Harry Potter and the Scarlet Beetle lncident
By Penmom
Author's Notes: (1) This is a short fic - look for a few more chapters before too long. (2) This incident takes places in the winter of Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts. So please don't envision this as taking place with young kids - ick - really. This will be an R fic but nothing awful or tasteless - still STAY AWAY IF YOU AREN"T OLD ENOUGH, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! (3) Just so you know, I picture this as sort of a Buffy version of Harry, if that helps put things in perspective. (4) Thanks for the feedback, please let me know how this is being received - it seems so different than the majority of HP fics!
Chapter 4
Fever
Harry was happily chewing on his candies when he began to feel a bit hot. Noting his proximity to the hearth, he scooted further away from the flames. Looking toward Hermione, he thought she looked a bit flushed as well as she continued to record her inventory. Perhaps the charms that kept the fire were off tonight?
As he sat there wondering over the fire, he felt himself getting even hotter as if he was out in the sun on the hottest day of the year - not sitting in the Gryffindor common room the week before Christmas. Without conscious thought, he peeled off his requisite Weasley sweater from last Christmas and then the flannel shirt he was wearing underneath, leaving himself in a gray Manchester United T-shirt.
He surfaced from his own thoughts when he spied Hermione fanning herself with a piece of parchment. "'Mione?" he croaked. His voice sounded suddenly horse.
"Umm?" she answered distractedly.
"'Mione, I think I'm getting sick or something. I suddenly feel so hot, I think I must have a fever."
Her answer to his words was muffled.She was peeling off her own woolen sweater, following up withher burgundy house turtleneck.
Harry's eyes widened in response to the sight in front of him and his own plight was quickly forgotten. "'Mione?" He questioned.
"You OK?" He asked with some degree of awe.
She shook her head furiously. "I'm burning up, Harry. I'm simply burning up." She declared as she returned to fanning herself. Jumping up, she was at the window in no time, opening it to let in the cool winter air.
The feel of the cool air drew Harry to his feet and he was beside her, leaning out the window with her in an instant . The winter air helped to calm his scrambled thoughts as he took breath after breath. He felt his body relax at the sensation.
"Ahhh, that's better. Bloody Brilliant, Hermione. Thank you."
He turned to look at her and found himself within a few inches of her --- her lips. And for some reason, her presence, her decidedly feminine presence suddenly seemed overwhelming to him and he felt as if his skin was on fire once again.
He jumped back as if he'd been burned. Hermione turned to him, hands on her hips ready to address his strange behavior but when she met his gaze, she simply stopped - her mouth still posed to speak. He realized that she seemed to be suffering from the same fever as he. He wanted to tell her this but for whatever reason his senses seemed compromised - some senses extra sensitive, some almost non-functioning as if his blood supply was leaving his brain for other parts. Other parts - oh no, he thought and fought a strong urge of look down to confirm his worst suspicion.
Hermione managed to shake herself out of whatever was going on first, "Harry, something is wrong. I feel ---" At that she shook her head, either unwilling or unable to put words to her physical symptoms. However, she did look down. At herself that is and quickly crossed her arms over her chest as if she just realized that she was clad in a small pink baby doll T-shirt with a little star embroidered on it.
Unfortunately her action only drew Harry's attention to that area of her increasingly delectable body. Occasionally, he had thought to himself that Hermione had turned out to be much more attractive that he would have guessed from her awkward prepubescent years. She was of medium height coming to directly to the tip of his chin in her bare feet and her figure was lush without being the least bit heavy. Over the years she had somehow managed to subdue her chestnut hair a bit and muggle braces had straightened out her overbite. Over the years he had observed all of these things with not so much as a tingle.
But now, but now - it was as if he had been looking at a light bulb all these years, holding it is his hand, remarking on its usefulness but never seeing it lit. Well, the bulb was lit and it was bright, brilliantly so.
"Harry? Harry? I'm speaking to you. Try to listen and --- and stop --- stop looking at my --- my chest." Her voice had gone from irritated to embarrassed in a heartbeat.
He strove to listen to her even though the majority of his attention was focused on grabbing a pillow off of the nearest sofa and placing it strategically over his jeans.
"Harry! Stop jumping around like a rabbit! Something has happened to me --- to us --- it seems." gesturing to his pillow with a nod of her head as her hands were still crossed over her chest. "We should get to Madame Pomfrey."
The thought of seeing Madame Pomfrey in his current state was not an option as far as Harry was concerned. "NO! Absolutely not, 'Mione. I can't leave like this!" gesturing toward his pillow.
Taking her hands off her chest to adopt her favorite pose of hands on hips she continued. "Well, if you refuse to leave then we better well figure out what is going on because I for one am not going to lose a night of studying to whatever THIS is!"
Suddenly, his confusion transmuted into outrage. How dare she insinuate that he had any part in whatever had befallen them! As if her studying took precedence over his --- his obvious discomfort. Before he knew it he had dropped the pillow and had charged toward her in an uncharacteristically aggressive manner.
He had no clue what his initial intention had been but as soon as he met her surprised eyes he stopped in his tracks, once again inches from her. In an effort to make amends, he grasped her shoulders and tilted her in such a way as to bring her face into an even closer proximity with his own.
In hindsight, this last action may not have been the most prudent. Before he considered the never-ending ramifications, he pressed his mouth to hers.
It was not a particularly polished kiss. Not one that you would fantasize about or see on one of those dramas that Aunt Petunia was always watching. No, it was awkward and messy and most likely the most earth shattering single experience of his life.
He drew back and it struck him that he had no idea as to Hermione's inclinations about the kiss. "Gods, Hermione, I am so ---"
He had no time to complete his inept apology, as Hermione resumed the kiss. Assuming this meant that she was willing, he dove back in.
With each seeming to catch the other's consent, they set upon their course again. Fitting and refitting their lips together innumerable times giving up all concern for propriety or finesse. Their cooperation flowed and when he realized that she was struggling to stay on her toes to better reach his mouth, he swept her up in his arms without breaking contact.
He backed into the nearest overstuffed chair taking her with him.
Suddenly, a horrible screeching complaint came from the seat of the chair. Harry had just attempted to sit upon Crookshanks.
The horrendous noise did succeed in parting the pair even though Harry made no attempt to let Hermione go.
Hermione blinked once, twice before speaking - her voice now sounding as husky as Harry's - "The candy - it must be the candy. It wasn't candy - I mean Honeydukes' candy. I bet it is one of Fred and George's concoctions."
By the time she finished her hypothesis, Harry was working his way behind her left ear eliciting a unscholarly giggle from her.
"Could be..." he responded, seemingly unconcerned at the moment with anything beyond the incredibly soft skin behind her ear.
Hermione sighed and tilted her head to the right to provide him better access, as she continued to speak. "The candy must contain some kind of love potion - a potent one I would dare say. If could be honeysuckle root or Isis powder or ---- Harry ---- Harry..." With that she gave up speaking for a moment, giving into the wonderful sensations he was providing.
She took the opportunity to do something she had always thought about in the back of her mind and began to run her hands through his unruly black hair. In the process she somehow brought his lips back to her own. And somehow the passing minutes had worked some kind of alchemy because this time, it seemed they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Maybe it was the angle of his head or the fact she was sitting on his lap nestled in her favorite chair as he ran his hands up and down her back - whatever the cause she had never experienced anything like it before.
Harry pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips and was afforded entrance with nary a protest. Somewhere in the back of his addle brain he was amused that this was what it took to actually make Hermione stop talking. And that was the last thought he had for several long minutes.
He had no idea that kissing could be so sublime. He had no idea that the word sublime was in his vocabulary for that matter. Once Hermione gave herself over to any task, she gave it her all and this was no different. For once he was her willing subject.
While they kissed, the fever coursing through him didn't seem quite so bad. As he caressed her back, he realized that her shirt was sticking to her skin. That simple fact drove him to slide his hands under her shirt pulling the fabric up as he went. She wasn't as far-gone as he imagined because she mimicked his action soon after.
The feel of her bare skin against his hands was incredible. Whatever the spark for this frenzy, it tapped into his need for human contact -to touch and be touched, to gain comfort from the closeness, to push back the loneliness. He pulled away from her mouth to simply burrow into the bend of her sweet smelling neck.
His actions provided Hermione with a bit of a respite and her mind kicked into gear. "Harry," she whispered "we best better get in touch with Fred and George and see what they put in that candy. The effectsare quite --- quite intense." While her words were serious,shemade no move to remove herself from his lap and continued to play in his hair.
With a deep sigh he managed to pull himself up to look into her shining brown eyes. With deep resignation, he slid his hands down her back taking the hem of her shirt with them.
TBC