing him like one would fix a broken china glass until I'm surrounded by blood-stained cloth. I'm thankful that his nose isn't broken. Still, It needs ice so I run to the kitchen to grab it, putting Harry's head in my lap and holding it onto his nose.
The cold wakes him and he tries to open his swelled up eyes.
"'Ermione," Harry breathes and the sound breaks my heart.
"Shh. Don't talk, Harry." I say as tears fall uncontrollably down my face. Harry's hand reaches up to gently swipe at my face with his thumb.
"'hour cryin'" He says and all I can do is not my head and bit my lip. Harry's hand land on my wrist to pull my hand holding the ice to his nose away from his face.
"I have to keep ice on your nose-"
"'iss, 'ermbione..." I frown not understanding when he taps a finger to his lips and then mine. My eyes widen as understanding dawns. Kiss. He wants a kiss.
I lean down as he shuts his eyes. I lightly press my lips to his, mindful of the cut on his bottom lip. It's a fleeting touch until Harry's hand tangles into my hair and pulls me firmer on him. I open my eyes in shock to find his closed, his lips moving over mine without a care to the pain I know he must be in.
A pang shoots through my heart. Harry's pain is my pain and since that is so I know what he needs. I lay myself down beside him, pressing close and find his hand. Taking hold of it I clasp our fingers together tight letting him know without words that I am right here. Right beside him.
Harry breaks the kiss, and tries to look at me through his swollen eyes. I gaze intently at him, memorizing each bruise and cut while raising my other hand to scratch lightly through his mused hair. He looks at me for a while before he scoots down slightly so he can comfortably rest his head against my chest. He's listening to my heart beats, I realize and continue to run my fingers through his hair long after his breathing had become deep with sleep.
A week later and Harry's face is still bruised up and every time I see him in such a state my blood starts to boil and I glare contemptuously sat the Dursley's. Harry's not allowed outside with his face like that, not even to do chores so I have to go out and do them. It's not all bad. Yes, the work is hard but because its either too cold or too hot for the Dursley's they don't bother to come out except to tell you what to do and then to tell you when you're done. It's peaceful and quiet.
Harry stares outside a lot, his eyes far away like he's somewhere else entirely. I envy him. I am fully here. I am hating and hurting and feeling every minute of this. The only way my mind escapes from think of the utter hatred I feel for the Dursley's and all the ways I'd like to get back at them is through books and Harry.
And when Harry is hurt like this there is no escaping. His face constantly sets my mind off into tangents. It's not until a month later that Harry's face is bruise free and I can function normally again without fretting, without hating.

I leave Malfoy there on the bed with only a note on how to get back to Hogwarts and to not tell a soul about this place. I don't ask him not to tell on Harry since I know that word has gotten around to a professor about the fight and Harry will get in trouble either way but at least with Malfoy all healed the punishment won't be as bad.

I don't see Malfoy again after that and I'm grateful. My mood blackens and continues to worsen as the time to leave for the Weasley household approaches. I want to tell Harry that I am absolutely not going but I cant. Not because Harry tells me I have to go but because I have to go there to keep on eye on him and Ginny. I can't let them go on like this.
So I pack up my things, watch the hours creep on by until the time comes to depart.
A knock on my door forces me to get up from my bed and answer. I open it to find Ginny on the other side completely unexpected. I can't help my initial reaction of disgust and I know she's seen it when her body tenses and her eyes go unkind.
"Harry sent me up here." She says as her way of greeting. There is a spike in my heart at the sound of his name marred by it coming from her lips. "He wants to make sure that you're coming."
And that I've not tried to give him the slip, I'm sure. I can't contain my eye roll.
"Yes, I'm coming." I'm prepared to close the door when Ginny's hand shoots out with surprisingly quick speed to hold it. My eyes flash to hers to find her staring at me very seriously.
"Listen, you don't have to come if you don't want to. I told Harry that he shouldn't pressure you, that you're a big girl and can make your own decisions especially since Malfoy is staying too-"
"What does Malfoy staying have to do with anything?" I cut in sharply eyeing the taller girl with growing anger.
"Well, you and Malfoy are dating afterall-"
"What?" I hiss my eyes like slits. "Malfoy and I are not dating!"
It's Ginny's turn to look shocked and something else I can't put my finger on.
"So it was just a rumor, then. You and Malfoy aren't together?"
"Obviously! Malfoy is an immature prat that likes to bully. I would never date him."
"But you've been hanging around him quite a bit-"
"He fancies me so he follows me around but I don't like him! Did you tell Harry that we're dating?" I don't mask the accusation in my voice. I am suspicious. It wouldn't be a surprise if she said something to Harry about it to measure up his feelings.
"It's a rumor, I didn't have to tell Harry anything, we both heard it at the same time." she answers in her own aggravated voice.
"How long ago did he hear this? Who said it to him? What did he say?"
Ginny looks at me strangely at my rapid questioning. I don't care I have to know when.
"Err... We both heard it about a week ago, I don't know...what's the big deal? It was just talk during Quidditch. Harry said that it wasn't true but then everyone said they kept seeing you and Malfoy in the library together but no one wanted to ask you-"
"Well, it's not true! I don't feel that way for anyone!" Except for Harry. It's on the tip of my tongue. All I have to do is just tell her, tell her Harry is mine, tell her that she's just a cover to Harry so he doesn't have to face his feelings for me.
But then I am hit with a thought. If I did that what would Harry do? Would he deny it? Turn his back on me? Hate me?
I can't do it. I can't chance Harry's hatred.
Anger pounds through me that I'm in this position at all. It makes me realize that I'm not exactly angry at Ginny. It's not her fault. It's not her fault that she fell in love with Harry. He is one of the kind so of course there would be others that would fall for him. No, it's Harry's fault. He led her on, he gave her false hope, he put her in the middle of us.
I hold onto that thought and the pitying feelings it stirs in me so that it stops me from saying something I'd regret. I reign it all in, holding my tongue. I won't crush this girl's dream just yet. Harry needs to be punished first.
"You know, it's alright to feel something for someone, even if it is Malfoy." She says looking at me still with that odd expression on her face after the awkward pause.
I can't imagine what she is thinking. I know she senses something off about my relationship with Harry but her mind refuses the right answer, so incidentally she wants me to have this false relationship with Malfoy. Then I'd be a sister with a brother complex, annoying but not a threat to her relationship with Harry. If only that were really true.
"Right, I'll keep that in mind if I ever find myself fancying git. You can tell Harry not to worry I'll be down there with the rest of you when it comes time to leave." Conversation done I close the door on her face. I don't want to look at her too much because then I'd find myself comparing myself to her.
I know deep down that looks aren't what really matters, not with Harry. The horrible things that have happened to us are what bind us together and unfortunately for Ginny with all her prettiness she just can't compete with that.
Although, I still wonder...If Harry and I hadn't been twins...if we didn't have any connection before Hogwarts, would he still love me? It's useless to think about since there is no changing what is...yet I can't stop myself sometimes...
And I'm almost positive what the answer is anyway.
I stare out the window as I wait. Two weeks. Two weeks at the Weasley's. A lot can happen in two weeks. I know it won't be anything good. A dark feeling creeps up on me. I'm at war with myself in my mind.
It's not just Ginny cuddling with Harry that I don't want to see. It's the Weasley family in general, acting so close, and so loving, bantering and bickering as a family should with noticeable love.
I don't want to see it.
I watch the snow falling outside, cross my arms against my chest, try to shield myself from myself.
Too quickly it is time to go. I grab my things and head down to the common room with lead in my stomach. As soon as I step a foot down on the common room floor Harry is there.
"Hermione." he says standing up from his spot next to Ginny on the couch and coming over to me. A feel a spark of something as he comes over. Maybe its because of his growth but Harry seems even more incredible to me. I resent it. "We've been waiting."
"I told your little owl that you sent earlier that I was still coming, Harry. You could have waited for me at the entrance."
"I am not an owl!" Ginny pipes up as she stands. "And I did tell your brother what you said."
"I just wanted to make sure, anyway, let's go, I told Ron to hold seats for us on the train." I have to swallow a refusal down as Harry grabs our things and Ginny hooks her arm through his. Standing beside each other I can see that she is just about as tall as he is and lithe too to fit his frame. They look good together.
I feel sick already. I don't want to be around this. It would be so much easier to just hide away but I can't. Hiding would mean giving up, letting Harry be so he can fall properly in love with Ginny.
I'm not ready to give up.
Ron is waiting for us as Harry said, his tall lanky frame sticking out from the crowd as much as his red hair. I plaster on a small smile when he spots us while plotting which book I'd like to read to distract myself the whole ride back. Ron spots the smile and does a double take, blue eyes going wide. This surprises me. I know I am not the friendliest but the way Ron looks its as if I've never smiled before.
His ears go red. I feel an apprehensive feeling creep over me as I'm jostled in the crowd of people. Awkwardly I gaze away and suppress a frown. Even though I want Ron to develop a crush on me I realize now that it's all better in theory. I am completely unprepared for what it means to have a boy, a normal adolescent albeit slightly dim-witted boy, like me.
I only know Harry. I only want Harry. I can't think of anyone else developing the scary gut-wrenching feeling of love like I feel for Harry on me.
I suppose the normal response is to feel flattered, even good, to have a boy think you are attractive but I don't feel that way. Instead, there is a cowardly part of me that want's to hide away. I feel small and weak as I pass his taller frame to board. I am too aware of his emotion and what it could mean, what it could make him do, what it can change him into. Just like what I'm doing to Harry.
I must be having on of those days. I'm normally not so wary but that is all I feel today. I have to snap out of this.
I take a deep breath, board the train. I'm behind Ron's tall frame, my eyes level with his shoulder blades. I follow behind him until Harry stops at an empty compartment. There is an awkward moment with the seating arrangement.
In the past when we would board the train to Hogwarts it would be just Harry, Ron and I in a compartment with Harry and myself sitting on one side and Ron on the other. Ginny's presence throws everything off.
I stand for a moment at the threshold, my eyes burning into Harry as Ginny snuggles in beside him. The only place for me to sit is next to Ron. I don't want to. I don't want to sit here with them.
I'm taking too long to enter. Everyone is looking at me now, even the impatient people waiting for me to move out of their way. I stare at Harry whose eyes are staring right back at me. He looks afraid, nervous at what scene I might raise. I am not in the mood to make scene. He's lucky.
I take a breath and sit next to Ron, the tension breaking with my movements as someone outside says 'took her long enough!'. I get back up to close the compartment door, missing the quizzical looks exchanged between the Weasley siblings to each other and to Harry.
Turning back around I take out my book and sit next to Ron. A second before I sit down I make a decision to shake my wariness and to fight.
I have to force myself to not sit pressed as far away from him as possible but instead closer to him than what is deemed normal. I do it with a seemingly innocent ease although my teeth are gritted.
I sit close enough that our arms are almost touching. I open my book as Ron coughs and let my hair fall into my face to hide my eyes. I peer over at him and note his red ears again.
I don't understand it. I thought it would be much harder to get Ronald's attention. Impossible even, since I thought he found me annoying and a nightmare. I'm thrown by his reactions. Had I missed something? When I looked at Ronald did I ever really see him?
No, no I didn't. I purposefully overlooked him. I wanted to make it clear from the start that his presence was unwanted. My mind forces me to think of all possible angles. Ronald could have somehow developed a crush. I file this for later usage.
I move my eyes away and over to the window. There is a glare from the lights above that make it seem more like a mirror though I can faintly see trees zooming past like dark shadows. I stare out there for a while, the conversation around the compartment like a low humming sound to my ears.
The train stutters, making my hair fall into my face, annoyingly tickling my skin. I raise my hand to push it back, my arm brushing against Ron. Immediately my eyes seek to see his reaction in the reflection of the window but I cannot tell if his ears have gone red again. I lower my arm, grazing his leg as I lay my hand on the bench, still watching.
His leg jerks as if I shocked him with electricity. His head turns away toward the window and I can clearly see his flaming red cheeks and the uncomfortable downturn of his lips. Uh oh. Suspicions confirmed. I wonder if Harry knows. My eyes drift to Harry's side absentmindedly through the glass relfection.
Green eyes pierce into my own with hot anger churning in their depths. My heart jolts in my chest as Harry looks at me darkly, eyes shadowed by his fringe. He doesn't need to say anything, his eyes are warning enough. Stop it.
My body responds to that look, a thrill shooting through me with his eyes so focused on me. I wish we were alone. I want to touch him. I want that dark look to turn into hot heady lust. I want him to demand more of me. Yell at me for tempting another, tell me that I'm his. Be jealous. I want it.
I glance away to stare at Harry's hands. I know he wants to do and say those things. I know him.
Deliberately, I uncross my legs and then recross them, 'accidentally' touching Ron's leg with my own as I do so and watch as those hands curl into fists. I let a smile flit across my face before I turn to Ron.
"Sorry." I mumble.
"Oh, err... 'ts alright." He says with a casual shrug though his eyes can't meet my own, and he's sitting very tensely.
"Hermione," Harry's voice is cold, hard. I turn to look at him, my own eyes nonchalant, provoking.
"Yes, Harry?" His jaw clenches, and I fight not to smile at how easy it is to get a rise out of him.
"I think Ron is uncomfortable with how close you're sitting to him. Move." Yes, he's pissed.
I scoff at Harry, rolling my eyes and note Ginny observing us with an unreadable expression.
"Don't be silly, Harry, Ron isn't uncomfortable, are you Ron?" I ask hypothetically, talking before he can even respond. "Besides I'm not even sitting close to him."
"Hermione..." Harry growls.
I can't help it anymore, I smile a slow, knowing, rebellious curve of the lips. Harry's eyes narrow. I know he wants to yell at me, punish me even, but he can't. I turn my eyes to Ginny whose looking at me with suspicion clear in her eyes having seen what she must find to be a very strange smile on my face.
"Ginny," I start smartly, "tell your boyfriend to let up." I'm proud that I manage to say the word without disgust and contempt. Ginny opens her mouth but Harry cuts her off.
"That's enough, Hermione!" His voice is loud, sharp, dangerous. Ginny and Ron jump slightly at the sound of it but I just sit calmly staring at Harry as he glares hotly at me.
"Don't raise your voice at me, Harry Potter, you are over-reacting." I use my best berating voice, though this is the exact response I want.
"I am not! I know what-..." He trails off looking angry, frustrated. I raise my eyebrows at him knowing exactly what he was going to say but he can't start that kind of fight here, not with his best friend and girlfriend watching and listening to the exchange.
"Sod it!" He hisses, shooting up from his seat and snatching my arm.
I am generally thrown by this as Harry drags me out of the compartment without pause.
"Harry!" Ginny cries with surprise but Harry ignores her, ignores the stares we're receiving from other noisy compartments. With single-minded purposeful strides, Harry moves us down the aisles searching for an empty one without any luck.
I can't keep my mouth shut.
"Harry, what do you think you're doing?" I ask curiously, not at all upset with the way this is going.
"Shut up." It's not said maliciously but it still irks me none-the-less.
"I will not! Isn't this little reaction of yours ruining whatever little plan you've got in your head? Surely, Ginny will wonder about such a response-"
Faster than I expect, Harry twists back to face me, his face filled with anger, eyes intensely meeting mine.
"It's your fault!" He hisses as I just stare up at him. "You did this on purpose!"
"I did," I readily admit making Harry's eyes flash. "But you didn't have to rise to it. You could have just carried on, couldn't you, but you can't! Admit it, you can't stand the thought of me with any man."
Harry's expression twists into a frown, eyes shooting up to look at the people watching us. I see him grit his teeth just before he turns on his heal again, pulling on my wrist. I stare at the nape of Harry's neck, his messy black hair, the expanse of his back and feel a throb low in my belly. Damn, it's so easy for me to feel turned on by him. I must be sick.
We come to one of the bathrooms. There's a younger year boy waiting for the loo but Harry whips out his wand with his free hand and confounds the boy quickly without a word. I stare at Harry headily, anticipation shooting straight to my core. I want him. I want him bad.
I want to feel that light-headed delirium again that I felt when he touched me. I want those fingers, that mouth, his tongue all over me. I want to be filled by his cock. I want to be taken with abandon and feel good.
Harry's fists slams down on the bathroom door eliciting a squeak from the inside.
"Hurry up!" Harry barks with impatience.
Harry's eyes turn to mine and I stare back with naked lust in my eyes. His own widen with surprise and he tenses like a deer caught in the headlights. A girl comes out from the bathroom with a red face, running away without looking at us due to embarrassment.
I grab Harry's robe with my free hand, using all the force in my body to push him backward stumbling into the bathroom. I don't want him to escape. I shut the door behind me, locking it while staring at Harry. It's a tight fit. Our bodies only have a few inches between. Harry is breathing heavily, his eyes already clouding over with his own lust. He knows what my intentions are.
"Don't Hermione-" I step closer silently, staring up at him rawly. He must not realize that he still has my wrist in his hand that he's clutching tightly. I don't mind it.
I watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows hard, wanting to run my tongue down his neck and suck his skin hard enough to leave a mark.
"This isn't how this is bloody supposed to go Hermione! I'm furious with you-"
His words are useless and a waste. It's already too late. It's his fault for turning me on, for reacting like I wanted, for not putting up more of a fight. I feel electrified. There's no place for Harry to run away to in this small confined space. The way he's staring at me says he knows it too.
"I don't get you, Hermione." He's probably wondering how the situation has flipped so much.
"Harry, don't run away" I breathe, reaching my hand up to run roughly through his hair. "You know what I want." I trail my hand down going from his neck down the length of his stomach without pause. "Let me touch you." Harry's hand lashes out like a cobra to capture my wrist, stopping me from touching him down there.
"No," His voice is strained, deeper than usual, it makes me shiver. I feel it straight down to my sex. I don't let the fact that he has both wrists stop me. I step closer, closing the distance between us to press the length of my body against him, wishing there were no clothes and I could feel his naked flesh.
I peer through my eyelashes up at him.
"I've touched myself every night fantasizing about you." Harry sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes widening as he gazes at me before settling into something concupiscent, carnal. I breathe him in, the provocative tension between us making my head lose all sense of rational. I just know I need to tell him what he does to me, why I can't leave him alone despite it all. "I don't care anymore that its sick to feel this way."
"I want you, Harry," I say against his lips, as Harry watches me, his face flushed and his eyes fixated. I wriggle one of my hands-free, open my legs wider and reach a hand down to touch myself over my knickers, my hand grazing against the bulged of his pants. Harry's breath stutters, his tongue coming out to lick his lips. "I replay your fingers thrusting in and out of me over and over again." I grind into my hand shamelessly, slip my fingers inside to my wet quim, sliding a finger over my clit. Harry's hand slide up my thigh, making me unable to breathe as he grabs hold of my skirt into a bunch and pulling it up so he can see.
It's quiet except for my heavy breathing as Harry watches me touch myself, holding my skirt up. I moan, unable to help it as I touch myself feeling it even more with him watching. It's so much better than a fantasy. I'm already so close.
Harry stares down at me riveted just as he was when he touched me that day and it makes me vibrate with need. I watch him as I take my fingers out coated with my juices and bring them up to his face.
"Fuck!" Its said with spiteful resignation as Harry again grabs my wrist but this time to pull my hand to him as he opens his mouth and sucks in my fingers.
I feel my knees go weak as Harry sucks and licks away my juices, his eyes closing and his head falling back as he licks them clean like its his favorite dessert. My own mouth parts slightly as I watch him. Harry opens his eyes slightly to look down at me as he lets my fingers slip out of his mouth.
"Shit," he breathes heavily, his eyes going from me, heavenward as he continues to say expletives, trying and failing to reign in some sense of control futilely.
I can't think straight. He releases my wrist one finger at a time. I want to touch him. I want to taste him. I want to rub myself against him. I lean up and kiss him, eyes still open. Harry parts his lips for me and I taste myself faintly on his tongue without care. Harry's hand comes to clench into my hair, his own tongue coming to touch my own, sucking it, kissing me passionately. I close my eyes, get lost in it as Harry kisses turn almost bruising as he slides his tongue over mine nips my lips.
Desperate little moans escape me. I practically climb Harry in order to grind my hips against him, needing more, demanding more. Harry moves a leg between my thighs and I rub myself up and down wantonly, needing the friction against my clit. I clutch onto Harry as his hand trails down my backside to my hip his other hand finally releasing my wrist to join the other.
With surprising speed and strength Harry turns us around, pressing me against the wall and lifting my hips up to meet his, hissing as the bulge of his pants hit against my wet knickers. With a bruising grip Harry brings my hips up and down over his clothed erection frantically. Crudely we mimic the motions of having sex without actually having sex. He presses into me hard and it feels so good...
It's not nearly enough. I can't take my eyes off of Harry even through the haze of lust, lost in sensation and the stimulating sight of him thrusting against me with his face flushed, panting, eyes cloudy as he too loses himself. I burn the image of him in my mind as I grind my hips over his.
Our breaths are loud like the roaring sound in my ears. It feels good to hump against each other but with all the clothing in the way its not enough and the angle is not the best. It would be better if he was sitting and I could press myself against him over and over again. Harry lets out a tiny little groan as if he agrees with me.
Harry's head falls against my shoulder, his breath ghosting over the skin of my neck in pants, raising goosebumps. He slows down his thrusting but never stops even as he speaks.
"Stop me."
His voice is low, gravelly and sends a jolt straight through me to my belly.
"No!" My hands go for his hips to bring him harder against me, holding onto the belt loops of his pants.
"Harry!"
We both jump at the loud pounding sounding on the bathroom door.
"Harry!" Ginny calls again and it's like a freezing water was dumped over us.
Harry jerks away from me like I lit his hands on fire and in his haste, he loses his footing and collides against the door.
"Harry? Are you alright? Open up!"
Harry is looking at me with wide eyes like a shocked frightened animal.
"Harry don't." I plead. I don't like this. I don't like Harry's reaction. I near him but Harry's hand stop me, upraised as if he's warding me off.
"No, don't. Don't look at me like that. Why do you have to feel this way? Why-"
"Why didn't you stop me?" He hisses, his face hardening. He wants to fight with me, wants to blame me for everything, I just know it. He looks like he's holding back some biting words.
Ginny's incessant pounding doesn't let up and I know that her presence waiting for Harry behind the door is the only thing stopping Harry from giving me a tongue lashing.
I want to slap him. I'm sick of this. I feel my throat burning and I swallow thickly. I refuse to cry.
"Get out of here then!" I can't look at him. I glare down at my clenched fists instead.
The door slams shut at Harry's departure, leaving me behind in the trembling walls.
- 5
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