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Biding My Time: Our Way	By : watchyerback Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 9795 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and company are the property and creation of J.K.
Rowling. The only things that're mine are the purely non-profit fic
below and a couple of plot-handy objects like the augmenter and the
Solvamus.

CHAPTER EIGHT:

It didn’t
mean that everything was forgiven or forgotten. Even Harry knew that.
As soon as they were all inside, his friends quietly fell back and
watched as Lupin and Tonks led him away.

When he was
gone, Ron and Hermione let out the breaths they hadn’t been
aware of holding. What Harry had said - that things would never be
the same between the three of them - was probably true.

But when they
had held their hands out, they had promised him a chance.

“You
okay?” Ron lifted a hand up to the witch’s shoulder.

She flinched,
surprising them both.

“Bloody
hell, Hermione,” he whispered. Although she had told him about
Harry’s condition she had pretty much skimmed over the night
itself. “What did he do to you?” What he had overheard
Lupin telling his parents wasn’t much help. Ron had stormed out
the second he heard that Harry had attempted something unthinkable.
“Did he ...?”

The girl shook
her head. Even Lupin and Tonks didn’t know how close Harry had
gotten, because she had had her clothes back on by then. If they had
arrived a minute later ... “He didn’t get that far. Can
we ... not talk about this now?” Objectively, Hermione knew why
she was taking this so hard. She had been relatively innocent, and it
had been Harry.

Ron clenched
his jaw, and the girl knew he was angry at being shut out. To
her relief, he let it lie. He held his hand out and they walked back
to the library.

The
brown-haired witch sat down at her accustomed place and picked up her
pen, but the redheaded boy merely stood and stared at the open
Hogwarts book. “Why are we doing this?” he asked, running
a finger across the page.

“I
mean,” he clarified as Hermione looked up, “why are we
still looking for the horcruxes?”

She carefully
put aside her pen and parchment. “Do you want to stop?”

“Shouldn’t
we? Shouldn’t you?” Ron closed the book with a
thump. “I feel like we’re being such goody prats. He does
this, and we’re still helping him out.”

“What
are we supposed to do?” She sounded tired. “Let him jump?
Let Voldemort win?”

“It’s
just – it’s bloody UNFAIR!” the redhead exploded.
“If he were anybody else but Harry-bleeding-Potter, he’d
be on his way to Azkaban by now! Instead, Lupin and Tonks are
mollycoddling him and we’re doing his dirty work.”

“That’s
not what we’re doing!” she denied.

“Well it
sure looks like it to me! What else would you call it?”

“What
needs to be done.”

“According
to who? Some prophecy from mad-as-hatters Trelawney? We’ve only
got Harry’s word for that, haven’t we?” he struck
out wildly. “What if he lied, what if he’s been playing
us for years?”

“I don’t
believe this! The basilisk, Ron!” she reminded him
incredulously, “Quirrel, Tom Riddle, Cedric’s and Sirius’
deaths, and Snape killing Dumbledore - are you telling me we imagined
it? Or that Harry somehow staged it all? Will you listen to
yourself?”

It was actually a silly
idea, he knew that, but the fact that she punctured it so easily just
annoyed him even more. “Why are you even defending him?”
Ron demanded angrily. “Did you like it that much?” He
regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

“SHUT. UP.”
Tears stood in Hermione’s eyes and her chin trembled. “I
can’t believe you said that.” She slumped down into her
chair, suddenly nerveless.

“Oh man, Herm, I’m
sorry.” Ron was sincerely appalled. “I’m a right
foul git, okay? I didn’t mean it. I’m just mad. I keep
coming back to how I should’ve been here with you that night.”

“It wasn’t your
fault. Or mine. And maybe not even all Harry’s,” she was
able to say after awhile.

Ron bit back a retort. He
was back to being furious at Harry for what he had done, and jealous
as well. Hermione’s reaction had suddenly made him
wonder how far his erstwhile friend had gotten. It was a good thing
he hadn’t felt like this earlier, or he would’ve shoved
the dark-haired teenager right off the roof.

He needs to understand.
Hermione fiddled with the small jewelry box that had been sitting
next to her books all this time. “If you want to have an idea
about what Harry’s been going through, touch this.” She
clicked the box open and showed him the Griffyndor pin.

“Just touch it?”
he asked warily.

She nodded.

Ron didn’t know what
to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. At first he didn’t
feel any different, but as his thumb lingered on the cold metal that
began to change. A warm wave started to sweep through his body,
trailing sparks along the way.

His blue eyes went wide as
the wave grew into a fire. As he focused on the nervous girl in front
of him, he suddenly knew only she could quench it.

“Hermione,” he
growled, stepping around the table towards her. It was only her
alarmed gaze that stopped him. He grabbed the chair next to her and
clenched his hands on the headrest. “What the bloody blazes is
that?”

“The augmenter I told
you about,” she replied, trying to cover her apprehension. “The
shopkeeper practically forced it on Harry. It takes what you feel and
magnifies it a hundredfold ...”

“Like a love potion?”
Ron grimaced. He’d had bad experiences with love potions.

“No, it doesn’t
make you fall in love or anything,” Hermione corrected
unthinkingly, “it just builds up what’s there.” Oh
no, why did I say that?

It was too
late to take it back. The redhead blinked several times as the
significance of her words slowly sank in. “Doesn’t that
mean that Harry actually ... likes you?”

The witch
found that she couldn’t lie to him. “I don’t know,
Ron” she said miserably.

Her companion
sank into a chair, his expression completely stunned. Harry never
said anything. No, he distinctly remembered Harry telling him
about how Krum had come up to the younger Hogwarts champion one day to
ask about Hermione and Harry, and how Harry had made it clear
that they were just friends. “But – but,” he
sputtered, “Cho. GINNY.”

Hermione
winced because Ron unknowingly echoed the same question she had
posed to Harry a few nights ago. “I don’t know,”
she repeated. She sighed. “Lupin thinks Harry may have felt
something at one time ... and decided not to act on it.”

“Because
of me?” Ron was torn between getting angry and being horrified.

“Because
of US,” Hermione amended. “Harry said he didn’t
want to come between us,” she remembered.

The young
wizard still had a look of utter bewilderment, as if things in his
world had just turned upside down. “Then you should get away!
The Cor – the Sol - the potion’s still in him, innit?
You’re not safe.”

Her head came
up and her eyes bored into his. “So we let him die?” she
asked quietly.

Ron’s
blue eyes went wider than she had ever seen them. He’d
forgotten all about the seven-day deadline.

“If
Harry dies, Voldemort wins,” Hermione went on matter-of-factly.
After what had just happened, she was angry enough to use their
enemy’s name without a qualm. “If Voldemort wins, he will come
after every person who stood in his way. You. Me. Your family. Maybe
even mine. Somehow I don’t think Death Eaters will distinguish
much between muggle and wizard when it comes to that,” she
reflected.

“So what
can we do?”

“I wish
I knew.” The girl sighed. “Maybe we can see what Lupin
and Tonks are doing with Harry. Maybe they’ve found a way to
treat him, and all we need to do is to wait.” She said it
hopefully, but without much confidence.

“What
can I do?” Ron asked, feeling useless.

“Come
with me?” she asked softly, looking up at him. “I need
you there. Even just as far as the door if you don’t want to
see him.”

“Oh
Herm.” Ron moved until he was crouching beside her. He grasped
her hands tightly. “Of course I will.”

================

They
eventually agreed that Ron should wait outside, even though he was
willing to accompany her into the room. If Harry was under the sway
of the Solvamus again, they didn’t know how he’d
react to the other boy’s presence.

“Just
give me a shout,” he said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze
before she knocked.

Tonks opened
the door a crack, and then wider to let the girl in. “Wotcher, Hermione”

The girl cast
a swift glance around as the door closed behind her. The first thing
she noticed was that Lupin was nowhere in the room.

The
bright-haired Auror sensed her surprise and explained, “We’re
taking turns. I sent Remus off to get some rest. Harry’s deep
into a dream trance right now so it’s safe. We’ll know if
he starts coming out of it.”

Hermione
nodded and took another step into the room. “Is that a
pensieve?” she asked, glancing at the shallow stone basin
placed next to Harry’s bed. It was emitting a faint silvery
glow.

She approached
it curiously. As a Hogwarts student, she knew what a pensieve was.
They had read about it in a number of books and discussed it in
class. But Harry was the only one among them who had actually touched
a pensieve. Harry had told Ron and her about how he had used a
pensieve and seen Snape’s memories of his dad and the
Marauders, and how Dumbledore had used it to show him bits of
Voldemort’s past.

“Of a
sort, yes. This one is more for absorbing dreams rather than
memories, though. There’s a difference in the runes.”
Tonks pointed to several symbols etched into the stone.

As interested
as she was, Hermione found her eyes straying to the prone figure on
the bed.

She had been
expecting, because he was supposed to be in a dream trance, that
Harry would be asleep. In a sense he was. He was stretched out on the
bed and his eyes were closed. Someone had taken his glasses off and
drawn the covers on top of him. But “repose” was the last
word anyone would use to describe him now.

Hermione had
seen her friend asleep a number of times. She had sometimes found
herself sneaking amused glances at him when he dozed off over his
books, his hair mussed up and his glasses askew. At those moments, it
seemed like all his cares and worries tumbled away and he was merely
a boy instead of the Boy Who Lived.

This time
Harry tossed and turned, and the sheets continuously bunched in his
restless hands. There was an edgy, tight-wound expression on his
face. Hermione had seen it before, when Harry was about to face a
Hungarian horntail, and when he led the D.A. to face off against
Death Eaters.

This is
what he looks like when he has nightmares. Ron had told her a
couple of times about how Harry would sometimes startle his dorm
mates in the middle of the night with his restless cries. How the
tousle-haired wizard would wake with a shout, and how the other boys
would pretend to be asleep so as not to embarrass their friend. None
of them envied Harry’s dark visions.

Tonks laid a
reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I know it looks
bad, but that’s because the potion is trying to fight the
pensieve. We’re drawing his dreams away and the Solvamus
doesn’t like that.”

Hermione
thankfully turned away from the disturbing sight. “Are the
dreams causing his condition?”

“No, but
they play a part. The dreams are a symptom of the potion, of Harry’s
walls breaking down, but they also feed his obsession. By siphoning
some of that away, we disrupt the cycle.”

“Can’t
we break the cycle?”

The Auror
shook her head. “Not this way. Unfortunately, this is only a
temporary measure, something to help Harry maintain control. We’re
still looking for the cure.”

“Professor
Lupin said we only had seven days.” There was an anxious edge
to Hermione’s voice.

The older
woman stared at her, surprised that Remus had revealed that much. It
was one thing for the members of the Order to deal with hard truths;
they were adults. Privately, she agreed more with Molly Weasley on
this point and preferred to spare the young trio as much as possible.
After all, when she was sixteen, Tonks didn’t have to worry
about Dark Lords and death threats and now, potions that turned
friend against friend and threatened madness and death.

But
Voldemort won’t spare them, Remus had argued more than
once. And like it or not, these three have and probably will go
through more horrifying things than most of the Order put together.

“No one
can say that for sure,” the Auror finally answered. “It’s
been a hundred years since anyone studied the Solvamus. The
records we’ve found do show that most of the victims went mad
and eventually died, or arranged their own deaths rather than give in
to the Solvamus. But I’ll be the first to admit that
what we have on the Solvamus is far from complete.”

“They
committed suicide?” Hermione was aghast, remembering how close
Harry had been to the edge of the roof, how a tile dislodged by his
shoe shattered into pieces on the street below.

It was
starting to sink in, how serious a mess Harry was in, how they could
truly lose him this time. We need to know more, understand more!
If there’s no more information on the Solvamus in general then
we need another source ...

Suddenly, the
young witch stared at the stone basin. “Harry once said that
you could see the memories stored in a pensieve.”

“Well
yes but ...” Tonks trailed off as she realized what the girl in
front of her had in mind. “Oh no, Hermione, don’t even
think about it. What’s in these dreams, it’s not Harry.”

“That’s
not quite true, is it?” was the bitter reply. “Trust me,
this isn’t about curiosity. I’m the last person who wants
to see what Harry planned for me. Just remembering that night, how
one of my best friends suddenly turned on me, treated me like - like
- ” Hermione couldn’t suppress her shudder.

The
bright-haired woman gazed at her compassionately. Unlike Remus, she
immediately suspected that more had happened in that room before
they’d arrived. The teenage girl had been too shaken up for it
to be a matter of a few stolen kisses. “You won’t like
what you see,” she warned. “You could end up hating him.”

“Even if
I do, I’ll continue to be on the Order’s side. I’ll
help in any way I can because it’s the right thing to do,”
Hermione said decisively. “Besides, if there is anything in
there that we do need to see, I’d prefer that I ... rather than
... I don’t want anyone else seeing it! Even if it’s not
really me.”

Tonks mulled
it over. Unlike Hermione, she was aware of exactly how little
progress the Order had made in finding an antidote. “I suppose
there’s no harm if we try for a few minutes,” she said
slowly. “Provided you promise me that if it’s too much
you’ll stop. And if I think it’s going too hard I’ll
pull you out myself.”

The
girl nodded. “How do we do this?” Now that she was
actually going to go through with it, she sounded nervous.

“Come here.” The woman stirred the contents of the stone basin with her wand. The glow
within it pulsed and brightened momentarily. “When you’re
ready, bend and touch your face to the silvery substance.”

“I’ve
never done this before,” Hermione admitted as she stood
next to the pensieve.

“Don’t
worry, it’s simple. See this cloudy swirling stuff? The second you
touch it, it will be as if you’re actually there, in Harry’s
dreams,” Tonks explained, “but only as a spectator.
Remember, no matter how bad it gets, nothing in there can harm you.
You don’t need to watch everything as it happens, either. You
can will yourself backwards and forwards. Ready?”

Hermione took
a deep breath and nodded.

“Bend over. Take it slow.”

The young
witch did, and as soon as her nose met the
bright ephemeral substance she slid into another world ...

... where
Ginny was morphing into her. Harry’s voice hoarsely asking,
“What’s the harm? I just ... I want to feel you. No one
will ever know.” Moving against her, hooking her leg around his
hip so he could press against her more, mouthing her name as he
moved, until her hips were rising to meet his ...

... she
watched in open-mouthed mortification as a well-remembered towel
pooled at his feet. Harry bucking as the dream Hermione took him in
hand. The real Hermione blushed as she was treated to the sight of
her friend’s bare, firm arse and the look of amazed rapture on
his face as the girl of his fantasies sank to her knees. “You
don’t have to.” “I think that’s one of the
reasons why I want to ...”

... “All
these years and you never thought about what it would be like between
us? Not once?” Harry daring her and, once the dare was
accepted, his tongue swirling on her breast. His fingers diving into
her jeans. The dream girl’s hips bucking to the movements of
his hand. “Please, Hermione.” His voice pleading until
she reached for him ...

... The two
of them standing in front of a fireplace, a couch behind them ... Oh
no. NO, not this! Hermione almost wrenched away before she
realized that the room she was seeing did not belong to Grimmauld.
No, this warm, cluttered place was the Gryffindor common room.
Hermione paused. There was something familiar about this scene, too,
something that tugged at her memory. Because she wanted to figure it
out, Hermione stood back and let the dream play on around her.

“Wait.” Harry
spoke up just as she was about to step forward. “Hermione, stay
a while longer.”

“Harry, I’d
like to, but Professor Dumbledore said the fireplace wouldn’t
be connected to the floo network for very long.” Hermione
reluctantly moved to pick up her coat.

“I know, but ...
there’s always the Knight bus!” he exclaimed. “I’ve
ridden it before. I’ll come with you if you like, drop you off
right at your doorstep. It’s just a couple more hours,”
he continued persuasively. “Write your parents a note saying
you’ll be home for dinner. Hedgwig will deliver it.”

He looked so hopeful that
she gave in. She scribbled a note and they watched as the owl flew
straight away. “Now what?”

“Um, want to take
another walk?”

She laughed. “It
was fun, but no thanks. I think we’ve broken in my new boots
enough for today. Actually, if you don’t mind ...”
Hermione sat down on the couch and took her shiny new winter boots
off. She stretched out her legs and rubbed her stocking-covered feet.
“That’s so much better,” she groaned.

Harry sat down next to
her. “Here, let me.” He scooted closer and maneuvered her
legs so that they lay on his lap. Without another word, he started
massaging her feet and legs, his fingers digging with just the right
pressure through the denim.

“Harry!” she
protested, embarrassed for some reason. But he ignored her and
continued, and after awhile she just sat back and let it go.

“Are you sure those
boots came from your parents? Seems more like whoever gave them to
you doesn’t like you very much,” he teased. “Ruddy
little torture devices.”

“I’ll have
you know they’re expensive, extremely lovely torture devices
and they go perfectly with my new coat,” she defended,
gesturing at the camel-colored winter coat carefully draped over an
armchair.

He grinned. “So
much for the rumor that Hermione Granger hasn’t a single vain
bone in her body.”

“Everyone’s
got a weakness,” she huffed loftily.

“Yeah? Is it worth
getting a sprained ankle for?” the raven-haired wizard asked
sardonically. Using thumb and two fingers to form a pincer, he ran
his hand from calf to ankle, but the thick denim kept getting in the
way. Impulsively, he slipped his fingers under the cuff of her jeans,
found the tops of her socks and pulled them off.

Startled, the girl tried
to wriggle away. “Hey!”

“Shh. Relax,
Hermione.” With a look of complete concentration, Harry returned
to his task. His strong warm hands slipped easily into the loose
bootleg of her jeans. They slid from a spot below her knee to the
tendons in her ankles, kneading and probing the muscles just so
along the way.

The young witch groaned
appreciatively as the boy switched to the other leg. His strong
fingers seemed to find and ease out every knot and strain. “How’d
you get so good at this?”

“Quidditch. I know
what sore muscles feel like.”

Slowly, Hermione eased
back down. As the massage continued, she began to get drowsy. Harry
and she had walked all over Hogsmeade and what seemed like most of
Hogwarts that afternoon, and the rest of her body was starting to
realize how tired she was.

Harry swallowed as he
glanced at the girl who lay supine beside him. He had never seen her
so open and at ease before. Hermione was usually rushing from one
thing or another – classes and school or her causes or, well,
him. He realized he liked seeing her like this ... and that touching
her was affecting him much more than it should.

Unconsciously, he started
to reduce the pressure he was using and the way he was touching her
began to change. Soon the tips of his fingers were dancing teasingly
over the smooth skin of her legs.

Hermione opened her eyes
when the young wizard lightly began drawing circles around her knees,
not quite believing what he was doing. When his fingers tentatively
tried to wriggle up further into her jeans, brushing against the more
sensitive skin of her thighs, she sat up and placed her hands over
his through the denim.

Silently, Harry withdrew
his hands. They stared at each other, both flushed and brimming with
feelings that they had never associated with each other before.

“Harry -”

“Hermione -”

“You first,”
the girl offered.

“I - thanks,”
he stammered, feeling more nervous than he had ever been around a
girl in his life. A hundred times worse than asking Cho to the Yule
ball. “I mean, for coming over today. This was a perfect day.
The happiest Christmas I’ve ever had.”

It disturbed her for some
reason. They had done nothing special, just walked and talked and
laughed all afternoon. Surely something so ordinary shouldn’t
make up anyone’s happiest Christmas. She found herself
half-protesting that there would surely be better ones someday, that
next time they’d do something really interesting.

“No,” he
insisted, “this was perfect just as it was.” He steeled
himself and took the plunge. “Because I was with you.”

Hermione closed her eyes
for a moment, touched to the core. No one had ever said anything like
that to her. And this was Harry, who deserved so much more.
When she finally spoke, her voice was husky. “Tell me what you
really want for Christmas, Harry.”

Emerald eyes locked with
hazel. “It depends. Anything?” he asked carefully.

“Within reason,”
she warned softly.

After what had just
happened, he knew exactly what to ask for. “I want to see your
legs,” he said in a low voice.

For a moment the boy was
sure she was going to shoot him down. Then she slowly lay back down
again. “O-okay,” she said nervously.

She was expecting him to
simply remove her jeans, but that’s not what he did. Harry ran
a forefinger over the sliver of skin showing between her jeans and
sweater before he carefully unbuttoned the snap of her jeans. He
smiled at her indrawn breath and leaned down to plant slow, sucking
kisses on her belly. He took his time, drawing bits of Hermione’s
increasingly sensitized skin into his mouth, sometimes grazing them
with his teeth.

Hermione dug her fingers
into the couch as she let herself fall under the spell of Harry’s
lips. A warm fire was growing low in her belly and there was wetness
pooling further down still. When the young wizard began to probe her
navel with the tip of his tongue, a soft moan left her lips. It felt
so good that she nearly missed the fact that his hands were pulling
at her zipper.

Then Harry was hooking
his hands into the waistband of her jeans. He slid the denim past
hips, thighs and knees until they were bunched at Hermione’s
ankles. He lifted himself momentarily to pull them off and throw them
away. He didn’t take his eyes off of her the entire time.

Wordlessly, he bent down
again, this time to plant kisses on her gorgeously bare legs. He
started on her ankles and slowly worked his way upwards. Some of the
kisses were the same as the ones he had planted on her belly,
sucking, nipping, biting little things. At other times it was just
his warm, dexterous tongue sliding against her skin ...

Hermione whimpered as
Harry made his way up to the inside of her thighs, and suddenly he
was filled with a fierce desire to hear her make more sounds. He
brought his hands up to spread her legs further apart and attacked
her ferociously, using his teeth more, sucking harder, leaving marks
on her pale creamy skin. Soon Hermione was tossing her head back and
biting her lips to hold back her cries.

Harry tore his glasses
off impatiently when they got in the way. At this point, he didn’t
need perfect vision. He was reveling in his other senses, touching
and feeling and tasting her, listening to her little whimpers. And as
he got closer to her center, smelling the faint hints of her arousal.

He wanted more. He wanted
to know what she’d sound like if she screamed his name.
“Hermione, let me ...”

She looked at him
dazedly. “Hmmm?” She gasped when a thumb skirted the
inside of one thigh, skirting closer and closer until it was tracing
the line where thigh met pelvis. The very tip of his thumb snagged
the edge of her knickers.

The uncertainty was plain
on her face. “Harry, no one’s ever ... and you might not
like it.”

“I want to.”
The thought that he was the first to get this close to her made his
heart pound. He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “Let
me try?”

“Even if,”
she swallowed, “I might not be able to give you more than this
today?”

He favored her with one
of those rare, wide smiles. “You already gave me a perfect day,
and you gave me this. I wasn’t expecting either. I just want to
do something for you.”

The brown-haired witch
took a deep nervous breath, and nodded.

It was encouragement
enough. Harry started by fondling Hermione through her knickers. He
traced the lines and dips of her sex through the thin cloth, paying
close attention to her reaction. When she began to look less anxious
and more aroused, he began rubbing her core faster with the palm of
his hand.

With a surprised moan, the
girl surged towards him, pressing her mound desperately against his
hand. Her hips began to rock in time with the movements of his hand.

The sight of Hermione
starting to lose it was almost too much for him. Quickly he yanked
down her knickers to mid-thigh, finally exposing the maddening
triangle of curls that he desperately wanted to explore. Slowly and
uncertainly at first, he began to touch her, running one and then
another finger through the downy hair and dipping into her
increasingly wet sex.

Then his forefinger
slipped between the soaked lips of her slit and found the tender bump of her
clit. He pressed firmly against it, making her cry out.
Impatiently, Harry used his thumbs to part her pussy so he could better
see her. He began circling the hooded nub with his fingers,
hearing her breath hitch. When he swiped the calloused pad of his
thumb over it, she jerked forward. He started alternating between the
two, and she never knew when the teasing circles would suddenly give
way to a hard direct rub that had her biting her lips to keep from
screaming out.

Suddenly Harry yanked her
knickers all the way off so he could position himself
between her legs, his face hovering right above her sex. Hermione
tossed her head as she felt his hot breath blowing against her
sensitive flesh. She was dying to let him continue, but at the same
time she was still extremely shy about what he was planning to do.
“Harry, you don’t have to ...”

“Hermione, look at
me.” He waited until her eyes were on him. He was grinning.
“Are you still worried I won’t like it?” He bent
his head, stuck out his tongue and deliberately licked the length of
her slit.

“Harry!”

Merlin, he loved the way she called his name with such abandon! Harry was determined
to have her do it again. This time he attacked her clit, his tongue stabbing and repeatedly rolling the wet nub. When
Hermione was panting and repeating his name in broken whimpers and
jerking her hips in uncontrollable passion, he found her opening and
slowly slipped a finger inside. The girl froze for a second.

The raven-haired wizard
lifted his head. “Hermione.” he whispered, and although
he couldn’t see her clearly, he saw her head tilt towards him.
“Come for me,” he demanded softly.

Without waiting for an
answer, Harry renewed his attack on the young witch. His hot mouth
closed on her sex and his tongue and lips lapped at her folds and
her swollen clit. His thick, calloused finger began to pump in and out of
her tight channel, slow at first, and then faster as the wetness made
it easier to slip in and out. Soon her fluids were dripping all over
his hand and mouth.

Unable to help herself,
the girl opened her legs wider and lifted her hips in time to meet
the thrusts of Harry’s demanding tongue and fingers. For the
first time Hermione brought her hands to Harry’s head and
buried them in his dark locks, trying to push him down harder on her.
His name fell from her lips in a torrent of broken whimpers. The
feeling deep in her belly was ratcheting up, building and building.
She couldn’t stand much more ...!

It was one last,
unbearable stab of his tongue on her clit at the same time as his
finger rubbed against something incredibly sensitive inside her that
finally did it. Hermione screamed his name as she climaxed. Her walls
clamped and pulsed around Harry’s finger as a last gush of
fluids rushed into his mouth.

When her orgasm finally
subsided, Hermione pulled Harry up until their faces were almost
touching. She kissed him tenderly, and tasted herself in the process.
It was a strange taste, but if Harry wasn’t bothered by it,
neither would she. “Oh lord, Harry,” she breathed, “I
had no idea it could be so, so ...”

Harry wrapped his arms
around her. His erection was digging into her side, and as much as he
wanted to do more, he knew she wasn’t ready yet. He buried his
face in her hair and kissed the side of her neck. “Merry
Christmas, Hermione.”

This time the word sank in.
Christmas! Hermione willed the dream backwards, to before the
time she and Harry were standing by the fireplace.

Hermione quickly pulled away from the pensieve once she confirmed her suspicion. She hoped
Tonks would not notice how flushed she was, or at least attribute it
to something other than the dream she had just witnessed. “You
have to stop. The pensieve’s starting to drain his memories!”
she explained hurriedly. “There
are all these dreams in there that are absolute rubbish, but this one
...”

At Hermione's insistence,
the Auror waved her hand at the pensieve and the glow in it seemed to
subside for awhile. She motioned for the girl to continue.

“You know how Harry
spends nearly every Christmas at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked.
“Everyone else goes home but Harry prefers Hogwarts to the
Dursleys any day. One time, I asked Professor Dumbledore on impulse
for permission to visit Harry. It was Christmas eve and I wanted to
give him this present. I’d never seen anyone so happy to see
me. I ended up staying all afternoon and it was one of the best days
I’d ever spent with anyone.”

Tonks looked doubtful.
“Hermione, it could just be a dream taken from memory.”

“No, the details were
too exact,” the young witch insisted. “We walked to
Hogsmeade and all over the grounds. There was ice on the ground, and
Harry held my hand because I kept slipping in my new boots. At the
end, when I had to floo back, he and I both hesitated. It was on the
tip of my tongue to ask him to come with me, but I thought, what
would my parents say if I suddenly brought home a boy to spend
Christmas with us? Even if it was Harry ... so I didn’t. I felt
guilty about it all day. I sensed that Harry was on the verge of
asking me to stay, too, but we never talked about it again.”

“Please, we have to
put this back,” Hermione entreated. “I don’t care
about the rest of the dream, but if Harry was really happy on that
day I don’t want him to lose the memory of it.” He’s
had so few good memories.

“Alright, alright,”
the Auror said soothingly. She touched her wand to the pensieve and
then to the unconscious wizard’s forehead. “I’ll
let him just sleep for now, poor boy. Did you find out anything?”

“I ...” Hermione
hesitated as the embarrassment over everything she’d just
witnessed came surging back again. “There’s something,
but I need to think about it first. Is it alright if we talk about it
later? Professor Lupin needs to hear it, too.”

Tonks nodded. “Tell us
when you’re ready. I’ll tell Remus about the pensieve. It
could be the Solvamus’ doing again.”

The young witch got up to
leave, then hesitated as something occurred to her. “Tonks,
that night ... When did you and Professor Lupin arrive? What time did
you find us?”

The Auror thought a bit. “We
disapparated right after we got confirmation that the potion was a
Solvamus. We went to the Weasleys first because we thought
you’d be there, and then straight here. Around ten I suppose? I
can’t be more exact than that because we weren’t paying
attention to the time.” She looked closely at Hermione. “What
is it?”

“I got here at eight,”
the young witch said slowly. “I remember because I was sorry to
leave the reception but I wanted to get here early enough to get some
real work done. Harry and I had dinner. We talked, I passed out. That
means ... I was unconscious for over an hour.”

“Hermione?”
Tonks started forward. “What’s wrong?”

“I ...” Hermione
swallowed and shook her head. “I have an idea but I have to
check some things first.”

“Alright.” With
concern in her eyes, the woman watched the younger girl leave the
room as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Poor
girl. Poor Harry. And yet she could not help thinking that Harry
was also lucky. Despite what had happened, his friends had not
abandoned him. Tonks wondered, though, how much longer that would
last.

I'm
sorry to say that, starting with this one, updates might be a bit
erratic for awhile. Work and real life have been unfriendly to
fic-writing lately. I'm still aiming for a weekly update, but there
will be times when that may not happen. On the bright side, GOF is
showing soon. At last!

This
chapter probably contains the last dream episode, except maybe for
some fantasizing later, meaning most of the smut from here on will
“actually” take place between the characters. At least
that's the plan. It also looks like there are 5 – 6 chapters
left, but that can change. As always, reviews are much appreciated.

Tabitoo:
Thanks a lot! I love the trio, and I've been trying to keep them
in character despite the fact that they have to be so OOC because of
the plot. Feel free to suggest away. I can always use some new
ideas. As to breaking the spell, right now there are two ways –
they can find the antidote or, yeah, Harry and Hermione, but it's
not quite that simple (remember, one of Voldemort's plans is to get
Harry to kill himself). Guess which one I'm leaning towards. Though
come to think of it, the antidote could work story-wise. It would
let me end the story much faster, for one thing. If I used the
antidote, I could have this story finished in one or two chapters
instead of five. What do you think? =)

Sammie:
I'm glad you didn't, too. You've got a fantastic life now and it
sounds like it's about to get better. I have to admit, though,
that I've always wondered what would push Harry that far. Sorry I
couldn't update sooner but I hope the long chapter (and some smut, as
promised) makes up for that a bit. If you're on maternity leave, the
baby must be comihg soon. That's just amazing, Sammie! Best of luck
on the newest addition to your family.

Avanell:
Thanks! Always happy to know I made someone's day. Hope your
formatting problems (I hate those too) worked out. There will be
some Ron and Hermione soon, and more Harry and Hermione of course.

Rache:
Thank you, I'm glad you liked the chapter even if it got a little
painful. Rooting noted, heh. Things will work out in the end, but
as to who will end up with who, you'll find out in the end.

Sea:
Thanks for still reading and reviewing!

Claudia:
Thanks, I hope you like this update too.

Waiting:
Here you go. Thanks for reviewing.
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Biding My Time: Our Way