Disclaimer:  You know I don't own any of these characters.  I just play in J.K. Rowling's world.  No money is being made from this story.  Strictly an homage.

Author's Note:  This is another looong (well, for me anyway) chapter.  It gets quite smutty towards the end, so hence the NC-17 upgrade.  Nappa and Max Lonewolf, this one is for you, guys.  Hope you like. -- babygrrl

Two things struck Harry immediately.  The first was a shaft of sunlight which caused him to squinch his eyes shut and start groping about for his glasses.  The second was that Hermione was no longer lying next to him.  This alarmed him until he remembered that they were still on a moving bus, which sort of limited the number places she could have got to.  He was still aboard the Knight Bus, in the improbably named Honeymoon Suite.  As he gazed blurrily around him, he wondered what sort of circumstances might lead a couple to have to celebrate their honeymoon aboard the rattling, emergency transport.  He decided he'd rather not know.

Other facts gradually penetrated his fuddled consciousness – he never had been a morning person.  One was that purple faux-fur (at least he hoped it was faux) leopard skin blankets must never, never be paired with shiny red satin sheets.  Or anything else for that matter.  Another was that he was clasping something lacy that turned out to be a garter belt in his left hand.  A grin spread over his face as he recalled some of the more memorable parts of the previous evening.  Hermione Granger, staunch friend, house-elf activist, avid bookworm and terrifying Prefect was also, to his great delight, an insatiable sex goddess.  He lay back against the fuzzy pink heart pillows, folding his hands behind his head, and wondered if there was anything Hermione didn't do well.  It was going to be fun finding out. 

"Good morning, Sleepyhead!"  Hermione bounced through the curtains.  She was already dressed and had her hair pulled back into a pony tail.

Harry, distracted by the bounce, missed part of what she was saying.  ". . . talking to Stan.  We should be arriving in about 30 minutes.  C'mon.  Up with you."  She made a brisk shooing motion.  They were nearing Hogwarts and now Hermione was all business.

Unable to resist, Harry reached out and pulled her down on top of him.  Hermione gave a muffled shriek as she landed face-first in the fuzzy pillows and then struggled to a sitting position, giggling as she batted at his hands. "Behave yourself.  We're nearly to school and you're not even dressed."

Harry looked down at himself.  "Very true.  And since I'm not dressed, how about if we . . ."

Hermione scrambled off the bed and out of reach.  "Don't even think about it, Potter."

"Pleeease?"  Harry slid across the bed towards her.  Catching one of her hands in his, he brought it to his mouth and began planting tiny kisses along the knuckles.  "I'll be very fast.  Promise.  You won't feel a thing."

"Tempting, but no."  Hermione quirked an eyebrow.  "Get dressed.  Now."

Harry, having heard the slightly breathy catch in her voice that let him know she was not unaffected by his attentions, gave in and started rummaging in his trunk for some clothes and his robes.  As he dressed, Hermione busied herself with organizing their things and giving Crookshanks and Hedwig fresh bowls of water.  He smiled, watching her.  He loved it that she was always so . . . thorough. 

Harry was calculating the odds of a favorable response if he were to throw her down on the bed and initiate a tickle fight when suddenly his eye caught on two scraps of parchment lying on the nightstand.  They still hadn't discussed the Auror Training Program and whether or not he was going to enter.  He pocketed the notice, along with Ron's note.  Hopefully they'd be able to sort it out once they reached school.  He was positive it was the right thing to do.  Honestly, what was he supposed to do, hang about waiting for Voldemort and company to attack and hope that no one else got caught in the crossfire?  Hermione had picked up his crumpled shirt from last night and was folding it.  As if feeling his eyes on her, she looked up and grinning, stuck out her tongue.  He felt his heart contract.  No, there was no doubt.  It was definitely the right thing to do.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hogwarts School!  Last stop!"  The Knight Bus screeched to a halt.

Harry saw that he and Hermione were indeed the last passengers left.  He shook hands with a bleary-eyed Ernie and Stan, who assisted them in unloading their luggage.  Then he and Hermione were alone on the green in front of the great castle, watching as the Knight Bus hurtled off and disappeared with a BANG!

"Hallo, you two!"

From a distance, they could see a red haired figure with a familiar long-legged stride crossing the lawn towards them.  Harry and Hermione grinned.  Ron.  And following him was his stunning, if somewhat mercurial girlfriend, Fleur.  When he reached them, Ron and Harry clapped each other on the back and engaged in a minor shoving match which meant they were pleased to see each other.  Hermione and Fleur exchanged amused looks.  "Hey, smart stuff."  Ron gave Hermione's pony tail a tug before enveloping her in a bear hug.  Another side benefit of their failed dating attempt, Hermione thought.  It got rid of that silly awkwardness Ron had had towards her whenever they came into physical contact.

The boys resumed pummeling each other, so Hermione turned to Fleur.  "Are you all settled in?"  The Beauxbatons student was going to spend her final year abroad, here at Hogwarts, much to Ron's delight.

"Oh yes, the other girls have been very helpful.  I think I will like it in Gryffindor tower, even if the décor is somewhat . . . archaic."  After two summers spent at the Burrow with the Weasley's, Fleur's English was excellent.  Hermione thought for sure the stylish girl would be put off by the cheery, cluttered chaos of the Burrow, but evidently she had raved over the adorable "shabby chic" furnishings, winning Mrs. Weasley's heart in the process.  Whenever she and Ron had a spat, his mother was firmly on Fleur's side.

A breeze lifted the veela girl's platinum blond locks, making them stream out behind her like shining ribbons.  Hermione sighed enviously.

"I love your hair.  I wish there was something I could do with mine."

"Oh but you must let me show you my new straightening potion.  My mother just sent it to me.  She got it in Paris!"

"Don't you dare."  Harry had overhead this last bit of conversation, coming up behind Hermione and slipping an arm around her waist.  "You leave your hair alone," he told her.  "I'm going to take off.   I see the troops are on their way."  He indicated the small group of Gryffindor girls who were heading towards them.  "You'll be alright, won't you?"  He chucked her under the chin and dropped a kiss on her forehead.  "C'mon, Ron – give me a hand with these, will you?" After a wide-eyed look, Ron turned and followed.

Hermione was left facing an inquisitive looking Fleur.  Lavender, Parvati and Ginny were also there, wearing identical looks of glee.  The girls briskly levitated her things in the direction of the dormitory and before she could say anything, they had grabbed her by the hands and hauled her off.

When they reached the dorm, Fleur waved off her protestations of hunger (she hadn't had any breakfast).  Lavender and Parvati disappeared and reappeared in record time bearing trays of scones, clotted cream and strawberries from the kitchen as well as steaming mugs of tea.  When everyone had been comfortably established with food and drink, they pounced.

"OK," said Ginny.  "Tell."

"I don't know what you . . ."

"Ah-ah-ah, we saw that back there.  Something happened with Harry, didn't it?"  Lavender leaned forward eagerly.

"I don't suppose you'd consider minding your own business?"  Hermione pleaded.

"Don't be daft."  This was from Parvati.  "We're your friends.  We share in your joy."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, okay, we're nosy.  But we are your friends.  Have pity."  Fleur held out a freshly baked scone.

"Plus if you don't tell, we'll play everyone those tapes from last year when you drank 15 butterbeers at the Three Broomsticks and sang karaoke."  Ginny grinned evilly.

"You wouldn't!"

"Yeah, we would. And we'll tell everyone about how after that you ended up snogging Colin Creevey in the bathroom," Parvati chimed in.

"What?!  I never . . ."

"Well, no," admitted Lavender.  "But it would make a great story."

Hermione's shoulders slumped in defeat.  "Okay, but I'm not giving any lurid details."

"A-ha!"  Lavender squealed.  "That means there are lurid details.  I knew it.  You are so going to tell us everything."  Grabbing a strawberry, she swirled it in some clotted cream and popped it into her mouth.  This was going to be good.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the Great Hall, Harry set about demolishing a plate piled precariously high with fluffy, golden scrambled eggs, ham, bacon, fried tomatoes, and toast.  He and Ron had headed straight there after depositing his things in his room.  For some reason, he seemed to have an enormous appetite this morning.  He grinned and speared another slice of ham.  As he did so, he noticed Ron looking at him through narrowed eyes.

"What?"

"You tell me."

"I'm hungry.  I'm a growing boy."

"Right."

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know."

"Uh-huh.  Why don't you tell me what that business was back there with Hermione?"

Harry scooped up some egg with a piece of toast and regarded his friend.  He thought about the time he had gotten roaring drunk after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup for the second time in four years.  Ron had told Moaning Myrtle that Harry had drunk himself insensible because he couldn't come to terms with his love for her.  Then he'd deposited an inebriated and tunelessly singing Harry in her stall and whistling, returned to the celebration.  The lovesick Myrtle had followed him about for weeks after that, assuring him that despite the age (and death) difference, they could work it out.  Harry decided some payback was in order.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Talk, Potter."  Ron's eyes were blue slits.

Harry sighed.  "Okay, fine.  Apparently, she's in love with me.  Totally bonkers with it.  Has been for some time, and who could blame her, really?  Look, this is making me really uncomfortable . . ." Harry stood up from the table as though he were ready to leave.

"WHAT?!  She . . . and you just . . ." Ron was beginning to turn a brilliant shade of red that matched the tomatoes.

"Don't get me wrong, she's a really nice girl."  Harry was enjoying this.  "And she took it really well."

Ron had bypassed red and was now well on his way to becoming purple.  "You . . . you . . . daft prick!  Are you trying to tell me that Hermione finally confesses her feelings for you and then you just stomp all over them?"

"Well.  I did offer to sign the latest issue of Teen Witch Weekly for her.  You know, the one that has me on the cover as 'Most Shaggable Wizard.'"  Harry held his hands out in front of him.  Ron had rounded the table now and was advancing on him menacingly.  "Look, can't we just . . . urk!"  Ron had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and jerked him up off the floor.  "Okay, okay, I'll tell you the truth."

But Ron was now distracted by the sight of something lacy peeking out from one of Harry's pockets.  "What the hell is this?!"  He held up the garter belt.

"Um, it makes me feel pretty?"

"Potter, you bastard.  You slept with her, didn't you?  And kept this as a trophy!"

"Shhhhhh!  Keep your voice down, will you?"  Harry glanced around wildly, but fortunately the Great Hall was pretty much deserted.  Classes weren't due to start until tomorrow and most of the students had gone into Hogsmeade.  "All right sit down . . . SIT!  For God's sake, I was only joking.  Here, I'll tell you the truth."

Ron plopped back down onto the bench but continued to regard Harry with great suspicion.

"I love her."

"Well I knew that, moron!"  Ron snorted.  "Tell me something I don't know."

"She loves me."

"Still waiting for the 'something I don't know' bit."

"And . . . now we love each other.  I guess we're, you know, a couple."  Harry's ears were beginning to match the tomatoes as well.

Ron was now grinning like a maniac.  "I knew it.  I knew it!  That's great, man, really.  I was about to take drastic measures.  Lock you two in a closet or something.  Meant to be, you two."  He pounded Harry on the back enthusiastically.  "Can't wait to tell Fleur!"

"And you're really okay with this?"  Harry was observing Ron's reaction intently.

Ron knew what Harry was asking.  "Really.  I always knew she was for you.  No, I mean it!"  Harry had raised his eyebrows.  "Even when we were going out.  I guess maybe I thought all that bickering we do was a sign of some sort of pent-up sexual frustration – are you all right, Harry?  Something go down the wrong pipe?"  He thumped his friend on the back and continued.  "But as it turns out, we really just get on each others' nerves.  In a depressingly sibling-like sort of way."  He grinned.  "Fleur, now – that's sexual frustration.  You won't believe the argument we had on the way up here.  She asked me did I think her sister was pretty and I was foolish enough to say yes."  Ron chuckled ruefully and then grew serious again.  "Hermione was always for you, Harry.  I could see it in the way she looks at you."

"And how's that?"

"Like she'd walk through fire for you, if you asked.  Like she'd do it even if you didn't ask."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Alone at last in her room, Hermione lay sprawled across her bed.  She thought she would much prefer being shut in a pen full of angry blast-ended skrewts to another session with Lavender and company.  That lot could give Rita Skeeter a run for her money.  She smiled.  Not that she was ashamed of being Harry Potter's girlfriend – even just thinking the words gave her a little thrill, but honestly.  The next time a former Death Eater was apprehended, the Ministry could take some notes from these girls on the latest in interrogation techniques.

The thought of Death Eaters sobered her.  Rising, she went to her desk and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment.  She thought carefully for a moment, nibbling the end of her quill and then began to write quickly.  She'd have just enough time to send this before meeting Harry for lunch.  When she had finished, she signed her name with a flourish and set off for the owlery, humming to herself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione followed the path that ran along the side of the lake.  There was a pretty spot on the far side, where there was a little grassy hollow that was shaded by a willow (non-Whomping variety).  She and Harry had often sat there, talking and laughing while the giant squid lazily waved its tentacles.  As she approached, she saw that he was laying out a picnic lunch on a blanket.  She slowed, feeling shy all of a sudden, in spite of (or perhaps because of) everything that had passed between them.  Then he turned and saw her.  Her shyness evaporated.  This was Harry.  Even from a distance, she could see the way his eyes lit up behind his glasses.  He waved to her, and she found herself running.

Breathless and smiling, she threw herself down on the blanket.  "And what do we have here?"

"Dobby sends his compliments."  Harry proudly gestured at the feast that lay before them.  Now that Hogwarts' elves were properly salaried and enjoyed decent benefits, sneaking food from the kitchens was no longer a sore spot with Hermione.  "I told them I needed a romantic lunch to share with the woman I love and voila!"  There was a crusty loaf of freshly baked bread, sliced pears and apples, a selection of cheeses and smoked salmon.  There were also several bottles of butterbeer which had been treated with a Warming Spell.  "Oh, and listen to this."  Harry waved his wand and muttered something.  Soft strains of music filled the air.  Hermione recognized it as classical guitar – her favorite.

"Oh, Harry."  Hermione was touched that he had gone to so much trouble.  But then, that was just like Harry.  He was watching her eagerly, waiting to hear what she thought.  Unable to speak, she simply reached up and took his face in her hands, drawing his lips to hers.  He smelled like soap and freshly cut grass, and he tasted faintly of butterscotch.  It was a long, sweet kiss, and she reveled in the feel of his strong, warm body against hers.

"Oh."  Harry's green eyes smiled down at her.  "I guess you do like it, then."   He settled her so that she was between his legs, her back against him, looking out towards the water.  They sat like that for a while, savoring the feel of each other and enjoying the view.

Eventually, Hermione spoke.  "This is going to sound silly, but I can't help but feel a little . . . awkward, after last night.  And then going through the third degree with Estrogen Brigade didn't help matters any.  I'm just . . . I mean, I hope I wasn't too . . . Oh, hell."  Hermione hid her face in her hands.  "Forget it; just throw me in the lake before I say anything else stupid."

"Hermione."  Harry was astonished.  "What are you talking about?  Are you having regrets about us making love?"  He turned her around so he could see her face.

"What? NO!  No.  I could never regret that.  It's just . . ." Hermione was blushing now and speaking very rapidly.  "I don't think I was very good."

Harry was speechless.  Surely she had to be kidding.

"Oh, you know!  Don't make me elaborate."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to."

"Well.  I didn't know what to do.  I just sort of lay there like a trout.  I should've had Lavender make me a cheat sheet or something.  I know I'm not your first . . ." She knew she was babbling now, but she couldn't seem to stop.  "Oh God, I hate feeling ignorant –mmmph!"

Harry silenced her the best way he knew how.  He kissed her.   At first, he met with resistance, but he was patient and skillful.  He knew the exact moment when she changed; that unbelievably arousing sensation of her melting into him.  Her hands came up and threaded themselves in his hair.  He ran his tongue across her lips, exulting when she opened for him.  She was half-sitting, half-lying across his legs, and the warm, fragrant weight of her nearly made him dizzy.  He felt her tugging his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and with a supreme effort of willpower, tore himself away from her lips.  He waved his wand in the direction of the food and mumbled a short phrase.

"What was that?"  Hermione was leaning back on her elbows, looking up at him.  This had the effect of making her breasts jut forward enticingly.

"Hmmm?  Oh.  Preservation spell.  I think lunch is about to be delayed."  He shifted so that they were lying side by side on the blanket.  He brushed away a lock of her glorious hair, which he had managed to free from the ponytail so that it tumbled softly around her face.  "Hermione, I don't know what you were going on about, but I want you to know that last night was the most amazing experience I've ever had.  That is the absolute truth.  I may have had sex before, but that was the first time I've ever made love."

Hermione caught his hand and held it to her mouth, unable to speak.

"It's always been you, you know," Harry continued, his green eyes looking deeply into hers.  "Probably since that first day you barged in on me and Ron on the train and fixed my glasses."  He grinned.  "I was dead impressed."

Hermione leaned over to nibble on his ear.  "I did not barge."  She pushed him onto his back, rolling on top of him.  "I was merely being friendly.  Wouldn't you say?"  She had left his ear now and was planting kisses along his jaw, while her hands busily worked to free the rest of his shirt from his jeans.  She slid her hand up under his shirt.  "Harry?"

"What?  Oh, yeah.  Whatever you say."

She sat up and gestured imperiously.  "Take those off."

"Ooh, I love it when you order me around like that."  Harry hastily complied and then lay back down.

Hermione had stripped off her sweater and jeans as well, and was now kneeling over him in a lacy black bra and matching panty.  Harry wondered how he would get through the rest of the term now that he knew what she wore beneath those billowing robes.

Hermione now straddled him lightly, pressing a hand to his chest when he started to raise up so he could kiss her.  "Er hrm.  As I was saying.  I hate feeling ignorant, so this morning after the girls left to go to Hogsmeade, I borrowed a couple of, um, research manuals from Lavender."  Harry raised his eyebrows.  "I've done a bit of reading on certain . . . techniques."

"God, I love having a scholar for a girlfriend," Harry breathed.

"Shush.  I'm not done yet.  Now.  In order for me to properly assess the effectiveness of these techniques, I need you to pay close attention and tell me if I'm doing it right.  Also, keep your hands to yourself, until I give you permission to do otherwise.  Got it?"

Beyond speech, all Harry could manage to do was nod.  Satisfied of his obedience, Hermione swiftly removed her remaining garments lowered her mouth to his once more.

She ran her hands over his chest and stomach, glorying in the way his muscles tightened and his breath caught.  She nibbled at his neck, making light circles with her tongue as she worked her way downward.  She paused to see how she was doing.  Harry's breath was coming in pants and his eyes had drifted closed.  Good.

She shifted her attentions to his chest.  It was definitely broader than last year.  She offered a silent prayer of thanks for the new intensive Quidditch regimen.  Her tongue reached out to flick at his nipple and she was rewarded with a heartfelt, "Oh, God!"  She grinned.  This was fun.

Harry took back every snarky comment he had ever made about the gossipy Lavender Brown.  Research manuals indeed.  He could feel Hermione's incredible mouth moving across his abdomen, while her hands slipped lower.  Involuntarily, he arched his hips when she found him, and let out a moan as her hand began doing amazing things to him.  Thank God Hermione loved to read.

Hermione was fascinated.  She hadn't had time the night before to properly examine Harry's body, and it definitely warranted full and thorough observation.  The feel of him sliding against her hand was intoxicating.  When he moaned, she felt a corresponding ache begin between her legs.  Here goes, she thought.  Page 241.  Sliding lower, she pressed a kiss to his inner thigh and heard him gasp.  Deliberately, she ran her tongue along the hard, quivering length of him and then took him into her mouth.

Harry's hands were fisted in the blanket as he fought to maintain control.  The muscles in his arms were corded and a fine mist of perspiration shone on his forehead.  Hermione increased her tempo.  He gritted his teeth and began reciting the statistics for every professional Quidditch team in the last century in his head.  Finally, he thought he could take no more.  "God, Hermione, please."

"Please, what?"

"Please let me touch you."

"No."  Hermione was enjoying herself.  She straddled him once again and paused.  "Say it again.  Say please."

"Please."

And then, inch by glorious inch, she slid down onto him.  The sight of her, her head thrown back, eyes closed to savor her pleasure, had Harry reciting Quidditch statistics again.  She opened her eyes, her gaze locked with his, and she began to move.  Harry was sure he was going to tear the blanket, he was gripping it so hard.  Suddenly, he felt her convulse around him as she crested the first peak.

"Now, dammit.  I need to touch you."

"Yes!  Touch me, love."

He reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs playing lightly across the nipples.  She moaned and increased her pace.  He slid a finger into her folds to find the tiny bundle of nerves there and was rewarded when she cried out.  Then and only then did he grasp her hips in both his hands, thrusting upwards hard and fast as he drove them both to completion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Much, much later, they sat enjoying the fruit and slabs of bread with cheese and smoked salmon, washing it down with warm, smooth sips of butterbeer.  Harry turned to Hermione who was nestled in the crook of his arm.  "You know," he said.  "Because of you, I am forever doomed to find the sight of squid tentacles erotic.  It'll be tough getting through my Care of Magical Creatures class."

Hermione stared at him for a moment and then dissolved into helpless laughter.

The lingered for a while after they had finished their meal, laughing and talking the way they used to.  Well, Hermione amended with a smile, almost the way the used to.

It was late afternoon when they made their way back to the castle and to their surprise, they found a crowd assembled on the lawn.

"What's going on?"  Harry asked a first year student in Ravenclaw attire.  The student, his eyes wide with fright, only pointed.

Then they saw it.  It must have been 50 feet high.  One wall of the castle was emblazoned with an eerily glowing serpentine likeness.  Hermione gasped.  Harry knew what it was immediately, having seen it before, lighting up the night sky.  It was the Dark Mark.