She, #85
She's So Very, Very Nervous
Hermione isn't remembering to tell him no anymore. She isn't remembering to push him off of her. She isn't remembering that this is her best friend and they shouldn't be doing this. But God, she can't even remember her own name. She gasps softly, learning precisely just how sensitive her collarbone is.
How has she never done this before? How have they not done this together before? She thinks something along the lines of I have wasted the last sixteen years of my life by not doing this. And then she isn't thinking anymore, at least, not about anything she would normally think about. She's thinking about how badly she wants him to lift up her shirt.
But she's nervous as his lips find hers again. So very, very nervous. Nervous enough that, if she weren't so nervous, she'd be embarrassed of how profound her nervousness is.
It's Harry. It's just Harry.
Yeah, right. That stopped working about five minutes before. Reassuring herself that it was her best friend playfully biting her earlobe hadn't helped in the slightest. Nor did the little shivers that went through her when he did that. And his low chuckle in her ear was just evil.
Normal Harry didn't make her tremble like this. This isn't the Harry who saved her from a hoard of dementors in their Third Year, or the Harry that relentlessly helped her research Nicolas Flamel.
And yet, it is. It's the same boy who panicked when he thought she was dead in the Department of Mysteries. The same boy she found the night after Sirius's death, breaking everything in the Room of Requirement.
He'd stopped when she discovered him. She explained timidly that she'd gone searching for him because she was worried. She'd even broken into his trunk and stole his Invisibility Cloak. He laughed weakly, but his laughter turned to tears quickly. She held him until he was finished sobbing.
He's especially that boy: completely ruled by his emotions. But what is he feeling now? Love, lust, madness? Why has he tangled his hand into her wild curls, letting the other fall to the small of her back? Why is he nuzzling her jawbone?
Why is she liking it so damn much?
How is that she's held her composure around all members of the male kind for 17 years and now, in a matter of moments, she's losing it all. And in a classroom, no less! She knows, knows she should feel ashamed of her actions. She can't even imagine what Professor McGonagall would do if she found them. Then again, McGonagall's never snogged Harry Potter, so she can't possibly understand.
The thought of McGonagall is enough, though, and she pushes Harry away. He's trying to catch his breath and shocked by the look on her face.
"Hermione, are you--?"
"McGonagall!" she gasps.
"What!" Harry whips around, expecting to see the formidable woman in the doorway. He turns back to Hermione confused.
"What if she caught us?" Hermione pants, brown eyes wide.
Harry looks down, apparently in thought. After a moment or so he says, "Well, hopefully she'd be impressed."
"Don't be cheeky!" Hermione says, batting him lightly, but he's still smiling mischievously. "Harry," she whines, "really, what are we doing?"
"I thought," he replies, teasing her bare knee lightly with his fingertips, "that you knew exactly what we're doing," he finishes, just barely sliding his hand underneath the hem of her wool skirt.
"Harry!" She slaps him away, looking affronted. Secretly, she wishes she hadn't stopped him.
"I was only fooling, Hermione."
"I know, but, still, what are we doing?"
"I thought we'd already covered this."
"Yes, but what about…" Hermione trails off, trying to come up with something reasonable.
"McGonagall?" Harry prompts. "I highly doubt she's going to suddenly sweep in here."
"Ron?" she asks faintly, knowing that she has nothing reasonable.
Harry's fighting not to roll his eyes. "We've been over this, too. Ron knows. He'll get over it. So will Ginny," he says loudly, seeing her opening her mouth to protest. She shuts it, looking pensive.
"Hermione?" he asks, after sometime. "What is it? Do you not want this?"
"Oh, Heavens no! Of course I want this, it's just, so different."
"And new," Harry adds.
"Yes, very new. We've known each other for almost six years, been best friends, and now, suddenly, here we are. I mean, I'm sitting on a teacher's desk, Harry, it's not exactly normal behavior."
"If it makes you feel better, it's not used by a teacher anymore."
Hermione gives him a look he knows well. "That doesn't help."
"Well, at least this old classroom's getting some use?" he offers in vain.
She suppresses a laugh, but can't hide a weak smile. "Harry, what about the details? How are we going to tell everyone?"
"We could just walk into breakfast hand-in-hand tomorrow? Ignore everyone else? Let's make this a quiet affair, Hermione."
She nods. "Quiet is good, especially where you're concerned. I guess, though, people will talk no matter what."
"So you want to just go back now and snog on a couch in front of the entire house?" Harry asked, fighting to keep his face straight.
She swatted at him again, grinning. "No, I like the quiet. And I like it here."
"So you're okay with this? For now at least? We're… good?" He asks, grinning back, happy that she's happy again. He's still not too sure of what he's asking from her, though. Everything, he decides.
She nods slowly. "I think so, yes."
"Then," he says tentatively, "can we…?"
"Continue?"
"Yeah."
Her smile widens as she leans to kiss him again.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: Surprise! I don't own Harry Potter! Thank you to everyone that reads and reviews. Reviews do make me write more, just so you know. They're very motivating.