Chapter 8

An hour or so later, Hermione was lying face-down on Harry's bed, still attempting to comprehend what had happened. Harry, meanwhile, busied himself exploring, caressing every part of her, following a trail of sensual attentiveness where his hands frequently gave way to his lips.

Somehow, she felt, the stereotypes had been reversed. Wasn't the male of the species the one who was supposed to roll over, exhausted, and simply want to fall asleep, while the female had the impulse to continue on, to cuddle, to cement her affection?

And yet, right now, after the stress and then subsequent activities of the past couple hours, she felt a tremendous urge to drift off into slumber. It was a tendency she was actively fighting, but Harry's deep massaging of every part of her body just made her feel like she was floating on a cloud somewhere, feeling more relaxed—and simultaneously more aroused—than she had ever been in her life. And that was after he had already taught her body to respond more quickly and more vigorously than she had ever thought possible.

Harry, on the other hand, had only spent a few minutes resting after their earlier exertions before beginning his next round of tender ministrations. She became overwhelmed imagining what the next time would be like, as Harry appeared to be dedicating himself to gauging her every reaction, methodically mapping her body to find every location that might give her pleasure. And she was positively shocked to realize how many places there were…

But when the trail of kisses began to descend her legs and cross her calves, she gave him a push with her leg. "Not the feet," she said.

"I told you I'd kiss every square inch of your body, and I will," he said, his voice deep and husky, as he pawed her leg once more and drove his tongue deeply into the back of her knee, causing her to moan aloud… again.

She shoved him off more forcefully with her hand as she flipped over on her back. "All right, but it's time for me to finally have that shower first." She sat up and moved toward the side of the bed, but his arm snaked immediately around her from behind, pulling her back as his lips began to massage that amazing spot right where her neck joined her shoulder. How had he already found things that I never knew existed on my own body?

"God, Harry," she breathed, struggling to retain control over the tone of her voice. Her vocalization seemed to cause him to attack her neck with even more vigor as one of his hands explored higher on her chest. She wasn't sure if it was the arousal she already had felt from his wide-ranging massage, but if he kept doing that for another few seconds, could he really push her over the edge just from sucking on her neck? She basked in the sensations… Merlin, that felt incredible… until suddenly that clever tongue was meandering over her earlobe, then thrusting its way in...

After her body had stopped shuddering, she found herself collapsed and fallen backward into his arms—arms that were already running up and down her sides again. "Shower now," she said, pushing herself upright. "Must go." Two words were the maximum length of coherent thought her brain could string together, and Harry's arms fought her again, pulling at her. She had seen the level of desire before when their bodies were finally joined, when she found those gorgeous green eyes gazing down, locked completely on her, seeming to verify at every moment that it truly was her. But now, having been awakened to the possibilities, he was like some sort of wild animal, loose from his cage and feasting on her as if she were the first sustenance he had had in months.

"I'll go with you," he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and the guttural tone in his voice causing another aftershock to erupt within her.

"That's…" she managed to get out, pressing him back with more force, separating her body from his, "that's... not a good idea."

"Seems like an amazing idea to me," he said as his mouth descended to the inside of her wrist, desperately seeking to find another spot that would elicit a moan, even as he gave a perverse kind of literal "lip service" to the distance she had introduced between their bodies.

"You are incorrigible!" she exclaimed, yanking her hand away, causing him to finally meet her eyes and halt his sexual blitzkrieg. Or, from that dark look in his eyes, he was at least granting her a temporary reprieve. "I just… need some privacy."

His eyebrows scrunched down. "Why?"

"It doesn't matter… just… it doesn't matter." She moved slightly away from him, pulling a blanket up and around her, clutching her arms about her tightly as she now sat on the side of the bed.

Harry slowly and cautiously maneuvered himself to sit upright next to her, tentatively placing a hand on her back. "Okay, whatever you need, but… something's wrong." His other hand came up and tenderly stroked her cheek. "Please just tell me."

"It's stupid," she said quietly. "But… a shower is kind of, well… exposed. Not soft candlelight and shadows… bright lights with all of my…" Her voice trailed off.

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head quickly. "Hermione, your body is positively stunning. You have no idea how long I've—"

"I don't look like her," she interrupted, sniffling slightly. "I don't look like her, or Gwyn, or Ginny. I'm not some alluring athlete, much less a beautiful model..."

He seemed to contemplate her words for a moment, apparently perplexed and unable to sort out what she could possibly mean. "No, you don't look like them. You're the girl I actually wanted, the person they were all distracting me from…"

"Well, I do look like her… a little bit," she said. "I noticed, but I tried to deny it. That's who you're imagining, isn't it? I know I look a bit like her, just not… so gorgeous."

He chuckled. "Wait, are you serious?" The laugh that then erupted was odd, tinged with a bit of madness, almost a cackle. "You think… you actually think that I'm fantasizing about Anna?"

"No, not... well…" she paused, having difficulty expressing herself. "I really do believe you're in love with me, and our friendship, but you've never said anything before, and this… this animalistic sexual frenzy... must be a product of—"

"The fact that I've lusted after you for years?" he cried. "Because that's the truth, and right now—the past hour—has been the most incredible fantasy come to life." He grew increasingly agitated and exasperated. "You think I want Anna? You have absolutely no idea…" He was shaking his head, before turning more directly to her. "I know you figured out that we had a fight over Christmas. You pestered me about it weeks ago—do you really want to know what it was about?"

She closed her eyes. "Harry, I don't see what that—"

The tenor of his voice raised a notch. "It was about the fact that I called out your name, okay?"

At that, her eyes quickly darted to him, as she stared in disbelief.

"Well, not quite as extreme as that sounded, I guess," he explained. "The details don't matter anymore, but Anna's generally not one for cuddling. One night after dealing with a difficult case in the Auror office, I drank quite a bit and fell asleep on the sofa, and for once she was actually caring for me. She snuggled up and kissed me a few times, gently—almost lovingly." Hermione shifted a bit, but he pressed his hand more firmly on her back as his gaze came back to her.

"I had a bad day," he went on after a moment, "and I wanted to see you, but you had gone home already. And I was so bloody pissed that night I just assumed it had to be you… because I wanted it to be you. So I said your name, while I was in the midst of snogging her." He let out a breath. "She never completely forgave me, nor should she have..."

Hermione's anxiety began to lessen again, and she leaned against him as he continued. "Did you ever think that the reason so many people we dated were jealous of us was because there really has always been us? Hermione, I never wanted anyone else… not really. I'm not going to say I imagined Anna was you exactly, because that would be a bit weird. But I'm also not going to lie about the fact that I think I did find her attractive because of the vague resemblance, even though I didn't notice it consciously until we were dating for a couple months." He turned toward Hermione, hesitating for just a moment, before he gently kissed her forehead. "She was a very poor substitute, you know. Aside from the fact that she's a pretty awful person, I always wanted it to be you."

He put his arm around her, pulling her close, and they sat there in silence for a few moments. Eventually, he shook his head and let out a laugh. "You still have no idea what you do to me, do you? So many days I sat in your office in the Ministry, just imagining the things I might do to you right then and there…"

She felt her cheeks grow warm, as she began to imagine those scenarios herself. "Harry… that wouldn't be—"

"And those blushes!" He pulled his arm away and touched the back of his hand to her cheek. "I don't know what it is, but it has always driven me absolutely wild. Just this afternoon, I swear I almost completely lost control and ravished you right there on the desk."

Hermione's face grew even hotter, as she said quietly, "I don't understand why you didn't tell me, then."

"Because the one time I alluded to it," he explained, "you said the idea of our being together like this was… well, I'm pretty sure the exact phrase was, 'Don't be absurd, Harry.'"

Hermione sighed, staring down and shaking her head, realizing what idiots they had both been. She reached out and took his hand, threading their fingers together. A smirk emerged on her face, as she said, "You have cute toes too, you know."

"What?"

"Your toes—I was thinking about them when you got out of the shower." She couldn't help it when a little giggle escaped at the ridiculous idea of talking about their toes. "Harry, you were so drunk that night, you don't remember it. That's why nothing happened—because I would never have let it happen with you in that condition. In fact, you were so out of it, you told me that I had cute toes." She shook her head at him. "Do you realize that's literally the only time in the decade since I've known you that you ever directly commented on any part of my body?"

"Well, you do," he smirked back. "Have cute toes, that is."

She rolled her eyes, as she went on. "So I think I should be forgiven for just a little confusion and insecurity, as you've never before given me a sincere compliment." She rose from the bed, pulling the blanket along with her and attempting to wrap it around her back. "And I think I deserve at least five minutes alone in the shower." She struggled with the blanket, which had been bundled up a bit. The center now fell down behind her, exposing her back. She pulled it around and tried to gather it in front of her, feeling oddly self-conscious with him staring at her completely nude back. "I suppose," she added, turning back toward him, now covering herself better, "I might consider letting you join me after that."

"You realize that's another fantasy of mine?" he said, glancing down her. "Remember those months we spent alone in the tent? I sometimes couldn't stop thinking about the fact that almost every day you were naked in the shower, merely a few feet away… I almost considered just hopping in one day along with you, praying you wouldn't throw me out."

"That was a really small shower. It would have been quite a tight fit—"

"That's precisely what I was hoping for..." The smirk had returned, and she had to laugh.

"Anyway..." she said with another eye-roll, "if you decide to join me, you have to promise to behave."

"I make no such promise."

She narrowed her eyes in mock annoyance. "Then you'll wait until I get back."

"What if I paid you a more appropriate compliment?"

"I'm listening," she said, raising an eyebrow. "But this had better be good…"

He sat in thought for a few seconds. "You know that miniature sculpture in your parents' study?"

Where was he going with this? "The bust of Shakespeare?"

"No, not that… there's... well, a nude girl."

"Oh, you mean the Canova."

"Well, the few times I've been in that room, I've been fascinated by that sculpture."

"Yes, I noticed, Harry," she chuckled. Twice she had found him, intently staring at the model. It was an odd thing to have Harry's attention drawn to, and thankfully her parents never saw him deeply investigating a nude statue in their house.

"Because she sort of has your figure, you know," he said, as his eyes drifted up and down her body, again making her feel quite exposed. "I've walked behind you for so many years, and I've imagined what it would be like to finally see your beautiful nude legs, and, well... your bottom—and that sculpture, with the way you were walking away holding the blanket just now… well, it reminded me…"

She let out a loud laugh. "You're actually saying that I look like Canova's Venus Italica? A sculpture with a figure considered so perfect that thousands of people pay to marvel at it every day in Florence?" They were both smiling at each other now, as they laughed together. "You've jumped directly from cute toes to claiming I'm a Greek goddess? Harry… I'd say don't put me on a pedestal, but you've literally… well..."

"Actually," he said, grinning widely, "what I'm saying is I fantasized that that statue might be like you, but now that I see it in the flesh, so to speak, your bum is definitely superior. If you carved a copy out of marble, I bet thousands of people would pay to stare at yours too."

"Okay, enough," she said as she turned away, heading toward the bath, "now you are being absurd."

He stood and ran up behind her, catching her shoulder with his hand, as he bent down to kiss her neck from behind. "I'm quite serious... but I'd prefer to keep this one for only private viewings, if you know what I mean..." His fingers traced a path backward across her thigh, while her cheeks grew warm again. "And I definitely warned you about that…" he breathed into her ear, as she felt him press his body close against her back.

"Already, Harry? Three times in barely an hour?"

"That wasn't a joke before—I'm absolutely serious about the blushes… you have no idea over the years how many times I had to excuse myself or duck behind something…"

"I'm going now," she said, shaking her head at his preposterous stories. But as she walked toward the bath, she let go of the blanket and let it gradually fall completely, glancing back over her shoulder and watching his eyes grow dark and his mouth drop slightly open. If he really felt that way, she could have a lot of fun with this. "But," she added, "you still need to give me five minutes to freshen up, you lunatic."

"I'll be counting every second…"