It Feels Like This

by possumcuddless

Harry has the brilliant idea to make Ron and Ginny jealous by pretending he and Hermione like each other. Just as things start getting confusing, it's clear that a war is impending, and they have to make the choice of what (and who) is most important.

22. Chapter 22

A/N: This chapter contains explicit sexual content but no major plot points and is okay to skip if needed.

It took Hermione a second to come to the present and realize that they were safe and no one had followed them. Harry suddenly collapsed to the ground as Hermione did her best to hold him steady. He was still breathing - the shock of Apparating was probably what made him pass out, which meant he was hurt. She set him down gingerly and made quick work of setting up the tent. He wasn't bleeding too much, but she didn't want to take any clothes off out in the snow, when he'd need them the most. Sleeping was probably the best thing for him right now. As soon as she set up the tent, she cast a quick " Rennervate " and he opened his eyes slowly.

"Hermione…"

"You're all right. Can you stand? We need to get you in the tent," she explained softly, reaching out to help him stand. He nodded and stood, though a little shaky, before leaning on her to make his way into the tent, using her more for balance than anything else. She wasn't great at that spell yet, since she hadn't used it very much, and she hadn't been able to get it quite right, but Harry seemed well enough that a few more minutes awake should get him back to normal. Hermione settled Harry down on the bed, summoning some dittany from her bag. "Can I take this off?" she asked, motioning to his jacket.

"Oh. Yeah, of course." He quickly shed his two outermost layers, leaving him only in a thin long-sleeve shirt, which he pulled up on his injured arm with a wince. Some of the blood had already dried, sticking to his skin and the hair on his arm.

"This is going to burn a little."

"Probably not as much as it did getting bit."

Hermione smiled softly, cleaning off the wound to reveal two large, but thankfully shallow, puncture wounds. "She's not venomous, so this should just be a surface wound."

He groaned softly as the liquid worked its magic, looking up at Hermione gratefully. "Thank you."

"Well, I figured I owe you one," she teased.

"I hate to tell you that you were right."

Hermione shook her head. "I wish I hadn't been. I wish we could have stayed longer. We didn't even get to look for the sword." She ran her fingers over where the wound had been. "Feel anything?"

He quickly jerked his arm back with a smile. "Just tickles."

"If you hadn't just been almost killed by a snake, I'd very much take advantage of the fact that you're so easy to tickle," she smirked before sighing. "Harry, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course," he answered without hesitation.

"I'm… starting to feel like this is pointless again. Like… he's trying to just keep us in this tent forever."

"I know," Harry agreed as he tugged his sleeve back down, though there wasn't much use; the ripped fabric just fell to the side. "You're probably not wrong. But all our… outings shouldn't be like that, you know. He was waiting for us."

"He was waiting for you ," Hermione corrected, carefully packing away all the medical supplies and removing her jacket to toss it over one of the armchairs. "If you hadn't insisted on me coming inside with you..."

"And that's precisely why I did. Doing anything alone right now is a death sentence. For either of us."

Hermione swallowed softly, silent for a couple seconds. "While… while you were sleeping, I did find out who the boy in the photograph was that you were asking about. It's Gellert Grindlewald, the man Dumbledore wrote that letter to?"

"He was outside Gregorovitch's wand shop in that vision I had," Harry quickly explained. "Oh, speaking of which, do you have my wand? You were the last one to have it." When she didn't answer, he believed the worst. "Where's my wand, Hermione?"

"I… when we left Godric's Hollow, I used it for a curse because it was rightmost in holding the two and easiest to get to quickly and… it rebounded. It's in my bag, but it's broken. I can try to mend it, but wands are different."

"It's fine." He tried not to show her how much it hurt, especially since he knew its power against Voldemort's wand. "It's done. I can just use yours for the time being."

"You're angry at me, aren't you?"

"No. No, Hermione. I know it was an accident. You were trying to get us out of there alive, and you were incredible. I'd be dead if you hadn't been there to help me."

Hermione's eyes met his for a few seconds before tears started to well up. "Harry, I-" she began, but stopped, suddenly nervous.

Harry noticed her hesitation and reached over to take her hand. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm just worried this is never going to end. That we're never going to get to experience being teenagers or… life. That he's going to take that all away from us if we wait until this is over to-" She broke eye contact to look down at her feet, curling a little into herself.

"To what?"

She shook her head quickly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought anything up. This isn't the time."

"No, tell me." When she didn't answer, he tried again. "Hermione, look at me."

After a few seconds, Hermione finally conceded, looking up at Harry, and the look in his eyes was soft enough to make her feel like she could tell him anything. "I've just been thinking lately that… maybe we're being too careful with each other."

Harry frowned a little, sitting up straighter. "How do you mean?"

"I just… you know, we've been… physical with each other and I… it's been… taking over a lot of my thoughts lately. Distracting me."

"I don't understand. You said you didn't want to get distracted from this, so if it's… too much, you can tell me," he quickly answered.

"No! No, that's," she cleared her throat as she tried to keep her thoughts under control, "that's not what I'm trying to say. I don't want to keep walking on eggshells around the subject because it's something that's perfectly natural and it's not anything that either of us should be ashamed of and I feel like it would probably only change our relationship for the better because we've known each other for a long time and we know we're attracted to each other, and I know it's weird for me to think about, but it really shouldn't be because-"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted, a glint of a smile on his face.

"Right. Erm…" She closed her eyes for a moment, and Harry wondered if she was trying to hype herself up. "Harry, I think I want to have sex with you."

"You… you think?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, though the tent seemed to be closing in on them exponentially quickly, and Harry felt his chest get a little tight. Was he having a dream? A vision? Was he okay?

"No, I-I do. I... I want to... have s-sex.. with you," Hermione answered, though Harry didn't feel like she sounded much more confident. She was looking at him very nervously, as if this was the hardest thing she'd ever have to do in her life. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, but he noticed her legs moving restlessly, waiting on his answer.

There had never been a more difficult fight between his body and his brain. He definitely understood Hermione's concern; this might be their only chance to experience what sex was like if they'd both be dead before the war was over. And it had been incredibly frustrating trying to keep his hands to himself when they were kissing, making sure he didn't venture too low or under clothes, and his long showers had remedied a little bit of the problem, but sharing that experience with her first-hand was something that would bond them together forever, even if this whole horcrux-hunting trip was buried in the recesses of their minds should they survive it. Of course he wanted it. And it would make damn sure she's over Ron. No pressure.

But this wasn't something they could just jump into, and he knew Hermione knew that too. He knew his love for her would only get stronger and it could potentially make things more complicated between them. And he wasn't sure if the fact that neither of them knew what they were doing made him feel better or worse. She was still staring at him, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been silent.

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to process," he finally answered. "I've never been told that by anyone before and I don't want you to think that I'm not saying anything because I don't want to."

"Oh… I'm… aware you'd like to, Harry," she managed to get out while hiding her smirk. "That was never a question."

"What?"

"Well…" Hermione was flushed again, and for a brief moment, Harry wondered if it went all the way to her chest. "We've been sleeping in the same bed more often than not for a while now, and you know I always wake up before you. So… some mornings, when I wake up, I can f-feel… you know."

Harry felt the overwhelming desire to kiss all that nervousness out of her, but this was Hermione - she wasn't going to be satisfied with herself until she got out what it was she was trying to say, no matter how uncomfortable it made her. And the fact that she was well aware of how he felt about her made him blush. He hadn't thought she'd been awake more than the couple times she shifted accidentally and he profusely apologized before making a bee-line into the bathroom.

"Oh. I didn't, um, realize that was… a lot. Sorry."

"No, don't be sorry! It's not like I mind."

"Then why have you never said anything?!"

"Well, I… I didn't want to make it awkward. And I knew if I said something, you'd leave, so…"

"I was just trying to keep it under control so I wouldn't make you uncomfortable or feel pressured or anything," Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We really should have talked about this."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I've been rather occupied trying to find horcruxes."

"So what's changed?"

"Two near-death experiences?" she offered, reaching out a hand to press it against his cheek. "I don't want to waste what time we have left in this. And all that stuff I said I wanted our relationship to be, what it should be… sex is something we can have."

He chuckled softly, breathlessly, putting a hand on hers. It felt different now, though. "All right, well, we can work up to it, yeah?"

Hermione flushed again, taking her hand back. "A-Actually, I was thinking we could…" her hand moved into his hair, playing with it softly. She should probably cut it again soon, but she kind of liked it long like this, especially when they were kissing and she could grab a handful of it. Just thinking about it was getting her worked up. "I was thinking we could maybe, um, tonight?"

Harry's eyes widened, and she pulled her hand back. "Tonight? But isn't there a-a process or something? Like you can't just… go all the way."

"Why not? There's no rule book on how to have sex, Harry!"

"How do you know? You've looked?" he teased.

"I… maybe have done some research so that when the time came, I wouldn't be absolutely horrible, but no, I haven't looked for a rule book. Every relationship is different. You don't have to pass certain milestones or anything." She grinned. "Besides, I think… maybe 'getting it over with' isn't the right phrase, but… I'm perfectly content with working a little backwards. That way, there's no pressure if we want to do any of the other stuff because we'll already have been intimate."

Harry swallowed thickly. She wanted to do this tonight? He wasn't prepared. But how was he supposed to get prepared? Was there really anything he could do? Should do? He didn't have anyone with experience he'd talked to about it, so how was he supposed to know? She still wanted to have sex with him even after he'd been crying over his parents' grave with wet and snotty sleeves?

"Harry, don't look so nervous," Hermione said gently. "If you don't want to do it tonight, then we don't have to."

"No, I want to. I do. I just… I don't know, I'd built it up in my head that my first time would be… under different circumstances."

"And you think this is exactly how I wanted to? We can't plan much romance around here these days, can we? It's Christmas. That's as romantic as it's going to get."

"That's not true," Harry insisted. If they were going to do this, even spontaneously, he wanted to do it right. Hermione deserved better. "Hang on. Um… go outside for a minute." He got up quickly and took her hand, walking her to the entrance of the tent.

"Harry, what are you doing?" she giggled.

"Improvising."

"Well, I'd like to take a shower or something…"

"Oh. Yeah, I probably should, too. Okay, well, how about this? I'll take a shower and then I'll get everything ready while you're in there?"

For some reason, the phrase get everything ready sent Hermione's heart into overdrive. So they were really going to do this. She was about to lose her virginity to Harry Potter. Her best friend. An involuntary smile came over her face and she nodded. "Okay," she whispered.

He nodded back, dropping her hand and quickly getting some clothes before going into the bathroom. He could feel her eyes on him, studying him, watching him. Once he was in the bathroom, though, his nerves slowly morphed into excitement. He would have never believed this would be happening four years ago, when he really started to notice Hermione as genuinely attractive. Though he'd never acted on it, and if he had, he wouldn't have felt like he'd wasted so much time on other girls that never mattered like Hermione did. And now, through the worst circumstances possible, here they were. Harry was in love, and he could tell Hermione wasn't far behind based on the looks he'd catch her giving him. But he'd give her all the time she needed, wanting to make sure that this wasn't just because they were here together. Though Ron had been the main thing holding him back when he was with them. If it had been him and Hermione alone since July, it may have been a different story.

Harry quickly stripped his clothes off and started the shower, looking at himself in the mirror while he waited for the water to heat up. Would she like what she saw? He tried not to think about it too much as he knew they'd both gotten in better shape the last few months with their daily workouts and dueling practice, but no one had ever seen him naked before. It was such an intimate thought, trusting someone else with that. He couldn't imagine how Hermione was feeling, but girls seemed to be much more self conscious. The image he'd conjured in his mind and dreams definitely had nothing to be worried about, though. Of course, he was sure there were some aspects of the real thing that would be different, but it wasn't hard to form a pretty good idea. But soon, he'd have the real thing, and he got in the shower before he spent too much time thinking about it.

Hermione wasn't sure what to do with herself while Harry was in the shower. Normally, she didn't think about it, but now that she had a goal in mind, all her senses seemed heightened. She could hear the water fall differently as he got in, and as the only sound that filled the tent, it was mentally deafening. She could tell Harry was as nervous as she was, which was kind of a relief. But she didn't want to wait. She knew she was ready, and she wanted to make sure he knew how she felt about him, and these last three months had been so bloody frustrating she wasn't sure how much longer she could stand it.

She resorted to pacing, something to at least get her pent up energy under control and debating what to do to prepare. Definitely wash herself thoroughly . Probably more than she ever had while they were here. That would probably take the longest. She'd shaved everything yesterday, so that shouldn't be a problem. At the end of term, Madam Pomfrey provided all the girls who'd started their period and older a contraceptive potion (with parental approval, of course) that lasted a year, mostly to help regulate cycles for the younger ones and for reasons like this for the older ones. It hadn't been a year yet, so it would still be effective. One less thing she'd have to worry about. She should get her perfume, too. At least for her hair, since she hadn't worn it since that night with the Snatchers and Harry had said he liked it.

What should she wear to come out of the bathroom? Something cute? Pajamas? Her towel? Nothing? No, not nothing , she decided. Too easy. Not enough suspense. He would probably have clothes on, so she should do the same. Plus, the thought of being undressed was exciting, so she decided on a pair of clean pajamas. Something that matched, at least. She dug through her clothes, trying to find her cutest pair of panties, too. She didn't own any sets of matching underwear, so that was out of the question, nor did she really own anything "sexy" since the opportunity had never come up. She honestly knew Harry wouldn't care, but she wanted to at least put in the effort to not look frumpy. As much as she could in this tent, at least.

The shower stopped running, and Hermione hastily piled all her things in her arms as she waited for Harry. A minute later, he came out looking like a totally different person, at least in her mind, and at least compared to the Harry she'd known for the past few months. It had been taxing on them both, mentally, emotionally, and physically. They hadn't been eating or sleeping the best, and Hermione was aware of the seemingly permanent dark circles under her eyes and worry lines she didn't think she'd start getting for another few years. But Harry looked… bright. Refreshed, somehow. Like the Harry she'd started this journey with. And it definitely made her a little less nervous for some reason. He was only wearing his pajamas, the same ones she'd seen countless times, but she tried not to think about the fact that she would be seeing them on the floor soon so she didn't get ahead of herself.

"Hi," he said, looking her up and down with a small smile. Was his voice different, too? She noticed the same kind of quality it had that one time he'd hovered over her in the chair, except this time, she wasn't uncomfortable at all. If anything, it made her squeeze her legs a little tighter together.

"Hi," she replied breathlessly.

"The, uh, shower's free."

"Thanks." She got up and made her way to the bathroom, already overwhelmed by the scent of his soap mixed with the steam.

"I'll tell you when to come out, okay?"

Hermione could only nod as she closed the door behind her. She leaned her back against the door and let out a deep exhale, realizing she hadn't breathed properly since she'd seen Harry come out of the bathroom. God, she was going to be in trouble before the night was over. Her own feelings were a little overwhelming now that she was allowing herself to indulge in them, like a tidal wave of want washing over her like she'd never experienced before.

Harry felt like Hermione spent ages in there before the shower even turned on, which was fine with him. It gave him more time to make a plan.

The weirdest thing was that Hermione began to feel more self-conscious the longer she was in the bathroom. How long was too long? Would he think she had a lot to fix? But if she didn't stay for long enough, would he think she didn't care? She groaned as she washed her hair, ready to get this over with so it wouldn't be so frustrating next time. Next time?! There she was, getting ahead of herself again. She decided to shave her legs anyway, just in case.

Finally, her hair dried and her cutest sleep clothes on, she knocked softly on the door. "Harry, can I come out now?"

"Just a second," came from the other side, and she wondered what he was working on. Her mind painted a picture of both lovely and very inappropriate things, and she wasn't sure which one to expect from him. But when he opened the door and stepped to the side, her jaw dropped.

The first thing she noticed was that in place of the bunk beds they usually slept in, Harry had transfigured it into one larger one covered in plush comforters and pillows all littered with rose petals. The only light was coming from the dozen jarred flames set around the living room. It was enough light where they could see each other, but soft enough that it didn't feel like they were constantly on display. The radio was playing music softly, some sort of jazz station Harry had found.

She couldn't help but smile at the thoughtfulness of it all, the atmosphere he'd made for them with what they had. If only they had some wine. She thought about getting the butterbeer again, but the carbonation probably wouldn't be a good idea.

"Harry," she whispered, unsure of any particular words that would express what she was feeling.

"Come on. Let's dance." He reached out his hand again, and Hermione shakily took it as he pulled her over into the living room. They hadn't danced quite like this since the night Ron left, and it was almost becoming a milestone of some sorts.

Hermione tried to let herself relax, but it was more difficult than she thought. This had been her idea in the first place - why did she seem more nervous than Harry? Thinking ahead had always helped her, but now, it seemed her inability to stop was making her heart beat so fast she was sure Harry could feel it against his chest. Pressed against each other, her head on his shoulder, she could only think about how, soon, there wouldn't be any clothes between them. But if that thought had only made her anxious, she'd call it off and try again another night. It was kind of exciting, though. She really did want this, and knew her nerves weren't anything abnormal or something that meant it wasn't the right idea. Everyone was nervous about losing their virginity, right? Exposing yourself completely to someone physically and emotionally was a big deal.

"Hermione," Harry whispered, and she gasped at the suddenness of his voice, pulling away a little as their dancing slowed, "I can hear your brain going into overdrive. What are you thinking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm thinking about, Harry," she replied, moving one hand to rest on his chest.

"Would you like to do some deep breathing?"

That got a laugh out of her, and she found it definitely relaxed her a little. "What do you know about deep breathing?"

"Absolutely nothing. I figured you might."

She stared at him for a moment, shaking her head fondly. "You're ridiculous."

"You love me." He'd only told her he loved her again a handful of times after the first, mostly involuntarily, other times with little strictly romantic meaning. He didn't want to bombard her with it, knowing she wasn't ready to say it back and the pressure it sometimes brought for reply, but sometimes it just slipped out, though she never seemed to mind.

"I know. I do," she smiled, stopping their dancing. "I really mean it, Harry."

"I know."

"No, I mean… I love you . Like… in love with you."

Harry couldn't help the grin that almost spread ear-to-ear. "You mean it? And not just because I'm being romantic?"

"I mean it." God, it was so easy for her to say that she wished she'd said it earlier. And with the admittance to herself, her nerves vanished a little. "I love you, Harry Potter."

Her kiss was tentative at first, as if she was hesitant to commit to the first step that would end with them in bed together, but kissing him came so naturally, and she wanted to stop thinking too much, because the more the thought about it, the more nervous she became. And the more nervous she was, the more hesitant Harry was with her. It was clear he was doing his best to go at her pace, which she both appreciated and found incredibly frustrating at the same time, and she wasn't sure which she'd prefer at the moment: her nearly reluctant pace or him taking the lead. It turned out he had the same idea, and she ended up with a little bit of both. Instead of his arms wrapping around her waist or splaying over her back like they usually did, once their tongues made contact, Harry's hands moved firmly and unapologetically to her hips, pulling them flush with his own and sending a jolt of pleasure through her whole body.

She, in response, threaded one hand through his hair as the other played with the hem of his shirt, her fingers moving to the skin underneath. Harry was warm, so warm, and between that revelation and the fire that was making its way through each one of her nerves, the only thing she wanted was skin contact. And with that desire in mind, she pushed Harry's shirt up a little more, and he pulled away.

"Can I take this off?" she asked in a barely more than a whisper. It was easy - she'd seen Harry shirtless before. This was safe. A safe first step. Necessary, but safe. He nodded, and she (more enthusiastically than she anticipated) slid it over his head and tossed it to the floor. The first thing she noticed was the absence of the locket.

"It's in your bag," Harry answered, reading her concern. "Didn't figure it would be part of the romantic experience. And I'm sure I'll be able to tune it out."

Hermione took a second to unashamedly admire him since she'd never really gotten to before, pretending to be embarrassed or looking away quickly so it didn't seem like she was staring. But now, nothing was stopping her. He had a little bit of chest hair that was soft when she ran her fingers over it. Harry closed his eyes and shivered when her hand ventured lower, and she couldn't help watching herself touch him, memorizing him, drinking him in as she moved over his abs and down to a line of hair that was a little coarser than the rest.

"Hermione," he moaned, clenching his fist around the fabric of her pants so tightly she was sure he was going to pull them down. When she looked up at him, dark emerald eyes met her own, a striking contrast from the vibrant green they'd been just a few moments earlier. The discomfort between her legs was growing just as the sound of his voice. As if reading her mind, he planted his lips onto her neck, just under her jaw, and she let out a shuddering breath. Her own eyes fluttered closed as her fingernails dug into his skin.

"Harry…" Hermione moaning his name was music to his ears. He knew he was going to have to push her out of her comfort zone a little, or they'd never be able to get the courage to do this. But for him, it wasn't so much courage as just… being in the moment. They'd spent so long thinking about what was going on around them that it would take some effort to only think about what was in front of them; Harry knew that. And he knew it was difficult for Hermione, which meant he had to work a little harder to keep her mind on him and off of other things, though that wasn't proving very hard as he gently sucked a mark into her neck.

She only gripped him tighter, moving her head to the side to give into his attention, another moan finding its way into his ear. He felt himself already partially hard, and this time, did nothing to hide it from her. Their hips were still pressed together, so he was sure she'd be able to feel it. Feeling him pressing into her thigh gave her a new level of confidence that she was doing the right thing, that she was sexy. Suddenly, Harry's hands had found their way under her shirt, to her waist, and she felt so tiny. He hadn't realized how petite she was, not that he was complaining in the slightest. The thought that someone so small could be so powerful with her magic was extremely alluring, but all he wanted to do was pick her up and throw her on the bed.

Hermione shivered at the cool air on her side as Harry lifted her shirt a little, but she knew the warmest spot would be against Harry.

"Can I take this off?" Harry echoed, and Hermione swallowed hard. She knew he was going to give her all the time she needed for her to feel comfortable, but it didn't take long. She spent a few seconds looking into his eyes before nodding slowly. "You're allowed to change your mind," he reminded her.

"I know. Thank you. It's okay." She avoided his gaze, but helped her shirt join his on the floor. The self-consciousness of her scars came back for a little bit, but they were diminished at his gentle touch. His fingers ghosted over her shoulder, sliding down the length of the lines permanently settled there. She shivered under his gaze; his eyes were drinking her in, and she found herself blushing again. "Take a picture. It'll last longer," she attempted with a shy smile, and he just leaned in a little to kiss her again.

"I'm sorry, I just… never realized how amazingly beautiful you are, Hermione."

"Stop it."

"I'm serious. And that hickey doesn't look too bad on you, either."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

"You're not?"

Hermione's eyes ventured over his chest and stomach, pressing herself a little further into him, shuddering again at the hardness she felt. "Oh, I am. Very much so, actually. I'm just… nervous and impatient at the same time."

"I couldn't have said it better myself." Harry's hands slowly ran up and down her sides, and she jerked away a little as he tickled her. Her laugh was infectious, and he couldn't help joining in before kissing her again, smiling against her lips as he backed her into the edge of the bed. There was no doubt in his mind what he wanted. It took her by surprise, but she accepted it. Hermione gasped as she fell on her back onto the bed, but smiled, nearly pulling Harry on top of her and kissing him again. She couldn't stop kissing him.

He settled himself between her legs once she was situated with her head on the pillow and the rest of her body on the bed, and she eagerly opened them for him. More so than usual, he noticed, which was a good sign. Her hands instinctively moved to his back, and he pressed into her core, which felt like it was on fire with how warm it was. Moans left both of them at the same time, her nails digging into his skin.

"Harry, I… God, that feels so good." He kissed down her neck again since she seemed to like that, and she arched her back, pressing into him , which pulled a gasp from him as he pushed against her harder. She whined, tilting her head back, and Harry attacked her lips again. Here, in this position, Hermione was much less hesitant and more passionate.

He pressed gentle kisses over her scars, not missing how she tensed up a little, but quickly relaxed once they didn't seem to faze him. "They look really good, Hermione," he said softly, pulling away to look at her. "All healed." She nodded shyly. "Sorry, I just haven't seen them since…"

"It's okay," Hermione whispered, but she couldn't help shifting underneath him. "I'd just really like to keep the distractions to a minimum, if that's okay. I'm starting to get extremely uncomfortable in the best way possible."

"Right, sorry," Harry sighed with a grin, kissing her again and moving his hands all over any skin he could reach as Hermione leaned into his touch. Logic was quickly leaving her mind, along with any rational thought. It was foreign to her, her mind being utterly consumed by Harry's actions, but she felt herself truly relaxing for the first time in what felt like years . Her breath caught when he reached behind her, resting on the clasp of her bra. "Can I take this off?"

She nodded again, holding herself up a little and closing her eyes. The eye contact made her a little nervous, at least until she determined how he felt. Hermione almost protested how slowly he was sliding the straps off her shoulders and peeling it from her chest, but she kept her mouth shut to make sure he was comfortable and knew she was too.

When he suddenly stopped and the chill of the air made her shiver, she opened her eyes to make sure Harry hadn't changed his mind. His gaze was glued to her, his eyes roaming all over her body, from her stomach, to her breasts, to her shoulders and neck, and when they finally made eye contact, Hermione smiled nervously, blushing all the way down to her collarbones. "Are you okay, Harry?" she whispered, rubbing his arms slowly.

"Never better." She relaxed down onto the bed and Harry's hand moved back to the front. "C-Can I… touch them?"

"Of course." Hermione's eyes fluttered closed and her smile faded as warm hands moved over her rib cage, then higher, carefully cupping her breasts and squeezing them a little. If he'd known these were hiding under that dress she wore to Slughorn's Christmas party, he wouldn't have kept himself from staring. In fact, he probably would have convinced her to not go at all, or start to walk down there and sneak away from Ginny and Dean into a broom closet somewhere along the way. Obviously, he knew she had them, but general knowledge of existence and first-hand experience were two very different things. And Hermione was just letting him touch her, wanting him to touch her. She seemed to be enjoying what he was doing, even if it didn't seem like much - maybe it felt like a massage to her based on the relaxation on her face. He hated to end it when he hadn't seen Hermione that at peace in a while, but he wanted her to make those noises again, as selfish as it was.

As Harry slid his thumb over her nipple, her eyes shot open and she let out a gasp. "Harry, fu-" She swallowed it down, but Harry smirked.

"What was that you were going to say?"

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione said breathlessly, but smiled. "I just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"But you liked it?"

"Yeah," she whispered, "but… Harry, please…"

"What?"

Hermione just shifted again, pressing her hips up into Harry's with a whine, and he suddenly remembered how desperately hard he was. He tugged down her pants and she lifted her hips to help him before they joined the rest of her clothes next to the bed. What a sight she was. Instinctively, he ran his hands over her thighs, his thumbs sneaking close to her crotch, eliciting another whine of impatience from her as her hands moved to the hem of his pants, pushing them down as much as she could, which didn't prove to be very far, but he got the point. He moved off the bed and pulled his pants and underwear down in one go. Might as well not draw it out. And then he was standing there, naked and hard in front of Hermione Granger, when it sank in that they were really doing this.

Hermione wasn't stupid; she knew where it was supposed to go. She knew her body would adjust, but the thought of Harry's whole penis being inside of her when previously the only thing that had been in there were tampons and her fingers was incredibly daunting. At the same time, she was grateful that he didn't seem overly large, so it shouldn't hurt too bad, at least. She found herself reaching for him; he was much too far away for her liking.

Harry could only grin at Hermione's enthusiasm - that was a good sign. He crawled back over her, careful to keep himself from grinding against her too hard. She lifted her hips again towards him, panting softly. "Harry, please," she repeated breathlessly, leaning her head back against the pillow. In his eyes, she couldn't have looked more beautiful, and he did his best to memorize this: her body, her face, her voice, the way it seemed like she was trying to figure out what to do with her hands.

He ran his hands over Hermione's legs again to help ground her a little, and when he hooked his fingers into her panties, she eagerly lifted her hips so he could pull them down. Nervously but eagerly, he tugged them down to her ankles and off her feet before tossing them to the side as well. Before she could say a thing, he kissed her again, and Hermione's whine against his lips as her fingers threaded into his hair was all the motivation he needed. He supported himself on one arm while he felt his way to her hips and across her abdomen, stilling before he moved any lower.

Hermione's eyes opened again and she cupped his cheek, gaze flicking over his face. "Touch me, Harry, please. It's okay."

"H-How?" he asked before realizing that made him sound stupid. "I don't want to hurt you."

She moved a little and pushed him gently to lay beside her, then reached down to guide his hand. It was a little awkward at first, not anticipating someone else's touch, but when his fingers made contact, she almost couldn't take it, but she pulled herself together a little bit enough to speak. "T-That… that here is-"

"Oh, I know what that is," Harry smirked, enjoying watching her struggle.

"Okay. Good," she breathed. "Just… careful. Sensitive."

Sensitive seemed like an understatement. He'd barely ghosted a finger over her clit and she'd been reduced to one word at a time. He pressed against it a little harder in curiosity, toying with it for a few seconds, and the groan of his name that left her lips made it very difficult to concentrate on anything except rolling back over and sliding right into her. She was so wet, as ready as he was, and it wasn't hard for him to figure out what to do from there.

A single finger ventured south, straight to the source, and Harry shuddered at how easily it slid in. He watched as Hermione's brow furrowed for a moment. He could feel her clenching around him and he stilled.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-Yes," Hermione breathed. "Just… it's new, that's all. Feels different than mine."

Harry twitched a little against Hermione's leg at the thought of her pleasuring herself, and she just giggled in response.

"I felt that," she muttered, opening her eyes to look at him. "Can you… another? Please."

She clenched so hard around his second finger that he started to get worried about fitting in there without hurting her. Hermione started panting again, rocking her hips as if trying to adjust herself.

"Hermione, you need to relax," he whispered, kissing her neck again. It seemed to help a little.

"Trying." She gripped the sheets next to her tightly. He moved his lips to hers, and when she started to focus on kissing him back, he felt her open up a little more.

"There you go," Harry muttered against her lips, starting to thrust his fingers in and out slowly as she just moaned in response. It was a little difficult to tell why this felt good for her, but she seemed to be enjoying it, so he kept going, slow and steady until she pulled away from the kiss to gasp for air.

"Harry, if you don't start moving faster or swap your fingers out for something else, I think I'm going to lose my mind," Hermione huffed.

Harry couldn't help but laugh a little. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm trying not to hurt you."

"You're not going to hurt me," she promised. "And I'll tell you if you do."

"Well, which would you prefer? More of this," he curled his fingers a little more, and she shuddered with pleasure, "or…?"

" You , I think. I think I'm ready. Please."

Harry swallowed, pulling his fingers out as she whined, her hips following them for a fraction of an inch. "Do you have… protection or something?"

"Taken care of already," Hermione answered, and Harry just nodded. He had no reason to doubt her; she would have taken every precaution to make sure she wouldn't get pregnant. So, heart racing, he positioned himself back between her legs and reached down to get himself fully hard again, letting out a moan at the lubrication on his fingers Hermione had provided him. She was watching his hand with wide, focused eyes as if studying him. Which, for the record, she probably was.

Once he was set, he looked up at her gently. "Ready?"

Hermione swallowed and lifted herself up on her elbows, nodding. "Very."

He smiled a little, shaking his head and lining himself up. "I love you."

"I love you too, Harry."

As soon as his tip touched her, she closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath that he mirrored. The warmth coming from her body was amazing, and he was certain he could get himself off just like this, barely inside of her. But the thought of that warmth surrounding him completely was enough to hold off from stroking himself more. After all, he wanted to last a little bit, not that he was worried she'd judge him. But he wanted this to be as good for her as it was about to be for him. He pushed in a little experimentally, but stopped after a second to let himself adjust.

"Fuck, Hermione," he whispered, his own eyes squeezing shut as he tried not to lose it. This was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Hermione was clenching - he could feel it even past where his tip was - and at his words, she only got tighter.

It was a little uncomfortable, but not quite painful yet. He was going slow enough that she was adjusting pretty well to the size, and she was trying to relax as much as possible. It started to get a little awkward with the angle, so he leaned forward on top of her again, and her legs parted further in invitation until his hips were flush against hers, and he stilled. And her body caught up and it did hurt, though it was manageable. Her eyes squeezed closed as she took a few deep breaths.

"A-Are you okay?" he managed to ask, though he couldn't get over the feeling of her clenching around him every few seconds.

"Fine," Hermione whispered, opening her eyes to look into his. "Just… let me adjust for a second. Don't move."

"No promises."

"Try."

Harry was fighting his instinct, which was a lot more animalistic than he thought it would be, but he wasn't about to give into that the first time, or he would hurt her. A few long seconds later, Hermione finally nodded. "All right. I think… you can move."

Harry almost sighed with relief, starting to thrust softly. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and took slow breaths, trying to adjust her hips for the best angle.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, it just hurts a little and I … can't… feel much. Not that… you're too small or anything, of course, but… maybe I'm too wet."

"I can't feel much either," Harry admitted. He wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried.

"M-Maybe pull out and try again?"

That ended up working better, and sliding in all at once made Hermione's full body tense and shudder, but she moaned his name again. He pulled out almost all the way with each thrust at first until something clicked and he was washed over with a wave of pleasure, which was good because it meant he could stay hard - it had been difficult with limited feeling. He tried a little harder, a little faster, working up a rhythm that drew a moan from Hermione's lips each time their hips met as the initial pain began to fade. He was surprised at how unashamed she seemed of the noises she was making, because she definitely wasn't holding back, and it was glorious. They weren't loud, as he didn't expect her to be, but it was clear that every sound that left her mouth was only for him.

It didn't take long for her moans to morph back into his name or pieces of it, and paired with the increased tightness around him, Harry could tell she was getting close, and he became desperate to see her fall over the edge. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he sucked on her neck again, but it wasn't until one particularly hard thrust combined with the nip of his teeth on the hickey he'd already given her that Hermione's body tensed completely and she gasped, pulling him as close as possible and arching into him. The desperation she was displaying by gripping him so tightly and pressing every inch of their bodies together she could almost had him losing it, but the increasing lack of friction again didn't quite have him there, even with the delicious sounds that were leaving her mouth as he nails dug into his shoulders. But he wasn't complaining, not when Hermione was falling apart with pleasure underneath him, because of him.

When she finally relaxed in his arms, he kissed her with a smile. She looked exhausted, and couldn't muster much more than a hum in response. Harry chuckled. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Mmhmm."

"Are you done?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes falling closed briefly. "Want help you, though."

"It's okay," Harry promised, shuddering as he pulled out of her and kissing her forehead. "Get some rest. I'll be right back."

He was pretty sure she was already asleep by the time he made it to the bathroom, so he made it a quick trip, taking care of himself (which didn't take long considering the album of visuals he could now use) using the bathroom, and washing off a little and trying not to feel bad about the little bit of blood on him before heading back out into the rest of the tent and turning the radio off. Sure enough, Hermione was breathing deeply and slowly, but she'd settled herself under the comforter. It looked like all her clothes were still on the floor, and his heart picked up at the thought of sleeping completely naked. There wouldn't be anything to hide, not that there was anyway.

Harry crawled into the bed next to her and she immediately plastered herself against his side. "Happy Christmas, Harry," she whispered.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."