Blame it on the Rain

Author's Note: This story comes to you from book 7, The Deathly Hallows. Ron has left the trio and Hermione and Harry are having trouble with figuring out where to go next in their quest. Content warning! Lemons ahead! Enjoy! :D

The rain pounded at the tent in a thunderous chorus. It was cold, wet and uncomfortable. The fire in the hearth gave little warmth. Hermione put the kettle on the stove for some tea. It was her turn wearing the locket tonight. Normally she would have been sitting outside, keeping watch, but the downpour kept her in the musty confines of the small tent.

It had been weeks since Ron had stormed off. The strain of his absence was clear in the lines of worry etched on Hermione's face. She and Harry moved campsites often, never staying more than two or three nights in one place, wandering aimlessly. They didn't speak much to each other anymore except when discussing horcruxes or the location of Gryffindor's sword. They were out of ideas and Harry could not remember Dumbledore ever hinting at where the sword might be, no matter how hard Harry wracked his brain. Their mission felt very bleak and hopeless. What little news they heard from the blindfolded Phineas Nigellus portrait did little to assuage their anxieties. He only brought disheartening news from Hogwarts and seemed to venerate Snape, the new headmaster.

The drumming of the rain was interrupted by the whistle of the kettle. Harry hardly glanced up from where he lay in his small cot, pouring over the Marauder's map, when Hermione went to get the kettle. He had taken to staring intently at Ginny's tiny dot, wishing with all his might that she were there with him. A sharp cry of pain followed by a crash as the pot splashed onto the ground, spilling boiling water all over the floor broke him from his reverie. Harry whipped his head around to see Hermione holding her hand in pain and the tea pot on the floor. Her expression very quickly went from shock and pain to anger. She let out a growl of frustration and kicked the kettle across the tent. It hit the opposite canvas wall with an unsatisfying thump.

Just as quickly as the anger had come, it left and Hermione sunk to the floor, buried her face in her hands, and began to sob. Harry scrambled to his feet, crossed the tent to where Hermione sat on the floor, and fell to his knees before her, barely acknowledging the hot water soaking into the knees of his jeans. Not sure how to comfort his dear friend, but wanting to at least try, Harry clumsily reached out for Hermione.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said gently, awkwardly patting her upper arm. "Don't-"

Hermione flung her arms around Harry and burrowed her face into his neck, crying even harder. Harry gingerly drew his arms around Hermione's back and gave her a hug.

"Shh…" he soothed and began rubbing small circles into her back with one hand. His fingers brushed against the chain of the locket. "Well, that's the problem right there," he thought to himself.

Harry released Hermione and gently removed the horcrux from Hermione's neck, carefully maneuvering around her bountiful chestnut curls. Once it was free from her body, Hermione visibly seemed better. Her back straightened as though a hefty weight had been removed from her shoulders, her hearty sobs abated and she began to sniffle. She watched as Harry tossed it onto the nearby table from their position on the floor.

It was such a relief to have the damn thing off her neck, though the hurt and loneliness it intensified were still present. Hermione still missed Ron and her parents and her friends and Hogwarts. She still worried endlessly about all the innocent lives lost or interrupted outside their stupid little tent as they wandered aimlessly from place to place, each more desolate than the last. The hopelessness still ate at her heart because they weren't any nearer their goal of finding the remaining horcruxes and destroying them.

Hermione leaned back into Harry's embrace, letting fresh tears fall. How terrible was their situation and yet, how nice of a respite it was to be held. She squeezed Harry a little tighter and let herself sink into his warm chest.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled into Harry's shoulder between shuddering breaths.

"Shh," Harry repeated. "It's okay." He stroked her voluminous hair.

"It all just feels so hopeless," she wailed. "I feel so stupid!"

"No!" Harry said firmly, leaning away from her hug to fully look Hermione in the face. "You are the most clever witch I have ever met in my life!" he said emphatically, brushing sweaty, tear-soaked strands of hair from Hermione's face. "Smarter than McGonagall, even." He wiped away a few tears.

Hermione snorted and gave a half-smile.

At least she wasn't all alone. At least she still had Harry.

Harry went to lean in to give Hermione another hug, but as he did so, a peculiar thing happened: they kissed, instead.

It was a silly mistake; just a quick glance of their lips and they both jumped back instantly at the intimate contact. But when their eyes met, a million emotions crashed upon them in an instant; the hurt, the anger, the loneliness, the despair. And without a second thought, they crashed their lips upon each other's in a hasty embrace.

Harry ran his hands up Hermione's back and into her hair while she clawed at his back in desperate passion. A whimper escaped Hermione's lips as Harry's hot tongue ran across them. She opened her mouth and invited his tongue in, flicking it with her own.

Not knowing what they were doing, only following their intense desire to be close, to be held, to be loved, Hermione and Harry raked their hands up and down each other's bodies; feverish, begging moans coming from them both.

Hermione's hands flew under Harry's T-shirt with an urgency, her fingers splayed wide, taking in the skin of his warm and welcoming abdomen and chest. Harry groaned at the contact of her aggressive fingertips against his nipples.

They broke their kiss and scrambled to their feet. Hermione roughly jerked Harry's tee over his head and tossed it aside, his glasses clattering to the floor. Harry, shivering with tension and desire, jerked Hermione's heavy sweater over her head revealing a plain bra. He only had a moment to take in her shapely form before Hermione's lips crashed into his again in chaotic fervor. His hands snaked up her spine and struggled with the clasp of her bra while her shaking fingers fumbled with his belt buckle.

Harry's pants hit the floor and he absentmindedly kicked them off while thrusting his tongue deep into Hermione's mouth, his erection pressing firmly into the supple flesh of her abdomen, hot through the thin fabric of his boxer shorts. He clawed at her bra straps and pulled them down her shoulders, exposing her pert breasts. Harry kissed a scorching trail down Hermione's neck and collar bone, Hermione's breaths coming out quick and hoarse. Harry snatched a greedy handful of her breast and kneaded it before bringing his mouth down to kiss her cleavage and running his hot tongue over her hardened, rosy nipple. She whimpered in response and felt her sex quiver.

Their mouths met again for a moment before Hermione pushed Harry away and charged toward his bunk. She unclasped her bra and divested herself of her jeans and damp panties before backing onto the creaky cot, exposing her fully naked self to Harry.

Harry followed and without stopping to think, he removed his last remaining article of clothing, revealing his engorged member. Hermione's eyes raked over his muscular and flushed body before he came to her and fully lay against her, meeting her eager mouth once again. Their bodies writhed against each other's with a trembling urgency. Harry's fingers probed Hermione's juicy folds, drunk with passion. She squirmed beneath him, biting his lip and grasped his throbbing cock. Harry groaned into her mouth as she stroked the length of him.

He broke their kiss and settled between her legs, which she opened wide to accommodate his strong body. Grasping his member in his hand, Harry guided himself on pure instinct to Hermione's dewy entrance. He slowly advanced, pushing himself inside her tight folds. Hermione wriggled beneath him, adjusting the angle of her hips as she clung desperately to him. She threw her head back and let out a cry of pain or pleasure, she wasn't sure, when with one last thrust, Harry pushed himself completely inside of her.

Hermione took a moment to revel in the exquisite feeling of her core being full; how he seemed to fit into her body just right. It was like some ancient knowledge was awakening inside of her.

Her epiphany came and went when Harry withdrew his length and then slowly plunged back into her. He let out an aching moan at the indescribable bliss he felt as he began to pump his straining erection in and out of Hermione's plump and slippery canal. He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck as he pounded her with desperate desire. She whimpered in his ear and clawed at his shoulders. Hermione wrapped her legs around Harry's back when he arched up and rested his weight on his hands, gaining more leverage.

Hot and sweaty, Harry kissed Hermione with open, sloppy kisses as he plunged his hot cock in and out of her wet folds. He threw his head back with exquisite pleasure as he embraced the steady and overwhelming onrush of his orgasm. Hearts hammering in their chests and with gasping breaths, their bodies crashed upon each other's faster and faster, until with a primal shout, Harry came hard, deep inside Hermione. He collapsed onto her chest, quivering with each rolling wave of his orgasm. Hermione hugged Harry tighter, still, to her body and planted feather-light kisses on his forehead, ear, and cheek as he slowly came down from the high. He withdrew his member and the two settled side by side with a satisfied sigh in the small cot, Harry's seed trickling slowly down Hermione's milky thigh.

They fell asleep in each other's arms to the sound of the rain outside, completely content for the first time in months.

…

Harry awoke the next morning to the smell of porridge cooking, alone in his bunk. The sun shone weakly down on the tent through the clouds; the rain had stopped. Harry blinked the sleep from his eyes a few times as the unreality of the previous night washed over.

I had sex! He thought. I can't believe I had sex! ...with Hermione… What have I done!? Why did we do that!? Oh, my God...

Harry roughly scrubbed his face with his hands, hoping to wipe away the memories of Hermione's face drawn with pleasure, writhing beneath him; the feel of her wet pussy wrapped around his dick. He felt his morning wood twitch.

Argh!

He sat up too quickly in the bottom bunk where he lay and hit his head on the upper bunk. He let out a hiss of pain and annoyance and got up to pee in the small sectioned off washroom of the tent after hastily throwing on a pair of pants and a sweater. When he came back into the living area, Hermione was tending to their breakfast on the stove and wouldn't look at him the eye. A blush bloomed across her cheeks.

"Morning," Harry hedged. God, this was awkward.

"Morning," Hermione replied, tight lipped. She was wearing the locket, Harry noticed.

The two sat down and ate their breakfast in silence. It was like torture to Harry.

What is she thinking? She's thinking it was a huge mistake. I think it was a huge mistake. Man, I want to do it again. No! It was wrong, so wrong… Does she want to do it again?

Images from the previous night crept into Harry's brain unbidden once again. The sound of her moans, the smell of their sex mingled in the air, the delicious feeling of coming into her with wave after wave of his orgasm…

Oh shit…

Harry's stomach plummeted. New images were ran in fast forward across his mind's eye. Professor McGonagall at the head of a classroom with all his fellow third year Gryffindors sitting in desks around him. Detailed diagrams of male and female reproductive organs spellotaped on the blackboard behind the professor. Muffled giggles that carried across the room as the group of 13 year-olds were taught about the anatomy of their bodies, the changes that were taking place, and the… the process of procreation. Harry gulped hard and felt the blood drain from his face. Oh God...

Hermione got up and cleared the table of their dishes. Harry wasn't done with his porridge, but he didn't protest. He cleared his throat.

"Hermione, I-" he started.

"I think we should move on from here," she interrupted him. "We've been here two days already." She flicked her wand and the dishes were clean.

"Hermione," Harry said more firmly, staring daggers into her back, willing her to look at him. She paused. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. Last night... I didn't think. I… into your…" he struggled with the words.

"Don't," Hermione interjected. She turned and hastily met his eyes, blushing furiously. "I took a potion…" she mumbled, hardly audible, turning her back to him once again.

"Oh," Harry sighed, relief flooding his body. "Okay."

Just like Hermione, Harry thought. Prepared for literally anything...

"Help me pack up," she said stiffly.

Harry did as he was told without another word. It seemed she wanted to pretend nothing happened. Harry understood. It was a crazy, freak thing that happened.

It's best we forget all about it, he thought with a sigh.

Moving in a set of routine motions, the pair magicked all their belongings into Hermione's beaded bag and took down their protective spells one by one before disapparating, hand in hand. They reappeared on the weedy edge of a briny beach somewhere gray and cold. Then, as in a dance, the two placed protective spells in a wide circle and then set up their tent and other belongings.

They spent the rest of the day how they spent the majority of their days; in relative silence. Hermione kept watch outside with her nose stuck in the Tales of Beedle the Bard while Harry paced agitatedly in the tent, endlessly turning the snitch over in his hands again and again.

Before long, night fell and after a sad meal of cabbage soup, Harry turned in, trying hard not to let the passionate night before replay in his mind. He had finally gotten settled and was just feeling his body sink towards sleep when the soft k-chunk of a heavy metal object being set down on the table snapped him back to consciousness. He hardly had time to see what had made the noise when Hermione, wearing only a flannel night shirt and thick wool socks, crawled into his bunk beside him. Harry saw that she had taken off the locket.

Without saying a word, Hermione met Harry's lips in the dim light of the tent, her cold hands cradling Harry's face. Harry didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around Hermione's slim frame, hugging her closer to his body. Hearts pounding in their chests, the two kissed dreamily and deeply, entangling their limbs together. Her hands ran through his dark messy locks as he nipped at her earlobe and kissed down her neck.

Harry gently tugged Hermione's flannel over her head revealing her fully naked body. She shook out her hair as she settled beneath Harry, spreading her legs wide to accommodate him. She brought his lips to her welcoming mouth and felt his erection pressing urgently against her mound. Hermione savored the feeling of Harry's weight on top of her; writhing, groping, gasping. She dragged his shirt up over his head as he began to kiss down her neck again, the feel of his bare skin against hers intoxicating. Kneading her breasts, Harry kissed down past her collar bone to her rigid nipple and raked his tongue across it, eliciting a quiet moan from Hermione. He traced his tongue across her nipple's pebbled surface once more before taking it fully in his mouth and suckling it. Her core sang with urgency and impatience. Another moan escaped her lips as she bucked her hips up against Harry's, her engorged clit caressing his restrained member. Harry groaned into her skin.

He freed her nipple and began trailing wet kisses further down her body, past her ribs, her navel, her hips. Harry placed one last kiss on Hermione's inner thigh before settling himself on his elbows between her legs. She looked down at him, exhilarated, and their eyes met for a brief second before he gave her a wicked smile and dipped his head down to her sex. Harry traced a feather-light tongue from the bottom of her succulent orifice all the way up to her rosy clitoris. Hermione jerked her head back in response and gasped.

Harry lapped at her clit almost teasingly before finding a comfortable rhythm. With a wide, flat tongue, he feasted on Hermione, savoring her taste; engulfed in her aroma. Her panting and quivering increased exponentially when Harry burrowed a couple of fingers deep inside her folds and began to massage the soft ridges of her G-spot. The swirling of his tongue and the feverish work of his fingers overwhelmed Hermione's senses. Trembling all over, a deep blush across her cheeks and chest, and breaths coming sharp and fast, Hermione felt a knot tightening in her core. With each quickened rake of Harry's tongue and plunge of his fingers, that pulsating knot coiled tighter and tighter.

"Harry!" Hermione let out a powerful cry as she came.

She bucked her hips up into Harry's face and clenched her thighs hard, trapping him as she rode every shuddering wave of her orgasm.

Hermione relaxed her legs into a spread eagle as the last of the spasms subsided. She smiled up at Harry, brushing tangles of sweaty hair away from her flushed face. He flashed a sexy grin back at her, absentmindedly wiping his dripping chin with the back of his hand while sitting up as well as he could in the bottom bunk.

He wriggled out of his pajama bottoms, relieving his engorged erection from its fabric prison. It bobbed happily as Harry pulled Hermione to him. His feet tucked under him and his weight resting on his knees, Harry guided Hermione close to his body, her legs spread wide. He nestled the head of his cock in the glistening entrance of Hermione's folds. Tucking his arms beneath her legs, he leaned forward onto his hands and plunged into her wetness. Harry let out a lascivious groan. He brought his lips down to meet hers and she hummed in pleasure into his mouth as he began to thrust in and out of her.

How pliant and supple she felt beneath him that the aching need for completion flooded Harry's body. Harder and faster he pounded her, her feet bouncing on his shoulders, matching his rhythm, his senses overloaded. Harry's body crashed upon Hermione's, tickling her clit, his cock furiously probing her G-spot. Soon, she found herself tensing for another orgasm.

Their breaths quickening, their hearts pounding in their chests, intense cries of pleasure coming from their parted lips; they both rushed recklessly toward release.

"Aah… Ah… Hermione!" Harry's growl through gritted teeth was swallowed up by Hermione's scream as the two plunged over the edge together, their bodies shuddering and pulsating in unison.

They lay together, Harry's face buried in Hermione's neck, his member softening insider of her, while their orgasms subsided and their breathing slowed. With a great sigh, he disentangled their bodies and lay by her side. She curled up beside him, feeling what he left slowly trickle out of her, and rested her head on his shoulder. She traced light circles with her fingertips in his sparse, fine chest hairs and placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. Harry hummed in pleasure and ran his hand up her wrist to her arm. He looked down at her with a smile, feeling the same incredible rush of contentment and gave her a tender kiss.

...

When Harry woke the next morning, Hermione was still lying beside him. How strange, he thought to himself, that it didn't feel strange. It felt so good to be close, to be held. He snuggled Hermione a little closer to his body, but the jostling stirred her. She blinked and stretched, a little squeak coming from her pursed lips. Her hair was a tangled halo around her pink face.

"Good morning," Harry said with a grin, happiness brightening his features.

"G'morning," Hermione murmured, mirroring his expression. It was nice to wake up in each other's arms.

They lay there together in the small cot for a moment longer in companionable silence, listening to the waves crashing on the shore outside and the gulls call out in the distance. Slowly, Hermione sat up in the bed and found her flannel nightshirt on the floor. The skin of her back, Harry appreciated as she got dressed, was as smooth and flawless as silk. Harry sat up as well and watched her make her way to the washroom. He wondered if today would be like yesterday. Would they act like nothing at all happened until the night fell and they came together again?

Before long, it was Harry's turn with the toilet as Hermione began to make porridge for breakfast. Their meals were plain and scant, they only ate what they could safely nick from under the invisibility cloak in any villages that happened to be nearby. It was not great, to be sure, but meal times had been so much more tolerable since Ron had not been present to grumble about their lack of sausages and pudding.

Hermione felt a sharp pang of guilt and sadness at the thought of Ron. What a mess she found herself in, being drawn so closely to Harry out of necessity. The loneliness was so powerful it almost devoured her whole. Harry was her port in the storm. He was there to hold her, to love her… to devour her in much better, newer ways. Hermione's cheeks burned crimson at the mischievous grin Harry had given her before diving head first between her legs. The memory of the powerful force of the orgasm he had given her caused her stomach to flip and sent an electric shock wave down her core. She'd never felt anything quite like it before; not nearly as powerful, anyway. She had to do that again.

Ron, who? She chuckled to herself and then immediately winced at her callousness.

Harry and Hermione ate their porridge at the small table in silence, but this time it didn't feel so awkward. They smiled at each other whenever they caught the other's gaze. It was Harry's turn with the locket, but he hadn't put it on yet. It still sat on the table where Hermione had placed it the previous evening. He felt so light and free without it's dark energy pulsating into his chest. Harry stuck it in his pocket, instead.

Hermione took his action as his signal that he was done with breakfast. She pushed her bowl aside and leaned on the table.

"So," she hedged, her cheeks growing rosy.

"Yeah?" Harry looked up, swallowing a mouthful of porridge.

"That thing you did…" her face burned. "Last night… Where did you learn that?"

Harry gave a chuckle, but his cheeks went a little pink too. He ran a hand through his black hair.

"Oh, that. Fred and George taught me a thing or two," Harry leaned in conspiratorially. "…about the ladies." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Hermione and laughed. Hermione joined him. The sound was happy and exhilarating. It had been a long time since it rang through the tent.

"I'll have to write them a thank you note," Hermione giggled. "You know, I can't believe you know more about a subject than I do."

Harry laughed again.

"Yeah, you're right," he chuckled. "I mean, in theory, anyway," he amended. "It was my first time, too." Harry looked bashfully up at Hermione through thick, black lashes.

Hermione blushed a little and had to look away from his brilliant green eyes.

…

The two fell into a new routine that day. They laughed more and exchanged their working theories of where the Gryffindor sword might be so they could destroy the locket; they talked about their friends and family and what they wanted to do with their lives once the war was over; and when night fell, they'd be in each other's arms, making passionate love or simply cuddling. They'd magicked Harry's bunk bed into one larger cot and were no longer constrained by it's size or height. They never fooled around during the day- it was always strictly business, but come the night, their sweaty bodies would writhe against each other's and their heady moans would ring through the cold night air. They had never felt closer as friends now that they were lovers. The loneliness and hopelessness they had once felt was now a distant memory.

They had begun to see Christmas lights in the villages they pillaged supplies from and the snow came almost every day, nearly burying their little tent in the night, once.

One evening after a particularly good meal of spaghetti Bolognese and tinned pears, Harry built up the courage to ask Hermione once more about visiting Godric's Hollow. The siren call of his birth place and parent's final resting place was too strong.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" she was curled up on a sagging armchair near the stove with the Tales of Beedle the Bard. Harry couldn't possibly fathom what more she could get out of that little book, but the open Spellman's Syllabary in her lap told him she must have found something interesting.

"I've been thinking-" he felt as nervous as he had all those years ago when he'd asked Professor McGonagall permission to go to Hogsmeade without a signed permission form. Hermione looked up at him. "I want to go to Godric's Hallow."

The End!

A/N: This is the first time I've tried writing in (omniscient) 3rd person POV. I hope it comes off well and that you enjoyed this diversion from my long fic. Lol. If you feel up for it, please leave me a review and let me know what you think! I always love hearing from you guys! :D