Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Abandon	By : Greensocks Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 42895 -:- 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
- 1-The Beginning
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: Everything related to Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I’m only borrowing it for a while and no money is coming out of this.

* * * * * *

Hermione stared at the clock for the hundredth time. It was almost 1 am. Only one minute since the last time she’d checked? It was impossible. There had to be something wrong with that bloody thing.

Her eyes shifted to the entrance hallway she could see from her spot in the living room’s couch. Empty. She sighed and tried to resume her reading. She looked at the words and turned a couple of pages, but she realized she hadn’t registered anything she had read. She was too busy worrying about Harry. He was never this late without telling her. She pushed away the thought that something might have happened to him.

He’s a big boy, Hermione. He doesn’t need you to worry about him. You’re not his mom…

She was busy debating with herself when she finally heard the front door. She stood up automatically, and after a moment of consideration she sat down again. She knew that Harry wouldn’t appreciate her staying up because she was worried. So she pretended to be completely absorbed in her book as she heard him hung his cloak and move closer.

When she finally saw him, she almost betrayed her cool demeanor. Harry was drenched from head to toe, covered in mud. The look in his face was miserable, and he seemed so tired, for a moment she thought he would fall asleep right there.

“Welcome home. Would you like some tea?” She asked in what she hoped was a very natural voice.

Harry looked up, startled, and she realized he hadn’t notice she was there.

“No, thanks,” he answered, avoiding her gaze. “I think I’ll just go upstairs and get some sleep,” he said, waving his left hand in the air. She noticed it was bandaged.

“Are you okay?” She ask, unable to hide the concern in her voice.

“Yes, don’t worry,” he said in a detached tone and disappeared up the stairs.

She stood there, clutching the book in her hands, not sure what to do.

Hermione had been living with Harry for two months now. Her house had caught fire in a bizarre accident… Or at least that’s what the official report said. She suspected the fire had been intentional, but the investigation hadn’t come up with any evidence. She had found herself homeless and shaken, and Harry had come to her aid. Harry, who lived

alone in that huge and cold Grimmauld Place, had offered her a place to stay

until she found something else.

In these two months she could have easily found a new place. But the truth was, she didn’t think Harry should be left alone. He had changed a lot since their time at school. After all that had happened in the war, the last battle with Voldemort, the search for the horcruxes, and all the deaths, he’d turned colder and distant. In the surface, he was still

Harry —her noble, good hearted best friend. But he’d built a wall between

himself and the rest of the world. His cool, calm façade was quite disturbing for the people who knew him well. Even though they’d tried, neither Ron nor Hermione had been able to talk to him about it, and they had just continue like that, seeing his best friend turn

into a loner.

She thought that staying with him would bring them closer, and maybe she would be able to help… but so far, she still couldn’t break the stupid wall between them. His work didn’t help. As an Auror, he was always deep in some case she could only assume was dangerous and dark. He never shared any details, and she’d learned that his job was an off limits topic.

Hermione knew him well enough to see beyond his straight face. She knew that he was shaken, that something had happened tonight… Years ago she would have forced him to tell her, but the Harry that had managed to survive the war wasn’t keen on anyone prying in his life.

She considered going to her bedroom and get some sleep too, knowing that it was pointless to dwell about Harry’s problems when he didn’t want to share them with her. And she tried. But, after tossing in the bed over and over again, she gave in to her instincts and walked towards his room.

She opened the door softly. The room was dark, but the moonlight was enough to see him. Harry was standing by the window, his hands covering his face. He was still wearing his muddy clothes, and Hermione had to wonder how long had he stayed there, like that.

She couldn’t leave him like alone. She knew she was risking his rejection, even his anger, but he was her friend, and he was clearly in pain. She stepped in his room quietly, shivering at how cold it was inside. He didn’t turn or acknowledge she was there, so she walked towards him until she was standing by his side.

Hesitantly, she lifted her hand and put it on his right arm. When he didn’t pull away, she started rubbing his arm, his shoulder, slowly and tenderly. Finally, Harry removed his hands from his face and turned to look at her.

Hermione looked into his green eyes, which were clear enough, even in the darkness of the room, and saw deep pain and exhaustion. It was the first time in years she had seen such a clear emotion in his eyes, and she gasped with surprise. She felt her own eyes starting to fill with tears when Harry suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace.

She let him hold her. She wanted to say something, anything to calm him down, but no words seemed right. She could feel his hot breath next to her ear, and noticed he was shaking.

“Harry…” she whispered, but that was all she could say.

He moved his head, and before she could even process what was happening his lips

were on hers. In the shock, she couldn’t even pull away. Harry’s lips felt dry, but surprisingly warm. Her mind began to swirl with conflicted emotions. What was he doing? What was she doing? Why were her lips moving against his now?

Her mind shut down and suddenly she was opening her lips under his. Harry’s tongue invaded her, tangling with hers. It was a kiss filled with urgency, and it left her breathless.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she started kissing him back, closing her mind to every rational thought. She didn’t stop to consider this was his best friend,

that they had a strictly platonic relationship, that this would turn everything

into a mess… She felt his hand in the small of her back, under the shirt of her pyjamas.

The contact of his cold fingers against her skin made her shiver, and she silently begged that he wouldn’t stop.

A soft sound escaped her throat and Harry pulled away from her lips. Before she could protest, he moved to her jaw, leaving a trail of kisses in his way to her neck. He wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t forceful enough to hurt her. Hermione closed her eyes and let out a soft gasp. Her neck had always been one of her weak spots. He apparently realized that, because he started sucking softly on the skin there.

Her hands seemed to acquire life of their own when they sneaked under his shirt, and started to caress his stomach and back.

He let out a sigh, and his own hands sneaked under her top, trailing up her back, moving to her front, and cupping one of her bare breasts. His touch felt amazing, and her nipples hardened immediately. She arches her back to give him more access…

And then, he stopped. She felt a pang of disappointment and opened her eyes, expecting to see a look of regret and realization on his face. But that wasn’t what she saw. Instead, she found Harry’s eyes staring into hers intensely, telling her something she didn’t

understand, at least not at the moment. She knew that it was her chance to

speak up, to ask him what was happening, to try and make some sense of this.

But she didn’t want to think. And she knew that he didn’t either, when one second later he took off his shirt hurriedly, then lifted her top until it was off, and resumed kissing her, with the same needy force he’d used before.

The last coherent thought Hermione had was that Harry probably needed this, he needed to feel, to forget whatever it was that had happened that night. And what kind of best friend would she be if she didn’t help him?

She pressed her body against his, silently telling him that she was okay with whatever he wanted and felt his reaction pressing against her stomach. She shuddered, turned on by his desire, and her temperature rose until her skin was burning. Harry was now kissing the valley between her breasts, and was pushing her towards the bed. Hermione let herself fall, and when he laid on top of her, she moved her hands down his back and chest, until she reached the waistband of his trousers. She opened his belt and unzipped them, sneaking her hand inside after some hesitation to cup him.

Harry groaned and moved his lip to one of her breasts, taking the hard nipple in his mouth. Hermione moaned softly and squeezed his erection, her fingers teasing the tight skin of his shaft, her head dizzy with confusion and lust.

He moved to her other breast, but he was growing impatient, and while he lavished her nipple, his hand moved inside her pajama pants, and touched her through her increasingly wet knickers.

Hermione couldn’t control herself anymore, and started pushing his trousers out of the way. Whatever it was that Harry needed, she now needed it too. Harry helped her, and once he was fully naked, he yanked her own pants and underwear with a violent move. He stared at her body briefly, his expression unreadable. It occurred to Hermione that she should be at least a little embarrassed to be so exposed in front of him… She had always felt shy in front of the very few lovers she’d had… But there was no time for shame or regret.

Harry muttered something she didn’t get and kissed her again, his tongue exploring her mouth passionately, as his hands moved to her legs. Hermione wasn’t expecting him to take too much time in his exploration, sensing that he needed release. She wasn’t mistaken. Harry caressed the inside of her thighs, gripping them and spreading her legs, and then moved one of her hands to her folds. He pushed one finger inside her, making her moan and tighten her grip on his shoulders. After a few moments, he inserted a second finger. They both knew that it wasn’t necessary: she was very wet and more than ready for him.

She wrapped her hand tightly around his erection, sighing at how hard and heavy it felt. He let out a strangled hiss when she started stroking him, until neither of

them could take it anymore. Harry gripped her wrist and pushed her hand away, stopping to look into her eyes for a brief second before he plunged into her in a swift motion.

Hermione could have cried out at the sensation of having him filling her like that, but her voice had long ago left her. She closed her eyes and drowned into what he was making her feel. Harry stayed still inside her for a moment, sighing with his eyes closed. She was grateful for it. Her inner walls struggled to accommodate him inside, and it had been so long since she’d done this that it was almost painful to be stretched again.

When she pushed her hips up to get him to move, Harry started thrusting in slowly, pumping her body, his eyes opening and searching her face for any sign of discomfort. At that point, all she felt was pleasure, and moaned in encouragement. He increased his pace gradually.

His strokes were deep and strong, as if he was trying to shove all his energy inside her. Hermione opened her legs as far as she could to give him more access, and he took advantage of it. He moved like a man possessed, groaning with each stroke, and she lifted her hips to meet him every time.

Harry found her hand and squeezed it tightly. That sent her over the edge. She climaxed with a strangled cry and Harry followed her soon, burying his face on her shoulder as they both rode the waves of pleasure, holding onto each other.

It took them a while to breathe normally again. Hermione could feel her heart beating wildly, even as the rest of the body started to calm down. They stayed like that for a long tim. She slowly started to regain her senses, aware of his weight on her, her breasts pressed against his chest, her legs against his hips.

She didn’t know what she had done, what had happened… She had just wanted to confort him, and then he…

She couldn’t see his face, because he still had it buried in the crook of her neck. He was breathing heavily, as much as she was, but she sensed that, in his case, it wasn’t just because of the recent events.

Suddenly, she felt something wet on her shoulder and realized he was crying. Hermione had only seen him cry once, many years ago, when they had stood together in front of his parent’s grave. She felt overwhelmed by a deep emotion, her chest tight. She raised her hand gently and stroke his hair, letting him sob, trying to stay calm and steady for him, even if she was barely holding back her own tears.

Long minutes passed before Harry finally calmed down. He slowly lifted his head, and Hermione looked into his eyes, wondering if she would find something in there that would help her understand what had just happened.

“Don’t say anything,” she said when he opened his mouth to speak. “Please, just… let’s stay like this, okay?”

He seemed relieved and complied, kissing her softly on the lips. Then, he lifted his body away from her and laid by her side, drifting to sleep only moments later, under Hermione’s soft caresses.

* * *

When she woke up the next morning, she was alone in the bed. For a moment, she wondered if she had dreamed that she and Harry had shagged passionately the previous night. But as soon as her head cleared, she knew it really had happened. Her naked body was sore, and that feeling between her legs could only mean one thing.

With the light that the day offered, she looked around the room, noticing the mess they’d made. Her clothes were still scattered in the floor, and the white sheets were tainted with mud, obviously from Harry. She blushed when she looked at her own body and saw how dirty her skin was.

She got up, put her pajamas on, and slowly got out of the room. She was extremely nervous, not knowing what would happen when she faced Harry again. They would have to talk about what had happened, and she didn’t know what to say or what to think about last night. Did Harry regret it? Did he think it had been a mistake? Had it ruined their friendship? Did he feel something more for her, or had it been just a spur of the moment thing?

And how did she feel about it? The truth was that only thinking about it made gave her a headache. She’d never had sex with someone who wasn’t her official boyfriend before. She would’ve never thought she would end up in bed with Harry, of all people. She’d never been attracted to him in that way, right?

She took a long shower, dreading to go downstairs, where Harry could be having breakfast, waiting for her to discuss what had happened. But when she couldn’t avoid it anymore, she finally gathered her courage and went to the kitchen.

It was empty. Harry had left already. She didn’t know what to make of that. She was kinda relieved, but at the same time, slightly disappointed.

* * *

All day, she couldn’t concentrate much on work. People would talk at her and she would just return a dazed look or a half-hearted “hmmm?” Thankfully, they all thought she was just tired, which was quite possible, considering she was famous for being a workaholic.

She stayed at St. Mungo’s, where she worked as a healer, much longer than she needed. She hated having to feel nervous about facing Harry. This wasn’t supposed

to happen between them. She didn’t want their relationship to be like that. She wanted to be like they always had been: at ease around each other.

And she was so confused about the whole thing… She had tried not to think about what they had done, focusing only on the consequences. But the truth was she couldn’t forget the feel of his hands over her body, the taste of his kisses, the sound of his breathing… She blushed remembering how hard it had been to hide the mark on her neck that morning. It had all been so strange and arousing…

And the memory of Harry crying on her shoulder afterwards was what bothered her the most. On one hand, she was glad that he had finally shown some emotion, and that he had shown it to her made her feel a little special. But what was causing him so much pain that had pushed him to the edge like that?

She arrived to Grimmauld Place and had to take a few deep breaths before going inside. She knew that Harry was there, because she saw his cloak hanging in the entrance. She heard noises coming from the kitchen, and made her way towards it with weak legs.

Harry was pouring some firewhisky in two glasses. For a brief moment, Hermione thought that one was for her, until he turned around and she realized he wasn’t expecting her to be there.

“Hermione,” he said, blinking. “It’s so late, I thought you wouldn’t be coming home tonight.”

She was so surprised at his comment that for a second, she didn’t know what to say. It was true that she sometimes spent the night at the hospital, but she wasn’t expecting that those words would be the first thing he said to her when they saw each other again.

She looked at the two glasses in Harry’s hands and said, in the same neutral tone he had used. “I had some things I needed to finish.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Are you with someone? I don’t want to bother you. I’m quite tired, so I’ll just go to my room.”

Harry stared at her, and was about to say something when another voice interrupted

him.

“Hermione! We were wondering what was taking you so long! Harry was quite worried.”

Hermione turned around and saw that Ron had just entered in the kitchen, grinning.

“Ron, hi,” she greeted with a smile, turning to look at Harry again, but now he was avoiding her gaze.

Ron grabbed one of the glasses Harry was holding and kissed Hermione on the cheek. After they’d dated when they were 18, they were a lot more comfortable around each other than in their teenage years.

“Do you want one?” Harry offered, raising his own glass. Hermione nodded and followed Ron towards the living room.

Ron did most of the talking. Harry was silently sipping his drink, and Hermione was impressed at how normal it all felt. It was as if nothing had ever happened between them. Harry just treated her like he always had, and when their eyes met, there was nothing in his that let her know he acknowledged that only the night before they had been…

When Ron left, much later, she wondered if the time to talk had come. She watched Harry, who had walked their friend to the door, come back to the living room, grab the empty glasses and take them to the kitchen.

She followed him, biting her lip and thinking the best way to bring the subject up. They hadn’t been able to talk with Ron there, but surely now Harry was going to say something... She watched him wash the glasses and put them inside the cabinet. He dried his hands and turned to face her.

“I’m so tired,” he said yawning. “Today was very busy at work. I think I’ll go to bed.” He approached her and kissed her on the cheek, and then walked towards the stairs.

Hermione stared at his back, dumbfounded. “Wait!”

He turned around, and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I…” Hermione found herself unable to speak. How could he be so calm? It was as if he had forgotten about it. Nothing in his face or actions betrayed him. Maybe she was the only one who was worrying over nothing. If he didn’t care, why should she? “Nothing. Goodnight.”

* * *

Hermione had started to fall asleep, when the door of her room opened. She stayed still, knowing it had to be Harry. Maybe he had decided to talk, after all?

She felt his weight on the mattress, and turned around to look at him. Harry was sitting on the bed, staring at her in a way that made her skin crawl, because it was the same look he’d given her the night before, when they were about to have sex.

“Harry, what…”

He cut her off by leaning over her and kissing her hard, very much like he’d done the previous night.

At first, Hermione thought about resisting, but when his hand started rubbing her through her knickers, she gave in. She didn’t understand what Harry was doing or why he had acted so normal before, only to come later to her, in a way that shouldn’t be between best friends…

Soon he had stripped her and was taking off his own clothes. Hermione felt betrayed by her body, she was so aroused… but she shouldn’t be, she had to talk to Harry, she couldn’t do this again, she…

Oh, his tongue was suddenly on her abdomen, sneaking in her belly button and then moving lower… No one had ever done that to her before. But Harry didn’t even stop to ask if she was okay with it, and his face was already between her legs, his mouth so close to her center that she could feel his breath teasing her.

She gasped when he plunged his tongue inside her folds, and started licking in earnest. The feeling was amazing, and Hermione wondered between pants who had taught Harry so well. He nibbled, sucked and kissed her, working two fingers inside of her as he teased her sensitive clit.

She was shaking uncontrollably, trying to muffle her cries with her hand, because she had never been comfortable with being loud during sex. But Harry was making it really hard to remain quiet.

He held one of her legs strongly, to stop her from moving too much, opening her more to his wonderful tongue. At that point, Hermione wasn’t thinking about talking things over anymore, she just wanted to feel all of him inside her.

She came with a shudder, and she could have cried at the feeling of release and satisfaction. Harry lapped at her for a little while, and then crawled up until his face was at level with hers. At some point, he had removed his glasses, but his eyes were staring at her firmly. She lifted her head and kissed him, tasting herself in his mouth. She wanted more, she wanted him to claim her again. At the time, she didn’t care about his reasons,

or if it was just sex…

Harry stood on his knees above her and grabbed her legs, placing them on his lap. Hermione felt his erection between her folds and unconsciously grinded her hips to take more of him. Harry groaned and gave her what she wanted. They both moaned when he buried himself inside her. At that position, he could take her as fast as he wanted, and by the wild look in his eyes, we was about to do that.

He grabbed her hips to steady her and started moving inside her at top speed. If Hermione didn’t know better, she could have thought he hadn’t had sex in months and was too desperate to take it slow. She didn’t mind, he wasn’t rough enough to make her feel any pain, and only increased her pleasure.

“Harry,” she moaned, the first word she had said in their two encounters.

Hearing her voice seemed to make Harry aware of something and he slowed his pace a little. Hermione stared at his face, and saw that he was very concentrated. She had never seen Harry with such an expression, pleasure mixed with pain, and she wondered if it was a reflection of hers.

He leaned over her and lifted her upper body, so she was at his same level. Now they were both on their knees, but it was Harry the one holding most of Hermione’s weight on his lap. He never stopped moving inside her, and now she could move more freely, so she made sure to fasten the pace until they were both panting heavily, kissing between their moans. Harry was stroking her breasts, and Hermione threw her head back when she had her second orgasm. She didn’t stop moving until he spent himself inside her.

Again, they snuggled together, both too tired to say anything. Hermione wanted to ask him what was the meaning of this, but somehow she knew that she wouldn’t get a straight answer from him.

Not that night, at least.
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