Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Merry Christmas, Harry	By : K_B_Lynne Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 30250 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Anyone who thinks I'm claiming otherwise is an idiot.

Chapter List
- 1-Merry Christmas, Harry
- 1
Hermione returned to the tent carefully, unsure of what she might find when she returned. She knew that it had been foolish to leave Harry there alone, unarmed, fast asleep, but in all honesty she didn’t think anything would happen to him, and this was something she needed, this paper bag that she held in her hand. Hermione had never been one to drink, but after last night, she needed a stiff one, and a bottle of rum sounded good right about now. She’d left the sleeping Harry for only fifteen minutes or so, apparating into a small muggle town, and purchasing the bottle from a twenty-four hour liquor store. She returned quickly, and found as she opened the tent flap that Harry remained peacefully sleeping, just as she’d hoped he would.
She settled herself in the seating area, lighting a small jar-fire for warmth on the table in front of her. She removed the bottle from the bag carefully, in hopes of not making too much noise, but she wasn’t quiet enough, because she heard Harry stir behind her. She sighed as she placed the bottle on the table, hoping he would sleep on. With no such luck, she heard Harry turn over, and then he spoke.
“What’s that?” he asked her, looking in confusion at the bottle on the table in front of her. He reached for his glasses and placed them on his head in a clumsy manner, not bothering to straighten them. Hermione looked over at him, but didn’t answer in time for him to ask another question. “Hermione, is that vodka?” he guessed, judging by the clear liquid inside the bottle. Hermione bit her lip.
“Rum, actually.” Harry gave her a puzzled look, and she shrugged.
“And where did you find this bottle of rum?” he questioned, still unable, in his sleepy haze, to comprehend what Hermione would want with a bottle of rum. She sighed.
“Honestly, Harry, don’t be so dim. I bought it.” She spoke so matter-of-factly that Harry didn’t know what to make of it. He swung his legs out of the bed so that he was sitting over the edge of it, and rubbed his eyes before readjusting his glasses to fit properly.
Hermione couldn’t help but notice that Harry was only wearing his boxers and an undershirt, and in the dim glow of the blue flame from her jar, he looked rather handsome, and she looked away, back at the bottle.
“I thought we should have a drink,” she informed him. “Its Christmas, after all.”
It was certainly the most grim Christmas they’d ever had. No presents, no tree (except for the dozens surrounding their tent, of course), no merry music playing in the background. Just a young man and a young woman, in a tent, with a bottle of rum. The young man stood and joined the young woman at the couch.
“Alright,” he agreed, and took the bottle, opening it. He took a whiff of the strong liquor, and his nose scrunched up in distaste. “Hermione, you didn’t think it’d be a good idea to get something to drink this with?” he chastised, and Hermione gave him a look.
“Sorry, Harry, I’m no expert on drinking,” she replied in slight annoyance. “I was in a rush,” she continued to justify. “I didn’t want to leave you alone for too long.”
Harry just nodded in understanding, and asked Hermione for two glasses. When she returned with them, he poured a small amount, an ounce or so, into each, and handed one to Hermione. Raising his own, he sighed.
“Merry Christmas, Hermione,” he cheered unenthusiastically. Hermione raised her glass to him and responded in the same, before they both drank their share. Hermione made a face as the strong liquid burned her throat the whole way down, and as it settled in her stomach, she could feel the warmth it provided. Harry had little more drinking experience than Hermione herself, and so he reacted much in the same, though he tried harder not to let it show. He wasted little time before he refilled their glasses with the same amount as before. This time no words were shared at they drank from their respective glasses and took in the scorching feeling the rum provided them.
Though neither one of them would say it, they were both thinking about the same things. About how much they missed their family, and their friends, and the celebrations their large group would host each year. The love they all shared, even in the darkest of times. They wondered what their loved ones were doing right now. Were they celebrating jubilantly? Or were they fretting over their missing friends and family members?
After a third shot, Hermione set down her glass and leaned back against the couch. She had very little alcohol tolerance, and three shots of the eighty-proof rum was enough for her, for now. She sighed heavily, and turned her head to look at Harry.
“I miss them, Harry,” she said vaguely, but Harry didn’t question her meaning. He knew she was referring to all of them. Their friends, their families, and mostly, Ron. He nodded and leaned back, mirroring her.
“I miss them, too, Hermione, I do. But at least we‘ve got one thing,” he said to her, in hopes of being the light in the darkness, if only for a short while. When she gave him a tired, confused look, he elaborated. “Each other.” In all that they didn’t have, it was very important to him to remember what they did have. He, for one, was endlessly grateful that Hermione hadn’t left with Ron. Its not that he ever thought she would, but she’s had the choice, and the right, to walk away from this, and she didn’t. He’d never be able to thank her enough for that.
Hermione smiled a lazy smile. “Of course. Always.” Hermione could never imagine her life without Harry in it. He meant too much to her. Hermione let out a bracing sigh and sat up again. “Another round?” she asked, and he agreed. This time she poured for them, and handed Harry his glass. “To friendship,” she toasted this time around, a smile playing on her lips.
“To friendship,” Harry agreed with a grin, and the two downed the shot.
From there their conversations became much more cheerful, as they remembered past Christmas holidays, laughing at memories of the pranks the Weasley twins would play, and the way Molly would holler after them, making various threats. They gushed over Molly’s cooking, the feast she’d lay out for the many guests who would come to enjoy the evening with them.
Hermione sighed happily, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder. They’d gone through most of the bottle, and Hermione had called it quits. She didn’t want to end up sick, or worst, hung over.
“It’ll be like that again, soon, Harry. I know it will. You’ll see.” She turned her head to look at him with a drunken smile, and he looked back at her. Only then did their proximity really click. Hermione looked into Harry’s glossed over eyes, and didn’t realize that they were getting closer to hers until she felt something press against her lips, and soon registered that it was his lips. Hermione found herself fully aware that she was kissing back, even as her eyes widened to stare at his closed ones. When she pulled out of the kiss, she watched Harry’s eyes open in surprise.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, you probably- I’m sorry,” Harry stumbled over his words to apologize. He mentally kicked himself for doing something so stupid as to kiss his best friend. His drunk best friend, no less. Hermione’s eyes were still wide with shock.
“Why did you do that?” she asked, feeling such a mixture of emotions at the moment that she couldn’t clear her head long enough to decide whether or not she was okay with it.
“I- I don’t know! You were just here, saying all those sweet things, and I guess. I don’t know, Hermione! I couldn’t help it!” He himself didn’t know what had possessed him to do such a thing, and now, sure that she hated him for it, he was mad at himself for doing it. Luckily for him, Hermione wasn’t as mad as he thought she’d be. In fact, she was rather flattered. Her expression softened.
She opened her mouth to say something, but words didn’t come to her, so instead, she replied with another kiss. Harry was by no means the love of her life, but she did love him, deeply, and if he needed a kiss to make him feel a little better, today of all days, she thought she could give him that much. What could it hurt?
Harry kissed back gratefully, and after a moment he deepened this kiss just a little. Hermione returned the action gladly. What was a little harmless snogging between friends? Only it wasn’t harmless snogging for long. It was only a minute or two before Hermione found herself in Harry’s lap, straddling him, while he held her waist and she tangled her hands in his hair. It’d been a long time since either one of them had had any physical interactions with anyone, and their hormones, in addition to the alcohol, seemed to be taking matters into their own hands.
Hermione was getting rather enthusiastic about the kiss, and a small moan escaped from her as things grew particularly heated, and soon after Hermione could feel Harry’s own arousal underneath her. It wasn’t the first time she’d gotten this reaction out of a boy simply by snogging, and she worried that if she wasn’t careful, she might develop a bit of an ego. She smiled against his lips, and without warning, Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and pushed her down until she was laying on the couch with him on top of her. His lips never left hers, and Hermione was glad, or else she might have been tempted to protest. The truth was, Hermione really was enjoying herself, and she didn’t particularly want to stop. Why should she have to? She was young, and single, and no one would ever know. It was no one’s business except hers and Harry’s, and she knew he’d never tell. She did stop him, though, only for a few seconds.
Prying her now swollen lips from his, she looked up into his lust-filled eyes. She’d never seen this side of him before, and it excited her body, particularly the spot between her legs, which clenched together tightly at the sight in a way she didn’t know that part of her was capable of doing. However, her logical side still had its questions.
“Harry, what are we doing?” she asked him despite her desires to keep going without all the preamble. She couldn’t help herself, her brain was still as active as her loin wished to become.
Harry looked down at her with a sigh, holding himself up on his arms above her suddenly tiny figure. Was she always so petite? He supposed he’d just never seen her from this angle. He’d never been on top of her like this before.
“I don’t know, Hermione. Part of me tells me that this is horribly wrong, but the other part of me doesn’t want to stop.” He looked down himself to indicate the part that didn’t want him to stop. When he looked back at Hermione, she was blushing.
“I guess I know what you mean, but… What are we going to do about it?” She hated this. She hated that they had to talk about it, and that it was her fault that the conversation had even been started. Why did she have to go and open her mouth, anyway?
Harry didn’t answer except with a shrug. He knew what he wanted to do, but he wasn’t confident that she wanted to, or that it was the right thing to do.
“Oh, Harry,” she sighed, looking up at the canvas roof of their magically enlarged tent. As she stared, she didn’t feel Harry’s eyes on her, staring at her throat, which she’d exposed to him while looking skyward.
His lips met her neck before Harry made the conscious decision to allow them to do so, and Hermione let out the tiniest gasp at the contact. She continued facing upward, but her eyes closed as she soaked in the new sensation. It was such a simple action, and yet it left behind a scorching feeling as his lips trailed their way up and down her soft skin. When Hermione finally made eye contact with him again, her eyes held that same lust that his had and still did. His lips crashed into hers as though she’d just given her consent, and she returned the passion in full.
Her back arched into him, and small moans escaped her as his hands explored her body outside of her sweater and jeans. Her mind went cloudy and she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the hormones, but she didn’t fight it. She could regret it in the morning, but for now, she intended to enjoy this fully.
His hands cupped her average-sized breasts, and she wondered at the way such a simple action could bring such heat to her core. She’d never allowed anyone to touch her like that before. She’d been so young while she’d been with Viktor, and he’d been very respectful of that, never pressuring her. McLaggen had tried, but she’d always slapped his hands away, scolding him about boundaries. With Harry, it felt okay, like he was allowed, as if their close relationship had granted him special permission, and she didn’t regret it. How was she to know that it’d feel so inexplicably good?
Hermione wanted to explore his body as well, so she slid her hands down his back until she found the hem of his shirt, and carefully, she lifted it up until it could go no further. Only then did he remove his hands and lips from hers long enough for her to remove the cotton tee altogether. She stared up at his chest, a chest she’d probably seen a hundred times over the years, or even just in the last few months, but never before had she studied it, let alone in this kind of lighting. The lighting cast shadows over his muscular front, showing off what truly was a great build, for someone who never actually worked out. She could even see a bit of a six-pack forming in his abs, if only because the former layer of too many sweets had eaten away due to their lacking diet in recent months. She reached her hands up to touch him, smoothing her hands up and down his chest for a moment, before she realized that he was much too underdressed and she was much too overdressed.
She reached down and pulled up both her sweater and her undershirt in one mostly-smooth action. Her heart began to race, and she could hear it in her ears. She didn’t know if this was caused by the excitement or the alcohol or both, and she wondered what this experience would be like if she hadn’t had so much to drink. When it occurred to her that she was once again overanalyzing it, she willed her brain to shut up and just focused on the matter at hand, Harry.
Harry gazed down at her shy, flushed, half-exposed body. She was beautiful. He’d always known she was a good looking girl, but he’d never taken the time to, well, check her out. It never seemed appropriate until now.
“Wow, Hermione,” he said, leaning down to kiss her chest along the exposed portion of her breasts. Hermione let out a slow, soft moan. It felt so good for him to worship her body in this way. She’d never known that “intimacy” could feel like this. It truly was as intimate as the name was meant to imply. She felt sad for those who didn’t feel this sort of intimacy while having… relations. But again, she was letting her brain run away with her, so she brought herself back to the situation in front of her.
She bit her lip and reached one arm under her (with a small amount of difficulty) to unclasp her bra. She then began to pull the straps down her arms the best she could before Harry took the initiative to help. Once freed from their restraints, her nipples hardened against the harsh cold air, and a chill ran down Hermione’s spine. Harry took one peak into each hand and fondled them gently, and Hermione giggled at the sensation. Harry rose an eyebrow, not expecting such a response, and Hermione blushed. Harry took that as consent once again and leaned back down to continue his treatments, this time with his lips replacing each hand in turn.
Hermione felt both relaxed and anxious as he sucked gently on her nipples, as though he wasn’t sure how much pressure would be too much. She wondered if it was his first time doing such a thing. They never talked about this sort of thing with her, the boys. Sex just wasn’t one of the things the three could openly talk about. She honestly had no clue how far Harry had gone with a girl before, and she only knew about Ron because Lavender couldn’t keep her big mouth shut on dorm, and the boys didn’t know how far she’d gone with a guy. It’d always just been easier that way.
Soon Hermione’s insecurities got to the best of her, and she pulled his face back towards her into a kiss in order to get his attentions away from her chest. She moaned into the kiss, arching her body into his in order to feel his need more prominently, and to show him her own.
“Oh, Harry,” she moaned as she felt his obvious erection against her stomach. She reached down and began to fumble to undo her jeans, feeling as if there was much too much fabric separating their bodies at the moment. Harry got the hint, and reached down to help her. Hermione rose her hips off of the couch cushion, allowing him to pull the jeans down to her knees. From their they maneuvered awkwardly until the jeans had been completely removed and discarded on the floor.
Now equally exposed, though Hermione would argue she was much more exposed than Harry, Hermione kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing his body to hers again, wanting to feel the tension in his boxers against her heated, moistened core. She ground her hips into his repeatedly, causing Harry to groan into her mouth.
Harry returned her actions gladly, grinding against her so hard that he could feel her delicate folds through the two thin layers of underwear that remained. He could feel how moist her panties were even through his own boxers, and it made his heart pound in anticipation.
“Hermione, are you sure this is okay?” Harry asked in a whisper, sounding very much out of breath. His head was fuzzy and he could barely comprehend that this was all actually happening, and it wasn’t just some shameful wet-dream. Hermione whimpered at his question.
“Please, Harry, I don’t want to think about this right now, I just want to do.” She knew that thinking, and talking, would only allow logic to take over, and prevent the one thing her body craved most of all right now. How it was possible to crave something she’s never had, she’d never know. She could only blame it on hormones, a purely chemical, physical reaction between their young, needy bodies. “Please,” she begged again.
Harry never thought he’d see the day where a mostly naked Hermione would by lying underneath him, grinding into him, begging him to take her, to make love to her, and yet, here he was, in a drunken haze, about to change their platonic relationship into something much, much more. Well, he for one was not about to argue with the woman. He crashed his lips down into hers once again, kissing her passionately while he fought off his boxers, releasing himself at long last.
Hermione didn’t look, she couldn’t, it was just too embarrassing, and also rather intimidating. But she could feel him, the soft flesh of his shaft pressing against her navel. Though all she could feel was the head, it seemed like it was large, larger than anything she ever imagined putting inside of her body. She didn’t know what sizes were considered average, or large, or small, but to her any of it seemed large and daunting. Her head began to spin. She hoped it was nerves, and not that she‘d had a few shots too many.
“I don’t want to wait any longer,” Hermione urged him, kissing along his neck and his broad shoulder affectionately. She was tempted to reach down and remove her panties herself, but she was afraid that if she did, she might accidentally touch him, and that was just too awkward to even think about right now.
Harry didn’t need to recognize her hesitation in order to take the initiative to remove the last remaining article that separated their bodies. He reached down and pulled them off much more gracefully than he had with her jeans, and once again, he raked his eyes over her glorious form. Unlike Hermione, he felt no shyness in examining her feminine form. He licked his lips without realizing he was doing it, and if he had, he probably would have been embarrassed by such an insensitive reaction.
“Bloody hell, Hermione, how have you been hiding this body?” She truly was a piece of art. She was very thin to begin with, he’d guess maybe a hundred and ten, a hundred and fifteen pounds, tops. She had a miniscule waste, but her hips were slightly wider, giving her that hourglass shape that all men loved. Her breasts, though not especially large, were perky and well shaped, bordering between cute and sexy, if there was such a description for such a body part.
Hermione flushed pink. While she was glad to see such a reaction (as it was clearly a positive one), his scrutiny was still on the embarrassing side. She was grateful that this was a rhetorical question, because she didn’t think she’d have an answer if it wasn’t.
“Just be gentle,” she asked of him softly, her face turning a deeper shade of pink.
As this request registered to him, Harry looked into Hermione’s eyes, his own wide.
“Hermione, is this your- have you never- are you still a virgin?” Not that he specifically thought she wasn’t, in fact he would be kind of glad to know she hadn’t been secretly shagging other guys, but it hadn’t really occurred to him that he was about to be the one to take away her virginity.
Hermione nodded nervously, biting at her lip.
“Yes, but please don’t let that stop you. I want to, really. This feels right,” she encouraged him, not wanting him to suddenly chicken out at the prospect of deflowering her. Luckily, Harry didn’t look too panicked, just surprised. “And what about you? Is this… you first time?” If he could ask, so could she. She had no way of knowing. Cho never kissed and told, let alone more than that, and Ginny always made suggestive innuendos, but never revealed truths about her sex life, or if she even had one.’’
Harry, for some reason, felt bad now, knowing that they were on different experience levels. He hoped it wouldn’t make her insecure. Harry shook his head in response.
“No, its not. I’ve done it, one other time,” he informed her vaguely. He could see a mixture of emotions in Hermione’s expression. She seemed… glad, and yet, disappointed. Nervous, and yet, relieved. Women, they never knew what they wanted, did they?
The talking was getting too awkward, the moment was slipping away, and she couldn’t let that happen. She needed to get things rolling again, and quickly. She leaned up to kiss him.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered against his lips, pulling him down on top of her. This time she could feel his stiff member pressing against her moist core, tangling into her brunette curls.
“Oh, hell,” Harry groaned as he rubbed his cock against her nest, between her folds, feeling the moisture from within them coating his shaft as he slid back and forth. He began to kiss and suck on Hermione’s neck, gently, not wanting to leave marks (as if anyone would see them). He took his member into his hand and carefully lined it up outside of her hole. Cautiously, he began to push it in, exploring her entrance with trepidation. He feared he might hurt her. He watched her face. Her head was back, her eyes closed, and she seemed to be holding her breath, waiting for the intrusion. Harry moved into her slowly, waiting for any sign of discomfort or distress, but she showed none. As he got deeper into her, she let out a gasp, but quickly sucked it back in, and her mouth hung open as she studied her body’s reaction to the foreign object.
It didn’t hurt, not as she’d heard it would. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world, but it didn’t cause her pain or distress. She took it in stride until the movement finally stopped. He was fully emerged inside of her, and she looked down to see their bodies united as one. It was a strange concept to wrap her head around. Their bodies were one? Who’d have thought? She looked back at Harry to see him meet her gaze.
“That was the easy part,” he told her with a half-smile. “This is the part that might hurt.” Hermione knew enough about the human anatomy to know what he meant. It was time to “pop her cherry”, as they called it. She was slightly nervous. Each girl seemed to have a slightly different story on what this really felt like. Some said it hurt, some said they never felt it at all. She honestly didn’t know what was going to happen for her, and all she could do was bite on her lower lip and nod to give Harry permission to continue. Harry caught her lips as he pulled backward, and then without warning, thrust forward.
“Oh God,” Hermione gasped, clutching onto her partner and friend. It hadn’t been painful, per say, but it hadn’t been altogether pleasant, either. She could definitely recognize the feeling of the thin layer of tissue being pierced, but it was much less painful that getting her ear pierced, and she’d gone through that twice. What really caused her reaction was when he hit her cervix. She hadn’t expected that to feel so intense. He was literally as deep inside of her as he could go, and her head went swimming. “Oh God, Harry, don’t stop now.” He’d gone still at her reaction, afraid he’d hurt her, but she wanted more, wanted to know what all the fuss over sex was about. She wanted the whole experience.
Harry’s groan had been drowned out by Hermione’s cry. She was so wet, and so tight, and bloody hell, he didn’t know how he’d managed to get so deep into her. He’d been so worried about hurting her that he stopped as soon as he heard her make a sound, but it seemed that she wasn’t hurt, just surprised, and when she asked him not to stop, he obliged.
Wanting to be in good position once he started his rhythm, Harry steadied himself on top of her properly. As he did so, Hermione seemed to be doing the same, wrapping her legs around his waist (which consequentially opened her up to him even more) and tangling one hand into his shabby black hair, the other grasping at her own breast.
Harry didn’t waste any more time before he began to plunge in and out of her, slowly, carefully. When he was sure that Hermione had had time to adjust to the feeling of him inside of her, he began to up his pace, listening for cues in the sounds she made for what she liked and when didn’t seem to stir any reaction at all. She rather enjoyed when he moved in deep, hard thrusts. He knew because she would grip onto his body and cry out his name, her head thrown back and her eyes tightly shut. He continued in this manner for what felt like ages, but was likely only five minutes at a time, and then would restore his energy by switching to a more relaxed pace, simply enjoying the feeling of her tight womb stroking him. During these moments, the lovers would share passionate kisses and whisper sweet words to one another.
She was so caught up in their love making that it hardly even occurred to her what she was saying. She wasn’t thinking clearly, she was hardly thinking at all, except to marvel at how wonderful it felt to be thrust into by such a well-fitted penis. She didn’t care what other girls would consider him, for her he was just right.
“Oh, Harry, harder, please,” she moaned when she began to crave the rougher pace once more. Harry obliged once again, quickly changing back to the exciting forceful pounding that she seemed to love so much.
“Bloody hell, Hermione, I don’t think I can stand it much longer,” Harry groaned out as he tried as hard as he could to satisfy her. He could feel her muscles begin to clamp down around his member, and hoped this meant that she was going to cum soon.
“Harry! Oh, Harry! I think I’m almost there!” she declared. “Just a little longer!” she begged, bucking her hips against his in order to intensify each penetration. The building tension in her womb made her feel as if she were a balloon being blown too full, that she would pop at any moment. She assumed this meant that her first ever orgasm was on its way. Her nails dug into Harry’s arms as she rocked her hips desperately.
“Oh God, Harry, I’m so close. Oh!” she shouted as she finally reached it, the point of climax. Her pussy clamped down on Harry’s member, and Harry struggled to stay inside of such a tight opening. He could feel an excess amount of moisture escaping her as he moved in her, and the sensations all but threw him over the edge.
“I’m almost there, Hermione,” he informed her, his movements growing sloppy as he neared his own orgasm. “God damn!” he swore, and suddenly he had made it, his cock emptying its thick white seed into her body. With a few final jagged thrusts, Harry was finished, nearly collapsing onto Hermione’s sweaty body.
They two laid in silence, catching their breaths as they enjoyed the aftershocks of their blissful climaxes. When finally he felt well enough, Harry spoke.
“Bloody hell, that was-”
“Fucking amazing.” Hermione finished for him, shocking Harry further still. He was sure that in all their years of friendship, he’d never heard her use that particular swear. He looked at her with wide eyes, and she chuckled at his reaction, causing him to do the same. The chuckles turned into laughter, which was no longer as much about the uncharacteristic use of the swear word as it was about the events that had just taken place.
And to think, just over an hour ago, Harry had been fast asleep.

Hello again! Bringing you something a little different this time; Harry/Hermione! This plot had come to me a LONG time ago, I just never thought to write it down until yesterday, when I finally got around to it, and wrote it all in one sitting! :) Please let know what you think! I'm most likely going to be doing a sequel, so keep an eye out for it! Also, if you haven't read my other stories, please do!
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Merry Christmas, Harry