Passion to the Max
It was the Christmas holidays, and funnily enough, due to Fleur's extravagant Christmas decorations and excessive mistletoe placements, almost everyone had left the castle.
On Christmas Eve, Harry was up late practicing his charm's homework, and got up to hit the sack at about 11 pm.
He had changed into his boxers and was just about to slip into his bed when Hermione walked in wearing her dressing gown. "Can I sleep here? It's too spooky alone in the girl's dormitory." she said rather slyly. Apparently, they were the only 6th year students who stayed back for Christmas; and Hermione had taken note of that.
"Sure. You can use Ron's bed, its empty."
"But I want to use yours……."and she untied her dressing gown and let it fall open; it was the only thing she was wearing, and Harry gasped in surprise; he couldn't believe how beautiful she was. The idea of sleeping fled from his brain. He had tried to imagine her many, many times since he had walked into her in the bathroom at Ron's house, wearing only her underclothes, he had mentally removed them in his mind, wondering...but this was so different. This was real. She was real. She was standing before him expectantly, almost looking like she would cry if he didn't do something, and the thought made him step across the distance between them swiftly and take her in his arms, pull her mouth up to his, push the dressing gown off her shoulders, clasp her to him tightly.
Her hands shook as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down. He pulled his mouth away from hers and pressed it to her neck as he felt the cool air touch him and the fabric land on his feet. He kicked them away, loosening his hold on her, but only to move his hands over her, to explore every inch of her as he moved his mouth further down her body, her now taut nipples, her slim belly-button, and finally her private part…compelling her to throw her head back, making, he thought, the most wonderful sounds, her hands wandering over his body.
They stood like that for what seemed a long time, hands and mouths roaming all over, pulses racing, sweat beading on hot skin only to be licked off ravenously. Then, Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Harry," she whispered. It seemed a time to whisper. "I want you to take something else off."
He gave her a lopsided smile. "Sorry; I should have thought of that," he said, removing his glasses, moving to put them on the table.
Her curls were wild, her body was limned by the moonlight, looking amazing, and he swallowed, knowing that what would happen tonight would completely change the way he would look at his girl friend.
He then went to the bed, holding out his hand to her. She walked purposefully to him, throwing her arms around him again.
This seemed so right now. Harry was glad that they'd managed to wait this long. But even as they touched and kissed and their heart rates increased, Harry wondered, how had they waited?
How had they not done this before, how had he not moved his mouth up her legs, her hip, her vagina, her belly, her ribcage, her breasts, her neck? How had they not ripped each other's clothes off and attacked each other in the corridors of the castle, in the classrooms, in the Great Hall? How had they shown so much restraint?
Time seemed to randomly slow down and speed up. Harry felt he could never grow tired of moving his hands and mouth over her, playing her like an instrument, feeling her hands and mouth on him, a never-ending surprise...
After a while, when Harry positioned his mouth on her vagina, pushing his tongue into her womanhood, feeling the taut virgin's knot he was about to break….. Hermione threw back her head and arched her back; he looked up at her, and continued. Very soon she was moaning very loudly, and just when she was about to reach her climax, he pulled back and moved up and took her mouth again; her breath like an inferno, her moans an aria of desire. She gazed up at him, shaken, trying to get her breath. "Oh,
Harry," she whispered. "That was--I mean--my head--"
He smiled, wanting her more than ever. "We're not done yet," he said softly, kissing her chin.
She nodded slowly.
"I know. I just meant--top of my head--blown off--" she gasped.
"In a good way, I hope." asked Harry. She grinned. "Understatement," was all she said before pulling his mouth down to hers again.
Then she broke the kiss, looking up at him. "You know, you sound like you've done this before," she said slyly. "Would you like to tell me something?"
Now it was his turn to be sly.
"Nothing to say. Except that I have--"
"What?" she exclaimed, quite shocked.
"Done this with you before, in my mind. Only about a million times..."
"Oh, is that all? I thought teenage boys thought about it constantly..." she said with a tinkling laugh.
"And teenage girls don't?"
She grinned at the question. Her eyes were unfocussed with passion as she reached down and gently wrapped her hand around him, making him gasp. "Only about a million times..."
He pressed his mouth to hers again, and then moved it down her throat. She began the process of wrapping herself thoroughly around him, her arms and legs, locking her ankles together in the small of his back .Then she finally pulled him into her, his manhood finally entering the sacred shrine of everlasting ecstasy. He widened his eyes. He had never felt so vulnerable--and so safe, so protected, so enveloped.
Harry flashed back to the Yule Ball, the pretty girl with Viktor Krum, and then really seeing her, seeing that it was Hermione. He realized that he'd never thought of her as pretty until then. And her kissing him on the train platform before they separated for the summer...She definitely wasn't under any curse then. She hadn't kissed Ron. Other images unbidden came into his mind; Hermione playing with all the Weasleys and with him in the backyard of the burrow, smudges of dirt on her cheeks, sweat running down her neck and then further down still...
Harry had wanted her last summer, he'd wanted her all year, and now they were finally together, really together, and it felt like it was always meant to be, even though he hadn't seen her, not actually seen her, for four years.
Time lost all meaning. Finally, he started to cry out, then lowered his mouth to hers, and she groaned against his tongue, shuddering throughout her body, and a moment later, he collapsed, kissing her shoulder, her neck, her earlobe, her jaw...It was like the polar opposite of the Cruciatus Curse. He had known pain coursing through his body; now he knew what it was like to feel the exact opposite in every fiber of his being.
Hermione's mouth was pressed against his shoulder, a warm suction. He raised himself to look down at her, and then moved to lie at her side, still staring at her, stroking the side of her face. She beamed back at him. Harry was happier than he ever remembered being, feeling like he would never stop smiling.
"How's the top of your head?" he asked impishly.
"Flying somewhere over the Forbidden Forest," she answered softly, then laughed out loud; a real laugh, not a giggle or twitter. She had a woman's laugh, he realized, not a girl's. It was wonderful and throaty and made him want her all over again.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered.
He was surprised when she scowled.
"Harry, you don't have to say that just because I'm sleeping with you--"
"Hermione, stop it. You are. That's that. If you argue with me, we might not do that again," he teased. An obvious lie.
She smiled now. "Threatening me with frustration already? Giving me a taste of Harry Potter and then taking it away?" Now it was her turn to look mischievous. "I thought it was women who were supposed to use sex as a weapon."
He laughed, gazing back at her. "Well the trend's changing fast, and it's you who are the lucky one to bed "the chosen one". So better watch how you treat me."
She laughed again. "We will see," she challenged, pillowing her head on his chest and throwing her leg across him, her arm on his stomach. He looked down at her as she closed her eyes, a peaceful expression on her face, and he closed his own eyes, acutely aware of every point of contact between his skin and hers, thinking how wonderful a Christmas gift he received, how amazing, and perfect.