A/N: Yes, I know this one has been done to death, but I couldn't let it rest. You take the muse where you find her and you ride her as long as she'll let you; to do otherwise it to risk pissing off the slippery bitch. Hope you enjoy!
The smell of the ocean was strong in his nostrils, but as the music faded he recognized a sharper tang, the smell of arousal, and he felt himself stirring as he pulled away from her. "Sorry," he said, a flush spreading on his thin cheeks.
"It's all right," she said, turning her face away. "It's not your fault, Harry."
He walked to his cot and lay down, dousing the light with a thought. Hermione's cot creaked as she did the same and her back was visible in an errant beam of moonlight. Harry watched as her shoulders began shaking, and he heard the muffled sounds of her grief as she sobbed into the pillow. Fighting hard against conflicting emotions, Harry lay still, turning to the wall so that he wouldn't have to witness her pain. It's not real, he said to himself. You've been cooped up together too long. She's missing Ron and you're missing Ginny. There's no sense trying to go there.
Closing his eyes, he began the breathing exercises he'd learned during the Triwizard Tournament three years ago, trying to slow his heart and empty his mind so he could get some rest. It was a long time coming, but finally his heart ceased its hammering, and sleep enfolded him.
The moonlight had faded and he guessed it was about two in the morning when something, some slight noise, wakened him. He tried to get to his feet, but something heavy held him down and for a moment he panicked, afraid that the Snatchers had found them at last.
"Hermione?" he whispered. "Can you hear me?"
"I can hear you just fine Harry." Her voice was right in his ear and he flinched.
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked. He could feel the warmth of her skin and realized that she had crawled under the blanket with him –and that she was naked.
"I'm cold," she said, so softly that he had to strain his ears to catch the words. "Love me Harry, please, make me warm again."
"What about Ron? And Ginny?" The name caught in his throat and he coughed as if attempting to clear an obstruction. His face was wet and he was not sure whether the tears were his or hers.
"No thoughts," she begged. "No regrets. Don't be my friend tonight, Harry. Be my lover and love me true."
Her skin was warm and soft against his. There was a growing wetness, a glowing heat, on his bottoms and he stood abruptly, nearly dumping her into the floor. Reaching down, he pushed his pajamas over his thin hips and they puddled on the floor. Yanking the top over his head, he tossed it over his shoulder.
Hermione's skin glowed even in the dim light streaming in through the flap. Her nipples were hard in the cold air and he let his eyes be drawn to the junction of hip and thigh, breath catching at the sight of the darkness there. Inhaling deeply, he caught her scent again and suddenly his lust raged up, his sex springing to life.
There was a sharp intake of breath from the cot and he turned away, overwhelmed with shyness. He felt a sensation of warmth on his back as she pressed her breasts against his flesh, and her hands danced over his hips, hesitating briefly before heading lower. Harry gasped at the heat as she took hold of him in a way that he'd never before experienced and he turned, finding her lips with his own.
Their tongues met and tangled, the connection of their bodies burning them like fire. His hands took on a life of their own, cupping her breasts, his thumbs rough on her nipples, and she moaned softly into his mouth as he walked her backwards to the cot. Her knees met the cold metal of the frame and she nearly fell, but he steadied her with hands that trembled like leaves in a hot summer wind.
It might as well have been summer now, because it felt as though they were being consumed by inner fire, both of them. Holding Hermione was like holding a living flame, and Harry marveled at the heat washing over him, centered on her mouth but quickly moving further south. The sensation danced over his skin until his nerves sizzled and he fought his need as he pushed her gently to the cot. Standing tall, he watched as she lay back, legs spread; his mouth was dry, his body shook.
He froze as Hermione took his hand, pulling him down to her. Then she was gripping him again and she guided as he pushed. The quick hiss of her indrawn breath brought him up short and he froze. "Am I hurting you?" he asked. Hermione shook her head in the dim light, but he wasn't convinced; a dark stain had appeared on her lip where she'd bitten it to keep from crying out.
I'm fine," she said after a moment. "Just take it slow for a bit."
Harry moved his hips, slowly, oh so slowly, and soon he felt a slick wetness as she pulled him further and further in. Hermione's breath was hot in his ear, puffing more quickly and he pushed himself up so that he could see her body moving beneath his. Her breasts tautened as she arched toward him and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her nipples standing at attention.
"Harry, love me, love me hard," she said, nearly breathless now and he sped up, his need for her too strong, his pain subsumed in the heat of her.
"Hermione, I can't stop," he panted.
"Don't hold back, Harry." Her face was twisted with pleasure (or was it pain; he still wasn't sure), her eyes closed and as he lost control and his orgasm burned through him, her own lit with a fire of its own and together they burned, burned bright like the sun.
They dozed for a while, but in the gray light of dawn she woke him, and they made love again, taking the time to explore each other's bodies in the dimness. She moaned as he sucked at her nipples and gently guided his head lower. He could smell the scent of her, mixed with the iron of blood and Hermione moaned as his tongue darted against her clit. Uncertain how to proceed, he let instinct take over and let the sounds of her pleasure guide him. She was wet on his tongue and he let the salty taste of her flow over him, exulting in the way she wrapped her long legs tightly around his head, the way she cried out at her peak.
Hermione rolled onto her knees and he pushed into her from behind, sliding deep inside as she came again. She was hot and wet, and Harry fought a quiet battle not to lose control as the contractions of her climax pulled him deeper. Finally, he began again, falling into a steady rhythm as Hermione matched his every movement, pushing back hard against his hips. He rode her until her legs begin to quake and as another orgasm seared through her, he let himself fall over the edge, crying out her name as his cock exploded in a burst that obliterated all his fears, all the doubts he'd carried with him for the past months.
Afterward, he held her as the sweat cooled on their intertwined bodies. She slipped silently from the bed just as he was drifting away and his hand reached for her as he passed over into the first dreamless sleep since the night of the wedding. Everything is going to be all right, he thought as sleep claimed him totally. Love will make everything all right….
A/N: I know, I know, most of you probably hate me for the brevity of this one (not to mention the ending), but I felt that stopping here would keep me from falling into the trap of shoving Harry and Hermione together before the War ended, which is another story entirely.