Chapter Thirteen: Outcome Space
No. 12 Grimmauld Place
16th December, 8.17am
The morning sunlight was hitting Hermione's face at an unfamiliar angle, and she wrinkled her nose, scrunching her eyes more firmly shut as she burrowed her way further into the warm bed. As she drew the duvet tighter around herself the soft scent of lavender rose from the cotton, mingled with a hint of broom polish and burnt sugar and -
"Oh my god." Hermione's eyes flew open as she realised the reason the light had seemed strange was because she wasn't in her own bed, but in Harry's.
"Hermione." He said her name in a way that he had never said it before, and Hermione shivered as his calloused fingers skated up the length of her naked spine.
Hardly daring to breathe, Hermione turned over in the bed, to find he was watching her.
Her fingers were still shaking as she removed his glasses. Without them Harry's eyes looked even greener, bright and wondering as he stared up at her. "My god," he said. "You're -"
"Hey," Harry's voice broke into her thoughts. "I'm sorry, I - I didn't want to wake you." He smiled slightly, the soft little self-deprecating smile that he only ever showed to her.
His nose was at the side of her neck, breathing her in as she pushed his shirt from his shoulders, and she felt him smile as she ducked away to chase the edge of the cotton with her mouth.
"I'm sorry!" she blurted, and Harry frowned, leaning up on one elbow. The duvet slid down to reveal a few more inches of golden pectoral and Hermione gave a squeak as she covered her eyes.
He grasped the bottom of her dress and pulled it upwards, and Hermione lifted her arms as Harry drew it over her head. "Oh, my christ," she heard him say, while her head was still stuck in the green velvet, and then he gave a final yank and as the dress fell away she gasped as Harry's mouth found her breasts.
"What are you doing?" he asked, pulling her hands away from her face and frowning down at her. Hermione could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment, but for once she couldn't think what to say, and she saw comprehension dawn in his eyes.
"Merlin's beard, Hermione," he said, sitting up and running his hands through his bird's nest of hair -
She ran her hands through his messy curls, leaning her head back as his tongue traced a path between her breasts, his plump bottom lip pressing against her sternum.
"I thought -" Harry turned to look at her, eyes wide. "I thought we were on the same page, I thought that -"
"I took advantage of you!" Hermione squeaked, and Harry's expression of horror transformed abruptly into one of confusion. "You always say that you hate pain potion because you can't think properly and -"
They made it as far as the second landing before Harry tripped, stumbling backwards with a muffled curse as he landed on the polished floorboards, Hermione sprawled on top of him. "Oh," he breathed, as she adjusted her weight and knelt upright. The cool moonlight made a chiaroscuro mystery of his face, every angle strange yet familiar.
"I didn't take the pain potion," he said abruptly.
"What?" Hermione asked, feeling stupid. "You didn't - but Kreacher said -"
"Kreacher gave it to me," Harry nodded, "as I imagine he was instructed to, but I didn't take it."
"But why wouldn't you?" Hermione demanded. "You were hurt - your wrist, and the cuts on your face -"
"Hermione," Harry sighed, giving her a look that told her she was being extremely dense. "Can you possibly, with that enormous brain of yours, think of any reason at all for me wanting to keep a clear head?"
"Um." Now she felt even more stupid. "But -"
"I spent all evening trying to tell you," Harry went on. "But between bloody Theo and fucking - whoever the fuck is doing all this -" He looked away, blinking rapidly, before he met her eyes again. "But when we - when I - I really thought you knew."
"Knew what?" Her pulse was so loud in her ears that she was almost surprised she could hear him.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione gasped at the feeling of him inside her, and Harry inhaled sharply against her cheek, his arm underneath her back, fingers grazing her ribs as she arched her back to meet his movements with her own, her blood pounding beneath her skin.
Harry's eyes searched her face, and Hermione saw his throat move as he swallowed. "I'm - to be fair, I hadn't really worked it out for myself until -"
"Worked what out?" Hermione whispered.
"I'm in love with you, Hermione," Harry said in a rush, blushing furiously. "And actually I think I have been for a while, but it just didn't occur to me that that was what it was, why I -"
"You're in love with me?" Hermione repeated incredulously. She'd thought maybe a crush - fondness born of familiarity - she hadn't dared -
"Is that so hard to believe?" Harry asked, looking down at her. The lines of his face were drawn into a sadness that matched his voice; the shadow of stubble across his chin making the hollows of his cheeks more prominent as he folded his lips together.
"When have I ever doubted you?" Hermione drew herself upright, careful not to let the duvet drop as she reached out and tucked his hair behind his ear.
Harry shook his head, his eyes not moving from her face. "Never," he said. "You've never -"
"Well then," she murmured, shifting onto her knees and finally releasing her hold on the duvet as she leaned towards him.
I love you, she wanted to say, as his teeth clashed against hers, the kiss sloppy and eager and more delightful than anything she could ever possibly have imagined. I love you, Harry Potter, I -
Hermione never usually thought of herself as much of a seductress - hadn't really had the opportunity - but Harry was looking at her as though she were something strange and wonderful that he had never seen before, and when she leaned her forehead against his he released a shaky sigh, before looping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his lap.
"I'm in love with you, too," she breathed, and Harry shivered as the words fell onto his skin. "But you're my best friend, and I didn't want -"
"To ruin it?" Harry asked, lifting his chin to look her in the eye. His thumbs were tracing tiny circles on either side of her waist, and Hermione's lips formed a little 'O' as she canted her hips towards his, acutely aware that they were both completely naked. "How could you?" he murmured, "how could you possibly think -"
"Because overthinking is what I do best," Hermione said, digging her nails into the firm muscle that hugged his shoulder blade as his hand moved between them and -
Harry huffed a laugh into her collarbone. "Why is that a turn-on?" he murmured, and Hermione shook her head as his fingers found their goal and stroked - and she was so ready for him, so filled with wanting - and she hadn't realised - hadn't remembered -
She was coming apart - coming apart under the touch of his hands and the sound of his voice and the look in his eyes when he whispered her name and -
"Can I -" Harry asked, and she nodded, not trusting her voice as he moved his hand away and shifted slightly and then - then -
"I dreamed of this," he told her, his voice rough and his breath coming in pants against the base of her neck. "I dreamed of this and I dreamed of you but I never thought -"
"Me neither," she said, moaning with disappointment as he withdrew, before he pushed her onto her back and covered her body with his, and Hermione lifted her leg, pressing her heel into the concavity at the side of his buttock as he entered her again.
It was everything she had wanted, and nothing like she had ever imagined it would be, and she felt her breaths becoming ragged as Harry touched her again, matching the movements of his thumb to those of his hips.
It felt like magic - like the sparks of power that ran down your arms and formed themselves into spells - like wonder and hope and joy and -
"I -" Hermione gasped, but before she could finish the thought her mind had gone blank and she was lost - lost to him and only him and Harry and -
He bucked against her, breath stuttering and eyes clenching shut as he followed her over the edge - over into - "Hermione" - and she could only clasp him tighter against her, wanting never to let go, to always feel his heart beating as though it were a part of her own body.
His forehead was damp with sweat when she pushed his hair back, marvelling at the way a face that she had known for more than half her life could suddenly look so entirely different in the light of -
There was a sharp crack, and they sprang apart, Harry sitting bolt upright, the wand that he had grabbed from under the pillow, which Hermione suddenly realised was hers, pointed towards where Kreacher stood at the foot of the bed, bent almost double into a deep bow.
"Begging the Master's pardon," he said, his words half muffled as he directed them at the floor, "but it seems yous is finished, and the Muggle Cousin is here to see Master."
"Unbelievable," Harry sighed, the tension leaving his body as he dragged his wandless hand across his face. "How long has he been here?"
"Not long, Master," Kreacher nodded, sneaking a glance at them. Hermione could have sworn he was smiling. "Kreacher is giving him coffee and telling him to wait in the lower drawing room, as is befitting his station, while Master attends to the needs of the Mudblood One."
She wasn't imagining the smile this time, and Harry growled with frustration. "You'd better be kidding, Kreacher."
"Kreacher is sorry, Master," the elf straightened up and began to wring his hands. His attempt at contrition was ruined by his sly grin. "Was that not what you was doing?"
"You are a vile creature," Harry grumbled, though he, too, was smiling slightly. "Tell him I'll - that we'll -" he corrected himself with a glance at Hermione "- be down shortly. And make some more coffee, while you're at it."
"Yes, Master," Kreacher bowed deeply once more, before disapparating.
"Well, that's my plans for the morning derailed," Harry sighed, giving her a sidelong glance, and Hermione laughed.
"Come on," she said, nudging his shoulder gently, "we'd better go see what Dudley wants."
A/N: Sorry I didn't post yesterday! Turns out weekends in the run up to Christmas are insane, who knew?!