This is being cross-posted from Ao3. It was originally posted on 10 December 2020.
Much love to starrnobella for reading this over and thank you to GaeilgeRua for allowing me to use her Grammarly subscription . Any other mistakes you find are my own Much love, xxDustNight!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. Sherlock belongs to PBS & BBC America. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.
Prompt: A more-than-serious snowball fight brings some hidden feelings to light.
Biting her lip, Hermione watched as Sherlock typed furiously away on John's laptop. She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen in a robe and nothing else, and yet the consulting detective couldn't spare her a second glance. For months now she'd been trying to get his attention, but to no avail. Sherlock bloody Holmes simply wasn't taking any hints!
She'd fallen for the consulting detective the first time they collaborated on a case she was working for the Ministry and evolved even further when she moved into 221B after John and Mary got a place of their own. Over time, Hermione thought that Sherlock might pick up on the attraction, but he only ever seemed to have an interest in her magical abilities and how she could help with cases. It was more than frustrating.
Molly and Mary suggested that she try touching him more, so Hermione had done that. When she'd first started realizing she had feelings for Sherlock, she began gently placing her hand on his arm. A little touch here, a gentle pat there. It was easy to sneak in the small caresses, especially when he was trying to show her something on the computer or in the papers. She started to stand a bit closer, leaning over him and allowing her body to press into his.
On occasion, Hermione would have sworn that Sherlock noticed, his mysterious eyes flickering to her from time to time. Only, he never said anything. She leaned so very close to him as they examined clues at crime scenes, and once she'd even fallen into his lap on purpose. Still… No reaction. In all his cleverness and ability to deduce the clues of cases, he never bloody figured out that Hermione was attracted to him and wanted to be more than friends.
As the months wore on, Hermione grew bolder. She began to wander around the flat in her pyjamas which often consisted of little shorts and tank tops that showed her midriff. When still Sherlock didn't appear interested, she moved to wear a robe with nothing underneath. Indeed he had to know she was lusting for him, especially as she'd found herself spending more and more time with her own hands between her legs as she pictured Sherlock removing the robe to hungrily taste her wet cunt…
Nevertheless, as the winter and the holidays grew near, Hermione was starting to grow frustrated in more ways than one. Standing there, after having taken a shower, Hermione walked into the room where Sherlock was working. She bent over the desk in nothing but her robe. While in the loo, she'd managed to tie the robe in a way that it would not stay secure. Sure enough, as she bent over, the robe tie slipped entirely loose, revealing her naked body entirely to the consulting detective.
Straightening quickly to continue the charade, Hermione gasped. As if in perfect slow motion, Sherlock's eyes lifted from the computer screen and first sought out her face. A second later, they flickered down to her naked chest and obviously naked cunt before meeting her gaze again. He blinked rapidly and then swiftly returned to typing on the laptop. Swiftly, Hermione grabbed both sides of the robe and pulled it tight, already feeling her heartbreak at his apparent disinterest.
"I'm so sorry!" she managed to exclaim before, red faced, turning and all but sprinting from the room. Once safely in the upstairs bedroom, Hermione sat on the bed with her face in both hands. Tears of frustration and embarrassment streaked down her face.
This couldn't keep going on like this, she thought. She'd apologize at lunch and see if maybe he said something further. If Sherlock made no comment about feeling anything more for her than the friendship they shared while working together, then she'd have to just… let it go. It would hurt, but that is what she would have to do.
At lunch when she'd apologized for the incident, Sherlock had acted as if he didn't even remember it happening. It was then that Hermione thought perhaps she was knocking on a door that would never open. It wasn't fair to keep trying, especially if it was making Sherlock uncomfortable. Only, he never said anything to stop her, so how was she to know unless straight out asking him what he felt toward her. That certainly wasn't going to happen...
As they were walking back home after lunch from the restaurant, Hermione had an idea. Bending over, she picked up some snow and casually packed it into a ball. Sherlock was a few paces ahead of her, blathering on about how annoying Mycroft was and that he had no plans of going to his parents' for the holidays. Shaking her head, Hermione waited for the perfect angle and then tossed the snowball right at Sherlock's back.
It hit him right between the shoulders, which he scrunched up as snow exploded up around his head. As he whirled around, Hermione burst out into laughter, doubling over and holding her side. "You should see your face, Sherlock," she said, giggling at the sight of snow in his hair.
"You think that this is funny?" Sherlock said, reaching up and ruffling his hair. When Hermione nodded and then giggled some more, he added, "I'm not going to play games with you, Hermione." Then, he turned around and began to walk again.
Huffing, Hermione was not to be deterred. She scooped up some more snow and began pelting the consulting detective with snowball after snowball. "Come on, Scrooge," she called out in jest, forming another ball of snow. "Loosen up and have some fun."
"I am not a Scrooge," Sherlock muttered, turning around and hitting Hemrione's newest snowball away as it came close to his face. "I'll show you how to make a real snowball." He grabbed some snow off a low wall and slowly made a snowball.
As he held it up to show Hermione, she threw another snowball at him. "You take too long," she teased before crossing her arms. "It's not about how perfect they are, but how quickly you can get them made."
"This is ridiculous," Sherlock muttered with narrowed eyes. "What is the point of this?"
"To have fun," Hermione explained, rolling her eyes. She wanted to hit him square in the face but refrained. "I was trying to get your attention, Sherlock."
"You have my attention," he said and then turned away toward Baker Street.
"No," Hermione said with a sigh, "I do not." Dropping her last snowball to the ground, she began walking, essentially giving up on trying to get Sherlock to notice her and her feelings. Consistently getting her heart hurt was starting to grow old, and she'd finally had enough.
As she passed Sherlock tried to grab her arm, but she tugged it out of his reach. There was no point in having an argument when they had to go home and live together. With John and Mary away on holiday, it was just the two of them this Christmas. If they were arguing, that would only make the holiday more depressing than it was bound to be now.
Suddenly, a snowball hit her in the back of the head. Stumbling slightly in surprise, Hermione grabbed at her snow-covered hair and turned around. "What the?" She'd barely got the question out before being bombarded with snowball after snowball as Sherlock packed and threw them at her.
Laughing, Hermione scrambled to make more snowballs. Before long, the two were in the midst of a heated battle right there in the middle of the busy road. Thankfully, traffic was light both on and off the sidewalk. They laughed and threw snowballs at one another, ducking for cover behind bins and parked cars. It was more fun than either of them had in a very long while.
When at last they reached the front of their flat, they were winded and soaked through their coats. Sherlock hurried to unlock the door, allowing Hermione to stop breathlessly inside before him.
"I've been trying to get your attention for months," Hermione panted, wiping melted snow from her rosy cheeks.
"What for?" Sherlock asked, his chest still heaving from their exertion.
"I'm in love with you," she said, deciding there was no reason to try and pretend anymore. "I know you're married to your work, but maybe you can make time for me too."
"Is that why you walk around naked?" Sherlock said, tilting his head in inquiry.
Hermione nodded, noting the way his sea-coloured eyes travelled up and down her body as if remembering what she looked like underneath. She shivered, but not from the cold and wet her lips. "Yes," she said, unable to ignore the heat growing inside of her.
"That solves that mystery," Sherlock replied, a smirk forming at his lips. Then, surprising them both, he reached out and tugged Hermione forward.
Letting Sherlock pull her close, she stared up into his face, hoping that something brilliant was about to happen. She could see the hesitation forming at his brown, and decided to take matters into her own hands. Reaching up, she carded her fingers through his damp hair and guided his head down toward her own. When their lips were just inches away from one another, she whispered, "Don't be afraid."
Sherlock's lips pressed tentatively against hers, and she breathed a sigh of relief through her nose. When his arms wrapped around her waist and held her thought, Hermione opened her mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss. For ages, this was what she'd dreamed of nearly every single night, and it was finally happening. Eyes fluttering shut, Hermione allowed herself to enjoy the moment.
A small moan escaped Sherlock when she rocked her hips into his. Lifting her quickly, he carried her up the stairs to flat 221B. Thankfully it wasn't a far walk to his room from the top of the stairs because that was where they ended up next. After carefully setting Hermione back on her feet, they both went to work, removing their scarves and jackets. Hermione watched Sherlock the entire time, afraid that he would change his mind and run from the room.
There was no going back now, she supposed as he sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned her to him. She stepped between his legs and rubbed her hands up his arms to his shoulders and then neck. Her chilly fingertips ghosted their way over his long next until she was able to cup Sherlock's face in her hands. Softly, she kissed Sherlock's lips wanting this moment to last forever.
Fully invested at the moment, Sherlock unzipped Hermione's dress and let it fall to the floor. His large hands bunched up in silk slip, causing a sigh of contentment to leave the witch. "Is this what you want?" he asked, meeting her eyes in question.
"Yes," she said, drawing even closer to him and running her thumbs over his sharp cheekbones. "More than anything." She kissed him again, this time feeling a giggle bubble up inside of her when he shivered at her touch.
"I never thought you would want to be with me," he said, averting his eyes briefly. "I'm not an easy person to like, let alone love."
"Neither am I," Hermione admitted, frowning. "I think that's why I was about to give up today. I didn't think there was ever a chance that you'd want to be with me."
"You have a brilliant mind and a kind soul," Sherlock told her, earning a blush. "Any man would be lucky to have you."
"Will you?" she asked shyly, dropping her hands from his face to rest on his thighs. "Have me, I mean."
Sherlock growled, grabbing hold of Hermione's hips and flipping her onto the bed. She yelped, out of surprise and not fear. Sherlock climbed between her legs, spreading her thighs wide so he could get as close to her as possible. "I want nothing more than to have you now and forever, Hermione," he said, his voice deep and low with arousal.
That was all the reassurance Hermione needed, and she showed Sherlock this by removing her slip and revealing that she was completely naked underneath. Sherlock bent forward and captured her lips in a heated kiss, one hand bracing himself above her as the other traced patterns along her bare flesh. When nimble fingers found her wet heat, Hermione's hips jutted off the bed on their own as if begging him for more, more, more. Gently, Sherlock pressed one and then two fingers inside of Hermione before sliding them back out again.
He began a rhythm that he matched with his tongue in her mouth, tasking and learning exactly how she liked to be kissed. Hermione's fingers dug into his pale back, leaving creates that were more like love notes. She rocked her hips in time with his hand, already feeling her first orgasm on the brink as his thumb brushed her clit repeatedly.
"Please," she begged, breaking their kiss to meet his eyes. "I want you inside of me when I come."
Nodding, Sherlock removed his hands and used his tongue to lick them clean. Hermione groaned, grabbing desperately at his belt in a frenzy. With his help, Hermione removed the belt and unzipped his trousers, revealing his long, thick cock. It was mesmerizing, and Hermione couldn't wait for it to be buried deep inside of her cunt. She stroked him one and then twice, making sure he was prepared before mumbling a simple spell of protection.
Sherlock, always enjoying Hermione's magic, chuckled and kissed her lips again. As they languidly kissed, he allowed Hermione to move his cock where she wanted it most. Leaning up, he met her eyes and then ever so teasingly slow, entered Hermione. They both moaned at the feel of him inside her wet, tight cunt. Unable to keep the charade of composure up for long, Sherlock began to move, rocking his hips in a way that drove them both wild.
Lying there, staring up at Sherlock was like a dream, but it was real. Hermione's hands wrapped around his neck as he began to quicken his pace. Already having been so close to orgasm, she knew it wouldn't take long, but she wanted Sherlock to be there with her. Rotating her hips back and forth as he made love to her, Hermione brought him closer with every stroke. As she met his eyes again, Hermione felt her core throb and her walls beginning to tremble.
"I love you, Sherlock," she moaned as her orgasm took hold.
Sherlock's face dropped into the crook of her neck where he kissed her. "I love you too," he revealed, still thrusting into her over and over again. In the next moment, he lost himself as he came, his hips moving erratically.
A little while later, they lay wrapped in one another's arms underneath Sherlock's bedsheets. Hermione was curled into Sherlock's side, and he had his legs tangled with hers. Both of their skin was flushed from their bout of lovemaking even though it was still slightly cool to the touch from their snowball fight. Tracing little circles on his chest, Hermione found herself completely happy and content for the first time since moving here.
"Sherlock?" she asked, not quite sure if he was still awake or now. When he hummed in reply, she continued. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"Of course it is," he mumbled, holding her tighter against his naked body. "If I didn't I would have let you walk away from me this afternoon and not thrown that snowball."
Smiling into Sherlock's chest, Hermione closed her eyes in relief. "I'm glad you did that."
"Me too." After a quiet moment, he sighed and kissed the top of her head even though he had to bend a bit awkwardly to reach. "Now, rest up because I plan to make love to you again before we convince Mrs Hudson to make us tea."
"I can make us tea," Hermione replied, glancing up at her lover.
Smirking, Sherlock said, "Where is the fun in that?"
Hermione had to laugh but went along with it. Settling in for a nap, Hermione was thankful that her relationship had taken a turn for the better. It had all but snowballed into precisely what she'd been hoping for all along. There would be time to hash out the details of their relationship alter, but for now, she had Sherlock, and he had her. They were no longer alone, and that was all that mattered.