Harry Potter, alone and undoubtedly confused, closed his incantations book with a snap and turned on his side. His mind was astray; Herminone's pretty face flashed in front of his closed eyelids.
"Harry, come with me."
Now his dreams were even sounding real. He tried to block out the soft, persistent voice, but it would not leave.
"Harry, wake up, dammit."
It was real. Harry sat up with a jolt and gave Hermione Granger a swift, puzzled once-over before speaking. "What are you doing in here? And so late, at that?"
The glowing red numbers on his clock proclaimed the time to be a quarter to three in the morning. Ron Weasley rolled over in his sleep, moaning slightly. Harry felt a pang of jealousy as he realized it was Herminone's name muttered in the dark. His eyes darted from Ron to her. To his surprise, a flush of delight and embarrassment colored her cheeks.
"I wanted to show you something?"
"Is it about Quidditch?" Harry asked, referring to the second big love of his life. The first was obvoius, and standing before him. "The match Tuesday?"
Hermione shook her head. "It's far more important than that."
"All right," Harry said, smouldering a curse welling up in his troat. He realized that she hadn't asked him why he was reading incantations; whatever she had to show him must've been urgent.
Ten minutes later, hastily covered by the Invisiblity Cloak, Hermione and Harry stepped out into the crisp, November air. Harry noticed with surprise that she had her hand curled around his. His heart lurched and threatened to stop; he forced it back to life with the movement of his legs.
"How much further?" he asked at long last.
"Shush," Herminone scolded him, though they were alone in the chilly night. If he had been less observant, he wouldn't have noticed glee at that fact. "Not much more." She paused, and Harry crashed into her, startled at her sudden stop. "Here."
He eyed the shrubbery before them skeptically. "What is so great about a bush?"
"I have to show you," Hermione insisted. She reached out and patted Harry's pockets; something hard bulged in one of them. Hermione grabbed at this, his wand, and directed it toward the leafy wall before them. "Seperatos!"
The bushes moved, and Hermione let the cloak fall from her slender shoulders before disappearing into the dark cavern. Harry picked up the cloak, scowling and dusting it off, then followed.
His impatience was now impossible to conceal. "What?"
"I made this," Hermione said, awe in her voice. "I made it for you. Us."
"Us?" Harry turned in a full cicle, taking in the small room appreciatively. It had no lamps. Instead, little fairies flittled about the ceiling, casting mysterious shadows. A large bed filled the center of the room, and it was pressed against the back wall. "Hermione?"
"Yes?" Her voice was unusually soft.
"Is this innuendo?"
Her laugh chimed at his remark. "I thought we could talk."
"Talking is good," Harry said, swallowing hard. A lump had seemed to form in his troat...and other places.
Hermione sat on the bed casually, it sinking politely at her slight weight. "I have managed to aquire a bit of a--" she broke off.
"A what?" Harry asked cautiously, sitting on the bed beside her.
"Dammit, Harry, haven't you noticed?"
"Noticed what?" Noticed how beautiful she looked in the light of the faeries? Noticed his growing attraction for her? Noticed the sensual atmosphere of this grotto?
"Harry, I think I have fallen in love with you!" At that, Hermione burst into tears.
Harry put an arm around her, drawing her to him in a hug, his mind racing. Hermione, his best friend, in love with him. How long had he known her, lamenting because he could never have her, and now she decided to tell him? Instead of anger, he felt utterly calm, serene. Six years. Six long years.
"It's okay," Harry consoled. He drew her tear-streaked face up and fixed his eyes on hers. "It's okay, Hermione, I think I have fallen in love with you, too."
Hermione's tears slowly dried as Harry's lips closed over hers. He pressed her back against the plush material of the pillows, his tongue dancing with hers, his hand moving up her torso to her breasts, where it rested.
Then she pushed him away. A look Harry had never seen on her decorated her face. For a moment, he was afraid, but in the next, Hermione was on top of him, straddling his hips and forcing her lips against his. She pulled off her flimsy nightdress, and Harry realized she was naked under it.
"Make love to me, Harry," she commanded.
Her fingers moved deftly over his chest, unbuttoning the buttons of his pajamas and pulling it over his head. A ghost of a smile played at her lips as she felt Harry's erection through his pants.
"Aren't we--" he gasped, his voice husky with desire, "aren't we moving just a bit too fast?"
"Fast?" Hermione practically spat, working his pants down his legs, where they landed artlessly on the floor. "Fast? I've been waiting my whole life for this." A grin lit up her face. "I guess I'm not the only one who has aquired the habit of sleeping without any underwear on."
"Dobby stole it all," he muttered, embarrassed. But Hermione didn't seem to mind.
"God, Harry, if I had but known when I first met you, I would've jumped you sooner!" she chuckled lightly, then set forth to seducing him.
When the first rays of dawn hit the horizon two and a half hours later, Harry did realize and admit, for the first time, he truly cared for Hermione, sleeping innocently curled up in the crook of his arm. She had satisfied him, deflowered him (he had probably done the same for her, though she didn't carry herself like a virgin in the fleeting hours of night), and made him fall madly in love with him. What more could he want?
Suddenly, he bolted up in bed. Hermione fell from his touch, letting out a small yelp. No wonder a rare calm had filled him. His ultimate stress was gone. And he knew it had something to do with the fertlized seed Hermione now carried inside of her. The words fell from his lips, a wonder to himself.
"Voldemort...has been destoryed."
"Harry, come with me."
Now his dreams were even sounding real. He tried to block out the soft, persistent voice, but it would not leave.
"Harry, wake up, dammit."
It was real. Harry sat up with a jolt and gave Hermione Granger a swift, puzzled once-over before speaking. "What are you doing in here? And so late, at that?"
The glowing red numbers on his clock proclaimed the time to be a quarter to three in the morning. Ron Weasley rolled over in his sleep, moaning slightly. Harry felt a pang of jealousy as he realized it was Herminone's name muttered in the dark. His eyes darted from Ron to her. To his surprise, a flush of delight and embarrassment colored her cheeks.
"I wanted to show you something?"
"Is it about Quidditch?" Harry asked, referring to the second big love of his life. The first was obvoius, and standing before him. "The match Tuesday?"
Hermione shook her head. "It's far more important than that."
"All right," Harry said, smouldering a curse welling up in his troat. He realized that she hadn't asked him why he was reading incantations; whatever she had to show him must've been urgent.
Ten minutes later, hastily covered by the Invisiblity Cloak, Hermione and Harry stepped out into the crisp, November air. Harry noticed with surprise that she had her hand curled around his. His heart lurched and threatened to stop; he forced it back to life with the movement of his legs.
"How much further?" he asked at long last.
"Shush," Herminone scolded him, though they were alone in the chilly night. If he had been less observant, he wouldn't have noticed glee at that fact. "Not much more." She paused, and Harry crashed into her, startled at her sudden stop. "Here."
He eyed the shrubbery before them skeptically. "What is so great about a bush?"
"I have to show you," Hermione insisted. She reached out and patted Harry's pockets; something hard bulged in one of them. Hermione grabbed at this, his wand, and directed it toward the leafy wall before them. "Seperatos!"
The bushes moved, and Hermione let the cloak fall from her slender shoulders before disappearing into the dark cavern. Harry picked up the cloak, scowling and dusting it off, then followed.
His impatience was now impossible to conceal. "What?"
"I made this," Hermione said, awe in her voice. "I made it for you. Us."
"Us?" Harry turned in a full cicle, taking in the small room appreciatively. It had no lamps. Instead, little fairies flittled about the ceiling, casting mysterious shadows. A large bed filled the center of the room, and it was pressed against the back wall. "Hermione?"
"Yes?" Her voice was unusually soft.
"Is this innuendo?"
Her laugh chimed at his remark. "I thought we could talk."
"Talking is good," Harry said, swallowing hard. A lump had seemed to form in his troat...and other places.
Hermione sat on the bed casually, it sinking politely at her slight weight. "I have managed to aquire a bit of a--" she broke off.
"A what?" Harry asked cautiously, sitting on the bed beside her.
"Dammit, Harry, haven't you noticed?"
"Noticed what?" Noticed how beautiful she looked in the light of the faeries? Noticed his growing attraction for her? Noticed the sensual atmosphere of this grotto?
"Harry, I think I have fallen in love with you!" At that, Hermione burst into tears.
Harry put an arm around her, drawing her to him in a hug, his mind racing. Hermione, his best friend, in love with him. How long had he known her, lamenting because he could never have her, and now she decided to tell him? Instead of anger, he felt utterly calm, serene. Six years. Six long years.
"It's okay," Harry consoled. He drew her tear-streaked face up and fixed his eyes on hers. "It's okay, Hermione, I think I have fallen in love with you, too."
Hermione's tears slowly dried as Harry's lips closed over hers. He pressed her back against the plush material of the pillows, his tongue dancing with hers, his hand moving up her torso to her breasts, where it rested.
Then she pushed him away. A look Harry had never seen on her decorated her face. For a moment, he was afraid, but in the next, Hermione was on top of him, straddling his hips and forcing her lips against his. She pulled off her flimsy nightdress, and Harry realized she was naked under it.
"Make love to me, Harry," she commanded.
Her fingers moved deftly over his chest, unbuttoning the buttons of his pajamas and pulling it over his head. A ghost of a smile played at her lips as she felt Harry's erection through his pants.
"Aren't we--" he gasped, his voice husky with desire, "aren't we moving just a bit too fast?"
"Fast?" Hermione practically spat, working his pants down his legs, where they landed artlessly on the floor. "Fast? I've been waiting my whole life for this." A grin lit up her face. "I guess I'm not the only one who has aquired the habit of sleeping without any underwear on."
"Dobby stole it all," he muttered, embarrassed. But Hermione didn't seem to mind.
"God, Harry, if I had but known when I first met you, I would've jumped you sooner!" she chuckled lightly, then set forth to seducing him.
When the first rays of dawn hit the horizon two and a half hours later, Harry did realize and admit, for the first time, he truly cared for Hermione, sleeping innocently curled up in the crook of his arm. She had satisfied him, deflowered him (he had probably done the same for her, though she didn't carry herself like a virgin in the fleeting hours of night), and made him fall madly in love with him. What more could he want?
Suddenly, he bolted up in bed. Hermione fell from his touch, letting out a small yelp. No wonder a rare calm had filled him. His ultimate stress was gone. And he knew it had something to do with the fertlized seed Hermione now carried inside of her. The words fell from his lips, a wonder to himself.
"Voldemort...has been destoryed."