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Clever About This, Too	By : OhHonestleigh Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 13560 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Clever About This, Too
- 1
Title: Clever About This, Too

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Harry/Hermione (with a brief mention of previous Harry/Ginny)

Genre: Romance, mostly PWP with a bit of sex with substance

Length: 1,960 words

Summary: One minute you're celebrating the fall of Voldemort with your best friend. An hour later you're naked with her in an upstairs room at the Leaky Cauldron. This isn't some tart who's thrown herself at "The Chosen One" -- this is Hermione, the girl who has meant more to you, you finally realize, than anyone else you've ever known. A H/Hr first-time fic.

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Clever About This, Too

She stands in front of you, arms at her sides, legs crossed, but she's looking away. Maybe she's shy about being here this way, or maybe she's wishing she'd never let you talk her into this. Or did she talk you into it? You don't know, and you don't care. She was drunk, and so were you, and suddenly your lips were on hers and her hand was gliding along your belt and sliding down your trousers and cupping you through the fabric and God, you didn't know anyone's hand could feel that good through your pants and trousers. No one noticed, no one cared; they were too busy drinking and toasting and celebrating the fall and long-overdue demise of the Evil Asshole. And of all the people in all the gin joints in all of the Wizarding World, she had to be standing right next to you, her eyes glistening with something you'd seen before but didn't understand until that very moment when you kissed her -- the kiss that changed everything between you.
And now, after an hour of clutching, clinging, snogging and fumbling with each other's clothing� now you're wondering what to do with each other, both of you naked and shivering in an upstairs room at the Leaky Cauldron on a chilly November evening. You know what you want to do with her, to her, but you're not so sure she wants to do the same, now that she's not so drunk anymore.
"Hermione, we don't have to do anything you don't want to do," you say quietly, even while your cock is twitching with anticipation. This isn't some tart who's thrown herself at "The Chosen One". This is Hermione: the girl who's been with you since you rode that train seven years ago, the girl who hauled your arse out of the fire more times than you can count, whose advice and opinions have always meant more to you than anyone else's�the girl who has meant more to you, you finally realize, than anyone else you've ever known. Without her encouragement, her brains, her�love (why didn't you see it sooner?), you'd never have found what you needed to defeat Voldemort -- not just the Horcruxes, but what you needed inside yourself.
"If I didn't want to do anything, Harry, I wouldn't be alone in this room with you, stark naked," she replies, finally looking you in the eyes and smiling. "Sit down, please. There's something I really want to do."
She nods toward the lone chair in the room, a rickety old thing next to the small desk across from the four-poster bed. The chair slides to the center of the room and nudges you behind the knees. You lower yourself to the seat, wondering. Hoping.
Hermione, apparently, can read your mind.
She kneels in front of you, pushes your legs gently apart, cups your balls in one hand, then slowly, carefully begins to circle and stroke your cock with her other hand.
"Do you like this, Harry?" she purrs, her fingers moving more quickly now. You nod slowly; your eyes are almost closed as you concentrate on the sensation of her small, soft, silky hand making feathery strokes on your hardening flesh. Without thinking, you wrap your larger hand around hers and move both hands faster, nudging her hand to show her exactly how you like to touch your cock. She's a quick learner, Hermione; a few moments later she's staring at the tip of your cock as her thumb glides over it and swirls the glistening drops of precome around it.
You're pumping faster into her hand now, hoping you don't explode before you get your chance to explore her body. Suddenly her hand is gone and her mouth envelopes your cock in such warmth and wetness you wish you could stay inside it forever.
"Nggghhhngghh," is all you can say as her tongue and lips threaten to push you beyond coherent thought.
"Mmmmmmmm," she hums, her head bobbing furiously in an opposite rhythm to your pumping. You have no idea how you've lasted this long; you were sure you were going to come in her mouth a minute ago, yet she's managed to keep you just on the edge of orgasm. She's always been such a clever girl, the cleverest witch of her age, some of the professors used to say. Of course she would be clever about sex too. It's not fair to her, you think. She should get to feel this good too. You take her face gently in your hands and, reluctantly, pull her head off your cock and make her look at you.
"This is�fantastic," you pant, "but now it's my turn. Stand up, Hermione. Let me kiss your body. Please."
She smiles at you, her lips and eyes glistening, and slowly stands up between your legs. Her soft, slightly rounded abdomen brushes against your erection and sends a shiver through your body. Leaning over slightly, she places one hand on your shoulder. Your hand cups her breast, drawing it closer to your mouth. Hermione seems to tense at your touch; there's a mix of hesitation and anticipation in her eyes. You lock eyes with her and slowly, carefully enclose her nipple with your lips and tongue. She wriggles beneath your mouth as you suck and nibble her breast. It tastes and feels like nothing you've tasted or felt before. Another thunderbolt strikes you. What you had with Ginny now seems juvenile and purely physical; what you're embarking on with Hermione -- what you hope you'll do with her again and again -- is grounded in something much deeper.
As you sigh against her breast, she repositions herself so that both of you are more comfortable, more ready for what will surely happen next.
"Harry, please," she breathes into your ear as you splay one hand across her round, firm bottom. "I've dreamed about this for two years. And now, well, I can hardly believe this is happening."
You search her face, trying to decipher her meaning, then suckle her breast harder. "I'm not really sure what I'm, er, doing here," you mumble, slightly ashamed to admit it.
"That's okay. Neither am I."
You look up from her breast, certain that your surprise and elation are written all over your face, and see a blush spreading up from her chest to her cheeks. "I -- okay. But are you really sure?"
She leans down and slowly, tenderly wraps her hands around your neck and nibbles on your lower lip. "I waited for you, didn't I?"
As she rolls her hips beneath your hands, you suddenly feel something warm and slick pressing against the tip of your cock. Any reservations you've had melt as she instinctively slides her fanny slowly up and down your cock. Before conscious thought leaves, you grasp both of her hips firmly in your hands and lift her body until she's positioned directly above you. Then, as she bends slightly toward your left shoulder, you begin to suck her right breast, your eyes shut tight until you realize that she's pushing slowly, slowly down onto your cock. Her breath hitches and a tiny whimper escapes her.
"Are you okay?"
She takes a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine. I think both of us should move more."
You nod. Nothing would make you happier than to spend the rest of the night (or year, or century) moving inside the tight, wet heat between her legs. Hermione feels like a velvet glove around you, her muscles clutching and squeezing around your own as you push up into her and she slides up and down on you. Her knees clench your outer thighs; your teeth leave a mark on her shoulder. She wraps her arms around your neck and whispers in your ear as each of you shoves frantically against the other. Taking your cue, you stand up from the chair, holding her lovely bum firmly to your body. Hermione peppers your face with kisses as she wraps her legs around your waist.
Two strides later, you bend over the edge of the bed and lay her on top of the duvet. You're so very close to losing it all; you guess that just a few more long, hard strokes will get you off. A dreamy look crosses Hermione's face as her legs fall to the side; you take that as an invitation to push as hard and deep as you can. Her hands clutch your back, her short fingernails digging into your skin. Instinct takes over and you roll your hips as your cock, seemingly with a mind of its own, pounds in and out, faster and faster, urged onward by her escalating sighs. Finally, suddenly, you feel yourself empty inside her. Her breasts are slick with sweat; you feel her tense up as you slump against them, her back arching as she approaches her own orgasm.
After all the times she's helped you get what you need, you can finally return the favor.
"Let me," you whisper, then you slide out of her and down to the floor. She shudders as you slither your hands up her thighs and part her folds with your finger. You're not sure you're doing it right until your thumb brushes a small, hard bump and Hermione whimpers loudly. You move your thumb in circles, mimicking the way she moved her fingers on your cock, then slide your fingers between her folds. She cries out something inarticulate as her body goes rigid, then limp. Withdrawing your hand, you're shocked to find not only your come and her wetness, but also a few drops of blood.
Terror clutches at your heart. Somehow, you've managed to hurt her. You crawl up onto the bed and put your arms around her.
"I'm so sorry, Hermione," you whisper, barely able to cough out the words. "I didn't mean to�there's blood� I'll take you to St. Mungo's--"
Hermione smiles beatifically and kisses you. "You'll do no such thing, Harry Potter. There was just a tiny bit of blood, wasn't there?"
You nod, not daring to feel relieved yet. "That's perfectly normal the first time a woman has sex," she says with a look that reminds you of the fabled cat that swallowed the canary. Relief washes over you, then shame that you didn't know this fact about women. But your shame is cut short by another worry.
"Hermione," you begin slowly, not sure how to broach the subject, "we, um, didn't�I mean, I wasn't protected at all. Were you?"
Now, oddly, she blushes again. "I did the spell on myself while we were downstairs drinking."
Your jaw drops, though not for the same reason it did at the Yule Ball years ago. Back then you discovered how pretty she could be, how pretty she really was. Now you discover that she wasn't nearly as innocent or spontaneous as you'd thought when she returned your kisses in the Leaky Cauldron less than two hours ago.
You bite your lip to suppress a grin. "So you admit you planned to seduce me?"
"No, I was hoping you would seduce me," she smirks.
You can't help grinning. "I think we seduced each other," you admit. Tentatively, you ask, "Do you think we could do it again some time?"
"Did you get the room for the entire night?"
"They don't let rooms any other way," you reply.
She nods toward the door, which suddenly emits a squelching sound. "This is better than a Do Not Disturb sign."
You pull back the duvet, then crawl under it and pull Hermione under it along with you. She's always been so clever. It's really no surprise that she's clever about this, too.
The End
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Clever About This, Too