Author's Note: I'm sorry to have put you all through the long wait. I've been out of the country for the past two months, so completing this chapter was a bit of a hassle. I cannot guarantee that Chapter 3 will be completed anytime soon since I'm getting ready to start college come August. Anyway, thanks for all your patience!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chunky Monkey - Chapter Two
By: Fidelius Charmer
Oliver groaned; being conscious was a bitch. It was late, from what he could tell, and Hermione was probably fast asleep. He frowned once he realized he was still on the living room floor. "How considerate," he muttered beneath his breath and sat up, rubbing his sore back.
He slowly got up, gritting his teeth as his back protested, and shuffled over to the bedroom that he and Hermione usually shared. Oliver peeked in and saw his girlfriend's sleeping form. He sighed, he was going to have to face her sooner or later; preferably later, but it looked sooner would have to do.
'I don't need a bed to sleep in,' he wistfully thought. 'The couch will suffice.' His back wasn't convinced.
"Oliver, are you going to stand there all night and stare at me? You know I can't sleep when you do that," Hermione groaned and sat up, leaning on her arms. "Come to bed."
Those were all the words of encouragement that he needed. He literally jumped into bed, making it creak in protest. "Oliver!" Hermione punched his chest. "You smell like roadkill. At least go and change out of your practice clothes," she said, scrunching up her nose.
"I'm too tired to get up," he said into his pillow. Hermione jabbed his side with her elbow and slowly, with his head hung in defeat, he crawled out of bed. "Why the hell do I take this abuse from you?" He opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt, sniffed it and tossed it on the bed. Opening another drawer, he pulled out a pair of boxers with tiny golden snitches and it joined the shirt.
"Because you love me," Hermione said. "Now take those filthy clothes off, get dressed, and come to bed." She patted the bed and smiled.
"Yes Ma'am," he replied dutifully, saluting his girlfriend in a comical manner. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and took it off quickly, tossing it onto a pile of clothing that was forming in the corner. His pants quickly joined the discarded shirt. He shuffled over to their bed and donned his night ensemble before pulling back the covers and climbing underneath their warm depths. Sighing contentedly, he wriggled to find a comfortable position.
Hermione had watched the whole routine with a hungry, almost feral glint in her eyes. Once Oliver was settled, she placed her hand over his broad chest, her thumb caressing the sensitive spot on his collar bone. Oliver groaned and she smirked at the sound, propping herself on her elbow. "Tell me, how on earth did a studious creature such as myself, snag a man like you," she drawled, leaning closer to Oliver until their lips were mere centimeters apart.
Oliver groaned again. "Well, I have to admit that you weren't the usual type I went after," he grinned before continuing. "But there was something about you. I could see that underneath that studious demeanor of yours, hid a passionate creature just aching to get out." He slid his hands up the curves of her voluptuous hips. "And who knew that underneath those robes hid such blinding perfection. Everything about you, my dear Hermione, makes my mouth water."
"Good," Hermione said, and traced his lips with the tip of her tongue. Oliver growled in response, the noise vibrating against her palm and making her shudder. Then, without warning, Oliver's lips latched hungrily onto hers. Hermione let out a surprised squeak, but their joined lips muffled the sound. Pulling back slightly, Hermione nipped Oliver's bottom lip, her tongue quickly followed.
"Oh Gods," Hermione groaned as Oliver pulled away, scattering chaste kisses across her jaw-line and traveling further down to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. His lips latched on, sucking and licking until Hermione was writhing above him. She placed a trembling hand on his chest and pushed him away. "We should stop," she said, her voice husky.
Oliver looked at her, confusion clearly spread across his handsome features. "Why?" He asked, bringing his hands up to cup her face. "You seemed perfectly willing just a few moments ago," he said, sounding slightly offended.
Hermione leaned down and lay her head against his chest, running her hand across the soft, cotton fabric. She sighed and shook her head. "I know I was, but you're in no condition to-you know," she said, blushing. She looked up and saw Oliver frown. "My dear, you've got a bump the size of a large walnut." She brought her hand up to touch the bump, but stop mid-journey when Oliver shied away.
"So," Oliver growled. "How is that supposed to inhibit my performance? It's on my head!"
Hermione glared at Oliver. "Is everything about sex with you? Is that the only thing that runs through your thick head? It must be, or else I wouldn't have ended up like this," she hissed furiously, while gesturing to her flat tummy.
"Don't place all the blame on me," he said, pushing Hermione off of him. "You know, those muggle's have a saying, perhaps you know of it. Just in case you've forgotten, let me refresh your memory." He sat up and glared at Hermione, crossing his arms against his chest. "I believe it's something along the lines of, it takes two to make a baby!"
Hermione returned his glare and jabbed his chest with her index finger. "Don't you dare belittle me! If anyone has the right to be condescending, it's me. Definitely not some half-witted Quidditch Keeper with a brain the size of a snitch!"
It didn't take long for Hermione to regret what she had said, and feeling wretched, she thought it would be appropriate to place her right foot back where it belonged; in her mouth (so to speak). "Oh love, I really didn't mean that," she quickly apologized.
Oliver was nevertheless shocked by Hermione's hurtful exclamation and knew that forgiving her was definitely out of the question. "That was low, Hermione," he said after a long and painful silence. Then, kicking off the sheets, he made to rise from the bed, but paused when he felt Hermione's restraining hand.
"Where are you going," she asked softly. Oliver turned and looked at her; he noticed the slight frown creasing her brow and unconsciously brought his hand up to smooth it. Shaking his head, he withdrew his hand and bit his bottom lip as he considered how to answer her.
As Hermione waited for his response, she sat up and lay her head against his shoulder. "Don't leave, please," she looked up at him, pleading. Her shoulders slumped when she noticed that he suddenly avoiding looking at her.
"I don't want to, but Hermione," he said, gripping the hand nearest him. "I can't take this damn abuse anymore!" He gave her hand a slight squeeze before rising from their bed. He walked to the closet and grabbed a pair of jeans, putting them on and zipping them up as he made his way to the bedroom door. He grabbed his jacked from the chair beside the door and slipped it on.
"I didn't mean it...I'm sorry," Hermione whispered hoarsely, wiping tears from her cheeks.
Oliver paused, one hand on the door handle, while the other hand held a pair of sneakers. He looked back at Hermione and sighed. "I'm afraid sorry isn't going to work this time, love," he said, opening the door and stepping through.