Chapter 5
Disclaimer: All characters are the sole property of the mighty JKR. I'm just borrowing them for a bit!
A/N: Thank you Maria (MarsPotter) for being a kickass alpha! Couldn't have done any of this without your help!
Things seem to be heating up a bit for our favorite couple! These crazy kids… they really need to start communicating, huh? And yet, these are hormonal teens we're about! Yup, it's gonna be a bit of a crazy ride! ;)
The next day, everywhere he went, he was followed around by whispers and smirks. It seemed like Lavender had done her job too well and the news that he and Hermione were supposedly 'more than just friends' had spread around like wildfire. As was usually the case where he was concerned, there were embellishments. Pretty soon, he and Hermione had supposedly been 'caught in several broom closets and abandoned classrooms snogging each other's brains out'. (Honestly, did they not know Hermione at all?) But as usual, the rumor mill was working overtime churning out one falsehood after another.
By mid-afternoon, the news of their so-called 'romance' had reached the teachers table as well. In the amount of time they were at lunch, Harry caught Professor McGonagall eyeing him and Hermione speculatively several times. Professor Sprout and Professor Sinistra were caught exchanging gleeful looks and a handful of galleons with Madame Hooch, while Professor Snape sneered in disgust and consternation.
But Hagrid, by far, was the worst. Harry was dismayed to see him give them a tremulous smile while dabbing at his eyes with a giant handkerchief. Harry shuddered and made a mental note to avoid any personal meetings with him for the duration of their 'plan'. A few catcalls and jeers came in from the Slytherin table as well. Smarmy little gits!
As quickly as he possibly could, Harry rushed through his lunch before heading off for his remaining classes for the day. Unfortunately, the sly whispers shadowed him around. By the end of the day, he was fuming inwardly at the covert (and overt!) invasion of his privacy. He also had a dull headache from trying to avoid the gaggle of fawning fangirls that had trailed after him all day long.
All in all, Harry was not looking forward to spending his dinner time with the entire school gawking at him too, that was for sure.
He skulked into the Great Hall, desperately wanting to be somewhere - anywhere - else. Hermione sidled up to him and grabbed his hand. "Come on…" she urged, pulling him away from the Gryffindor table.
"What are you lovebirds up to now?" Lavender questioned, eyeing both of them gleefully.
"Actually, Harry and I were going to eat out by the lake. We'll see you guys later, okay?" Hermione declared breezily, while ushering him along to the main doors, like this had all been planned, all along. He had no choice but to go along…and try hard not to appear totally clueless!
"What's going on?" he whispered, as soon as they were out of earshot.
"You looked ready to bolt..." Hermione responded.
"No, I …" he began, only to be interrupted.
"I get it Harry." She squeezed his hand gently. "I know you don't like all the attention. I'm sorry. This is all my fault."
"Mione, no…" He protested weakly.
"I know you don't blame me or anything like that. But you also can't deny that this whole plan was my idea. So of course it stands to reason that the added scrutiny is my responsibility too. So I figure, the least I can do is try to give you some time alone where it's just us and you don't have to pretend that we're anything more than best friends."
He couldn't believe how sweet and thoughtful she was. Hermione was the best friend a bloke could ever ask for. Period.
He squeezed her hand in return and gave her a quick, grateful smile.
"Come on," Hermione smiled back in return. "On my way back from arithmancy, I ran over to the kitchen and asked Dobby to arrange a picnic by the lake for the two of us. He's also been instructed to set up some privacy wards so that your fan club can't drool over us the entire time we're there."
"You're the best, Hermione!" Harry gushed.
"Why, thank you for noticing." Hermione responded while blushing prettily.
Harry felt all his irritation drop away, almost like he was catching a second wind. He was suddenly excited about being alone with Hermione. And the privacy she was promising at dinner time sounded almost heavenly. "Hey, do you mind if I run back to the dorm and grab my Firebolt? I'd love to take a quick spin around the lake…that is, if you don't mind too much."
"Don't be silly Harry, of course I don't mind."
With a smile and a wink, Harry dashed away, unaware of the blush building on her cheeks.
All his dorm mates were still in the Great Hall for dinner and he was able to pick up his Firebolt rather painlessly (aka without running into anyone.) But while making his way back to the lake – and a blissfully quiet dinner with Hermione – his luck ran out. Just as he stepped out of the portrait hole he ran smack dab into Romilda Vane.
"Oh, Romilda, are you alright? I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there." He called out distractedly, focused on getting away as soon as possible.
"Harry!" she squealed happily. "There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you!"
"You have?" He was confused. Why would she be looking for him? He'd barely spoken a few words to her in all their time together at Hogwarts. True she was his housemate but she was a year behind him and they'd had no cause to spend more than a few minutes together throughout the 5 odd years they'd been at Hogwarts together. In fact, the first time he'd even noticed her presence was when Hermione had pointed her out to him in the library before the Slug-Club Yule Party. Since then though, he couldn't help but notice that she seemed to be just about everywhere he was, albeit in the background. Bit stalkerish, that. "Did you need me for something…?" He questioned cautiously.
"Yes," She gave him a shy smile. "I was wondering if you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me next month!"
Oh yes, the Hogsmeade weekend was coming up, wasn't it? And so was their Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. He'd have to check and see if Hermione wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him. (Considering that he was going to be literally up in the air for the duration of the game he couldn't very well ask her to be his 'date' for the Quidditch match, could he? Besides, she'd never missed a single Quidditch game since he'd been a part of the team anyway!) Assuming she didn't have any other plans, that is. Did she? And also, assuming that their pretend relationship was still going on until then, of course. After all, she'd said last night that they'd just need a few more days. If she was right – and being Hermione, she usually was – then she could very well be going to Hogsmeade with Ron. And he may very well be going with Ginny. But the thought didn't sit right with him. Somehow, going with Hermione seemed like a better alternative.
"Harry?" Romilda interrupted his train of thought, sounding impatient.
"Yes…?" he focused on the matter at hand. Then he realized that she'd asked him a particular question and his response had probably made it seem like his answer to that question had been a yes. "No." he hurried to correct the misconception.
Romilda, who'd started grinning widely when he said yes, frowned in confusion.
"Uh, I'm confused. Are we going to Hogsmeade together or not?" She huffed, giving him a saccharine sweet smile.
"I'm sorry Romilda, but I can't go with you." He corrected in what he hoped was a gentle manner.
"But...why not?" She questioned tetchily, the smile dropping off her face in an instant.
"Er, because I'm dating Hermione…?" That should've been pretty obvious, in his humble opinion.
"Yes, but we're talking about next month! That's almost two whole weeks away. Don't you think you guys will be done by then? I mean this is Hermione we're talking about! Don't get me wrong, she's a very nice person...but all she does is study! That's a bit boring, innit? You're a fun guy – you play Quidditch and love pranks, chess and exploding snap. She...well she's not into any of that. I don't think you guys will last long term because, let's face it, you don't really have anything in common!" she blurted out hastily.
Uh...she was kidding, right? She had to be.
"Now me, on the other hand…" she gave him a slow smile, clearly trying to seem enticing. What she didn't realize was that it actually made her seem a bit deranged. "I'll take care of you Harry…in ways that Hermione never could!"
Eww, gross! Okay, he'd been trying to be nice but clearly this girl didn't deserve it. She was in desperate need of a reality check since clearly she'd lost the plot entirely.
"I don't think so, Romilda. I'm going to go to Hogsmeade with Hermione." He responded bluntly, all the while praying that he wasn't jumping to conclusions by just assuming she would be available! (He also threw in a little prayer that she wouldn't hex him for taking such liberties!)
"Also, a word of advice," He said, trying hard not to sound callous, "Hermione is my best friend, not to mention, the woman I'm dating. (Oh, but he liked the sound of that a little too much!) So I'd be really careful about what I say about her, if I were you!"
Having said his piece, he turned around and stalked off, his mood thoroughly soured by the encounter.
But the girl was apparently too thick to notice that she was crossing a bloody line. Or she was just one of those individuals that always needed to have the bloody last word, in every situation. Either way, she continued to chase after him, yelling. "Oh come on! She's just using you, Harry, don't you see? It's Ron that she really wants! She's been pretty obvious, what with all her displays of jealousy this year! The moment she gets what she wants, she'll dump you in the rubbish bin!"
Fuck! That was a little too close to reality for comfort! Was it that obvious to everyone – Hermione's interest in Ron? Had everyone seen right through their charade? Were all their friends laughing at him behind their backs? He didn't like that feeling. He didn't like it at all. Besides, he'd always been the top priority in Hermione's life so far. Just the thought of no longer being the most important person in her life made him feel sick to his stomach. Did that make him a selfish and conceited prick? Most likely…
By this time they'd reached the hallway leading up to the castle entrance. A few people who were done with their dinner were starting to trickle out of the great hall and had naturally gravitated towards the unfolding drama. Just his rotten luck, like always!
Romilda, sensing her victory, moved in for the kill. "And then suddenly, you two get together? I'm not buying it! Especially not with how lovey-dovey you both have been. I know you, Harry Potter. I've been watching you since you were in third year! You're not a demonstrative person. And neither is Hermione for that matter. So it's definitely suspicious that you're suddenly always hugging or touching or holding hands. And that's another thing! Don't think that I haven't noticed that your so-called displays of affection have all been confined within the limits of friendship so far. There's no fire. No heat. You guys certainly aren't dying to rip each other's clothes off, are you? Or is that because Hermione's just not very…passionate?" she finished slyly.
That's it! He was going to hex her, never mind that she was a girl or that she was younger than him. How dare she imply such things about Hermione, and in public no less?
"Shut up, Romilda!" Ginny's angry voice rang out from where she, Ron and Dean had just come out of the Great Hall. "You're crossing a line. What's worse, you're causing a bloody scene!"
Harry sighed in resignation. Great. This confrontation was snowballing more and more out of control. Soon, the entire school would be involved and that was the last thing that Harry wanted.
"Oh please!" Malfoy's haughty voice rang out next. Harry squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Why could he never catch a break? Why? "Let's not sugarcoat things. Granger's probably a cold fish. We already know she's more than a bit touched in the head – despite her grades. Why else would she spend all her time with Potty and the Weasel?" He sneered.
His entourage sniggered.
Harry could almost feel the steam coming out of his ears. He was always on a short fuse as far as Malfoy was concerned but it had been even worse this year! Despite Hermione's disbelief, Harry was almost 100% positive that the git was up to no good. Harry just knew, almost on a visceral level, that the Ferret was somehow responsible for the opal necklace from Borgins and Burke that Katie had been cursed with.
"Why you little…!" Ron snarled angrily coming to stand next to him in an obvious show of support. Harry couldn't help but feel a burst of satisfaction. Despite their ongoing differences, Ron was still quick to defend him and Hermione and honestly, that at least felt good.
Malfoy smirked viciously, gathering steam. "Honestly, Weasel, you must be really thick! I can't believe you're defending the Mudblood…or Scarhead here, for that matter. I always thought your eventual plan - after you'd retrieved your tongue from down Brown's throat, of course - was to hook up with the Mudblood. By getting together with Granger behind your back, Potty's stolen your prospective girlfriend from right under your nose! I wouldn't get over that so easily, if I were you!"
Ron growled wordlessly. Ginny and Dean had to actually hold him back from physically attacking the ferret! To be honest, Harry wasn't far behind. If Ron had gone at Malfoy, Harry would have joined him wholeheartedly. The smarmy git deserved a thorough pounding in his honest opinion.
Malfoy, oblivious to how close he was to getting his teeth smashed in, went on blithely, enjoying all the attention he seemed to have gathered. "But maybe, it's for the best, huh? Maybe it's what you've been secretly hoping for. At least your current whore seems capable of putting out, unlike that snotty little know-it-all. Potty here probably just sits around and watches her read or something equally lame like that. Or else, she's just using him to fetch her things for her…you know, like a glorified house elf! She's certainly not going to let him get physical with her. That pathetic slag probably doesn't even like to be touched - I imagine she uses books to get herself off..."
Harry snapped, his vision going white hot with rage. Drawing his wand, he threw an instinctive stunner at Malfoy. The spell sizzled with raw power, red and blinding. Harry didn't know what he was hoping to accomplish with the spell – just that he was dying to hurt his nemesis in some way.
It was immensely satisfying to see the way the ferret's smirk fell off his face. The realization finally dawned that he had well and truly fucked up. And then, he and his goons scrambled to dive out of the way of the crimson spell.
Bollocks!
Harry was almost sorry the git had escaped unscathed. He raised his wand to try again...Until he heard an all too familiar voice ring loudly in the corridor. "Mr. Potter!" Professor McGonagall cried, livid.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! He was in so much trouble!
"Dueling in the corridors? Hexing an unarmed and unprepared opponent? Firing spells when there are kids around – first years at that? What were you thinking? I am sorely disappointed in you, Mr. Potter! 30 points shall be taken from Gryffindor and you will have a week's worth of detention. With me."
Thoroughly chastised, Harry bowed his head and answered meekly. "Yes, Professor."
"But Professor," Ron protested angrily. "Malfoy totally deserved it." Harry felt a burst of gratitude at his friend's defense.
"Don't test me Mr. Weasley. Unless you want to join Mr. Potter for detention?"
"Er…no Professor." Ron mumbled sullenly. He glanced over at Harry, his gaze commiserating and sympathetic.
"That's what I thought." Professor McGonagall harrumphed in annoyance and walked away. "Be sure to apologize to Mr. Malfoy before you leave, Mr. Potter." She called over her shoulder.
Apologize to that slimy arsehole? Not a fucking chance in hell!
Not deigning to answer in any way, Harry burst out of the doors and made his way to the lake, his hands trembling with pent up rage. In a couple of minutes, he was running all out, trying to burn off some of the frustration that his encounters with Romilda and Malfoy had left him feeling.
"Harry, over here." Hermione called out from where she was sitting on a colorful blanket, a huge picnic basket propped open next to her.
He could see that someone (Dobby, he assumed) had gone to the trouble of clearing the area of snow and placing some strong heating charms in a small radius around the blanket so that even in the middle of winter, the picnic area seemed warm, inviting and cozy.
The magically induced weather seemed to have prompted Hermione to discard her heavy winter robes and even take off her shoes and woolen stockings. Her tie had gone the same way as the robes and she'd even unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt. Even though she was wearing nothing but the school uniform (white button-down shirt and a knee length skirt) he thought she looked gorgeous; her glorious hair cascading down her back in utter disarray. She seemed to be enjoying the unusual warmth, her cheeks rosy with warmth, her toes curled in satisfaction. Harry felt an answering warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach.
There were several plates in front of her – one was loaded with small pies and pasties while the other was covered with what looked like giant pieces of treacle tart and some delicious looking sponge cake. There was a bowl of fresh green salad in the middle and a tray of tiny sandwiches. There were also two cups, sitting next to her, filled with steaming hot cocoa. Everything looked delicious and he realized that he was famished.
He bent over from the stitch in his side, still out of breath from his dash across the gardens.
"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked, frowning in concern.
"Yes. Actually, no. I, er, ran into Romilda Vane and Malfoy on the way over. Oh and Professor McGonagall."
"Uh oh. That sounds ominous. Tell me everything." She said, simultaneously urging him to sit down, pick up his plate and start eating.
Harry narrated the entire encounter reluctantly, feeling his ire rise again at Romilda's (and the Ferret's) despicable behavior.
"That trollop!" Hermione burst out violently putting her own plate down with a resounding thump.
"Pardon?" Harry couldn't help but be amazed. He'd never heard Hermione call anyone that before, ever. This was totally unprecedented. Not that he didn't understand. The girl had been very rude indeed and if he'd been in Hermione's shoes, he'd have been swearing too. "She had no right to say those things about you." He agreed wholeheartedly.
"Oh I don't mind her calling me names. Honestly, I'm used to people doing that…" Hermione brushed off dismissively.
What? She'd been called names before? How come he hadn't known or noticed? Some best friend he was! Indignant anger rose inside him, anger that demanded that he give all the people who'd bothered and upset her over the years, a piece of his own mind. People like Malfoy. And Lavender. And, whether he liked it or not, at times Ron.
"I can't believe that she made a move on you when she knew...or at least believes... that we're going out!" She went on interrupting his train of thought. "I'm going to have a chat with her; tell her that she better stay the hell away from my boyfriend!"
Harry blushed. Was it wrong that he actually liked being called 'hers'? Bloody hell, why was he even thinking such things?
Hermione stuttered to a stop, realizing what she'd said at the same time as Harry did.
"Erm…Uh…Err…I, I mean…" It was probably one of the rare times that Harry had seen her speechless.
"I know what you meant." He hurried to reassure her. "Don't worry, I told her, in no uncertain terms, that I was unavailable."
"Thank you Harry." She smiled at him uncertainly. "But…if you want to go with her to Hogsmeade, I…I'd totally understand. I mean, I know she's not Ginny but she is a very beautiful girl. And clearly she's very interested in you. If you wanted, you could date her – and not just pretend dating, like we're doing – for a few months until Ginny cottons on to her feelings for you." She sounded resigned, almost like she was mentally bracing herself for the worst .
"And why would I want to do that?" Harry questioned, utterly baffled. Why would she say something like this? And why would she think that this was something he'd even be interested in?
"I'm sure dating her will be a good experience for you." She flushed and looked away, playing with the edges of the blanket nervously. "I'm under no illusions here, Harry. I know I'm no catch. I'm not even all that good looking…"
What?! He opened his mouth to protest but she waved him away.
"I'm not saying I'm ugly. I know I can be presentable when I bother, but honestly, most of the time, I just can't be arsed to do so. I mean, despite how despicable he is, Malfoy isn't wrong. Or Romilda for that matter. I am rather…erm, uh…un-passionate. Physically." She twisted her hands in her lap agitatedly. "I…I'd much rather be reading or studying or researching a new spell than be snogging a boy in a broom closet. That's probably why no guy is interested in me. That's why Ron would much rather be with Lavender too. I mean, that's all they seem to do most of the time isn't it – snog each other? Whereas me…? I'm probably pants at it. And Romilda – she seems like she'd be rather experienced in such matters. If you go out with her, you might actually learn a thing or two to impress Ginny with when you guys finally get together." She finished dispiritedly.
Harry meanwhile has gotten more and more upset as he heard the way she spoke about herself so disparagingly.
"Bullshite!" He blurted out vehemently.
"Excuse me?" She questioned, sounding shocked. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, in an uncanny imitation of a goldfish.
He couldn't blame her for being caught unawares. He'd never spoken to her in this way before. Usually he was way more gentle and circumspect – even when he was disagreeing with her. But this – this he couldn't ignore. And he had to be harsh if he wanted to get his feelings across adequately. He could not sit idly by while she disparaged herself or worse, compared herself to the likes of Romilda Vane (who, ironically enough personified her surname by being very vain and self-centered) and found herself lacking! In his opinion Hermione was worth a hundred, no, a thousand Romilda's!
"What you just said? It was utter bullshite!" He reiterated impatiently. (And he would do so again and again until he got his point across.)
She drew in an outraged breath, opening her mouth to start her tirade.
Harry interrupted. "No, you're done talking. It's my turn now."
Her eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise and annoyance (no wonder...he'd never spoken this way to her before!) but she seemed willing to let him have his way. For now.
"You're beautiful, Hermione. Not just plain or 'not-ugly', but beautiful. And you're smart and loyal and brave and loving and pretty much the kindest person I know. So any guy would be lucky to have you as his girlfriend. I'm only going to say this once, so listen closely – I do not want to go to Hogsmeade with Romilda – now or ever. She's not even half as good as you are so there's no way I'd go with her even under normal circumstances, but especially not when you need me. And I don't know where you got the notion that you're not a passionate person. I've kissed you, remember? And as far as I could tell, there was nothing un-passionate about that kiss. In fact, let me tell you, I've had several very interesting dreams about that kiss..." Oops! He clamped his mouth shut abruptly. He probably shouldn't have said that.
She flushed. "That…that was probably just a fluke."
Seriously? Merlin, she was stubborn!
"I don't think it was… but if you're really doubting yourself then we can give it another go." He countered, caught in the heat of the moment. Then he realized what he was suggesting. He was actually suggesting that they kiss. Again. He'd thought about it, sure. Heck, he'd just admitted dreaming about it too. But to actually suggest it? What the hell? The encounter with Malfoy must've finally driven him completely barmy. There was no other explanation for why he'd risk the most important relationship in his life for a few moments of pleasure and self-gratification.
"Wha…what?" Hermione seemed equally taken aback.
"Err, never mind." He tried to backtrack.
"No, tell me. Are you… actually suggesting… that we kiss each other again?" She questioned hesitantly.
"Um, yes…?" It came out sounding more like a question. "Only if you want to, of course…" He hastened to add.
"Bu…but, it's not like anyone is watching us here or expecting us to kiss each other. I told you about the privacy wards around this place, right? So, no one can actually see us right now."
Whoa, wicked! He hadn't given much thought as to what kind of wards had been erected but the fact that the two of them were invisible and unnoticeable was super cool. Those kinds of wards were always a pain in the arse to erect. She'd really gone all out, putting this so-called picnic dinner in place.
But he was digressing. "I know Hermione." Bloody hell! She clearly didn't want to kiss him anymore. He felt like such an idiot for even suggesting it. "Forget I said anything."
"No!" She blurted out hurriedly. "No, I don't want to forget it. I…I'd like to…I'd like to…"
She trailed off, clearly at a loss for words. His heart started to pound in his chest. Did she want to kiss him then? His body tingled in anticipation. His palms got clammy with sweat. This was good, right? Wait, was this good?
Before he could say or do anything, she threw herself into his arms. The impact threw him off balance and he fell on his back on the blanket. Hermione fell on top of him. They both froze, eyeing each other tentatively. Whatever excuses he'd been making to himself - about this being all for research or for practice or whatever flew right out the window! Suddenly he was utterly ravenous for another taste of her.
But he tried to be patient – he was more than ready to kiss her again but he wanted her to be completely ready as well. She took her time, looking into his eyes searchingly, trying to gauge his thoughts on the topic. The moment she saw the need…the raw desire for her that was reflected in his eyes, she slowly went pliant in his arms. Yes!
Her eyes dropped to his lips, her gaze now displaying a heady mixture of anticipation and hunger. Lightening raced through his veins and he couldn't stop the hungry groan that escaped his mouth.
Without waiting for an invitation, he bunched his hands in her hair and pulled her down to him, his lips seeking hers in desperation. This time there was no hesitation. This time, he already knew what to expect.
Their teeth clattered together from the force of the kiss. Neither of them seemed to care. His tongue thrust inside her mouth, tangling with hers in an age-old symphony. But it wasn't enough. He wanted more. He sucked her plump bottom lip, nipping and licking at it intermittently.
Leaving one of his hands in her hair, he used the other one to explore her curves. He felt slightly guilty doing so – after all, this was Hermione – but her purr of satisfaction quickly disabused him of any remorse. Plus, this was probably one of the only times he'd get to touch her this way. And seeing as she was clearly on board, he may as well enjoy the experience.
He couldn't help but notice – this kiss was infinitely different than their first. That one had been more hesitant. They'd both been uncertain, unsure, at least initially. But now… they were both more confident, and eager to devour each other. The hunger in them was palpable.
His hand inched down her back, thoroughly enjoying the new and exciting areas of Hermione's body that he was getting to discover. As he reached the portion of her back where her shirt was tucked into her skirt, he hesitated, unsure whether to go on. He pulled back from her, silently asking her for permission. His heart thundered in his chest, an unsaid mantra of 'please, please, please…' echoing in his mind. He wanted…no, needed…to feel her bare skin but at the same time he didn't want to pressure her into doing something that she wasn't comfortable doing. What they were doing had to be crossing all kinds of lines, right? He had no right to be touching her with such familiarity. He wasn't really her boyfriend. This was all just pretend! And yet, he didn't care. It almost felt like he would die if he didn't get to touch her.
Thankfully, she seemed to be on the same page as him. With a small, annoyed little huff, she sat up and pulled her shirt free of the confines of her skirt. Once the task was done, she promptly lay down on the blanket next to him, the upper half of her body draping over his chest once more and went right back to kissing him. But not before she situated his hand right at the edge of her loose shirt.
Harry was usually clueless about such things but even he couldn't mistake that cue. She clearly wanted him to touch her too. Thrilled beyond measure, he slowly slid his hand under her shirt and onto her bare skin.
Soft. Smooth. Creamy. Luscious. Gasping with delight, he savored the brand new experience. He'd never touched anything…err…anyone so supple and alive and responsive ever before.
Itching for more, he urged her to lie down on top of him until their respective school uniforms and undergarments were the only barriers between their bodies. Her weight on him felt like heaven – there was no other word for it.
She squirmed around, making herself more comfortable. "Fuck, Mione!" He groaned. Torture. It was sheer, unadulterated torture. Her skirt had ridden up due to her movements and he could feel her wet moist heat even through the barrier of her panties and his trousers.
Hermione seemed similarly affected. She was panting in his arms; soft, desperate mewls of need escaping her mouth almost involuntarily.
His hand crept up even further, his brain subconsciously expecting to encounter the straps of her bra (he'd heard and read all about this special piece of garment throughout his teenage years but had never had the fortune to encounter one before.) What would it be like? Would Hermione be a cotton kind of girl or would she indulge in decadent fabrics like satin or velvet or lace. His brain was working on overdrive. What would it feel like? What would it look like – not that he'd ever get to see it – not on Hermione of course. That would definitely cross a line – a line that there would be no turning back from.
Distractedly his hand reached the halfway mark on her back and then crept a bit further. And a bit further still. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No velvet, no lace, no satin. No fabric of any kind at all.
He froze. His brain went blank. His heart stuttered to a stop. In contrast, his entire body exploded with sensation. He had an almost irresistible urge to flip her onto her back, tear off her panties and bury his pulsing length inside her.
Sodding hell!
Harry couldn't help but panic. One thing was becoming more and more obvious to him – he wanted more. He wanted her. He wanted all of her. But what did all this mean? He couldn't possibly have real feelings for her! He was supposed to be getting together with Ginny. And Hermione – she was clearly interested in Ron. Harry wasn't supposed to feel this way about his best friend. This was supposed to all just be 'pretend'. No, no…of course he didn't have feelings for her. This was all just because it was his first foray into a physical relationship, that's all. He'd have felt the same with Ginny…maybe even with Cho, if only he'd had the opportunity to explore the physical aspects of a relationship with either of them!
Hermione, unaware of the nature of his thoughts, mistook his panic for horror. She pulled back from him jerkily, springing up from the blanket almost as if she'd been cursed.
His body cried out in protest, not wanting to stop feeling the wonderful things it had been experiencing just a little while ago. He almost reached out for her again. But for the sake of their friendship; and his sanity; it was probably best to make sure things didn't get too out of control.
"So…er… that was interesting wouldn't you agree?" Hermione babbled nervously. "Very informative. We...we definitely have an adequate experience of kissing each other, I'd say. Do you agree?"
Harry could only nod dumbly. He felt like his brain had turned to mush due to lack of blood flow.
"Oh good. We're on the same page then!" Were they though? "So what should we do next, do you think?" Hermione questioned, busying herself in straightening out her appearance. It was obvious that she was trying to change the topic.
Despite his body almost weeping in protest, he decided to follow her example and act like nothing was amiss. "Err, we have the Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon. Maybe we should go there together?"
"Oh, that's brilliant! Our first official 'date'." She said, using her fingers to sketch out the quotation marks.
Harry couldn't help but smile. She was just so cute sometimes! "But I thought 'this' was our first official date…?"
Her smile dimmed with disappointment. "No, you're right. Of course this is our first date. Sorry, it's just that I was looking forward to making our first date special."
"What do you mean? This was special." He protested. (Merlin, if it'd been any more special he might not have been able to handle the excitement. But he couldn't very well tell her that without seeming like an oversexed teenager, could he?) Then he remembered, the Hogsmeade weekend wasn't the only event that was coming up soon. There was another one that would take place even sooner. This very weekend, in fact. "Before that, our match against Ravenclaw is coming up too."
"Yes, right, how could I forget?" She questioned, smiling slightly. "My best friend is the captain after all, not to mention a bloody brilliant seeker, or so I've been told!"
Harry blushed.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Hermione continued. "But…I always go to your matches anyway." She trailed off, her brow furrowing as it tended to, when she was deep in thought. "I don't think anyone will even blink an eye at seeing me there. Unless…" She frowned thoughtfully, her eyes glinting with the beginnings of a plan. "Harry, could I borrow a jersey for the game?"
"What?" A jersey? What did she want a jersey for? Harry was confused.
"One of your jerseys…could I borrow it? It doesn't have to be your current one – I know you probably don't want to part with one of those. But maybe one of the older ones, from last year? Those would fit me better anyway…"
He blinked. Was she saying what he thought she was saying? He was in a state of utter shock. Either that or his brain had finally and completely given up on him. She couldn't really mean that she'd be wearing his Quidditch jersey for the game could she? "What?" he asked again, stupidly.
"Well, isn't that what all muggle girlfriends do? Wear their boyfriends sports jerseys to their games in order to show support? Hermione questioned, quirking an eyebrow impatiently.
Holy fuck! Harry was dumbstruck. Hermione wearing his jersey in front of the whole school – the one with 'Potter' emblazoned in bold letters on the back? His overactive imagination conjured up the picture in his mind instantly. He went rock hard. Of course, in his mind, she was wearing his jersey… and nothing else.
Bad Harry. Bad, bad Harry!
The mental image was enough to give him more than a few sleepless nights, that was for sure.
"Su…sure." He agreed hesitantly, almost hyperventilating at the thought of seeing her dressed in his clothes, even if it was just for the sake of their ruse. Frankly, he wasn't sure if he - or their friendship for that matter - would survive the experience.
"Great!" She grinned happily, unaware of his rising panic. "The next part of the plan is set then."
Sure. Great. Perfect. For her! Harry, on the other hand, was going to go stir crazy imagining how she'd look dressed in his jersey – and with his name stamped on her back!
Humming happily, she wrapped up the remnants of their picnic with just a couple of twirls of her wand. "Coming, Harry?" she questioned.
"Err, yes…in a minute." Harry responded, in a strained voice. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."
She frowned. "Are you sure?"
He almost scoffed. Like he had a choice! Their kiss…followed by the mental image of her wearing his jersey had left him with a raging hard-on. Frankly, he wasn't sure he could even stand up right then…and especially not without alerting her to his predicament.
Maybe instead of taking a few laps on his broom like he'd planned earlier, he'd be better off just dunking himself in the ice cold waters of the Black lake in order to cool himself down!
A/N: Reviews are better than chocolates and coffee combined - which means they're the absolute best! Please, let me have my fix - leave a comment! :)