Chapter 5: Covering up the Girls
That weekend, Harry could finally appreciate just how beautiful Hogwarts was.
In was in these quiet weeks, when there wasn't too much work, it wasn't quite too cold yet, and most importantly, when Hermione was in a good mood, that school could be quite a pleasant experience, really. Lazing around, slagging off homework, wandering the castle and grounds, watching the Giant Squid… these were things Harry had very rarely got to in his five and a bit years here, and now Hermione seemed (oddly enough) very keen to do them with him, much to his—and Ron's—great surprise.
After their talk in the Room of Requirement, Harry felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him. His best friend did not think that he was a creep who liked to watch her while he masturbated. Quite the contrary, she, too, was feeling much like he was about the whole 'sex' thing.
He could easily laugh at hearing that Draco Malfoy had been caught with Pansy Parkinson jerking himself off in a dungeon classroom after lunch on Saturday, exchanging a gleeful grin with Ron and Hermione at the hilarious news.
Things were definitely looking up.
But it was on Monday evening that things started, yet again, to get out of control.
Hermione had been quiet today after an enjoyable weekend, but that was nothing unusual at the start of the week. What was unusual was the fact that she initiated a game of Exploding Snap with all the sixth year boys. She sat right next to Harry as they played, their legs just barely touching. Harry was quite aware that she was wearing a light perfume… something with vanilla in it. It was quite distracting, and the first round ended in an explosion that left Seamus' eyebrows singed.
Not long after that, Hermione yawned loudly. Though it was just gone nine in the evening, she said she would go upstairs for a nap. At first, Harry thought this was odd, as at this point in the night, it would probably be more helpful to just go to sleep properly.
She leant into Harry to say something, and on instinct he leaned in, too.
"Is it okay if I take a nap on your bed?" she asked.
"Why?" said Harry, very confused.
"Oh," said Hermione vacantly, "Lavender and Parvati are mixing something up in the dorms, it smells horrible. Rather not be there right now, to tell the truth."
Harry nodded. "Er, right. Sure. No problem."
"Thanks Harry," she said, beaming. She stood up, patted him once on the shoulder, and headed up the boy's staircase.
Harry watched her go, sure that someone was going to stop her and ask why she was going up this staircase. But she managed to get in there without encountering opposition. None of the other boys had noticed.
"Harry? Harry!"
Ron whacked him on the shoulder. "Harry, it's your go."
Harry sat back around and pulled out his card. "Right. Right."
A few short seconds later, the stack of cards exploded spectacularly.
It was close to ten that night when Harry started to feel drowsy. Hermione had still not returned from her nap. He made his excuses to the boys and headed up the stairs cautiously.
All was quite in the sixth year dorm. Harry's bed was covered by the lush red hangings. The only sound was a steady, slightly wispy breathing coming from within.
"Hermione?" he whispered. "Hermione, you awake?"
Hesitantly, slowly, Harry drew aside the hangings.
Hermione was apparently fast asleep. But somewhere between leaving the Common Room and getting into Harry's bed, she taken off her robes, so she was clad only in a crumpled white shirt and trousers. She slept on her side, curled into a ball. Her top had ridden up, exposing her belly and her hip. That shapely bottom that Harry now often admired from a distance was out in the open to see. As Hermione shifted in her sleep, rolling over onto her back, Harry instinctively averted his eyes. A button had come undone as her shirt was caught under her weight, revealing a bare breast.
Harry swallowed and averted his gaze, looking down at Hermione's toes. But even they were somehow very attractive. Clean, and small, and twitching slightly, curling in on themselves.
He didn't know what to do. If he woke her now, she'd be embarrassed at the state she was in. But if the boys came in now and saw her like this, it would be even worse.
There was only one thing for it. Trying not to look at the uncovered area, Harry reached down and attempted to hook a finger under her shirt to pull it back over her breast.
Unfortunately, as he was attempting this essentially blind, he missed, and his finger encountered a rather pointy nipple.
Harry felt a flush rush over him and he glanced over to see if Hermione had woken. But her eyes were still closed, though she had an odd smile playing around her lips. He looked back at her chest and carefully reached out to pull the cloth over it. Knowing that it was wrong, he still allowed his gaze to linger on her small but pert breast, fascinated by the way her nipple had hardened and become, well, erect, for lack of a better word.
Harry buttoned the shirt up and stepped back, admiring his work. The way Hermione was lying, the material of the shirt was stretched tight across her chest, so that he could still quite clearly see her breasts, and now that he was looking, both nipples, right through the thin fabric.
As Harry was vaguely wondering if Hermione had taken off her bra, or if she hadn't been wearing one to begin with, the door swung open, and Ron walked in.
In a panic, Harry shut the hangings and sat on his trunk.
"Hey, Harry," said Ron, yawning.
Harry grunted in acknowledgement.
"What're you doing?"
Harry shrugged. "Having a sit before I get into bed."
Ron looked at him oddly. Apparently deciding that Harry had said stranger things in their five-year long friendship, he turned from him and began to get ready for bed.
While Ron's back was turned, Harry slipped between the hangings onto his bed and pulled them tightly closed.
"Night, then," said Ron, sounding slightly confused.
"Yeah, night," Harry muttered through the drapes.
He turned around as he sat on the mattress. Hermione had woken.
Harry had had a plan in mind as he slipped through the hangings, but now his brain was oddly blank. To see Hermione lying there, on his bed next to him, looking up at him with glazed eyes, was a disarming sight.
They heard the other boys enter the dorm, talking in hushed tones.
"Harry," she whispered. "What…?"
Harry shushed her. He took his wand out and casting a muffling charm around the bed. However, his spell-work in this department was patchwork at best, and to make entirely sure that the other boys couldn't hear anything, he called, "Ron?"
There was no reply.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry turned back to Hermione. "Sorry," he said. "You were asleep, and Ron came in, and the other guys… I didn't know what to do…"
"No, I'm sorry," said Hermione, sitting up. "You know I wouldn't normally do this, don't you, Harry?"
"I—yeah, I know," said Harry. "I mean, would Lavender and Parvati be done with their, um, with their thing, yet?"
Hermione shrugged. As she did, her breasts jiggled under her shirt. To Harry's horror, she noticed him looking at them.
"Oh!" She looked down at herself and realized how exposed she was. "Sorry," she said, "but it's just more comfortable, you know, without a bra."
Harry swallowed and nodded. "Right… Hermione, how are we going to get you out of here without anyone noticing?"
Hermione frowned, but she didn't make an effort to protect her modesty. "The Cloak?"
Harry shook his head. "It's in my bag at the Quidditch changing rooms."
"Oh."
There seemed to be no other option but to wait for everyone else to go to sleep.
They sat side by side, propped up by the plush white pillows, Hermione partially under the covers while Harry sat atop.
He fidgeted, drawing his legs up to his chest. Beside him, Hermione sat, staring at the opposite curtain vacantly.
"So, uh…" He struggled to come up with something to talk about. "Did you have a good nap?"
"Yes!" said Hermione. "Well, it was probably late for a nap, but I was very tired, and I didn't want to go to bed and sleep all the way through and wake up at four in the morning."
Harry had to agree. "Yeah, that's the worst, when you wake up that early and it's cold and you're not tired but it's too early to get up—wait. I thought you said you didn't go up to your bed because Lavender and Parvati were doing something?"
Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she said, "Yes, exactly that. I'd never have been able to get a good nap there."
"Right. What exactly are they trying to make?"
Hermione shrugged. "Not sure. Think it might be a love potion."
"Er… isn't that against the rules?"
"Apparently so," said Hermione.
"So why aren't you reporting them?"
Hermione looked at him, and he looked at her. It so happened, though, that they were sitting so close that their noses almost brushed each other's.
"Harry, don't you agree that I've changed enough from our five years of adventuring that I don't feel the obligatory need to go running to Professor McGonagall every time I see someone so much as sneeze improperly?"
Harry smirked. "I guess you have at that. You've done much worse yourself. Though I always thought you sneezed just fine, between you and me."
Hermione grinned impishly, and Harry found himself entranced by the way she licked her lips to reverse the smile.
"Thank you," she said. "That's the first thing I did before coming here, was condition myself to sneeze in a perfectly dignified manner."
Harry arched an eyebrow. "I daresay it's the most important tool in a young witch's arsenal."
"They talked about it loads in Hogwarts: A History, that's for sure. And that—frankly speaking—is No-Nose-You-Know-Who's greatest weakness."
Harry shook his head in mock disappointment but couldn't stop himself from laughing.
As they continued to talk, Harry and Hermione became more relaxed in their posture, slouching back on the pillows, leaning in towards each other so they could talk in hushed tones. Harry slipped his legs under the covers in the pursuit of comfort.
"Do you think they're all asleep, yet?" Hermione asked.
Harry listened. "No, Neville hasn't started snoring, yet. Give it a bit more time."
And in the time they gave themselves, they continued to talk freely. About all the things that they never talked about. What they were going to do after school, where they would live when Harry left the Dursley's and Hermione moved out from home, how they felt about growing up and becoming adults, and what perils and joys that would bring them.
They talked about their greatest fears, their greatest happiness, and their closest friends. They talked until their voices grew hoarse and Hermione had to cast an Aguamenti so they had something to drink.
They lay back now, sharing a single pillow, heads and shoulders pressed close together. They continued whispering to each other in this way for so long that they forgot to listen out for the sounds of Neville's snores, and by the time Harry realized that they were indeed present in the quiet dorm, he no longer remembered why it was important that they wait for them.
Finally, they grew silent, lying next to each other in the darkness.
"Hermione?"
She was breathing deeply, now, falling right back in to sleep.
Harry deliberated very carefully. If they fell asleep here, together, it might make things very difficult in the morning. But he couldn't bear to wake her, not when she looked so peaceful. And he didn't want her to go. He liked having her there, next to him, in the deep of night and in a state more intimate than they had ever been; even when they had been naked in the same room. He couldn't have explained it; it was the closest he had ever felt to Hermione, and he didn't want to lose that so soon.
Before he knew it, he was falling asleep, vaguely aware of Hermione snuggling up against him, her hair pressed against his cheek.
He slipped into dreamworld with a content smile.
Hermione awoke to morning light filtering through red hangings. She wasn't alone in her bed.
No, this wasn't her bed at all, it was Harry's… And she was snuggled up beside him, an arm across his chest and a leg across his waist.
The momentary shock aside, it felt… nice. And it felt right. She had got what she wanted, after all. She had spent the night with her best friend, and she had very much enjoyed it. She'd never stayed up talking with someone like that before, unlocking doors that could only open past 1 AM, talking about things that seemed much less scary with a loved one lying beside you.
But still… Hermione wondered if she had done something wrong last night. If she had broken Harry's trust. If she had become what she didn't want to be… by asking to take a nap in his bed, twisting the truth about Lavender and Parvati, pretending to be asleep when Harry had come in, purposefully arranging herself so he would see certain parts of her…
The thrill, though, had been something Hermione very rarely felt, but undoubtedly loved. She was honest enough with herself to know that crossing these lines was oddly liberating, within reason. And with Harry… she would cross all the lines. As long as he was willing.
She became aware that her thigh was pressed against something hard that was protruding from beneath his trousers.
Hermione had heard about what was called morning wood, but she longed to understand the science of it all. Did it just happen in a man's sleep? Was it brought about by certain dreams they might be having, or was it simply something to do with the morning?
Harry's penis seemed to be trying to free itself from his pants. He shifted in his sleep, angling more towards Hermione so that his hardness rubbed right against her thigh. She gasped at the forbidden contact. Imagined what it would be like if the layers of fabric weren't there. If that slippery, red head at the end of that engorged member she had seen were to slide against her bare thigh, upwards and onwards, towards her own slippery slide, and within…
Hermione was wet. She had been as soon as she woke up, but now she was positively dripping. Her knickers were slick and hot and she felt her arousal leaking out of onto her inner thigh.
With Harry right there, clearly aroused as well, it would have been the easiest and greatest thing to just straddle him, rip both their pants off and make love in the morning sun. The thought of it made her subconsciously reach for her shirt, pulling it open to let the girls out for some fresh air. She fondled a breast lazily, tracing circles around its circumference.
Well—what if she were to do it? Would Harry resist her? Or would he go for it, as Hermione had been told so many men would if propositioned like that? Would he be outraged, offended—would he become a victim of Hermione's unwanted advances?
Because Harry was still asleep, and to even push herself against him more firmly in her eagerness to feel with more precision that thick length between his legs would be wrong on so many levels, and damn it, Granger, get it together, carry on like this and you'll be arrested, or worse, expelled and Rita Skeeter will write an article about you, headline: GRANGER DANGER—MUGGLEBORN RAPIST RIDES THE BROOMSTICK OF THE BOY WHO LIVED.
Hermione's head shot off the pillow as she heard an alarm go off on the other side of the room, heard Dean Thomas groan as he shut his watch off.
She instinctively pulled her shirt closed again and sat up in bed.
Harry's eyes fluttered open and Hermione watched as he came to life, the filtered sunlight shining in his green eyes and making his black hair look oddly golden.
He looked at her, startled, and made to say something, but Hermione clamped a hand over his mouth, leaning over him and shaking her head.
His eyes widened, but he didn't try to make a sound.
Outside the hangings, they heard Neville mutter a "good morning" to someone, and heard Ron groaning as he apparently woke up.
Hermione let Harry's mouth go and he sat up—a little too quickly, the motion bringing his face very close to hers.
"What do we do?" he whispered, ever so softly.
"We'll wait for them to go," she whispered back. "Then I'll slip out."
Harry nodded.
Unfortunately, it was a Tuesday, and Ron had made a habit of waking Harry up before he went down to breakfast.
It was a few minutes later, once all the boys had woken up properly, that Ron called Harry's name through the hangings.
"Yeah?" said Harry, while Hermione did her best to burrow down through the mattress.
"You coming to breakfast?"
Harry held the hangings closed with one hand and threw the covers over Hermione with the other. "You go on first," he said, in a panicked voice. "I'm—I'm taking care of something."
"Alright…" Someone snickered, and through a gap in the covers Hermione saw Harry grimace.
The footsteps of four boys faded away.
Hermione let out the breath she was holding and sat back up.
Harry got up and stepped out of the bed. "Alright, you'd better move."
Hermione stood up, too. "Listen, Harry?"
"What?"
"Thanks—for last night, for everything."
Harry shifted awkwardly. "I didn't do anything."
Hermione laughed, and quite on an impulse, hugged him. Through their trousers, she could feel his semi-hard penis poking innocently against her lower belly. She squeezed him tight, then let go.
"Alright, I'll go down first, go to the dorms, get changed," she said. "See you at breakfast."
Harry seemed nonplussed; he nodded and gave a strangled sort of grunt.
Hermione slipped down the staircase, pausing at each door to make sure no one was coming out, then stepped out into a nearly empty Common Room. Thankfully the few people who were there took no notice of her, and she hurried over to the other staircase and up to her dormitory.
She yawned greatly as she entered, arms above her head, shirt rising above her belly.
Unfortunately, Lavender and Parvati were still in there, getting dressed.
Lavender smirked knowingly as she buttoned her shirt over her bra. "Someone didn't come up last night," she said.
Hermione ignored her, but Parvati intercepted her on her way to her trunk.
"Look at you! Still in the same clothes as yesterday…"
Hermione realized she would have to say something, or else word would get out that she was a bed-jumping sex fiend. Which wasn't far from the truth.
"I was doing something important," she said. A brilliant excuse.
"Or someone important," Lavender corrected her.
Offended, Hermione's mouth flapped uselessly while her brain meandered down several trains of thought, before she impulsively said, "Maybe so. So what?"
Both Lavender and Parvati stared at her, mouths open.
Feeling a savage kind of vindictiveness, Hermione turned her back on them and started to undress.
"Her-hermione?"
"Yes?" she said coolly. She could just about picture Parvati's face, glancing sideways at Lavender.
"What did you say?"
Hermione shrugged as her shirt hit the floor and she reached for a fresh bra. Hooking it on, she slid her trousers down and picked out the smallest skirt that she had.
"Hermione, are you feeling alright?" asked Lavender nervously.
"Never better," said Hermione breezily, shimmying her hips as she pulled the skirt on. Finally, she pulled on her sweater, fastened her shoes, and picked up her robes. "See you at breakfast?"
And with that, she stepped out of the dormitory, leaving Lavender and Parvati behind to goggle at her retreating figure.
Unseen by anyone, she allowed a broad grin to spread over her lips, and she made her way down the stairs and through the common room, a spring in her step.
