Not long after Harry is revealed as a Parseltongue in 2nd Year, a disillusioned girl drags the surprised boy into a broom-closet. Hermione, fearing Harry has been cursed or poisoned, demands he tell her what happened. What she finds fundamentally changes their relationship. The people, scenes, and places are J.K. Rowling's, I own nothing. Non-consensual & consensual sex, not too graphic. H/Hr.
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Some short scenes from "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" by J.K. Rowling, are excerpted in this story. They are used here with her and her publisher's kind forbearance. The characters, scenes, and locations belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing of the story except perhaps its deviations from J.K. Rowling's plot.
NOTE: References to non-consensual and consensual sex. Be Forewarned.
Second Note: To those who don't think such things are plausible (i.e., that young children engage in sex), primitive societies routinely view 6 and 8-year-old-girls as "ready" for sex — see the Trobrianders, ISIS – Sharia Law). As for modern-age kids age 12 & 13 being interested in sex — as I wrote this the news had a story about a 13/12 year-old couple in Britain having a baby, where the girl became pregnant at eleven. They had apparently started having relations while the girl was ten. The youngest pregnancy on record is Lina Medina, age 5. Search "youngest father" and "youngest mother" on Google for other examples.
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❤ The Broom-closet ❤
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If all the young ladies were bricks in a pile
. . . I'd be a mason and lay them in style.
Hermione was worried. Harry had promised to meet her in the library after his visit to Hagrid and he should have been here an hour ago. She had started to gather her things and put away the books so she could go to dinner when she realized Harry had never arrived. Ever since the whole "Chamber of Secrets" thing started and students were petrified, and especially since that Dueling Club fiasco a month ago when the whole school had learned he spoke Parseltongue, she had been worried someone would attack him with a serious attempt to kill him. The Slytherins were bad enough, but now she worried about all four houses!
Quickly, she finished putting things away and grabbed her bag. She would check with Hagrid first, then the Great Hall, and end with the Common Room. If she still couldn't find him, she'd check a few of his favorite hiding, er, thinking, places. If she still didn't find him, she'd go to Professor McGonagall. If it turned out that he forgot and was off flying his broom or doing something else equally stupid, well, she'd just kill him for worrying her!
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She found him on the fourth floor as she came down from the Gryffindor Common Room and glanced down the corridor to the Library. He was disheveled and walking slowly, very unlike his normal quick pace.
"Harry!" She ran up to him. "What's wrong? Did Malfoy do something?"
He jerked away from her, "I'm fine."
She studied him carefully. There were red marks on both sides of his neck and he blushed as she looked at him. Blushed?
"Harry," she said in a low tone, "What. Happened?"
His face turned even redder. "Nothing!" he insisted.
She folded her arms and glared at him. "I don't believe you. What did Malfoy do?"
He sighed, "Malfoy did nothing. I haven't even seen him since lunch." He guiltily fidgeted under her gaze.
"Then Crabbe or Goyle?"
"No, haven't seen them either." He refused to meet her eyes.
Definitely, he felt guilty about something. "They ambushed you!" She gritted her teeth, she was so going to hex them all the next time she saw them. Her wand was in her hand and she didn't even remember grabbing it.
"NO!" He turned his back to her and she saw a faint scratch starting on his neck and disappearing under his robes.
She darted around in front of him. "Oh, no you don't! You're not getting away from me until you tell me what happened! In detail!" She glared at him, arms crossed, foot tapping the floor.
He gulped. He knew he was in trouble. And it was too late to rush off. She'd just tackle him.
"Okay," he said, looking away again. He stood silent.
"WELL?" she demanded.
He took a deep breath, let it out, then took another. He closed his eyes. "Agirlpulledmeintoabroomcloset," he said quickly and quietly.
Hermione almost missed what he said, it was so low.
"WHAT?!" she shouted.
He cleared his throat. "I said," he took a quick breath, "Agirlpulledmeintoabroomcloset."
Hermione stared at him. The salient words floated through her mind and connections were made: Girl. Broomcloset. Bruises on the neck? Hickeys! Scratch on the back? Snogging, serious snogging! Snogging? Snogging! Some slag of a witch was snogging HER Harry? Unacceptable!
She grabbed his hand and started marching down the corridor, away from the stairs, dragging the confused boy behind her.
"Hermione! Hermione?" he said, "Where're we going?'
She ignored him and he fell silent again. She was in one of her moods and nothing he or Ron could say would break her out of it until she was good and ready. He would just have to wait and see.
She looked at every door they passed until finally she stopped in front of one, and flung it open. She pulled him inside. She gave the room a quick look to make certain it was empty, then waved her wand and banished the dust, leaving the room sparkling clean.
Harry blinked. She must be really mad to get that sort of instant results.
She turned and faced him. "Who?" she demanded.
He blushed red again, "I don't know," he mumbled.
"You don't know? YOU DON'T KNOW? You spent who knows how long snogging a girl in a broom-closet and you don't know who it WAS?" She was going to kill the girl as soon as she could find her.
He shrugged, "It was dark."
"Dark? It was DARK? THAT'S your excuse?"
Now he started to get defensive, "Hey, you try and identify someone when you can't see you own hand in front of your face."
She took several deep breaths while glaring at him. Then she closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Of course he couldn't see the girl. Unless she was a brainless idiot she could easily arrange things so he wouldn't see her face. Analyze.
"I'm sorry Harry," she said quietly. "It just seems so strange." Yeah, since the incident during the dueling demonstration practically the whole school went out of their way to avoid him. And here was a girl going out of her way to grab him for snogging? "Please, tell me exactly what happened." She looked at him with wide, puppy-eyes. It almost always worked when she did that to her parents.
"I can't," he whispered. He fidgeted, looking everywhere but at her.
"You can't," she said flatly.
He gulped. He was rubbish at standing up to Hermione unless he was really pissed off himself. If he told her, she was going to throw a truly impressive wobbly, but if he didn't. . . .
"She said I shouldn't tell anyone, that there would be. . . consequences if anyone heard about this."
With narrowed eyes, Hermione stared at her best friend. Okay, if that's what it would take. She whipped up her wand, "I swear I will be unable to tell anyone what you tell me about what happened in that broom-closet without your express permission. So mote it be!" There was a flash of light. She had destroyed his argument that he couldn't tell anyone. And left herself plenty of room to wipe the floor with the bint when she found her.
Harry stared at her, astonished.
"So, what happened? Start at the beginning."
He hem'ed and haw'ed for a minute, looking everywhere but at her. His face turned redder and redder as his blush deepened. She glared at him, waiting. Finally he gulped and started talking. "I had left Hagrid's hut — we had a really long talk about my parents. Did you know that my dad and his friends once pranked a professor by. . ."
"Harry," Hermione interrupted, "Quit stalling."
He sighed, and nodded his head. His face was almost as red as Ron's hair. "I was headed for the Library. I had just reached the fourth floor and started walking down the corridor. Someone grabbed my right hand and dragged me into the broom-closet. I never saw them, they were invisible."
Hermione frowned. It couldn't be an invisible cloak or he would have seen her hand. It was probably a disillusionment charm, those were NEWT level charms. That meant none of the students without OWLs would know about or use it. Probably. So, a girl from sixth or seventh year most likely. That meant about fifty possibilities, given that the sixth and seventh class sizes were larger than Harry and hers because the slow start to the war eleven years ago hadn't had much of an impact at first.
"Once we were inside the door closed, but it made no sounds, so I guess it was silenced."
Naturally, the witch wouldn't want anyone to hear them.
"It was dark and I couldn't see much, but she was invisible so it didn't matter. I jerked from her hand and went for my wand." He sighed. "She must have grabbed it from my pocket with one hand while she grabbed me with the other in the corridor because it wasn't in my pocket."
Again, naturally. It was what she would have done. And his back pocket was a stupid place for his wand, anyway. Anyone could sneak up behind him, flip his robes aside, and snatch the wand.
"Before I could do anything else she grabbed my face in both hands, said, 'Now Harry, there's no reason to panic. You're gonna love this.' And then she kissed me."
He paused and took a quick look at Hermione to check for her reaction. Hermione was frowning. HE was blushing so much she could almost feel the heat from his face. He gulped again.
"How tall was she?"
"How should I know? Taller than me is all I can say."
Hermione sighed. "Harry, everyone is taller than you! Even this year's First Years are taller than you!"
"Oi!" He tried to look outraged.
"Well it's true!"
His shoulders slumped, "Yeah, I know."
Hermione stepped up to him and stared at him for a moment. She took a breath. No way out of it, she had to do it now. "Look," she reached up and grabbed his head, she tilted it back a little as she leaned down and pecked him on the lips. "Was it like that, or," she pushed him down, making him slump, she tilted his head farther back and pressed her lips to his, "was it more like that?"
Harry stared up at her, flummoxed by her actions.
She stepped back and quickly transformed a chair into a step stool, then stepped up on it. She was now a full head higher than he was. "Or was it like this." She grabbed his head again, then tilted it way back and kissed him again. She breathed as she drew back. For some reason she felt it was getting hot in here.
"Er, um, uh, yeah, it was sorta like that, uh, the last one," he finally managed to choke out, still stunned at Hermione kissing him.
Okay, given that Harry was about four feet and four inches tall that meant the bint had to be five-foot and four inches tall. Definitely an upperclass-girl. Unless it was Millicent Bulstrode, she was that tall already. Hermione shuddered at that thought. Fortunately, Bulstrode probably didn't know the disillusionment charm. Still it cut down the number of girls to about thirty sixth or seventh year students.
"Was it just a quick kiss, like those?"
He had almost returned to a normal color, but at her question the boy flushed redder. "Um, no, it was a bit more than that."
"How much more?"
"Um, longer? And. . . more?"
Hermione had to take a steadying breath before saying, as casually as she could, "Show me." She had to know just what that bint had done to her Harry. And if that meant getting a serious kiss, well, it wasn't like that would be a bad thing, now was it? It was all for finding out what that bint had done, so if she had to make a few sacrifices, that was what it would take, right?
"What!" Harry was aghast at the demand. "Show you?" he managed to choke out. His complexion was beet red, again.
Hermione almost backed out at that point, Harry sounded soo appalled. Didn't he want to kiss her? Did he think she was too ugly to kiss?
"I can't do that!" He gulped, "You're my best friend!"
Oh. His friend. His best friend. She stared at him perplexed. "You can't kiss a friend? That's the silliest thing I've heard all year!" It made her feel warm inside that he considered her his best friend. Take that you stupid bint, she thought at the other girl.
"I mean, I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage . . . , I mean you're special, I don't . . . I mean . . . I mean . . . I don't know know what I mean!" he finally said in desperation, still blushing madly. He was still looking everywhere but at her, except to take quick peeks to gauge her reactions.
Hermione stared at him. She realized she'd never get him to tell the whole story like this. He would just get flustered and embarrassed and then clam up tight. The only way to get the story would be to keep him off-balance and distracted enough so that he wouldn't shut up in embarrassment.
"Okay, let's do this." She grabbed his hand and headed out the room. She looked both ways for a moment, then headed back the way they came. Harry followed along docilely, his mind obviously still going in circles around the "show me" demand.
They stopped in front of fourth floor broom-closet. She yanked open the door and looked in. How odd. It was much bigger than she had imagined. It was about six-feet deep and wide, with a set of shelves on her left that were only partially filled with cleaning supplies. A set of brooms and mops were on hangers on the right wall with wheeled mop strainers and buckets below them. In the back corner was a square floor sink with extended faucet. The small room was at least twice as deep as it needed to be, and was absolutely spotlessly clean. It looked innocuous enough until she stepped in and immediately noticed that the floor was cushioned, like she was walking on a mattress!
She pulled Harry in, closed the door, and cast her own silencing spell on the door as well as locking and notice-me-not spells. She did not want them interrupted!
"Okay, Harry," she said turning to face him. The dim light from under the door let her see the barest outlines of his head. Definitely too dark to make out his features. She was slightly mollified about his comment that he hadn't seen the girl's face.
"We're going to re-enact what happened, exactly as you remember it. Pretend I'm that girl. I'm not Hermione, I'm that girl." That bint, she thought to herself. "We're just re-enacting what happened, that's all. So, how did she kiss you?"
"Well, er, um, . . . ." He stammered and came to a dead halt. Silence.
They would be in here until tomorrow at this rate, she decided. Besides, anything that bint could do, she could do better because she was the smartest witch in the school. She grabbed his head and pulled him close, leaning down and pressing her lips to his.
For a moment he had no reaction, then, surprisingly, he pressed back.
It was kinda nice, actually, she decided. A bit like she had fantasized. Then she felt his mouth open slightly and his tongue touch her lips. Rationalizing that that scrubber would do the same, she opened her mouth and pressed her tongue to meet his.
One of the trashy romance books her mother liked to read and had left lying around her bedroom had been a comical farce and referred to this as tongue-wrestling. At the time Hermione had been a bit nonplussed as to why anyone would want to do that.
After a few minutes, Hermione had a new appreciation for the activity. What astonished her was how long that boy's tongue was, she could swear he was touching her tonsils without even trying!
Finally, they drew apart, both breathing hard. It was unaccountably hotter in the closet than it had been when they arrived. It took her a minute to remember what they were doing here. She cleared her throat and took a calming breath, "E'hem, ur, then what happened?"
"Huh?"
Harry appeared as distracted as she was. Good, then maybe she could get him to tell . . . show her what had happened without too much fuss. "
"Oh. Well, while she was kissing me, I started to push her away."
She couldn't see in this dim light but from his silence she was sure he was blushing. He seemed to be doing a lot of that.
"And. . . ?" she prompted.
He swallowed and stammered out, "Uh, I touched her, um, her, her breasts."
Swallowing, Hermione stepped closer and huskily said, "Show me." She wasn't going to let that scrubber get away with what she had done to Harry! "Remember, we're just re-enacting what happened." She felt her face get hot as she blushed.
She could hear him gulp as she leaned down and kissed him again. She felt him lift his arms tentatively push against her breasts. She pulled back from his lips and whispered, "That isn't much of a push." And resumed kissing him. He mashed her breasts under his palms, rubbing them. That felt sorta nice, especially with him doing it. It seemed to get even hotter in the broom-closet.
She released his lips to ask, "And then what happened."
He was silent. He hesitantly responded, "It wasn't so much . . . what happened . . . as what I . . . discovered." His breathing was ragged. And he seemed to have difficulty speaking.
She rested her forehead against his, breathing deeply "And what was that?"
He was silent for a long time. Just as she was about to prompt him again, he said, very quietly, "I was touching her bare breasts." His hands were still on her breasts. Had he forgotten?
"Her bare breasts?" Hermione whispered back.
"Uh huh."
She could feel his breath on her neck, raising goosebumps down her arms. That bint was in soo much trouble when Hermione caught her. There was no way Hermione was going to let her get away with that! Harry was her best friend! She considered her options. Well, if she wanted to find out what had happened after this she needed to do what that other girl had done!
If they stopped now he would clam up and she'd never find out the full story. It's what he always did when he didn't want to tell someone what had happened to him. He would evade the questions, then later pretend to misunderstand or not hear what was asked. And then say he couldn't remember clearly, or just change the subject. Such as whenever she or Ron asked about his home life or relatives. Eventually, people gave up asking. Her only chance to get the whole truth was to go for it now, before he had time to come up with the evasions.
She reached into one of her robe's pockets for her wand. A quick murmured spell, and her robes, blouse, and bra were now in a neat pile on a shelf at one side of the broom-closet. Funny, even though it should be cooler without those items, she felt unaccountably warmer. She stuck her wand in her hair like an overly long hair-pain
She heard Harry take a quick breath. His hands felt warm on her skin and she felt her nipples get harder under his palms. That "sort nice" had become a "very nice." She kissed him again, going for an extended period of "tongue-wrestling." After all, she had to get him back on track with his story. Harry was now massaging her chest, running his thumbs over her sensitive skin. She barely suppressed an urge to moan. She was merely re-enacting, pushing for the truth. Was there a hidden heater in here?
Finally, she drew back slightly. "Then what? Is that all you did?"
His breath against her neck was warm.
"Uh, no," he whispered.
"Well?"
His hands were providing quite a distraction, but she managed to stay focused. What had that scrubber done next?
"She, um, she pushed me down a bit, then. . . pushed her. . . breast. . . into my mouth." His voice was barely comprehensible.
Hermione had to think that one through. Oh, right, that bint was taller by a head than Harry. Okay. She could do that. She pushed down on Harry's shoulders. He didn't resist as he lowered his head to her breasts, his hands still occupied. Nothing happened, except she could feel his breath on her chest, sending goose-bumps across her shoulders. "Well?" she said.
A moment later she felt his tongue wrap around her breast, and then he started sucking. She wrapped her arm around his head and held him tight. It was like there was a hot wire running from breast to her groin. She had never felt anything like this ever, not even when she was pleasuring herself. She could feel herself getting wetter. And hotter, if that was possible.
After a short while, he switched to her other breast, switching hands so that both breasts were being teased.
Hermione knew it couldn't have stopped there, so she finally asked, "And then what?" She bent her head down and kissed the top of his head.
The cold air hitting her nipple as he pulled back to answer her came as a shock.
"She, um, she," he paused. He took a breath and cleared his throat. "She said, speak snake to me," he said hoarsely.
"She what?" Was the bint nuts?
He sighed, "Like this." He took her in his mouth again, only this time he started to hiss, like the few times she had heard him speak in Parseltongue. She went rigid for a moment, and realized she had had a mild orgasm. Followed a moment later by another. And another. Until she pushed him away. Bloody Hell, that bint was a genius! They were both breathing hard.
"What happened next," Hermione asked once she had her breath back.
There was a long pause. Then, "She, uh, took my hand and put it on her, down there," he whispered.
Again, Hermione had to mull that one over before reaching a couple of conclusions. First, she was going to finish this investigation. Second, if the bint's breasts were bare and she had put Harry's hand down there, then the bint had been bare there, too. She sighed, whether from anticipation or not she couldn't say, but a moment later her skirt and knickers joined her blouse and bra on the shelf and her wand was back in her hair. She grabbed his right hand, guiding it to below her waist. She gasped as his fingers slid down, "Like that?" she asked unsteadily, shifting her legs apart slightly.
Neither said anything as he massaged her right breast with one hand while the other massaged something else. Hermione had discovered masturbation when she was eight, but it had never felt as good as what Harry was currently doing. Either Harry was a quick learner or he wasn't nearly as clueless about girls as he seemed. She figured it had to be the first possibility, Harry was a lousy actor.
She managed to gasp out, "Then what happened?"
"She pushed me down to my knees," Harry breathed out in barely a whisper.
"Oh," she said. She put her hands on his shoulders and pressed. "Like this?" Harry sank down her front. She shivered as his breath washed across her breasts, then stomach, and finally her thighs. "And then?"
"Then she, she," he stopped speaking for a moment, "She pulled my head forward and said, . . . well, she said . . . um she said to do this.'" And he leaned forward and demonstrated.
Yes, Hermione decided, Harry's tongue was longer than normal, because he was doing things with it that her mother's romance books, and the medical books she had read about anatomy, said was impossible. Seconds after that, she heard him start hissing in Parseltongue and she thought she was going to lose her mind. By the time he finished she was leaning on his shoulders and her legs were too shaky for her to stand. She slid down until she was sitting on the floor with Harry. It was really hot in this broom-closet!
Maybe she wouldn't kill that bint, Hermione thought, distractedly. She had taught Harry quite well. It shouldn't be possible for his tongue to do what he did.
She leaned her forehead against his again. She sighed softly, "And then what happened?"
"She, uh, she grabbed me." Hermione could hear him swallow again. He went back to using both hands on her breasts, his breath feeling hot on her skin, but cold where he had sucked.
"Where," Hermione whispered back, her mind blank, focusing on what his hands were doing.
"Um, down there," came the whispered answer.
Down there. She mulled that over a moment before she realized he meant down there! That. . . that. . . that bint had groped her Harry? How dare she! "You mean like this," she said putting her hand on the front of his trousers. As her mother's romance novels had said, it was rather obvious he was reacting positively to her kissing. She ran her hand down the length of it. It seemed a bit longer than she had been led to believe such things were, but that could have been her inexperience.
He squirmed under her hand, drawing back slightly. "Not, not exactly," he said evasively.
"Then exactly how?"
"Um," he tried to not answer.
She rested her forehead against his head. "Harry, remember, we're re-enacting what happened. So, exactly how?" He took a breath and said, "She banished my clothes to the floor, first."
Hermione took a startled breath. That. . . bint had directly fondled her best friend, Harry. Her mind raced. The thought of Harry being naked with that other girl was intolerable, but the thought of a naked Harry sitting so close to her made her pulse race. Well, if she was to get the whole story, she had to go forward. She swallowed, and grabbed her wand again. Moments later his clothes and robe were stacked neatly by her blouse and bra.
And she now held two wands. For a long time, it seemed, neither student moved. She had never felt anything like what she now held. It was both soft and hard at the same time, and very, very warm. His breathing, she noticed, was ragged and loud. Hers wasn't precisely measured and even, either. She tilted his head back and pressed her mouth to his, kissing deeply.
"And then what," she finally remembered to ask.
There was a long silence. "She surprised me by leaning back and pouring something in my mouth. She said, 'Don't worry, little Harry, this won't harm you in the slightest. It just makes sure that your witch has just as much fun as you do!'"
He paused a second. "It felt like hot sauce, it made my tongue feel hot. And then it made my . . . you-know-what . . . feel hot."
Hermione was furious, that bint had forced Harry to drink a potion that did who knew what to him. She was definitely going to kill that witch. Although Harry didn't seem too upset about it. His you-know-what? That was just cute.
Again he was silent for a long time. "Then she said it was my turn, and she . . . pushed me down and . . . sat on me," he whispered.
Hermione's thought about that. It didn't sound so bad. She sat on him, so what? Then she remembered what some of her mother's racier novels had said, and she ran to the logical conclusion of what he had to mean. Her mind went blank.
Heh. It wasn't that bad. And after what Harry had just done, it made perfect sense to her. And this was her Harry, after all. And after what they had . . . re-enacted . . . so far, well, what could you expect? Besides, she had to finish what they had started to find out what that evil bint had done to her Harry.
She had never done anything like this before, but there was no way she was going to let that bint win. Harry was her best friend, he had saved her life, and she was going to prevent that bint from ruining his life.
And while she had always fantasized about her first time being when she got married, she couldn't think of someone better than Harry. Even if they never married he was the one she had a crush on, he was the one who put his life in danger to save hers, he was her best friend. If not him, then who else? She pushed Harry onto the floor and straddled him.
Much later, she found herself randomly drawing designs on his back as he lay atop her. She liked the feel of him where he was, and when he had tried, once, to sit back, she had locked her heels behind his knees and trapped him in place. She didn't know if it was always like this, but compared to what her mother's really trashy romance novels said — the ones she hid in her underwear drawer, stuffed under the tiny, frilly things that had maybe one square inch of cloth, total — this was way much more fun than they had suggested.
"Why," she asked conversationally, "did she do it?"
Harry sighed and pushed himself up onto his elbows.
Her fingers continued to draw patterns on his back, she just couldn't reach as much. She wasn't sure why she was doing it, it just felt like something she had to do to keep her hands occupied.
"I did ask her. What she said is a bit confusing." He paused a beat. "She said she was getting married as soon as she graduates this spring. It's an arranged thing, they're both pure-bloods. I guess she really doesn't like him, but the contracts have been signed. She wasn't worried about being a virgin, he had already solved that the day after they arrived at school — the contract gave him certain 'privileges' she said." He paused, thinking, "When this whole Heir of Slytherin thing started at Halloween, she was shocked. But then there was that dueling demonstration and the fact that I spoke Parseltongue came out. She said that when she thought about it, the idea of having sex with the Heir of Slytherin, with someone who could speak Parseltongue, well she couldn't pass up the chance. And it's not like her future husband can complain, she won't tell him, and I certainly won't." He paused, the said a bit resentfully, "She said she would always know that she had shagged the Heir of Slytherin and that no matter what her husband might accomplish, he could never top the Heir of Slytherin!"
Hermione considered that. From a certain point of view, it did make sense. The fact that it was her Harry, though, that was being shagged simply because he spoke Parseltongue was not acceptable. The bint had used Harry much the same way some of the man-whores used women — as marks on a list.
However, in the afterglow, Hermione wasn't nearly as bloodthirsty as she had been before. She wouldn't kill the bint, because she had taught Harry some very useful tricks. Not once in their several bouts had Harry 'misfired.' He always waited until she had climaxed before he did — or was that the potion? And his recovery time? What recovery time! Everything she had read said that the male had to have a rest, a recovery period, to 'recharge.' Harry didn't.
And contrary to what the bint had said, Harry wasn't little by any stretch of the imagination! Although she really didn't have any previous experience to compare to, just what she had held in her hands seemed to indicate so. She knew how big her hands were and if skinny scrawny Harry was longer than three hands, then Harry was definitely bigger than average, in both dimensions.
"Did she mention the potion again?"
"I asked her what the potion was and she said, 'I found it in my mother's personal potions book,' and then she laughed. 'Of course,' she said, 'mom doesn't know I copied it. You needn't worry. It's not harmful at all, it just makes things much better between couples.' Then she giggled a bit. 'It's a tiny bit like a lust potion in that it improves your stamina and a few other things.' Then she refused to say more."
She pulled him closer and hugged him. Everything felt just so . . . right!
"Why?" he asked. "Why did you do this?" He paused, thinking about what he had said, "Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I'd have to be crazy to complain! Just, why?"
It was her turn to sigh. She wished there was enough light to see his expression. She thought about how she should answer. She couldn't come right out and say "Because I love you," although she had been thinking that the moment he penetrated her, every time they did it, and each time she drew a pattern on his back since then.
The romance books had clearly explained that the woman should never be the first to say that, it always resulted in scaring off the man. The woman ended up spending the rest of the book trying to get him back!
Women wanted love, men wanted sex. Women wanted a long-term relationship, men wanted sex. The trick was to get the man to understand that a long-term relationship meant lots of sex.
And based on what she had heard the older girls saying, those three words, "I love you," were the kiss of death to any budding relationship with a boy and the cause of many teary nights for the ones that said it.
"You love me?" He sounded incredulous. He was as rigid as a board.
Shite. How had that snuck out?
She closed her eyes, not that she could see very much in the darkness. Damn. She took a shaky breath. "What's not to love? You're kind, you're sweet, you're thoughtful, you're brave, you saved my life . . . ." she let her voice trail off. She was still drawing patterns on his back, repeating a couple she had seen on the cover of a witch's romance novel Lavender had left lying about. She couldn't help but think, 'I love you,' as she did it.
"You love me?" he repeated.
She gave a sad laugh, it was all going to shite, she might as well confess all, and hope they could still be friends. Maybe he wouldn't mind.
"Harry, I've had a crush on you from the first time I saw you on the train. You looked so cute. And you were so humble. You were nice to me when you didn't even know who I was."
"You did?"
He still sounded incredulous.
"I've never had any friends. In primary, nobody seemed to like me. I thought that if I was smart, they would like me, they would want to be my friends. The teachers liked me because I listened and studied. The other kids, though, didn't. Pretty soon I discovered that the ones who said they wanted to be friends only wanted to copy my homework — like Ron does. I kept hoping that would change, but it didn't. I ended up reading books as an escape.
"Then my Hogwarts letter came, and I thought, 'Aha! That's why nobody liked me, they somehow could tell that I was different!' And then you were nice to me on the train. And even at school. You didn't avoid me when I tried to sit with you.
"But everyone else started avoiding me, just like in primary. I kept thinking, if they can see how smart I am, they'll like me, but they didn't. I was pretty miserable. At home, at least, when I left school I'd see my parents and they'd tell me how wonderful I was and I knew they loved me. Here? I'm stuck. In the dorms, the other girls ignored me at best, taunted me at worst. You didn't.
"And then Halloween came. I was crying all day in the girls' toilets. I had just about decided to chuck it all and go home. At least at home I had my parents! But magic is so much fun! I started wishing, really and truly, wishing I was dead — then I wouldn't have to choose.
"Then the troll came in. I guess my magic was trying to help me. I wished I were dead, well here you are, now you can die!
"Then you came in with Ron. Ron just stood there like a lump, gaping, but you, you started throwing stuff. And then you actually attacked the troll! Then Ron knocked the troll out with the same spell I had tried to help him with, the berk.
"My crush had just saved my life! That was when I knew I loved you. And I decided to stick with you. And you let me. I know Ron complained, he has no idea how far his voice projects, but you listened to all my bossiness and stayed my friend.
"Of course, I knew you had no idea what was going on. As far as you were concerned, I was a guy who wore a dress.
"I don't know how much you know about boys and girls, Harry, but girls grow up faster than boys. We start thinking about things between boys and girls long before boys even notice girls are girls!
"Harry, do you know what puberty is?"
Silence. "Um, not really." He was clearly only a little curious. Which was really funny considering their position and what they had just been doing.
"Puberty is basically when you start to grow hair in your groin and armpits. Boys start to develop muscles and grow big, while girls start to develop curves and grow breasts.
"Most girls start puberty sometime between ten and eleven, boys are eleven to twelve. Girls have their first period when they're about twelve. You know what periods are right?"
A heavy sigh, then, "No." He shifted his weight. Because he was still connected to her that caused a shift inside her, making it hard to concentrate on what she was saying.
She took a deep breath. "It's when their bodies start releasing eggs to make babies. It's a once a month cycle. The egg is released into the womb, it waits to get fertilized. If nothing happens by the end of the month, the body flushes the egg out and starts over. It's why women bleed once a month. You've heard about tampons and pads, right?"
She felt him nod. He had to have seen those at his home in the bathroom. He might not know what they were, but he had to have seen them, at least.
"I had early puberty, meaning my puberty started when I was nine. So, I've been more aware of boys and what that means than most girls." She paused, then continued sadly, "Yet another thing that separated me from other girls.
"Well, anyway, I knew you wouldn't be interested in girls and dating and stuff for a few years. So I decided to be your friend and to see if maybe, in a few years, you might like me as a girlfriend, not just a friend."
She paused, waiting.
He shifted again, "So, you did this because you love me?" He emphasized this by pushing with his hips.
Her breath caught in her throat, "Uh, yes." She pushed back. The conversation came to a halt for several minutes as they became otherwise occupied.
"Nobody has ever said they loved me," he stated quietly, his breath tickling her ear.
She had resumed drawing on his back. She stopped, staring up at his outline in the dimness of the broom-closet. "Never?"
He shrugged, "I'm sure my parents did when I was a baby, but I don't remember that far back, and nobody has said it since."
She hugged him. "I'll say it. As many times as you want. I love you."
He nuzzled her neck for a few moments. "I don't know what love is. I've never seen it that I can recall." The last came out somewhat bitterly.
They remained together for several more minutes. Hermoine was surprised. She hadn't expected him to say he loved her, but to hear him say he didn't know what love was, was a shock. He could love her and simply not realize that the feeling he felt was love! Or not.
"Do you feel the same way about me that you do about that other girl?"
He thought a few moments. "No. I like you, you're my best friend. I don't even know who she is. What we did was fun, but it was more about her getting what she wanted than anything else."
Hermione smiled, even though he couldn't see her do it. I'll take that at the moment, she thought. "Well," she said, "You don't have to tell me that you love me, just tell me that you need me!"
Harry held her tight for a few minutes, saying nothing. "Hermione, I do need you, you're my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without you."
She remembered a passage from that witch's romance, "Harry, I love you. Where you go, I will go. What you want to do, I want to do. Your friends are my friends, your enemies are my enemies. I will protect you with my life." She continued to draw on his back. "I am yours to do with as you want." She paused, then added, "Does that sound good to you?" She pulled him down close and hugged him tightly.
"Breathe, Hermione," he said weakly, "I need to breathe."
She let go and went back to stroking and drawing on his back, blushing furiously and glad it was too dark for him to see.
"It sounds a bit over the top, actually," he said by her ear, brushing her forehead with his fingers. "But yeah. I don't know if I love you, I don't know what love is, but where you go, I'll go. What you want to do, I'll do. Your friends are mine, and you know your enemies are my enemies! And I've already protected your life once, just as you protected me when Quirrel was jinxing my broom. What makes you think either of us will ever stop?"
Both felt a happy glow at their mutual declarations. Neither noticed it was an actual glow around them.
"Who knows what the future holds, Harry, but best friends for now sounds fine with me." She pushed her hips up at him. "Best friends with a few benefits." She hadn't lost her best friend. She wasn't sure if he wanted her to call him her boyfriend, but that wasn't important just now.
He 'hemmed,' then pushed back. And they did again what they had done before. Hermione knew she'd be walking funny tomorrow.
Hermione knew it had to be that potion. No boy, or man, could go that many climaxes without going flaccid in between at least once. Not that she was going to complain. Harry appeared not only willing to, but able to continue doing this all night. But just to be on the safe side, she decided a visit to Madam Pomfrey was in order.
Except right then her stomach growled. Loudly. Before she could be embarrassed, Harry's stomach responded with a growl of its own. They both burst out laughing.
Hermione cast a quick tempus spell, once she found her wand on the floor where it had been dislodged from her hair during one of their bouts, and discovered that they had missed dinner completely. Two hours gone in a matter of what felt like minutes.
Harry said, "Oh, well, shite." He sighed. "Well, I have a couple of pastries in my trunk. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."
"Okay." Time to get dressed, she decided. The shock of the cold air hitting her rather hot nether regions as she pushed Harry, her lover, back made her gasp. Fortunately, there was a torch in the closet, which she lit. Then she cast a quick scourgify to clean herself. She was hot, sweaty, sticky, and there was a bit of blood as she had been a virgin. She did the same to the floor, she didn't want to leave any of the copious amounts of evidence of what they had been doing.
She went to cast the spell on Harry and stopped dead. She had never seen him without a shirt and what she saw sent cold spikes into her belly. He had been watching her, as any young male would have watched a naked girl move. When he saw where she was looking, he quickly turned sideways and pretended nothing was wrong.
"Harry," she said slowly, "look at me."
He gave a sick smile and said, after clearing his throat, "I'm looking."
But he wasn't looking at her, he was staring over her shoulder, avoiding her gaze.
She took two quick step forward, grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face her. He resisted for a moment, then stared at the floor.
Crisscrossing his chest and stomach were stripes — scars. Old scars. She pushed his shoulder and turned him around. He tried to resist, but she just pushed harder until he acquiesced. His back was worse, the scars thicker, more frequent, and layered one atop the other, indicating abuse going back many years.
"Oh, Harry," she breathed. Her primary teachers had once given a talk about child abuse and the signs of it. With a distinctly morbid curiosity, she had hit the library on the subject and found several books on the subject, including one with pictures. What she saw on Harry was beyond what she had seen then.
The Dursleys were unfit to be parents and when the police saw these scars both would find themselves in for a long stay in a government facility.
Even more disturbing, though, was that as many times as Harry had been in the Hospital Wing, how had Madam Pomfrey never noticed them? And Madam Pomfrey wasn't incompetent, she couldn't have missed such clear signs of abuse. And if she had, why had Harry been sent back to the Dursleys last summer? It couldn't have been a simple mistake, not with abuse like this.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione gathered him into another hug. He stood stiffly in her embrace before finally relaxing into it. "Harry," she said, muffled slightly by the fact that her face was pressed into his hair, "You're not going back to them. If I have to kidnap you, you're not going back to them!" She kissed the back of his head.
He had no reply, he just shrugged.
"Once I tell my parents, they'll make sure you never go back to the Dursleys."
He stiffened again.
"Harry," she said fiercely, "I love you. Do you think I'm going to stand by and let them treat you like this! And unless you want to go back to them, you're going to have to tell the authorities what the Dursleys did."
He sighed, then she felt him nod.
"But first," she took a step back, "we need to get clean before we go see Madam Pomfrey!"
He turned to face her, "What?" he started to object.
She put her hand on his chest — his bare chest felt warm under her hand — "We have to find out if that potion she gave you did anything damaging, silly!"
"Oh."
She stepped back and cast a scourgify on his chest, and then another lower. She hoped he hadn't noticed the faint traces of her blood. Then she turned him around and checked his back again.
"Oops."
"Oops what?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Oh, well, it's nothing." Now that there was light to see, and she was looking, she could see that she must have gotten some of her blood on her hands during their first time and picked more up whenever she fondled him. That and she had added a few scratches of her own to his back while they were occupied.
She had left faint blood streaks of what she had drawn on his back. She felt embarrassed that she had gotten her blood all over his back, not to mention the scratches. She cast scourgify several times to make sure she removed all traces of her drawings. She'd have to check her books for a spell to heal minor scratches.
"Nothing?"
"Well, I may have scratched your back a couple of times."
He looked back at her, then grinned. As hot as her face felt, she knew it must be beet red.
A few minutes later they were dressed. As they were about to leave the closet, she remembered that she had a couple of questions, still. She rested her hand on his arm. "Harry, what happened after? With that girl."
Harry stood staring at the door for a moment before sighing, "After we. . . finished, she told me that if I told anyone about what had happened, that there would be consequences. Then she stunned me. When I woke, she was gone. And, well, you know the rest."
"What were the consequences?" She could see him blushing. "Come on, Harry. Best friends, remember?"
He took a breath, "She said if I kept quiet, I might get dragged into a broom-closet several more times."
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Author's Note: Any interest in this continuing?