Chapter 18
Hermione
Harry doesn't sleep well. I've known that for a while now, but it's different when you share a bed with a person. He wakes at the smallest provocation, and even without the Horcrux in his head, he's prone to nightmares. Nightmares that, lucky for me, I've been sharing for weeks without realizing it.
At least now that I know why I'm dreaming about myself dying, I might be able to put a stop to it.
I'm always the first one unconscious at night and wake up every morning to the feeling of Harry watching me.
After yesterday, well, I didn't expect Harry to sleep for a week. Between the battles of the day and the way it ended? It wasn't conducive to a good night's rest for one Mr. Harry Potter.
I ate while he was still in the shower. Dobby kept a plate of food and a bottle of wine under stasis. The wine was exactly what I needed after the day I had. I was already curled up in one of Harry's shirts, mostly asleep by the time he left the bathroom.
I came to when I felt his lips hit my throat, then drifted off again to the sight of him reading a book, the fingers of his other hand running through my hair.
I fully expected to wake up to Harry still sitting up in bed, a different book perched open on his lap.
Which is why it's so surprising when instead I wake up to discover that Harry is completely, serenely asleep.
His breathing is deep and even, his chest expanding with every exhale against my back. His arms are wrapped around me, a knee between each of my own. His prick is poking into my backside.
And that's…yeah.
I like that.
I like it a lot.
Just to test, as an experiment only, I rub my ass against Harry's crotch, under the guise of getting more comfortable.
His arms tighten around me, and his hips thrust haphazardly against my butt.
"Mi," he grumbles in his sleep and…okay. I need more of that.
I'm choosing to pretend that my panties are damp, and my hands are shaking because of the newness of the Bond. That's the only reason I'm doing this. It's affecting my common sense, or something. It's the only thing that makes sense. Because in no other universe would I ever, ever put the moves on Harry.
Ever.
Married or not.
Last night was an aberration. I wasn't seducing Harry. I was winning an argument. This morning though? This morning I have no excuse for the way my mouth is watering and how I seem to crave his touch like an addiction.
Holding my breath and moving as slowly as possible, I turn around in Harry's grip. My arms are pinned between us now, my hands flat against his chest.
For a moment I think I've woken him up. He seems to squirm against me, the muscles in his stomach and pecs twitching under my fingers. But then he huffs against my face before his breathing resumes its easy pace.
He looks so different without his glasses.
He needs to shave.
Stubble coats his jaw and cheeks. Not as much as there'll be in a few years. If he didn't shave daily in the tent, he'd have a beard before the week was out.
But it's one of the hints of the man he'll become in the boy he is today.
Is his facial hair soft, or prickly?
Flicking my eyes over his face, to make sure he's asleep, I close what little distance there is between us and bring my lips to his chin.
Soft.
I dart my tongue out and swipe it along his jawline. That feels rough though, like sandpaper. Fascinating. I close my lips and run the soft flesh of my mouth over his cheek.
I laugh through my nose, the air puffing against his face as the prickles tickle my skin.
"What are you doing?"
The unexpected scratchiness of his voice startles me. I jerk in his hold, before gathering my wits. When I look at him, his eyes are cracked and he's staring down at me from under hooded lids.
"Experimenting," I say.
Throwing all caution to the wind, I toss my leg over his hip, wrap my arms around his chest and pull our bodies flush.
My eyes roll in the back of my head when his dick glances against my clit. Even with layers of clothing between us it's…
Everything.
Plus, there's not that many layers.
"Experimenting?" he parrots.
His body is stiff, no pun intended, and it feels like he's all but stopped breathing.
I trail my lips under his jaw and down his throat, dropping kisses as I go. His chin tilts up automatically, giving me more room.
"Mm-hmm," I say, nodding my head as best as I can from our entwined positions. "For science. I'm—" What am I doing. What am I doing?! "I'm testing the bond!" I say with triumph, pleased to be able to come up with a response.
"For science?" he confirms, and I agree with a little sigh into his throat.
Some of the rigidity flees from his shoulders when I dig my teeth into his neck and suck.
"Merlin, Mi!"
He arches under my touch, and lightning licks up my spine at the sensation.
I feel unbelievably powerful.
I may be the brightest of our age, but Harry is the strongest wizard of our generation. In several generations. And he's whimpering from something I've done.
It's intoxicating.
"Blame it on my hormones," I mumble, following the line of his throat to his shoulders. He never wears a shirt to sleep when he sleeps in his own room. I wish I'd known that years ago.
"You know, I don't remember my hormones being this out of whack the last time I was fifteen," he jokes, his voice rough with sleep and pulled tighter than I've ever heard it.
"That's probably because you didn't have a wife sleeping in your arms every night last time," I say, and he huffs a laugh into the top of my head.
His arms are latched tight around me, but he hasn't so much as twitched a muscle since he woke up to find me attacking his face. His hands are open and still, like he's afraid to move.
I rub myself against him, feeling his hard dick twitch against the front of my panties. Then I have to stop and gasp as the shock of the sensation rips down my limbs. Why does that little glance feel so much better than my fingers ever did?
I don't understand it at all, and I don't like things I don't understand.
"That—," he says, and a moan slips out quiet and deep from his throat when I slide my tongue against his chest. "That probably has something to do with it."
Giving up on any sense of self control, I push him over until he's flat on his back and roll myself on top of him.
"You should experiment too," I encourage him, rubbing myself against his hard-on. "For science."
"Uhhh."
He moans again, and his eyes close and roll back into his head.
"I wouldn't want you to think—" I can hear him swallow, feel exactly what he wants. Oh, he doesn't wish me to think anything poorly about him. But he sure as hell wants. His chest heaves, and though his hands are on my hips, his fingers are shaking where they rest against the meat of my upper thighs.
I'm getting dizzy between the fire coursing through my veins and the echo of the burning deep in his.
Harry's self-control is phenomenal. If only he'd exhort it more often. Like whenever his temper got the best of him. It's a bit annoying if I'm being honest. Because the one time I want him to lose his senses, he's got them in a tight grip.
Which I understand, I guess, in an obnoxious sort of way. The only thing that makes him slow down and think is when he's afraid that I'll get hurt. This has been true ever since we were kids in that bathroom.
I move my hips and rub my center against his prick, which is settled snugly between my legs, and his fingers dig into my thighs so hard I'm sure I'll bruise from his grip.
I hope I do.
My body marked by Harry's fingertips…my hips move of their own accord just from thinking about it.
"Less thinking, more kissing," I demand.
I can hear his brain reasoning through the logic on that. It's…fascinating. He doesn't want to pressure me. He's terrified I'll be angry with him. Yet, at the same time is desperate to bring his lips to mine. I sit up straight and plant my hands on his chest before I flex my hips again.
The tops of my thighs are sticky and my panties are so wet I'd bet money he can feel it through his pants.
Harry jerks underneath me.
And there's the end of that particular train of thought. I should be keeping notes on ways to get what I want. A hundred and fifty years is a long time to be married to someone.
"Well. You're the brains of this operation," he says. "If you say I should, then who am I to argue?"
Finally!
"Exactly!" I cheer, trying to nod my head and bending to lick his nipples at the same time. I'm not all-together coordinated, and it would be a lie of the highest order if I claimed to have any experience with fooling around with a boy.
I flinch, when, at the unexpected enthusiasm of his reaction, my teeth scrape against his sensitive flesh right along with my tongue.
Which, from the shot of magic that sparks through me like an explosion, was more than satisfactory for him!
Merlin, Circe, and Morgana.
Gold sparkles are literally falling around us.
Did I do that? Or did he?
Harry thrusts against me with purpose, and every brain cell I have scatters in a thousand different directions. He grips my hips and pushes down, and my forehead drops to his chest.
I can't concentrate when his hands are on me like that. When his swollen dick is rubbing circles into my mound.
His hand sinks into my hair and his fingers curl in the twisted strands. When he closes his fist and pulls, arching my back and dragging my lips to his, I feel it like a direct line of fire from my head to my clit. My internal muscles clench around nothing, and for the first time in my life I feel what it is to want.
To need.
To crave something more than I desire oxygen or water, or, or magic! I need this connection to Harry in the elemental way you need to breathe. Without it, I'll wither away and die.
When he kisses me?
I think we float off the bed.
His tongue invades my mouth, the same way the clean, sleepy smell of him invades my senses. It's a full tactical assault. There's no more hesitation. No more fear of the consequences or the weight of our decisions. There's only him, and me, and the privacy of our warded bedroom. And Merlin does he know how to kiss.
He doesn't overpower me, so much as bend me to his will. His tongue is like a gentle caress. His lips pull moans and sounds from my throat that I wasn't aware I was capable of making. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, and with each nip of his teeth and flick of his tongue I gasp and pant at the sensation.
Already I've lost all my coordination. Forgotten every tip or trick I've ever read about. I rip my mouth away from his and plant my palms on his chest, grinding my quim against the rock-hard erection pinned between our bodies.
It's his turn to run his lips down my throat, kissing and sucking every time he stops.
"Merlin, you're so hot," I pant.
I can't look at him anymore. It's too much. The sensation pouring into my body is almost incomprehensible. I close my eyes and throw my head back, feeling the tension build in my spine. In the way my legs start to tremble.
Losing the sense of sight helps me focus on what's important. The man underneath me.
"I think I have a fever," he quips right back, pulling the neck of my, of his, shirt down until the lines of my collarbones are exposed, then running his tongue across the skin.
I gasp in a shaking breath as my nails dig in for purchase.
"Makes sense," I pant. "We're obviously delirious."
Harry latches his teeth onto my neck and nods, and if I had any control left in my body, I'd flee the room in shame at the way it makes me mewl. My hair almost covers us, and when I open my eyes again I see that it's floating.
"Absolutely," he agrees. I can't even really hear him anymore. More feel the words in my head. "Can't be held responsible for our actions."
Harry sits up with me still on his lap, and I squeal in surprise at the action.
"It's only fair," he says, not at all concerned that I'm holding on to him like it's the only thing keeping me upright. Which, to be fair, he is. He rights me on his lap, his hands on my hips and his fingers burning welts into the skin that isn't covered by panties. So, most of me.
His cock, seemingly doubled in size from when I saw it last, sits perfectly between my hips and he pulls my ass tighter onto his middle, throwing my legs around his waist...and—oh my God…Then he slips his hands inside my shirt, runs them up my sides, and in one swift move, pulls the fabric up and off my body
He throws it somewhere, and I—
His hands, callused from his broom and his wand and probably practicing with that damn sword cup my breasts, and I never understood the obsession with breasts before. They're for feeding babies. So not sexy. But then Harry rubs his thumbs against my nipples and my hips jerk in response. The air is cool against the sensitive nubs, before hot air encases my nipple a second before Harry's tongue swipes across it.
The feeling is so overwhelming that I latch onto Harry's head for support. I pull his hair and it only turns him on.
The crude sounds of him sucking at my breast cause my hips to twitch and jerk again. Then it's a never-ending circle. He sucks at me and runs his teeth over my nipple, and my hips flex and my clit ruts against his straining dick. He lifts my breast in his palm, latching his lips onto the sensitive skin underneath and I gasp and moan and buck against him.
My motions fuel him, which in turn fuel me.
His fingers pull at my neglected nipple, until his mouth kisses a trail across and takes their place.
My legs are shaking, my hands trembling. I try to say his name, but all that comes out is a breathy gasp, as fireworks begin exploding low in my belly. My muscles spasm around nothing, and never has anything felt so good.
"Harry," I moan, I think, as my body jerks and twitches.
The bond is too much. It's all so overwhelming. Even with my eyes closed I see every quake of my body. Feel the way his muscles pull taught in response.
"Merlin. Are you—" But he doesn't finish the question.
I'm still flying, having yet come down from the orgasm that ripped through my body, leaving no nerve ending unbound, before I'm flat on my back and my arms are stretched above me.
I don't even know how it happened.
I strain against the body pinning me. My chest, already inflamed from his enthusiastic attention, rubs against his muscles, and explosions commence again. Harry slips a hand under my ass and tilts me up, and my legs wrap around him automatically. It's instinct.
It's magic.
It's too much. Too much, too fast, and not enough, all at the same time.
My head is thrashing on the bed.
I need to escape. I need to breathe. I'm burning from the inside out. I'm coming out of my skin.
Until Harry catches my lips with his, and he groans into my mouth. Gone are the gentle explorations of a new lover. His hips drag against me; his cloth covered dick sliding through the mess dripping from between my legs. I buck against the onslaught. Overwrought but still needing more. So much more.
Everything.
Anything he can give me.
He licks at my tongue like it's a life-giving sustenance. Our teeth clack together, our noses bump. I open my mouth wider, needing space to breathe, but Harry just uses it as an excuse to thrust deeper.
His orgasm is building, and it's happening in surround sound. I can taste it in my mouth, hear his blood rushing in my ears. I feel the pleasure spiking between his legs before it answers with a throb between mine.
The bond is singing.
I writhe against his hold, needing to feel him in my arms. But that only spurs him on. His hips slam against me at an almost inhuman speed. His hand slips from under my ass, fingers worshiping along my skin, and when that damn thumb grazes against my nipple, I'm done for.
I cry out as my muscles clench and contract with my second orgasm of the morning. Pinned beneath him as I am, there's no place to run from the brunt of the invasion. I'm forced to ride out the wave, to feel every touch against my skin and the brush of Harry's soul against mine. Or maybe it's our joint soul, finally merging together. Either way, it's devastating, and tears slip down my cheeks and my body shatters and is I'm only help together by Harry.
He swallows my cries and stiffens above me, his own release joining mine.
It's—
Harry doesn't ride the wave. He masters it. He sucks my explosion into himself and cools the burning in my lungs like a warm blanket on a cold night. His weight, which moments ago felt like it was suffocating me, now covers me like a shield. Like a layer of protection between me and the outside world.
And I'm crying, and I don't understand why.
Harry wipes my tears and replaces them with his kisses. His hair is wild, his eyes crossed because he can't see me without his glasses, and my tears are replaced with giggles and I'm losing my bleeding mind. Harry laughs through his nose, then collapses to the side, rolling and pulling me with him.
"Wow," he gasps, and that's appropriate. Ten points to Gryffindor.
"That was…" I try to say, but I'm still not breathing all that well.
What can I even say? I'm the one that started it.
"Unexpected..." Harry supplies, and I start to laugh again.
"I wish I still had my naughty books," I say without thinking. Then I snap my mouth shut, horrified at what I just said out loud. I cover my mouth with my hand for good measure, but Harry simply pries it away.
He's staring at me, those startlingly green eyes shining in the sun streaming in from the open windows.
"Books?" he asks.
Because of course, he's actually listening to me and doesn't mind when I talk about books for hours. Almost kind of likes it.
Sometimes.
I think.
"Oh yeah," I reply, biting my lip. "Last time, you know, before, I had books on—," I stop, embarrassment flooding my side of the bond.
"Oh. This I have to know." Harry lifts up on his elbow, then rolls over on his hands and knees, holding himself over top of me.
"Books onnnnn...?" he prompts, and I turn my head to the side to hide my blush.
Never mind that all I'm wearing is panties, and ruined ones at that.
"Sex," I say quietly, and I feel his surprise like an electric shock. "At first it was strictly educational. You know, those books parents give their children when it's time to have the sex talk but they're too embarrassed to give it themselves. But then I got curious."
Harry snorts at me.
"Of course, you did. They have books on sex?"
I giggle like a schoolgirl when I finally look at him.
"You have no idea," I say
He grins at me, hair falling forward to partially cover his face.
"I really, really don't," he agrees
"They have how-to manuals, instructional books. Picture books, the Kama Sutra, books that give you a different sexual position for every day of the year. Tips and tricks on how to please your witch or wizard. Spells to make things easier, or," and I blush so hard I'm afraid I may have burst a blood vessel, "harder, as the case may be."
Faster than I can blink, Harry rolls to the side and off the bed entirely.
"Where are you going?" I demand through laughter and shock.
"To take a shower. Merlin knows I need one now. Then we're going shopping. My lady wife requires books."
I wonder if I could find a book about sex between Bond Mates. Because call it a hunch, but I don't think normal sex is supposed to feel like that.