JK Rowling and whatever other appropriate affiliates obviously own the rights Harry Potter and the Harry Potter universe. I own nothing but the inserted original characters/plot concepts. I make no money on this. This is simply a FAN based work.
I would like to give a huge shoutout to the wonderful betas that agreed to help me comb through my old chapters to catch all the pesky lingering errors that I can no longer see. AmeliaDaviesWrites, and GalaxyNightangale – that's you. Thank you, your fresh eyes see more than mine.
And thank you to Greca for agreeing to read and beta my new stuff – your help is greatly appreciated.
You should all know the general fic warnings by now so I will no longer be including them at the start of every chapter. I will only be including chapter-specific warnings from now on - so please check each chapter going forward.
WARNINGS:
This chapter contains: smut (which can be skipped without missing out on main plot). Please note this scene has been modified from the original AO3 version to meet FFN's guidelines regarding 'mature' content.
If you want to read the full smut scene, it is available on AO3.
Chapter Eleven
The next week that passed was rough and each day moved slowly. On the first day, as per her plan, Hermione examined the map and noticed that the werewolf encounters seemed to be circled around Birmingham. One had occurred to the North of the city and the other to the South. Using Birmingham as the center Hermione made a circle on her map with a radius equal to the distance that the two encounters had occurred. She marked the area as a 'no apparate zone' and they both agreed not to go anywhere near it for the rest of their Horcrux hunting.
The remainder of the first day was spent mostly lounging around the tent, both Harry and Hermione were simply too exhausted from the Battle on the Hillside – as they agreed to call it – to accomplish much else. They had eaten a quick breakfast and each showered to remove the remaining grime from the night before – Hermione cleaned Harry's bunk thoroughly while he showered given that they had both slept in it without washing the night before. Then in the afternoon Harry laid on his bunk and read the books that Hermione brought to him while she curled up by his knees, leaning on the tent post similar to how Harry had stayed with her while she was sick – only this time she held his hand as they each read quietly.
Their workouts and training were difficult to complete due to the weather. The snow and sleet were relentless and slammed the tent viciously and allowed for very little visibility outside. With being on the side of a mountain it was too dangerous to practice outside, so they did what they could inside the tent while ensuring not to damage anything or accidentally explode the tent furniture. Harry completed their fitness routine too, albeit a bit more slowly, in order to ensure that his newly healed muscles adjusted to his body. Hermione teased him any time she was able to complete more reps than him and pinched his sides when she completed more pushups than him on the third day before Harry quickly swatted her hands away and made a promise to get her back once he was at full strength.
The tent was frigid and despite the warming charms and multiple fires that they had set in jars around the tent they couldn't quite take the cold bite out of the air. Regardless, they both agreed to not apparate anywhere else for the week or until Harry was closer to being fully healed. The unwelcoming nature of the mountain and its remote location made it the safest place that they could possibly stay while Harry rested. Both as a result of the freezing cold tent and the commitment Hermione had made to herself to stop trying to act a particular way around Harry, she allowed the closeness between them to reform. They sat exactly beside each other every night for tea, intertwined their legs on the footstool, touched hands while talking and often found themselves curling up on a bunk together to read with a throw blanket draped across them as they huddled for warmth. Hermione noticed that Harry never pushed – he simply accepted any closeness and physical contact she instigated, mirrored it, and allowed her to set the pace and the boundaries of their interactions.
She smiled inwardly at that, thanking Harry internally for not over-complicating things, or asking her for explanations – and instead just understanding her intent and respecting her internal struggle.
She wanted to be close to Harry. She wanted to see where things went and she already knew Harry's position on the matter as he had blatantly stated it. Her kiss with Harry when they both woke in his bunk after the attack was meant to show him that she cared and that she was open to allowing the closeness between them to grow – that she cared for him more than she could even wrap her head around it. But she still couldn't shake the nervousness that she felt about acting on her feelings and allowing their relationship to develop into something else.
She still caught herself second-guessing it until she forced her mind to calm down and just let things be – so, she appreciated that Harry seemed to intuitively understand both her want and her hesitation. He allowed her to just be herself and take things slowly and instead of worrying about what she should do, she resolved to just do what felt right.
As he healed Hermione refused to allow Harry to take any night watches and insisted that he get a good night's sleep to ensure that his healing process progressed as quickly as possible. With the additional wards and alarms that Hermione had set, and the terrible weather, night watch was not truly required – though, Hermione still insisted upon taking a 4 hour shift each night where she sat alone at the entrance of the tent until the wee hours of the morning. It remained unspoken between them, but they both knew she was having trouble sleeping after killing the snatcher on the hillside.
She hadn't broken down, cried, or developed any major PTSD symptoms after the battle – but she did often see the snatcher's vacant blue eyes when she lay in bed and closed her own. She found that sitting in the cold and staring into the endless snowstorm helped calm her nerves and gave her ample time to meditate and work through her breathing techniques to help process what she had done. She did not mourn the death of whoever the man was, she didn't regret what happened and she didn't linger on the fact that she had ended a life. Instead, what hit her hardest was her own shattered naivety and the realization of how brutal and how ruthless war was. And how quickly she was being forced to lose the last remains of innocence she had left in order to survive.
Up until the Battle on the Hillside, she had managed to get by with making small sacrifices and losing only parts of her naivety. She'd always understood that war was difficult, that the things that happened during it would have long term effects and leave lasting scars – she'd just never fully appreciated what that meant. She hadn't understood.
But she did now.
She had jinxed the DA contract and hurt Marietta Edgecombe, she'd broken school rules, snuck out after curfew, played with time, put herself and others in danger, broken laws, battled Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries and even severely injured others while in the fight – but despite that she had always clung to a rather naïve and somewhat childish view of the war where she thought that good would win. That somehow everything would end up okay simply because it had to.
But not anymore.
Hermione felt a strange feeling settle over her as she stared out into the blizzard before her, as she thought about what she had done, what she would do, and what she had to do to get through this. She wasn't a kid anymore. That ship had sailed. This war had changed her. She had always been serious, responsible and studious – but this was different. This was the cold, unemotional acceptance of what the situation really was. This was the solemn recognition that even if they won, things would not go back to how they were – that she would not go back to who she was. This war was a part of her now, it had stolen time from her, hardened her, it had taken from her and would continue to take until one side fell – and she would take all of it, every step, every action and every struggle forward with her for the rest of her life.
She spent many of her night watches thinking about Ginny and the other DA members still at Hogwarts and wondered if they knew what was coming – what might be asked of them. If they were prepared for battle, for sacrificing pieces of themselves or taking the lives of others. She thought of Ron and wondered how he would have handled the battle, and if she ever saw him again if he would be mature enough to actually participate in the war the way they needed to. She could sense the shift in her maturity. She hadn't appreciated what was coming up until now. Harry had... he had lived it already. He watched Cedric die, he saw Sirius disappear behind the veil, he'd been tortured with the cruciatus and he'd continuously lost so much. She wasn't sure if everyone would be ready – but she resolved herself to be, and she took some solace in knowing that Harry understood how she felt and that they would work through whatever happened next together.
On three of the nights during their week on the mountainside she'd crawled into Harry's bed after the night watch. The first time that it happened she had laid in her bunk for an hour, unable to sleep and unable to shake the unease that filled her mind as she closed her eyes and saw only the blood-spattered snow. The second night she knew as she retired into the tent that she would not be able to sleep and had lingered next to Harry's bunk briefly before giving in and crawling under his blankets. The third time it happened she didn't even try to fight it and immediately crawled into his bunk and rolled into his side for warmth. His even breathing and presence calmed her racing thoughts and allowed her to sleep.
The first time it had happened she snuck out of bed before Harry woke – or at least while he pretended to be sleeping so she could maintain her composure about leaving his bed uninvited. The second time it happened she woke to Harry making breakfast in the kitchen for her. She wasn't sure how he slipped out without her noticing, but he never mentioned anything about her crawling into his bunk uninvited and they ate breakfast rather comfortably around a large blue flame before beginning their exercise routine.
The third time it happened she awoke in Harry's arms, he was awake and reading next to her – one arm draped lazily around her, her head tucked into his shoulder, leg thrown over his and snuggled deeply into his side. He had given her a gentle squeeze when he saw a light blush creep over her face and what he figured might be a small amount of mortification based on her wide and avoiding eyes. He kissed her gently on the top of her head before murmuring "Anytime you need to, Hermione" softly against her hair. She had stayed next to him for several long minutes, enjoying his warmth and letting her mind wander before finally detangling herself from him to climb from bed and start making breakfast.
As she cooked breakfast her heart raced from the previous closeness and she felt her eyes prickle as a wave of emotion washed over her. Her relationship with Harry was both the most complex and confusing thing while also being the most simple and comforting thing she had ever been a part of. She would never be able to express to him in words how much it meant to her that she could just be herself around him – and not worry about defining anything or deciding anything. Things were a mess – they were a mess, and yet Harry was her constant and being able to be with him in whatever way felt right when they needed it kept her sane and gave her hope. Though it did make her mind wander back to Harry's words… about how being together would make them stronger and she found it harder and harder not to think about it.
As December 14th rolled around Harry was almost to his usual stamina, their shield charm ability remained strong, Hermione had taught Harry how to cast a disillusionment charm, Hermione's many interestingly shaped bruises had healed and she figured it was about time to move on. She awoke that morning from her own bunk, the cold from the tent nipping at her nose as she groaned internally wishing for warmer weather. So far into December she knew it would be cold no matter where they apparated, so she decided to bring them to a Northerly cliff on the Eastside of Scotland next – knowing that the weather would be disastrous and provide ample cover like their current location.
Forcing herself from bed she cast a quick warming charm on herself, praised her ridiculously thick knitted socks for being so effective and started on breakfast. After Harry woke, they ate, agreed apparating to a new location would be a good plan for the morning and quickly packed up the tent. As they stood on the freezing mountainside Hermione moved close to Harry, he wrapped his arm around her waist tightly and she placed her ungloved hand gently on the back on his neck. She swept her eyes over the mountainside briefly before closing them to apparate them away. Leaving the mountain felt like she was leaving her old self behind and moving forward as an older, worn, harder and hopefully wiser person.
-x-x-
A loud crack split the air as they landed next to a steep cliff that dropped down to the North Sea. Hermione remained close to Harry, hand on the back of his neck as they both crouched down quickly and cast homenum revelio and a quick detection charm with a 100 foot radius before they stood slowly and began to set up the tent. Harry and Hermione went together to set the wards, alarms, detection spells and enchantments. It took a bit longer this way – but it was safer, and they had agreed to take no more chances before they left, becoming much more militant in their approach.
By the time they both ducked inside the tent they were shivering, despite the multiple warming charms, and Hermione's hair was coated in snow. They both had tea to warm up, then completed a quick exercise routine before they took turns in the shower, ate lunch and settled in their respective armchairs around a particularly large blue flame to read. Despite the fact that they were now more South than before it felt colder. Probably because of the humidity, her brain supplied. With being so close to the water the wind chill was cutting and the air was damp with a deep cold that they could not seem to shake.
After an hour of reading she found herself stealing glances at Harry over her book as her mind wandered back to their intimate kiss in the kitchen. She had intertwined her legs with Harry's when they first sat down and in the last several minutes she had started fidgeting them to keep warm. Harry had obviously noticed and had started to gently rub his thick sock-covered foot over hers to warm her feet. At first the movement had only felt kind, welcoming and warm to Hermione – but the longer he did it the more distracting it had become and now she found her mind wandering to places that still made her nervous, and thinking about the pent up frustrations she had been feeling all week.
Biting her thumb as a distraction, she looked back down at her book and turned the page to look at a very interesting – except not really interesting right now – instructional diagram on how to assemble a charmed multi-potion brewing station. She thought about the warmth of Harry's legs, how close he had been when they kissed and how the heat had radiated off of him. She shivered in her chair.
Fuck this cold is going to my head, she thought as she bit her thumb harder to try and distract herself. It's so fucking cold… and Harry is so warm. She hadn't noticed that she had started to gently rub her legs over his in response to his warming motions and instead was now recalling the feel of his lips against hers.
I wonder if that will ever happen again… I mean we've kissed again since – but not like that. That was… well, that was something else entirely. A small blush crept over her cheeks as she thought about it, the heated urgency between them as he had pressed his body into hers.
She would be lying if she said she hadn't thought about that kiss a fair amount, it crept into her mind often. She would also be lying if she said she didn't want it to happen again. Though, she wondered how something like that would come up again. Last time it was initiated by their closeness, their excitement over the successful implementation of the shield spell, and the built-up sexual tension – let's be real though, the sexual tension is still there, she thought. Despite the acknowledged but ignored continued sexual tension, sitting in a freezing tent wasn't exactly the most enticing atmosphere. She shivered again. So damn cold.
After several minutes her wandering mind slowed as she felt the familiar prickle of being watched and her eyes darted up and over to Harry's chair. His book was still open in front of him on his lap, but it was held in laxed hands and he was fully staring at her. Rather intensely. The light blush on her face darkened and her eyes darted away from him down to her book before she realized that her thumb had still been lightly resting between her teeth. Pulling it away she shivered once more before glancing nervously up at him.
"What?" she asked, not able to hold his gaze and instead letting her eyes dance around his face, hands and book.
"Nothing," Harry said slowly, his voice a little deeper than usual. "I was thinking of making some hot chocolate – you look cold, do you want some?"
"Yeah, that'd be lovely," she smiled over at him.
Slowly Harry detangled his legs from hers and stood up from his seat. She shivered at the loss of his warm legs and pulled her own close to her chest as she watched him walk to the kitchen.
"So," he said as he pulled down two old mugs and looked over his shoulder at her. "Reading anything interesting?"
Hermione's blush deepened. She knew Harry was not a skilled legilimens, but the sound of his voice made her think that he might somehow know what she was thinking about.
"Sort of," she said as she turned more in her chair to face him. "Just a neat detail on how to assemble a charmed multi-potion brewing station. Thought it might be useful to brew up some replacement potions."
Harry poured the freshly boiled water into the muggle hot chocolate mix that Hermione had grabbed from their last supplies mission. She was glad that Harry didn't mind drinking it – it was much more convenient to make than homemade or even wizards hot chocolate – and she had been annoyed when Ron complained about the dry powder mix being used to make steamy hot chocolate when they had some in early September.
Harry nodded as he approached her with the steaming mug and spoke as he handed it to her and sat down on the footstool in front of her.
"Must have been a difficult charm, since you were staring at the page for over 20 minutes."
"I –" Hermione's voice caught as she looked down at her mug and then back to Harry as a deep blush grazed her face. "I was not – I was just thinking – what, were you watching me read?"
Harry laughed as he took a tentative sip of his hot beverage and then grinned at her.
"It was a bit hard not to, what with your constant fidgeting and small sighs."
"I was not sighing," a look of flustered indignation crossed her face.
"Mhmm," he raised an amused eyebrow at her. "I must have imagined it along with the dazed yet slightly frustrated expression you had."
Hermione swatted at him before turning her face away and took a sip of the deliciously hot beverage.
"I was just distracted," she said quietly into the mug.
"Mhmm," Harry grinned again as he stood up and wandered back to his chair.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him but continued to hide her small blush as she ducked her head over the mug she held. Is Harry teasing me? she thought as she blew on the drink to cool it down. Or… flirting? Was that flirting? Or is he hinting that he knows what's on my mind?
She pondered it as she flipped her book back open to look at the potion charm diagram. Maybe being stuck in the tent for the last week was getting to her more than she thought, they both needed some air and a chance to burn off some energy. Or maybe she had just been incredibly obvious in her musings and Harry had noticed. Which is embarrassing, she thought. Or, maybe it was her rubbing her legs over his – she wasn't sure. Either way, the familiar heat in her core seemed to have reignited and she felt a small churn in her stomach as she stole a glance at him and smiled over her mug. Then she tried to force herself to concentrate.
Though it seemed like Hermione's mind had other ideas. Despite her best efforts and resolve, she found herself still distracted an hour later. Except now – she felt pent up, confused and frustrated. Annoyed with her lack of discipline and unsure why she felt so on edge she groaned outwardly and slammed the book closed before getting up from her chair. Come on Hermione get it together, what the fuck has gotten you so riled up!
Harry jerked at the noise and looked up to see Hermione stretch in frustration in front of him. Noticing how her sweater lifted to show an inch of skin at her waist. Hermione looked down at him.
"I'm not sure hot chocolate was a good idea, I can't concentrate – I'm so pent up from being in this tent all week from the weather and now I have all this energy from the sugar – and I just –" Hermione groaned outwardly as she shook her head. "I love reading, I love researching – but this is ridiculous, I need to do something."
Hermione was looking at him with no small amount of desperation and he could not help himself but laugh.
"What?" she asked, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"Sorry," Harry said as he covered his mouth with his hand to hide his second chuckle. "I just never thought that I would outlast you with reading – I thought that I would crack first."
Hermione scowled at first but then found the corner of her lips tugging upwards at the amused look on Harry's face.
"I just feel so constricted without being able to practice," she smoothed her hands over her hair and turned to face him fully. "I didn't realize how much I enjoyed practicing duelling or being active until I was, now I just feel so pent up. How are you dealing with this?"
"I'm not," Harry replied honestly with a smile and he also stood from his chair. "I'm just as frustrated, I just thought if I complained you would tell me to be more studious and patient. So, I've sort of been pushing it down and just gritting through it."
Hermione found she couldn't even roll her eyes at that one. It was a fair assumption so instead she shrugged a little sheepishly.
"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "That sounds like me. Look what you've done to me… made me active."
Harry laughed outright at her use of the word active, having made it sound like the worst possible trait, or like she had caught an infection.
"Alright," he said, grabbing his arm chair and moving it to the side. "How about we cast some shield charms around the tent and have a small duel with only leg lockers and disarming. We can draw two small circles across from one another – we each have to stay inside them – and then we can practice our close combat dodging. How's that sound?"
"Fantastic," a huge grin split across her face as she quickly grabbed her chair and moved it next to Harry's.
They cast several general shield charms around the tent to create something similar to a small boxed in arena and then drew two 4 foot diameter circles on the floor of the tent just over 10 feet away from each other. Then each standing in a circle, they proceeded to duel.
It was immensely difficult. Trying to dodge while not stepping outside of the circle was awful. Hermione overstepped her circle 4 times before she started to get used to it. Despite the small quarters and lack of running around the exercise proved to be challenging, engaging, and a physical work out. Hermione ducked, jumped, leaned and found herself utilizing poses she didn't know she was even capable of making. She made a mental note to add stretching to their exercise routine as it would definitely prove useful in close quarters. They went at it for over an hour before Hermione hit Harry with a leg locker and he tumbled backward to the ground with a heavy thump.
"Sorry Harry," she called as she left her circle and crossed the small distance between them to cast the counter-spell on his stiff legs. "You okay?"
Harry accepted the hand she reached out to him and pulled himself from the ground.
"Absolutely," he was grinning from ear to ear. "This was a good plan, I think it will be really helpful! We should just leave the circles on the ground, what do you think?"
Hermione nodded her agreement as she started to take down the protective shields that they had placed around the tent. Nothing was broken, the drill had been successful and now they had a new training routine to use in terrible weather. She could not wipe the smile from her face as they both talked strategy for how best to dodge in a small circle while they began to prepare dinner.
Hermione noticed the way Harry lingered at her side, she couldn't help but bump his elbow playfully and then swat him when he mimicked one of her more ridiculous dodge poses. Their jovial conversation continued non-stop while they ate, their laughter ringing out in the tent more than it ever had in the past as their joking turned to funny stories from their past. Harry told her about the time at the zoo with the python, Hermione told Harry about how she had accidentally turned her mother's hair green as a small kid, and Harry told Hermione about how Mr. Dursley had gone insane when the Hogwarts letters started arriving. Although it had upset him at the time, the image of his uncle muttering and behaving erratically now made him laugh with amusement.
At some point during their conversation they agreed that two separate armchairs were simply impractical and ridiculous with the cold weather – so Hermione transfigured one of the chairs into a large love seat. The second chair sat next to it and held a large jar of blue flames. They were both now sitting on the love seat, close together, a throw draped over their legs, holding tea mugs while they spoke animatedly to each other. Hermione had turned on the love seat to face Harry, her leg folder underneath her and he was angled toward her, his back resting on the armrest of the couch.
"So what did you want to be when you grew up, before you knew you were a wizard?" Hermione asked as she sipped her tea. Not noticing how she leaned toward him as they spoke.
"Oh hell," Harry said with a laugh. "I have no idea! I never knew. I mostly just wanted to get out – but I guess I always wanted to do something good. I didn't want to be a cop necessarily, but I wanted to work toward making the world a better place and stopping bad people. I know that sounds sort of pathetic."
"No that's not pathetic at all!" Hermione replied as she placed her tea mug on the footstool. "When I was a kid, I sort of always thought I might become a dentist – because both my parents were – they never pushed me toward anything, but I just always had this feeling that's where I would end up. But it wasn't what I wanted. I – I wanted to make a difference. I never knew how, I just knew I wanted to stand up for injustice – and fight for things that mattered, for things no one else would fight for. So maybe a lawyer or something. I never put any more thought into it after I got my Hogwarts letter."
"That makes sense, you definitely always stood up for those who couldn't do it themselves. I still have my S.P.E.W. badge," Harry grinned at her as he also placed his now empty mug on the footstool. Catching the way Hermione's eyes narrowed at him he quickly continued. "No – no, it's a good thing! S.P.E.W. was great Hermione, and I mean that – really, you would have been an amazing lawyer fighting for people's rights."
Hermione grinned at him as a small blush flushed her cheeks and she looked down at her hands that were clasped in her lap.
"Thanks, Harry," her voice was soft as she spoke.
Harry grabbed her hand and clutched it in his own before bringing it up to his mouth to place a small kiss on her knuckles.
"You will be great at whatever you decide to do after this," he spoke gently, but his words were firm as he looked at her and held her hand in his lap.
"That's a strange thought isn't it?" she said as her eyes drifted back up to his. "The war being over? Being able to actually just be ourselves and have normal lives."
They both laughed at this, and Hermione shuddered slightly from the cold draft in the tent.
"I'm not sure our lives will ever be normal," Harry said as he reached forward and ran his hand up and down her upper arm to warm her. "But – I am excited for this to be over – for whatever comes next."
They both smiled at each other and Hermione felt the small coil in her stomach tighten. Harry was always so optimistic, always so sure that things would resolve themselves and that they would win. Tonight was one of the few nights where she wholeheartedly believed it and dared to allow herself to hope for a future that didn't include being on the run or constantly running into people who wanted them dead. His bright green eyes poured out nothing but hope, and it was – beautiful, her mind offered up.
A small blush crept over her as she continued to look at Harry, and she dropped her eyes to his chin when the coil in her stomach twisted again. The heat from his hand on her arms and his leg against hers was so welcoming. The dark that had consumed the tent was now only battled by the flicker of the blue flame behind her and their position now started to feel rather intimate. Harry's hand rubbing her arm slowed and he squeezed her once before dropping his arm. She caught it though, lacing her fingers through his and pulling it to her chest as her eyes moved up to his. He was looking at her the same way he had before he kissed her, the same way he had when she woke up next to him – the same way that made her breath hitch in her chest.
The brutal wind howled outside the tent, but the air between them was still. Hermione stared into his eyes, she knew her cheeks were flushed, she knew her eyes showed the desire she constantly tried to keep in check – but tonight, she wanted him to see it. She shivered as Harry's grip on her hand tightened, but she didn't look away from his eyes. She wanted him, she wanted to be closer to him, she wanted to feel the heat that poured from his body.
As the thoughts of having him closer passed through her mind her nerves started to wake up. She didn't know how to be close to someone in that way. Hermione was a bookworm for Merlin's sake, not some popular girl who had been surrounded by schoolboys and learned the subtle art of relationships or seduction. Which was ironic, considering that she had spent her entire time at Hogwarts surrounded by two schoolboys – constantly. But it had never been in that way and as a result she had no idea what she was doing, she felt unprepared to deal with her wants and she silently berated herself for not reading up on it beforehand. She had had ample time to do so while stuck in a fucking tent for the last few months.
Her eyes drifted to Harry's lips, they were ever so slightly parted, and she wet her own unknowingly before her eyes drifted briefly over his chest and shoulders – they were lean and strong – before they circled back up to his face. His eyes had darkened while she had been studying him and she felt her pulse quicken at the sight. She was terrified to make the first move, but felt her body lean intuitively toward him another inch.
As if on cue, sensing her desire and knowing she was nervous, Harry leaned toward her slowly and let go of her hand that he still held in his lap to bring his hand toward her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek as he leaned in. Hermione's breath caught, but she didn't panic, and she didn't pull away. He was only just inches away from her now, eyes still locked to hers as he stroked her cheek with the soft pad of his thumb. Hermione felt herself inhale as she realized that he'd paused, and the small inches between them remained. Understanding dawning on her that he would not make a move unless she requested it or instigated it – as he had said he wouldn't.
"Harry," the words were a whisper almost lost between them.
"Yes, Hermione," his voice was that familiar deep baritone that made her core wind tighter and the heat between her legs warm.
"Kiss me."
The words had only barely left her lips before his were on hers. Her eyes closed shut at the contact and she breathed out sharply as his warmth flooded through her. She tilted her head to the right as her free hand clutched onto Harry's thigh, the other hand still held tightly between them at her chest. It was a deep, wanting kiss and it made her insides roll over in anticipation. The hands between them split and then his came to rest firmly on her side and she clutched at the front of his sweater.
She moaned when his tongue entered her mouth, brushing over hers and exploring each nook and cranny as she ran her own tongue over his. He tasted sweet like the tea that they had just been drinking and she leaned into their kiss further as she felt his fingers tighten on her side. Their breathing became quicker as she pulled him toward her by his sweater and his hand slipped behind her head and tangled into her hair. Harry's other hand slipped around her back and pulled her to his chest as he deepened their kiss further and the urgency increased. Her hands switched between clutching the fabric of the back of his sweater and running her hands along his broad shoulders, memorizing their shape as her chest was pressed tightly against his.
Her heart skipped when she felt herself leaning backwards on the couch under Harry's weight. Her head came to rest on the armrest of the couch with Harry's hand bracing her neck as his other hand slid back to her side. He was tangled between her legs and she groaned at the warmth of his body pressed heavily against her, pinning her to the couch as their lips moved desperately against each other.
This, she thought as she nibbled on Harry's lower lip, was what I needed. As much as she hated to admit it, because it made her feel a bit ashamed to be so affected by such baser instincts – this was what had been causing her so much tension throughout the week.
Harry pressed into her gently, running his hand up her side and being careful to stay above her sweater, and Hermione groaned out against him as his lips moved to her jaw, then her neck. It was hot, Hermione felt hot for the first time in what felt like weeks as warmth spread over her body. The heat between her legs doubled as she felt Harry's stiff length between them, pressing into her thigh. Her heart raced and her stomach fluttered, it was a new feeling that made her both terrified and excited. She obviously knew all about erections, her two best friends were boys for Merlin's sake – but she had never felt one pressed up against her, never felt a heat and excitement burn at her core at the thought of what it could mean.
Harry groaned against her neck as she tentatively pushed her hips against him and weaved her fingers through his hair. Not letting herself overthink, emptying her mind and just allowing herself to feel and her body to act on instinct. His lips crashed back against hers and she felt a new urgency to them, a deeply rooted want that he had been keeping at bay. Their intensity was fierce, and Hermione didn't even realize that she had spread her legs wider and that she matched the small grinding motions that Harry was making into her hips. She felt something building, a pressure at her core that had long since been forgotten.
Sure, she had masturbated previously, but it was never often, and she usually had trouble reaching climax as her mind would get in the way. Always thinking about homework, the boys and her friends, or some other task that needed to be done – she had always found it difficult to concentrate and get anywhere with it. With Umbridge in 5th year, the disaster that was 6th year, and now the war where she spent every hour with boys in a tent… it hardly seemed appropriate and there hardly seemed to be a good time to try it. But now, with the heat, the want, the intense atmosphere that circled around them – the tight coil and the building sensation felt surreal and filled her with a wonderful sort of anticipation.
Hermione moaned loudly when Harry ground into her, his stiff length pressing right between her legs directly against her core as their lips fell apart. Her hand clenched his hair tightly between her fingers as her head fell back against the armrest. She'd sounded animalistic.
A wave of embarrassment fell over her, Shit! She knew that she was wet, her knickers would be too and if not for the thick jeans she was wearing it would be painfully obvious. Her eyes fluttered open, catching Harry's and then she dropped her own down to his chest breathing heavily. She could feel her face aflame. They'd stopped their grinding motions, and Harry now lay precariously between her legs – still hard, still pressing into her thigh. Fuck, she thought as she closed her eyes tightly and then forced them back open. She had never done this before, never made a noise like that in front of anyone before and she felt almost mortified. It was the most intimate noise she'd ever made in her life, and it had fallen so easily from her lips. The noise had stirred her thoughts and brought her mind back into the equation as she realized the position they were in.
She forced herself to glance up toward Harry. He was looking at her almost curiously, eyes lust-filled and hazy as his breaths came in quick shallow reps. His hand was still tangled in her hair at the base of her neck and his other hand was still clutching her side as he rested on his elbow. It was as if her sound had also brought his mind back into the conversation as he realized what was happening and calculated what to do next. She felt mortified, she knew that was a bit ridiculous – what they were doing was perfectly human and natural after all – but she couldn't help her embarrassment.
"Hermione," he breathed out slowly as he lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers.
"I'm sorry," the words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them.
Harry's body froze as he drew his head back a fraction of an inch to look in her eyes.
"What? Why are you sorry?" his eyes searched hers quickly, but the remainder of him was still.
"I-" she looked away, then back to him. Her eyes flicked around his face and she wanted to curl into herself and disappear. "I- sorry, I just, I've never – I didn't mean to make that noise, I just-"
Her voice stopped as Harry pressed a soft and gentle kiss to her lips.
"Hermione," he said quietly as he pulled back to look at her again. "Do not apologize for that. You are incredible, and the sounds that you're making – they – they make me worry I'm going to lose my self-control."
The coil in Hermione's core wound impossibly tighter at his words and the raw lust that shone from his eyes. She connected their lips again and reignited their passionate kiss, Harry's hand moving above her sweater to gently cup her breast. She groaned softly at his touch as she explored her front over her clothes and moved to kiss her neck again.
"Harry, will – will you touch me?"
The words were almost a whisper and Harry stilled against her, raising his head from her neck to look into her eyes. He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before speaking.
"Tell me when to stop, Hermione, okay?"
She locked her eyes to his and nodded nervously. She was nervous, that was a fact – but she was also excited, pent up, turned on, and she wanted him to touch her. She wanted Harry to be able to touch her body without her freaking out. She wanted to fully move on from her scars and know that she was in control of her body.
Slowly, his eyes still on hers, he slid his hand down her front to the hem of her sweater and hesitated before she nodded to him again more confidently. Leaning down to kiss her with an agonizingly sweet and tender kiss he slipped his right hand under her sweater. He moved slow, his thumb pressing gentle circles into her skin as his hand crept up her left side. She flinched slightly when his thumb brushed over the marred skin of her lowest scar just at the top of her stomach below her breast. He stopped, kissing her more reassuringly until she relaxed, and then he continued to move his hand.
It was slow, and Hermione's body convulsed involuntarily each time Harry's thumb and fingers brushed over her damaged skin. Each time the panic shot up in her mind she forced it down and leaned into the steady and reassuring lips that moved against hers – drawing strength from the fact that Harry never faltered, he never flinched and he did not pull away in disgust. Instead, if anything, he kissed her more deeply and with more passion when his hand caressed her chest, over her breasts and up to the collar bone. Touching each and every one of her scars gently and without judgement.
When Hermione finally seemed to become fully relaxed under his hands and confidently kissing him in return he slowly pressed his hips into hers and she let out a low moan. Harry smiled against her neck as he dropped his hand beneath her bra and ran a thumb over her breast. Her breath hitched at the contact and he sucked gently on her neck as he worked his hand over her. He could feel the heat between them intensify again as she pushed up into his hips and nipped at his ear.
He responded by lowering his hand down her side – marvelling at how she did not flinch when his thumb ran over her scars – to come to rest firmly on her hip. He pushed into her hips again as he gripped her hip firmly, pinning her to the couch and dipped a thumb beneath the waistband of her jeans. She responded by shivering deliciously against him and latched her lips to his neck. He hissed out at the feeling, shifted his weight to her side and brought his hand to the center of her pants and undid the button before slowly pulling down the fly. Pressing into her once more Hermione moaned but then her hand fell from where it had been tightly gripping his back to grab his wrist gently.
"I-I'm not sure I'm ready," Hermione said in a breathless whisper, her lips breaking from his neck as she looked toward his face. "I- I don't know if I'm ready to – to do that."
Hermione looked at Harry and was a little surprised to see that he smiled. She hadn't been sure what would happen if she put the breaks on their situation but she hadn't exactly anticipated him smiling about it. She knew Harry wasn't pushy – but still.
"Hermione," he said as he leaned forward to kiss her once gently. "I wasn't planning for us to do that, I was just going to touch you – if you want me to. But we don't have to do anything else, or anything that you don't want."
Hermione's mind blanked as his words. He was going to touch me, her heart raced and she felt a deep red blush consume her face as she realized what he had meant. She hadn't even thought about doing other things, her body thus far had just been reacting instinctively to everything that had happened. She'd only even thought about where things were headed when she felt the button of her pants undo and a brief wave of panic hit her as she urgently realized that she wasn't sure if she was ready to have sex. She turned her eyes away from Harry's instead looking at his right ear. She didn't know what to say now. The truth was that she did want Harry to touch her. She was impossibly wound up and wanted to know what it would feel like to have him touch her – but she felt incredibly embarrassed to say that out loud. And incredibly selfish. She flicked her eyes back to his, bit her lip and then looked away again as her mind mulled over formulating an appropriate response.
"It's okay, Hermione," he said gently as he started to pull his hand away. "I won't do anything."
Hermione's grip tightened and she stopped his hand from pulling away completely. Her eyes were downcast and she felt embarrassed as the next words slipped through her lips.
"No I – I want you to," she glanced back up at him under her lashes, nervous to see his expression.
His eyes darkened at her words and she saw lustful desire cross his face as he slowly smiled. She let go of his wrist and shakily brought her hand back around his back as her heart hammered in anticipation in her chest. He kissed her lips, then her jaw, then the sides of her mouth before latching his lips back to hers.
"Just relax," he breathed against her lips as his hand moved back to the waist of her pants. "And tell me if you want me to stop."
She nodded against his lips and then clenched the fabric of his sweater between her fingers as his hand slipped slowly below her jeans. His hand was warm, and he gently pressed it against her mound above her knickers. His movements were paced, giving her plenty of time to stop him as he ran a finger over her wet knickers. She shuddered beneath his touch, inhaling sharply at the intense and pleasant wave that rolled through her. He continued to gently tease his fingers above her knickers, rubbing her gently and eliciting small moans and intakes of breath. Then kissing her deeply he slipped his hand below her knickers and traced a finger over her wet center.
Hermione's mouth fell open as a deep moan escaped her and her head fell back once more. He touched her again, feeling her unconsciously push up against his hand as her body craved more contact. He complied, circling his fingers until he found the spot that made Hermione's breath catch and a strangled moan pour from her lips. He grinned against her neck as he continued to move his hand, pressing gently against her to match the rocking of her hips. Hermione's mind was filled with the sensation of Harry. His lips against her neck, his hand that propped her head up and added gentle pressure at the base of her neck, his fingers – Oh god his fingers – she cried internally as he touched her.
Her internal monologue of profanities continued to pick up the pace as her hips rocked more quickly against him and Harry touched her with a precision that she didn't even know was possible. She thanked any deity that might be listening for his skilled fingers, and marvelled at how quickly he had started to pick up on her cues – listening to her breath, watching her motions, gauging her reactions and constantly adjusting his pressure and his touch to give her what she wanted. The profanities and partial words that had been streaming through her head fell from her lips as she panted into his ear and Harry continued to work his fingers over her.
"Oh fuck, Harry," the words fell out of her mouth and she clutched his back tightly as the pressure that had been building at her core compounded to an impossible level. She felt like she was going to explode, the coil was wound impossibly tight – too tight. "Har – Harry I – I think I'm going to – fuck – Harry – I"
Her words were lost to another moan as her brain seemed to stop functioning and Harry kissed her deeply, his motions never stopping.
"Let go Hermione," he spoke as his head dropped down to her ear and he pulled her tighter into him. "Let go – and come, come for me."
His voice reverberated down her spine as her body shuddered and she convulsed against him as a deep, desperate, moan ripped from her throat. She clung to him as she came, her hips jerking as she rode the wave that washed over her and white flashed in her eyes as she closed them impossibly tight. Her mouth fell open as she sputtered more profanities and praise against his ear as she dropped her head to his shoulder. His hand slowed against her, gently taking her down from her high as she melted in his arms.
She felt like a decade of stress had just vanished from her body. She was warm, relaxed – she felt like her bones had disappeared and her bone was completely limp in Harry's arms as he pulled his hand away from her center to rest it gently at her side. He kissed her lips, her face, her eyes and her nose – and she lay there like an incapable sack of potatoes.
Slowly she opened her eyes to look up at him, he was smiling down at her, and she felt another blush creep over her face as the intimacy of what happened started to sink in. She was too tired and much too calm and relaxed to react, but still she felt a bit self-conscious about coming harder than she ever had under Harry's touch.
"Hey," he said softly as he stroked the back of her neck with his thumb that was still bracing her head.
"Hey," she said breathlessly as she continued to stare up at him with hazy eyes.
"Feel better?"
"Yes," the word left her lips with the slightest exhaled laugh. She did feel better, far less tense, far less pent up and much, much, happier. She wondered if Harry had been intending to help her with her stress and pent up frustration all along.
He grinned down at her before placing a lazy kiss on her lips.
"I'm glad," he spoke softly. Looking over her face and noticing how her eyes blinked heavily as she looked up at him. "Want to go to bed?"
Hermione's heart fluttered at the thought. Harry had just voluntarily touched her – almost everywhere – accepted her scarred body, and just relieved her of her earlier tension and pent up frustration. And he did not ask for anything in return, just if she wanted to go to bed. A part of her wanted to repay him, to feel more of him, maybe see if she could do something to help him relieve his own pent up tension. But her breathing was slow and her eyes felt like lead after her intense orgasm, and going to bed sounded like the best thing in the world. She smiled at him and kissed him sleepily before agreeing.
They detangled themselves from the couch and then not bothering to button up her pants she staggered sleepily to the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth, wash her face and use the loo. She pulled on the plaid pajama bottoms that she had brought with her, fuzzy socks and a thin tank top. She was still impossibly warm, and she did not feel like wearing a heavy sweater to bed. Besides, she thought sleepily as she opened the bathroom door, Harry had said 'want to go to bed', not 'you should go to bed'. And she had no intention of sleeping alone tonight.
Hermione crawled into Harry's bunk while he was using the washroom. She had worried that if she crawled into her own it might not send the right message and he may not know to come join her. Message sent, she thought as she snuggled up under the blanket and waited for him to return. The loose-fitting tank top that she wore revealed her top scar most prominently – but tonight, it wasn't even a thought. Her eyes had already drifted closed when she heard Harry come from the bathroom and felt the bunk sink as he sat on the edge before climbing in completely and pulling her to his chest.
She snuggled into him, back against his chest, face toward the tent wall as she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.