After what seemed like a lifetime, Hermione slowly rolled out of Harry's now limp arms, careful not to wake him. He had fallen asleep after their rendezvous.
She carefully stood up, making sure not to jostle him, and tiptoed over to her carryall for a fresh set of clothes. A long hot shower would have been preferable, but given their current living conditions, clean clothes and a scourgify would have to suffice. After dressing, she looked back at her recent lover. Hermione had to admit that Harry looked heartbreakingly adorable while he slept, still reaching for her and softly snoring.
She decided to go for a short walk to clear her head; she didn't want to risk waking the exhausted wizard as she puttered about restlessly. As she reached over for her carryall, she didn't realize she had accidentally picked it up from the bottom. In a matter of seconds, five huge books fell out of her bag and onto the floor. Luckily she was able to up right the bag before the myriad other survival tools fell out, but the damage had been done: Harry was now wide-awake.
Upon hearing the large bang, he was up in one fluid motion. Had his wand been in his pants pocket, and had he been wearing pants, it would have been outstretched in front of him as well. Hermione jumped at the sudden movement of the naked man; breathless with the adrenaline readying him to take on the culprit of the menacing sound.
Just as quickly as he had stood up, Harry saw the large heap of open books on the floor and a fully dressed Hermione, obviously not in any immediate danger. She looked at him with wide eyes, both erupting into hysterics.
"How exactly did you plan on defending me, Harry?" Hermione teased.
"As you well know, I'm more than equipped," Harry shot back, waggling his eyebrows.
Hermione rolled her eyes. That was one thing Harry and Ron had in common, personifying their dicks into gods, more powerful than mere mortals.
Harry walked over to the table, stumbling slightly, as his glasses had been cast aside at some point in their tryst.
He wrapped his arm around Hermione's regrettably clothed waist. "You are disgustingly over-dressed for the occasion. A minimum of five items of clothing must be removed immediately if you plan on staying at this exclusive affair."
"Well I was planning on going for a short stroll anyway, so feel free to banish me from the premises."
"Why would you do a silly thing like strolling?"
"My hope was to let you sleep while I cured my restlessness, but it looks like that was shot to hell."
"No problem," he assured, leaning closer to brush his lips against her cheek, "I'd rather be awake anyway. I was having an awful dream."
Hermione braced herself for the tsunami-sized wave of guilt his small display of affection brought on, "I thought that had stopped. What's he up to now?"
"Torturing an older man. He's trying to find something."
"I'm sorry, Harry. Did you catch any details? I could try to find something in my books," she glanced down at the mountain of literature below them, "I actually have more than what you can see." Her cheeks had gone red.
"You're so amazing, 'Mione. No I didn't catch what he was looking for, but he certainly thought the old man knew its whereabouts."
Hermione frowned empathetically, then gently removed Harry's arm from her waist and bent down to gather the fallen books. Harry followed. Upon squinting, he noticed Tales of Beetle the Bard was about a meter away from the others. He carefully tossed it to Hermione before turning to locate his glasses and begin the scavenger hunt to find his clothes. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. He had just had the most amazing sex with the most impossibly brilliant, beautiful witch. He had always felt a pang of attraction for her, but knew she was way out of his league. He thought it was weird she had ended their snuggling so soon, but it was Hermione, and he assumed her mind must always be racing.
When all but a lone sock had been recovered, Harry decided to call it quits. Clothed once more, he turned back to find Hermione sitting at the table, her long hair in a messy bun, thumbing through one of the books she had picked up from the floor. Somehow her skimming over those pages was just as sexy as when she was unbuttoning her shirt several hours ago. He couldn't help but smile, overtaken by her simple beauty.
Unable to resist another moment, he walked over to her. Harry lightly grasped her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, guiding her head up to look at him. A warm smile befell her face. She had missed having moments like these. Ron had been distant long before he actually left, and seeing a man look at her the way Harry was now was almost enough to silence the screaming guilt rattling between her ears.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked, brushing the stray hairs from her cheek behind her ear.
"That would be amazing actually, thanks." She replied.
He leaned down to kiss the top of her head, and then went about making the tea.
She watched Harry strum his fingers impatiently, waiting for the kettle to boil. She could get used to the Chosen One tending to her.
Two weeks later…
Hermione and Harry were sitting outside on a grassy hill. Hermione was intently reading a book, while Harry rolled the locket over his fingers. He laid down, resting his head in Hermione's lap. She rested her free hand on his stomach, which he loosely entwined with his. As he looked up at her pensive expression, he couldn't recall seeing anything more beautiful. Ginny in her dress for Bill and Fleur's wedding was quite beautiful, but over the past two weeks of falling asleep with Hermione in his arms, any remaining feelings he had for the young witch had faded. Sure she was amazing in her own right, but Harry loved how Hermione challenged him and didn't tolerate any of his shit. He had grown so tired of people being star struck around him, treating his every action like gold. It was so refreshing to spend time with someone who treated him like a real human being.
Hermione had buried herself in books the past week. She had found herself starting to fall for the wizard that was currently nestling his head in her lap. Yet the occasional wave of guilt still crashed over her. She couldn't fully commit to Harry and forget about Ron, whom she had cared about for years, nor could she continue to pine for Ron, who had abandoned her when she needed him most, while Harry was treating her like a princess. So she dove into an abyss of trivial wizarding information, hoping that would fill her brain instead of the countless mental pro/con lists of being with Harry or Ron that would overflow within it instead.
When Hermione realized this was her third time reading chapter five of Hogwarts: A History this week, she knew she had reached her limit on information for the day. She slipped the large book back into her bag and looked down at the man below her. The way the afternoon sun danced on his six-day-old stubble was borderline breathtaking. Immediately after thinking this Hermione mentally slapped the preteen bimbo who had momentarily inhabited her, hoping to banish her forever.
"I'm going to go for a short stroll," she said as she carefully removed his head from her lap, quickly conjuring a pillow to take her place. "Will the Chosen One be able to handle a half hour all by himself?"
"It's not going to be an easy task. But for the wizard hand chosen to defeat evil personified, thus saving all of humanity, I suppose I can handle thirty minutes by myself. But not a minute longer!" Harry replied with mock exasperation.
Hermione rolled her eyes at his cocky retort, then leaned down to kiss his forehead before embarking on her short journey. When she attempted to sit back up, she noticed Harry's arms were still around her, pulling her back.
"There's something really important we have to do before you go," Harry said with theatrical sincerity.
"Oh really? What would that be?" Hermione questioned with mock concern.
Rather than answer he pulled her on top of him. He softly kissed her lips before nibbling her bottom lip.
Just as Hermione's tongue found her way into his mouth, Harry gave her a quick spank
and said, "Okay have a nice stroll."
Harry loved to tease. Hermione gave him a light slap on the cheek, before placing a quick peck on his lips.
She sat up without any resistance. After a few paces she looked back at Harry. He had fished Dumbledore's biography out of her bag to read. She wondered if he had brought a book out to read to impress her, until he knew she was out of range when he could conjure the latest issue of "Playwitch" to peruse. She had to chuckle at his predictability.
She saw a beautiful aged Oak tree a few meters up ahead she would sit beneath for a bit before returning. Harry and she both took frequent walks. It was the only way to get any breathing room, if you didn't, the tent's walls felt like they were falling down on you.
Harry looked back, setting the exaggerated biography down. Hermione was out of sight; meaning Playwitch could now come out to play. He thumbed through the smut, finding lightening bolt-shaped pubic hair both ironic and entertaining. Harry decided to read the article about new spells developed to aid the feasibility of the more gravity-defying sexual positions, then he would rustle up something for a late lunch for him and the witch he would hope to use those spells with.
Hermione reached the Oak she had spotted earlier and sat underneath it. She leaned against its trunk and closed her eyes, enjoying her peaceful surroundings. The thought of staying in these woods forever, as opposed to what leaving them meant (a probable losing battle), seemed quite pleasant. Laying in the sun, reading, taking nature walks, sipping tea a handsome man had fixed; it sounded like an enviable life. But before her mind's eye had fully taken in the beauty of what a life spent in these woods would be like, Hermione heard a faint rustling behind her. Were there also voices? She couldn't be positive.
Just as Harry was looking in Hermione's carryall for something to make for lunch, he heard a faint scream behind him. He knew in an instant it was Hermione's. Wand out, he began sprinting towards the sound, the direction Hermione had begun her walk only minutes ago. As he reached the forest's edge, he still didn't see anyone. He paused for a moment at a large Oak tree, hoping to hear something. He noticed the grass around it was disturbed, like someone had drug their heals through the ground. Suddenly it all clicked. Hermione must have stopped here for a rest, well outside the protective boundaries she had set for them closer to camp, and snatchers must have caught her.
Hermione woke up on a cold stone floor, bruised and exhausted. She felt like she had been through the spin cycle of a washing machine. Afraid to open her eyes and see exactly where she was, she gradually opened one eye. It was dark and her vision was blurred, slowly steel bars came into view, so did the stone floor, walls and ceiling. Seeing no immediate danger, she allowed her other eye to open. A long hallway, illuminated only by a candle came into view. So she was in some sort of dungeon, but where? She slowly sat up, every movement excruciating, and carefully scooted herself against the hard wall, grasping desperately at flashes of memories before she found herself in the dingy confinement. She remembered two snatchers dragging her from her heavenly spot under the Oak tree. Then aparating. Then shooting pain, again and again. These men asking her where Harry was. More pain.
She was able to piece together that the snatchers must not have known who she was. When they brought her back someone must have recognized her. If they didn't know where Harry was, he must have gotten out before they came back. She could not have been more relieved to realize this.
Judging by how sore every muscle in her body was right now, the cruciatus curse must have been used for quite some time in an attempt to get her to talk. Hermione was glad she didn't actually know where Harry was, so she wouldn't have been tempted to crack under the immense pain.
Hermione wished she had never woken up. All that was left to do was wait until they came back and tortured her some more. She hoped at least Harry was safe. She distinctly remembered aparating, so there was no way he would be able to find her, nor would she have wanted him to take such a risk. Feeling hopeless and without books to help her escape, she slumped to the floor and laid in the fetal position, a river of silent tears spilling onto the unforgiving ground.
She wished for nothing more than to take herself back to the tent's uncomfortable cot, with Harry holding her in his arms, snoring loudly in her ear. Just when Hermione thought she things could not be worse, she heard a heavy wood door creak open down the hall. A hulking man lumbered closer and closer to Hermione's cell. She wished there was a sharp or blunt object close by to save herself this impending encounter.
After what seemed like years, the man was at her cell door. She refused to make eye contact with him.
"It's that time again, love," the nameless man spoke menacingly.
She didn't say a word, and didn't plan to.
The man picked her bruised body up in one quick heave, and turned to go back through the door. She longed for the days when Harry would pick her up from her table of textbooks and whisk her to bed. But Hermione now knew if she didn't cough up some information about him, she would be killed.
The large door came closer as the man continued to shuffle forward. Hermione had never smelled someone this bad. Even Hagrid after he cleaned up after his magical creatures smelled like Chanel No. 5 compared to this wizard. At least she wouldn't have to experience this odor much longer.
He kicked the door three times in succession. After a few seconds a smaller man opened the large door and held the door open for them. He was wearing an oversized hood, so she couldn't see his face.
After they walked up a flight of stairs, Hermione found herself in an enormous, echoing room. It was covered in dull white tile from top to bottom, no windows. She supposed the room she would spend her final moments in could have been much more menacing. No frightening statues or pools of blood to be found.
Once they had reached the middle of the room, the odorous man dropped her bluntly onto the ground. The small cry of pain she allowed herself bounced off the walls. After she recovered from her fall, she noticed the man now had his wand out.
"Alright, love. You wasted my time all yesterday, so this is your last chance. Where is Harry Potter?"
Hermione didn't say a word, or even dignify the man with eye contact.
"We found the tent. We know you were with him. He must be a great shag if you haven't given him up yet."
Hermione continued to stare straight ahead, as if half-heartedly watching an old rerun on television. She was quite proud of her poker face. If this man was going to kill her, he at least wouldn't get to see how frightened she truly was.
"Look, you know we're going to find him eventually. Just tell me where he is and we'll let you go back to your muggle parents. I'm sure they miss ya."
Other than a quick blink, Hermione's expression remained apathetically frozen.
"I've reached the end of my patience, puppet. I'm done torturing you. Either you tell me where Potter is now, or you'll never have the chance again."
Hermione closed her eyes. She didn't want to see the stream of green escape his wand. She could only focus on the faces of her family and friends. She would never see them again.
She could hear someone walking towards her soon to be murderer. She assumed it was the man who had opened up the door for them.
"Hold it right there, Scabior. She's a lost cause. We haven't gotten so much as a word from her the entire time. Let's just end this so we can free up the cell space."
"I still think she could surprise us," said the hooded man.
Hermione was curious as to who could have faith in her after all this time to rat out her best friend. She opened her eyes, but the hood was still covering up the man's face.
"Merlin, you're infuriating. Alright one more time," he said exasperated. He got down on the floor, so his face was mere centimeters from hers. He pushed the tip of his wand to her temple. Still Hermione wouldn't look him in the eye, she just stared up at the hooded man behind him, wondering how long he would be able to convince this man she was worth keeping alive.
"Last chance, darling. Prove me wrong. Where is Harry James Potter?"
At that moment, the man she thought to be Scabior lifted off his hood, revealing a familiar face, untamable hair, and an infamous scar. Hermione burst into tears.
"Well look at that," he said as he slowly removed his wand from her head. "Maybe my friend was right after all. Looks like someone wants to live to see their filthy mudblood children grow up. Are we finally ready to talk?"
Hermione gave a nod, she knew he would know where Harry James Potter was in a mere moment.
"That's the spirit! Guess I should have let you handle this all along Scabe, you didn't really show much interest until tonight though."
Before he had time to turn and face him, "Stupify!" was yelled behind him. The large man fell hard onto the tile.
Once he knew he was safely incapacitated, Harry leapt over to the hysterical Hermione, picking her up in one heave, tucking her head securely under his chin. In an instant they had aparated to an empty room at The Leaky Cauldron
Harry carefully laid her onto the bed and sat beside her, taking her hand in his, never more relieved to see Hermione's face in his entire life. He quickly locked the room's door and drew the blinds.
"I thought you could use a hot shower and a real bed for the night. I can't apologize enough for how long it took me to find you. This was the hardest two days of my life but I can't even imagine what you must have gone through."
Still in complete and utter disbelief, Hermione looked into Harry's warm green eyes. She knew he cared for her, but risking his life to rescue her was unimaginable.
She grabbed him and pulled him close, ignoring the pain of Harry's weight on top of her. She held him until she knew it was real, that she was really going to live, that the Chosen One loved her enough to risk his life to save her, that she was really laying on top of a comfortable mattress, that a shower was merely feet away.
"How did you do it?" Hermione asked, moving her hands from his back to his shoulders, mindlessly toying with the hem of his shirt.
Harry lifted his head from her chest, revealing a mischievous smile. "There are only so many snatcher dens in the country, and that Scabior takes a lot of smoke breaks."
He quickly began taking off Hermione's clothes. After the rescue he had just performed, Hermione didn't care what he did to her. As more and more of her skin became exposed, as did numerous bruises and welts, and Harry made sure to kiss every last one. Once she was completely disrobed, Hermione lifted up her arms to embrace him once more, as she did, she realized he was lifting her up. He walked her over to the bathroom, and with one flick of his wand, the bath was filled with hot, cleansing water. Harry slowly lowered his lover into the bath, kissing her forehead once her body was submerged. She didn't let go.
"I love you," Hermione whispered, threading one hand through his mop of hair.
A wide smile spread across Harry's face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "I love you, too,"
"Accio soap." A bar of soap in hand, Harry began washing Hermione's hands, caked with black muck. Then her arms and her back. Hermione was beginning to think the hell she went through was worth the heaven she currently found herself in.
Harry was now washing her long hair with the hotel's shampoo. Hermione grasped his wrists with her hands and lowered them from her head.
"Harry you have meant more to me than any man I've ever known." She meant it. She knew no one would ever treat her his way. He leaned down to kiss her wet lips before he returned to washing her hair. That meant the world to him to hear. He felt for so long like he was living in Ron's shadow. They had loved each other for so long, he wondered if he could ever measure up to that. Now he knew that she cared for him as much as he did for her.
Harry put his hand behind her neck and slowing dipped the back of her head into the water, then pulled her back up once the shampoo had escaped.
"There's no conditioner. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me," Harry said with a smile.
"In time I hope I can. But I'm not making any promises." She replied.
"I understand." He said, kissing her hand. He turned to fetch a towel from the cabinet. He unfolded it and spread it open to wrap around her. Hermione sat up and with one quick tug, she had pulled the towel from his hands and thrown it to the floor. His clothes vanished as she pulled him into the bath on top of her.
He ran his hands over her smooth wet skin under the water. Taking her head in his hands, he gently touched his lips to hers. His kisses were feather light, as though she were a porcelain doll, easily broken. After the ordeal she had gone through, Hermione appreciated Harry being gentle with her, but she needed him. She didn't want to be treated like this broken woman, she wanted everything to go back the way it was. He finally explored her mouth with his tongue, encircling her tongue with his. She felt like she was back in middle school again, timidly attempting to French kiss for the first time. In a way this felt like it was her first time. Harry had washed away her past and now only the present mattered.
Harry moved his mouth to her ear and began gently suckling her earlobe, one hand now resting innocently on her inner thigh. Hermione couldn't wait another second. All she could think about in that dungeon was the way it felt when she'd been with him. She longed to feel that again. Surprising even herself, Hermione mustered up the confidence to wrap her hand around his dick and rest it against her.
Harry bit his lip at the tight grasp she now had around him. "Hermione." Her name was merely a whisper on his lips. "I don't think we should."
Hermione wasn't in the mood for silly dialogue. "Fuck me Harry," she breathed, bringing him to her opening.
Without any further questions, Harry's eyes fell closed as he slowly entered her, not yet ready to be rough with her. To show him that's all she wanted, she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, forcing him deeper inside her.
Harry finally gave in, thrusting harshly inside her, causing a small whimper to escape her mouth and her eyes to slam shut. He continued to penetrate her over and over again. Hermione felt all the bad memories of the last few days fade into the distance as only her present and her future mattered now. Forcing her eyes open, she looked at the wizard on top of her. His pace slowed and he looked deep into her eyes, smiling as if he had her all figured out. He leaned down to kiss bring his lips to hers.
They knew they wouldn't be able to cuddle or even enjoy each others company for much longer before reality came roaring back, but for the moment, with their two bodies as one, they knew they were home.