He would watch her from across the table. Reading and writing, removing strains of hair from across her face, crossing her legs and swapping between one and the other, moving her position in the chair and most calming of all, talk. She would talk, and he would not listen. Sound would come his way, but the tone would be all he got – no words, no sentences, no meaning. He would mumble stupidly in agreement, and look the other way so as she would not become suspicious. But she always was.
Hermione eventually caught him and looked back, her quills tip in her mouth as she suckled it seductively – looking at his emerald green eyes with those deep cinnamon ones. She had never looked at him that way before – as friends it had always been a concerned or playful look; nothing as sexually active as that one.
But when Ron spoke she would look around, while Harry kept his eyes on her long after, even when she had returned to her studies several minutes later, his eyes ran over her hands and quite unintentionally, down her blouse.
Ron left for bed with a mumble "g' night" yet Harry continued to watch her. She would almost purposely move her hands across the table, shift in her seat so he got a better look down her blouse, sit up and uncross her legs to stretch – all without looking at him once.
The monster inside Harry felt an urge to grow.
The night went along, older and older it got. Harry would continue to watch his friend, his homework now well and forgotten and, although Snape would have his head in the morning, it was all worth the spectacle he was getting.
His palms were sweaty, his eyes were droopy, and yet all this time she didn't say a word. She would mumble something when she turned a page, or rearranged her bra strap – but never anything coherent to which Harry was able to understand. The common room emptied as the night progressed, she would watch each of them go with considerable interest before returning to work without the slightest look or glance at Harry.
She was putting on an act.
Harry grinned at her and sat back in his chair to watch it, until only a couple of seventh years were left fiddling with some old books that needed to be fixed by morning. She looked around at them still with a smile on her face, shook her head and continued to write. Harry gave a wry smile at the way she flicked her hair.
'Night.'
Harry and Hermione looked around in unison almost thinking the same thing. The pair of seventh years were departing separately up the staircases (both being one boy and one girl) and when they had gone, Harry looked back around to continue what he had done all night.
He watched her.
She sighed and placed her quill carefully on her piece of parchment and sat back, eyes closed mouth open and arms stretched. She closed her mouth and retracted her arms but kept her eyes closed. Harry watched her intently as she smiled and brought her hands up to her collar which she, annoyingly for Harry's sake, fiddled with for a moment before she moved her finger and popped open a button on her blouse.
Harry sat up.
She then wriggled on her seat and moved her hand below her breast, brushing it gently to let a groan escape her mouth, not only hers, but Harry's too.
And no longer could she ignore his deadly presence.
She opened her eyes to see him staring and stared back. She watched him and he watched her fingers as they rested atop the hem of her skirt. Flirtatiously she pulled the elastic up a little bit and let it snap gently back into place. The second time she dug her finger nails underneath the fabric and let it go exploring. She continued to watch Harry as her hand slipped past her cotton panties and rested upon the short mounted main of pubic hair above the folds between her legs.
And then she aborted mission.
She sat upright, still looking at Harry, who quite rightly seemed highly disappointed. But all was explained with her look. Not her voice. Not her action. But that look. The seductive, passionate, endlessly entrancing look that over took Harry into realising what she wanted.
As it were to be, he made the next move. He got up from his spot and sat beside her, looking at her like he had all night. He wanted her more than ever as their mouths locked without a word, their tongues met without a care and their bodies pressed together with warmth. Her skin felt softer and silkier than it had looked, her body felt warmer than it looked, but her lips… were more full and passionate than he ever would have expected just by looking at them.
It was amazing what no words could do. If life had been without words, then sex and life in general would be so much easier without the complications of falling in love, talking years on end to each other, arguing in tones and languages never heard of, then becoming divorced and single just to get drunk one nights and do it all over again.
Harry and Hermione found it easy – soon their clothes were in a pile on the floor and their bodies were pressed together. Harry thought she smelt fantastic as he ran his nose and mouth along her skin, down her neck and along her shoulders. He kissed her full and hard nipples with anticipation, grasping the other breast with a free hand.
He ran circles around her navel and on her stomach, coming to a rest atop her pubic hair and the point of no return. He looked at her, their eyes meeting yet again for that night and with a simple smile he knew he could kiss her there and then go lower, placing her clitoris between his teeth and lingering in the smell of sweet juices.
She looked and tasted the goods.
A groan escaped those full and luscious lips with every flick, swipe and penetration of Harry's tongue. He was an amateur in practice, but in theory a pro. Hermione had never felt anything like it, let alone any guy come this close to her personal standings. Sure she had kissed Victor Krum, made out with Ron on one or two occasions but this – this was unbelievable.
She climaxed and Harry resurfaced with her juices on his mouth and kissed her with them. She thought she tasted utterly fantastic and encouraged Harry's tongue to swim in her mouth. They locked and embraced and stared for a moment before Hermione figured it was her turn. And having some experience she was able to move on Harry's cock quite easily.
Abnormally large for his age, Harry groaned and moaned at how deep Hermione was able to get it, how her tongue flicked over his length and how quickly she was able to get him towards climax was phenomenal. He sat panting as she came up and sat on his lap, kissing him and hugging him close before getting their breath back. Neither of them said a word.
Harry initiated the launch sequence. He placed Hermione on a rather large sofa that sat in the common room and rubbed his fingers against her opening. He watched her again, her tongue ran along her lips and she was staring straight back at him. He knew he wanted it, she knew she wanted it – now he needed to make sure he knew that she knew that he knew that she wanted it.
He watched her nod her head and he knew.
Harry was quite unsure what do to being first time, but somehow he managed it. She spread her legs widely and she let him between them as he placed the head of his cock against her opening. He looked at her and as she wriggled against him and nodded, he sunk slowly downwards into her – making them both groan.
He was close to her, their eyes were in line, and both were looking sweaty, hot and very horny. He leaned in to kiss her again before he pulled out and pushed back in – getting into rhythm. He watched her the entire time, as she closed her eyes at the magnificent feeling, opened them again to gasp sharply with each deeper dig and narrowed them at every particularly loving moment.
Eventually the building up, the anticipation of coming and then the climax over came them both and they collapsed in a bundled heap tight on the sofa. He stayed inside her, kissed her sweetly and hugged her close. There was no need for words.
Harry simply did what he had done for the majority of the night as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
He watched her.