Note: Hello!
So, a few important notes today:
- I've finally instaled the ff app and I've seen many PMs that I had no idea were there. I've answered you all and I'm sorry it took a while, but since I always access my account through the website, I think the messages got lost in the way or something.
- I'll open a new Poll questioning if you want this story to have future chapters in Hermione's POV. I know it sucks to vote because the Poll only appears when you access my profile on the full website. But since this is kinda of important to me, I'll appreciate a lot any vote.
- And I want to thank you all for your reviews. They're such a boost for me to keep doing this and they certainly warm my heart. Keep them coming!
This chapter is shorter, but it's my absolute favorite so far.
Hope you enjoy it!
(...)
She nods and without a second thought, opens the washroom's door and head out into public with their hands clasped together.
Like a real couple.
Harry interlaces their fingers, his stomach doing somersaults at the sheer excitement of being with her like this. He can't swipe the smile from his face and Hermione squeezes his hand, opening a just as wide smile to him.
He leads her to their table and the first thing he notices is Chiara's incredulous face. Which she doesn't try to hide. His other friends widen their eyes when they see him.
Harry thinks fast when they stop in front of everyone:
"Guys, this is Angela. We met months ago when I went on that last mission to the States, remember?"
And with a fake accent that Harry wished he could laugh out loud at, Hermione says, "Crazy we bumped into each other here, right? I'm on a mission," She winks at the others, "But I guess I have a few hours to spare and Harry kindly invited me to join you."
Flavio is the first to raise his glass to her and move to find her a seat. Hermione smiles in thanks. Harry is grateful that they all kinda of speak English. Not like him and Chiara, but they understand and speak enough to have a conversation with Hermione.
Harry moves to sit back by Chiara's side, but Hermione discreetly tugs his hand and takes the seat on purpose, putting herself between Harry and his former fiancee. It doesn't go unnoticed, not to him or Hermione, how Chiara sneers and sourly takes her glass from the table to occupy her mouth. Harry is sure she has more than a few words in mind directed to Hermione/Angela.
After Harry made all the introductions they fell into a nice conversation.
Hermione asks them questions and answers whatever they want to know with ease, having no problem at all in pretending to be Angela, the American Auror.
And he's totally fascinated by her. Mesmerized at the way she talks. At the way she laughs. How she drinks her beer. How she teases the others. How that same wrinkle appears between her brows when she's thinking.
He can't be sure, but at one point he got closer to her, his seat almost moving on its own. And she settled her hand on his thigh, so casually that it would seem she'd done it a thousand times before. He didn't react and she left her hand there, squeezing him occasionally. And he moved accordingly, his arm going around her shoulders and pulling her even closer to him.
Now, Hermione turns her head, giving him all her attention, their faces close. Harry kisses her cheek with tenderness, his hand squeezing her shoulder.
She closes her eyes and then she's fully kissing him.
On the lips.
In front of everyone.
Not giving a damn.
It's not a sensual kiss, but not one that can be considered chaste either.
Harry has a hard time dealing with it. His heart healing itself inside his chest, that knife being plucked by Hermione herself - even if only for a night.
She brushes her nose on his and he smiles, grazing his lips on hers.
He wants to get out of there. Be alone with her. And she gives him a look that says exactly the same-
An abrupt movement breaks their eye contact and both look simultaneously at Chiara who's standing from her seat with exaggerated aggressiveness.
In Italian, Chiara says her goodbyes to the others and then she turns to Harry and Hermione, leaning a bit closer to them.
She opens a dangerous smile. "Harry. See you tomorrow?" He nods against his will. She'll be at the Villa regardless his wishes. Then she looks at Hermione with sharp eyes. Hermione doesn't even flinch, not minding Chiara one bit. "He's an excellent kisser, isn't he?" She tilts her head to the side. Hermione sets her jaw. "I sure know about it. But let me tell you something, Angela." She leans even closer, her face inches from Hermione's. The others are so drunk they don't give the exchange much attention. But Harry is squeezing Hermione's shoulder, wanting to keep her away from Chiara. "A kiss is just a kiss, but love," Chiara looks at Harry, "our love is irreplaceable." She opens another smile. "Ti amo, Harry D'Angelo." Harry inhales sharply.
And then she walks away, not looking back.
Hermione clicks her tongue when Chiara is already out the door. "Lovely ex." She says with a tone of mockery, sipping on her beer and hiding her smile.
Harry chuckles. "She'll move on eventually." He shrugs.
"And have you?" Hermione asks. "Moved on?"
He gulps, his eyes darting down and then back up at hers. "In a way." He says.
She bites her lower lip. A question in her eyes. One Harry is not quite sure what it means. But he doesn't want to think about it now, so, standing and taking her hand, he hugs his friends goodbye. Hermione does the same, smiling and saying it was a pleasure meeting them all.
Harry doesn't even mind to put his sweater back on, only holding it in his hand, the other one clasped to Hermione's, he leads her out into then freezing night.
But the cold merely bothers him. No. He feels warm. And alive. And burning for her, because of her.
Turning on his heels in the middle of the street, he pulls her by the nape and kisses her. Hermione corresponds immediately, her arms around him keeping them pretty close.
When he pulls back, he says, "Do you need to leave?" Harry doesn't even try to hide the pleading tone. He wished she could stay. And he prepares himself to hear that she does need to leave, but-
"I'll stay if you want me to."
He kisses her hard.
And then he apparates them. Directly inside the Villa, at the majestic entrance and foyer.
They're still holding onto each other when they hear a voice calling, "Harry! Sei tu?" ["Is that you?"].
It's his mother.
He smiles to Hermione. She tilts her head. "In here!" He calls out.
Bianca comes from a living room, and she halts when she sees Hermione, her eyes narrowing. "Didn't know you were with someone!" She says, smiling and walking to them, her arms already open to greet Hermione. "Hello, dear." Harry can see the way Hermione hesitates at the hug. "I'm Bianca Donatto, Harry's mother."
Hermione opens her mouth but Harry is faster, "Mom, this is Angela Smith, an American Auror."
"Is that so?" She says.
"Yes, it's a pleasure, Mrs Donatto-"
"Please, Bianca. I hate such formalities." She smiles and Hermione smiles back. Harry sees his mother hesitating…
"What?" He asks.
Bianca shakes her head. "It's just… was Chiara with you? Your grandfather wanted to talk to her but couldn't find her."
"She was at the pub." He says simply, "But I think she went home. I'm sure she'll be here tomorrow."
"Of course." Bianca says. And for the first time Harry notices she's finely dressed, with jewels and-
"Were you somewhere?" He asks.
"Actually, I'm heading out now." She winks at him. "With your father, we have an Opera to attend to and then there's a gathering at the Continis'." Harry rolls his eyes.
"But they're so boring. Will you survive the night?" He mocks her.
Bianca laughs out loud. "Be nice, Harry." She turns to Hermione. "Angela, feel at home, okay? And don't indulge too much into his crazy ideas."
Hermione chuckles. "Thank you. I won't."
Sighing, his mother says, "Okay, I'm going." She embraces Hermione again and then kisses Harry's cheeks. "I'm glad you're home." She says to him in a loving tone.
"I'm glad to be here." He smiles to her.
Then Bianca is already walking out towards the garage. Marcello is probably there waiting for her. Hermione is giving Harry a strange look. He tilts his head.
"Are they taking a car? When they can just apparate?" She asks honestly.
Harry laughs and puts one arm around her shoulders, she puts her own around his waist. Harry starts guiding her through the place. "It's not just a car, it's a Ferrari." She gives him a look that shows she still thinks it's stupid to take a car, regardless. "Things work like this around here." He shrugs. "Maybe a bit like that book you took... there are some Muggle things and ideas that we incorporate into our lives. Most are very helpful. But in this case they just enjoy driving the car around Rome's chaotic traffic." He chuckles.
She doesn't reply and Hermione stays silent while he shows her around the many living rooms, dinning rooms, the kitchen, his mother's small study and the grounds around the house.
He halts when they reach the ballroom. It's not as big as the one in Riddle Manor, but it's more welcoming. All lights are out but it's not dark, at all, on the contrary, with the massive windows without curtains, the natural moonlight is invading the place, making it more cozy, more intimate. Harry takes her hand, walking to the middle of it.
He stops and she raises an eyebrow. Then Harry lifts the charm she put on herself. He wants to look at her and he's sure no one will see them there. Hermione doesn't mind when he does it. He smiles at the sight of her warm eyes and brown hair.
"Dance with me?" He asks.
She opens a slow smile. "There's no music."
"I don't think we need it."
And with a familiar movement of his hands, his Patronus appears right behind him. Hermione purses her lips, her eyes bright. He can see she'll deny his request, but the lion approaches her and she gives the animal her attention.
The lion sits in front of her on its hind legs. Harry holds his breath. For a whole minute there's only silence inside the room.
Silence and Hermione and his Patronus staring at each other.
She finally lifts her hand towards the lion and just when she's about to touch it, the lion bows its head to her.
Harry gasps. The king of the jungle never bows. To no one.
Hermione's eyes dart to Harry's, wide, surprised. The lion is not his real Patronus, but he has no doubt that if the real one were there, it would do exactly the same.
It would bow to her.
And he knows what it means. He knows. He tried denying it, but certain things are just obvious, yet his brain refused to accept.
"What does this mean?" Hermione asks, her hand resting on the lion's mane.
His heart is pounding. Each Patronus behaves accordingly with its person, so there's no way of her knowing what the lion's attitude means because it could be anything.
Only Harry knows.
Because the Patronus is part of him. It's his soul.
It means that I love you. That I'm in love with you. Completely at your feet. At your mercy.
He grits his teeth, not even startled by the realization.
He saw it coming.
It grew silently inside him. It grew each time they talked. Each time he looked at her and felt that warmth inside him when she laughed. It grew when she defended him, took care of him, protected him, saved him, stood by him. It grew each time they touched, each time they kissed, each time she cried in his arms, each time they fell asleep holding each other, each time they made love, each time he missed her, each time he felt jealous.
And he'd known for a while now. Harry was just fighting with himself.
"I think it likes you." It's what he says as naturally as possible.
"Yeah?" She asks with narrowed eyes. "He seems ready to obey me." She mocks him.
Harry chuckles. "Who knows?"
Taking a deep breath Hermione moves back and in a swift movement her Patronus is also there. Harry observes the snake slithering towards the lion, Hermione seems to be holding her breath, herself not sure what's going to happen.
To Harry's mortification, his lion lies back, its belly exposed - like a dog - waiting for the snake. And the serpent stops before him, hissing, then, what unfolds is pretty unbelievable.
Hermione opens her mouth, her eyes wider than Harry's when the serpent wraps itself around the lion in what is clearly a caress. The lion purrs. Harry clicks his tongue. The snake is just as comfortable as the lion, both understanding each other easily in a tangle of their own.
Harry is mesmerized by it. He never saw something so… strangely intimate. Hermione also can't take her eyes from the Patronus.
Harry blinks. "That's… unexpected." It's not quite the word, but… He turns to her, taking her hand. Hermione finally looks at him. There's something different in her eyes, in her features, in the way she looks at him. Almost like a certainty. Harry tries not frowning. "Dance with me." He says again.
Without a word, without much a second thought, she goes to his arms.
It's not a waltz, not the traditional. It's their own dance while they sway together gently, his hands on her waist, hers on his nape, their foreheads touching, their eyes closed. He feels her hot breath on his face, her warmth under his touch.
There's nowhere else he'd rather be.
He starts humming a beat, something from his heart, a lullaby Lily used to sing to him. One he saw once in a memory. And she follows the rhythm, their bodies understanding each other naturally. Harry pulls back to look at her, beaming. She caresses his cheek and he twirls her in place twice. Hermione lets out a laugh. His heart swells and he pulls her closer again. This time he embraces her fully, lowering his head and kissing her shoulder while they sway.
The words are there, - I love you - the feeling burning inside him.
He tries not thinking about the fact that she's engaged. Or the fact that she's Hermione Riddle.
No.
He shoves it all inside him.
What he really wants to think about is how close they are, how good they feel with each other, how amazing it is to hold her.
He's just a man in love with a woman.
He gulps and twirls her again. Her eyes are bright, the moonlight invading the ballroom giving them a new kind of shade. Harry decides moving around the ballroom, now waltzing. And just exactly like they did that night when they had no idea what was about to happen, they move fluidly.
Beautifully.
In Harmony.
Hermione has no trouble in following his lead and their eyes never leave each other's. Could it be that she feels the same for him? Could they be in love together? What would happen if he said the words to her? If he opened his heart? If he told her everything?
Would she reject him? Would she arrest him immediately? Would she feel used? Turn her back on him? Forget everything they've been through in a blink? Does she really, truly loves Pettigrew? Wants to be his wife?
Because if that's the case… there's nothing Harry can do, only wish her happiness. All the happiness in the whole world.
Harry comes to a halt, pursing his lips. He feels like crying. She makes him look at her. There's pain in her eyes. Sorrow. He sets his jaw. She seems to be answering all his questions.
This is temporary.
They can't be. Never.
Harry brings her hands to his lips and kisses both with such tenderness that's almost heartbreaking. Hermione lets out a little sob.
"You're the best dance partner I ever had." He says in a low voice.
Her chin trembles, but her voice is firm. "You're not bad yourself." She goes for a joke and he opens a tiny smile.
There's some awkwardness in the air. In a way he feels rejected.
But if she can't say certain things, her Patronus does it for her.
Harry goes completely still when the serpent wraps itself on his leg, coming up his body.
Hermione is utterly shocked.
The serpent keeps going until it reaches his torso. Even if it's just a Patronus, he can feel its weight, its cold body. He swallows hard, his eyes darting to Hermione's. She's frozen in place, transfixed by the way the serpent keeps wrapping itself around him. His lion is now besides Hermione, pressing its head against her palm, wanting to be petted.
Harry clicks his tongue when the snake comes extremely close to his head. But differently from that first time, it doesn't act menacing at all. It's… like a caress. And when he understands this, he puts one hand on its body. The snake hisses. Pleased. Then it settles itself on his arm, around it in a gentle squeeze.
He has no words to describe the sensation.
"What does this mean?" He asks Hermione the same way she asked him.
"I think it likes you." She gives him the same answer he gave her.
His lion is still there, Hermione's hand fisted into its mane.
In a mutual, non verbal understanding they extinguish their Patronus together.
And on the same breath they clash.
The kiss is desperate. Much like the one they shared right after the traditional when they first fucked. Teeth and tongues everywhere and moans that sound almost angry. She tugs at his hair, biting his bottom lip.
"I wanna see your room." She says in a husky voice, between kisses.
Harry apparates them directly into the room. It's enormous. Almost like a house itself since it takes most part of the third floor. But Hermione doesn't even notice it. She's already unbuttoning his shirt. Harry grunts, helping her, his lips on hers.
She reaches the last button and pushes the shirt off of his shoulders eagerly. When the shirt is on the floor, she kisses his neck, her nails scrapping his skin. Biting him, Hermione moans, her tongue going over the mark of her own teeth on him. Harry squeezes her ass to a point that he's sure will bruise.
Suddenly Hermione takes a step back. He blinks, calming down his heart, his tongue going over his lower lip as he watches her.
Her gaze is intense and when she starts unzipping her dress at the side he understands she's stripping down for him. He groans at the back of his throat. And watches. Hermione moves slowly, teasing him and enjoying the way he seems to be at a loss of words or action, transfixed.
With that lovingly devious smile she finishes unzipping it, but stops, not taking the dress off immediately. "Your turn." She says, holding the dress on her body.
Harry chuckles. Even at his horniest he can still laugh with her. Naturally. Instinctively.
And he concedes to her wish, his hand on his belt. Following her cue, he unbuckles it slowly, his muscles taut and his hands moving with expertise. He can see the way she's watching him, impressed by how much this is turning her on. But even so, her eyes keep going back to his tattoo. Without the shirt she can see more of it on his arms.
Harry throws his belt at her feet and raises his eyebrows.
She moves out of her dress. Harry exhales heavily, putting a hand over his heart. She's wearing only a black lacy panties that shows almost everything. And her boots. Then she throws the dress at his face, laughing.
Next, he takes off his shoes and socks and waits.
"A bit unfair." She says.
"Life isn't fair." He shrugs.
She moves with grace to take off her own boots and he restrains himself from closing the gap between them and carrying her to the bed. But he stays put, patient. When she's finally bare feet, she points at his trousers, her wish clear.
Again, slowly, he unzips his trousers and takes it off smoothly. Even if the only illumination inside the room is the moonlight, he can see her eyes darkening with desire at the sight of his white boxers, his arousal evident.
Hermione looks around the place for the first time, not really seeing anything, but looking for- She lits up the fireplace with a spell. The warmth and the light are both welcome and now he can see her perfectly. Harry takes a step in her direction-
"I wanna see your tattoo." She says in that bossy tone of hers.
"Do you like tattoos?" He asks with narrowed eyes.
"I do." Hermione gulps and he doesn't understand why she looks so nervous.
Having no reason at all to hide his tattoo from her, he winks. "I need to get rid of this then." And in one move he takes off his underwear and toss it aimlessly behind his back. Hermione presses her thighs together at the sight of him, and he wants to take her immediately, but there's a look on her face that tells him the tattoo is more important at the moment.
So, he extends his hand to her and she takes it, invading his personal space. They share a promising kiss, their bodies touching everywhere, shivering and aware of the other.
And with one intense look, he turns on his heels for her to see the full tattoo.
It's a majestic colorless phoenix.
Its feathery tail begins at the back of his left knee, coming up to the side of his thigh, thickening at a point that when it reaches his butt, there are many more feathers, the tattoo getting bigger and more detailed until it reaches the middle of his back where its head shows itself big and imposing, its beak open in a clear roar of rage and strength. Rebirth. There are hints of ash and fire around it and the movement is so well designed that it looks like the mythical animal is about to fly. Not accidentally, its wings spread across Harry's back, taking over his shoulder blades and going all the way to his wrists. He opens his arms for her to see it better.
It's almost like he's the phoenix himself.
Hermione gasps, her fingertips gently going over the tattoo with what Harry would describe as admiration. From his knee to his thigh, to his butt, then his back, his arms.
"So?" He asks after a long while, impressed by how much she seems enthralled by the tattoo.
"It's amazing. A work of art." She says sincerely, her voice low, her fingers still roaming over the details.
"It's a technique the Italians invented. It uses the Muggle concept and way of marking the skin mixed with a spell that allows the ink to have a glow of its own. I mean, I had this done when I was eighteen. It still looks like freshly made."
"I know."
He frowns. And finally turns back to look at her. There's a look on her face that- "What do you mean, you know?"
Hermione swallows hard and takes his left hand in hers. The tingle comes to life and they hold their breaths. "It's hard to explain."
And with that, she murmurs a revealing spell.
Harry's mouth hangs open, his brain stopping for a second.
Hermione has a tattoo.
Also a phoenix.
Not exactly like his. Smaller, at her right side, all the way from her ribs to her ankle and, different from his, the phoenix on her skin has its wings closed, its eyes menacing and its beak shut.
But it's powerful the same. Stunning.
He blinks. There are no words capable of describing how much this surprises him. She clicks her tongue. "I got it when I was nineteen. No one knows about it. No one." She whispers the last words.
Harry gulps. Then he finally moves, his fingertips now tracing the patterns on her skin all the way down her leg where its tail and feathers end. He knows pretty well why he got his tattoo, what the phoenix means for him, but what about her?
"Do you like phoenixes?" He asks, his voice is barely there, his fingers caressing her skin, reaching her panties now.
"I have… a fascination with them. Call it an affinity."
He bites his lower lip. And starts to push down her underwear. She moves to help him and soon Harry discards it on the floor.
"It's just as beautiful as you." He stops in front of her, their eyes locked. His hands seek her nape and Harry touches their foreheads, closing his eyes. "This isn't just a coincidence, is it?" He whispers.
Hermione kisses him.
"I don't think so." She answers.
"What does it mean, then?"
Hermione shakes her head and closes her eyes and when she opens them it's clear that she doesn't want to talk about this. Not now. Maybe not ever. But there's another feeling written all over her face. Desire. Nothing more.
Harry gets the cue and seizes her in his arms, one under her knees, the other on her back. She's serious, but she leans to kiss his shoulder and neck, holding tight to him. He walks to the bed slowly, nuzzling her.
And with his heart breaking and beating insanely fast at the same time - because he knows how precious this moment is - he lays her down on the bed. He thinks it's impossible for him to tire of looking at her, of admiring her.
And he has no intention in ending this fast.
So, he hovers above her like a predator watching his prey, holding her gaze and seeing her nervous anticipation imagining what he's about to do. When it comes to sex, Hermione is pretty dominant like she is in most aspects of her life, but there are times when she gives herself completely to him. And on these times, her attitude breaks him entirely. For a woman like her to surrender like this in her most intimate moment is something that calls to a primal instinct inside Harry. He feels powerful. He feels whole. Worthy.
They share a kiss, slow and provocative. And when they separate, he rubs his cheek against hers, a caress. A way of telling her things he can't say. Things he won't dare pronounce out loud. She holds him by the nape, corresponding the gesture, gently. Could she be saying the same things he is?
Harry kisses her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her cleavage, her breasts. And already knowing what makes her squirm, he licks her nipple, one of his hands squeezing the other. She inhales sharply, whimpering under him. She's burning hot under his touch, her skin covered in shivers of desire. He gently nibbles her hard nipple, his teeth grazing but not bruising, kissing right after. She lets out a breathy moan.
Leaving a trail of wet kisses across her stomach and still with one hand pinching her other nipple, he moves to kiss her tattoo. Gently at the ribs. Hermione lets out a strangled sound. He goes down, licking the ink, nuzzling her, feeling her flesh writhe under him. For him.
"Harry." She moans his name in a obscene way, her hands finding his hair, disheveling him, begging for more.
He swallows hard, still kissing her tattoo, still nuzzling her. Lost in the moment. "I love your smell." He doesn't stop his kisses, but he feels the hesitation in her. He used a word they never did. "I love your body." He keeps going down, now kissing and licking her hip bone, the feathers of the majestic phoenix. "I love the way you say my name." He can't stop. "I love how I know exactly how to make you scream." He's at her thigh now, biting a bit more roughly. "I love how you boss me around." He kisses her inner thigh and she lets out a faint chuckle. He can't look at her eyes, not now, afraid what he might see in them. "I love how you're always wet for me." He reaches her sex and she opens her legs slightly. Harry kisses her hot entrance, both his hands holding her by the hips, squeezing her. She's indeed very ready for him. Throbbing. "I love going down on you."
And he licks her. His tongue ravishing her, tasting her. Hermione lets out a few moans, her hands squeezing the sheets. And after a while he starts sucking hard on her clit. She actually screams when he does it and pinches her nipple. And he loses himself in her. In this. In how much he wants her.
After a while Harry can tell she's about to come, but mustering all his self control, he stops, moving away.
She whimpers, groaning in frustration, her eyes seeking his. Harry averts his and stops her hand that goes to her clit in an attempt to find some release. He pins both her arms above her head, their faces at the same level now, his body on hers. She presses her lips together, desperate.
And he provokes her.
Harry moves his hips, his cock sliding across her sex in a maddening way. They moan in unison, kissing sloppily. He keeps moving and finally releases her arms. Hermione immediately hugs him, her legs moving too, caging him into her.
"What else?" She asks between kisses, panting. "What else do you love?"
He goes still. She tugs his hair. They share a look. "I love your eyes." He says and Hermione purses her lips. "I love your mouth, these sinful lips capable of driving me crazy." He kisses her. "But not just that, I love the way they smile when you're happy." She closes her eyes and he sees her swallowing hard. He rocks his hips again, slower. "I love when you're thinking about something and a tiny wrinkle appears between your brows." He kisses the exact place he's referring to. She digs her nails into his shoulder blades. "I love your neck and your jaw, even when it's set into an angry face." She chuckles. "I love your hair." He nuzzles it.
Then he touches her forehead with his. There's a silence between them. But one that speaks volumes. Harry knows what he's saying in this silence - I love you. However, he can't be sure of what hers means. There are some tears rolling down her cheek and Harry kisses them, his hips still provoking her.
"I want you, Harry. I need you." She says in a shaky voice, broken. He shivers all over.
"You have me." He says with a certainty that surprises him a bit.
Her eyes widen.
But he doesn't give her much time to think about what he just said, and grunting, he enters her. It takes them seconds to start moving in a hard pace. They're both eager for this. Wanting and yearning. And Harry slams himself in and out of her to the hilt, then with his hands, he rearranges her hips to hit a spot he knows will make her scream.
And she does. She screams his name in a sensual way. Harry rocks his hips, slowing down and then picking up the pace again.
He feels feral.
Harry kisses her, then bites her neck, her shoulder, her lips. She meets his hunger with the same intensity, both frenetic, reaching a point of total abandon.
They're reaching their orgasm pretty fast, Harry can feel it building inside him, his body very aware of hers. Hermione is also breathing extremely hard, her muscles tightening.
Hermione comes first and he follows. They kiss while they ride on their bliss. It's powerful and so good it's heartbreaking.
Harry holds her, his arms embracing her, molding them together.
Hermione keeps him atop of hers, his face on her breasts. She kisses his head, their bodies sweaty, their breathings calming down along with their hearts. He can hear hers. It beats fast. Steady. He spread gentle kisses on her breasts, sighing.
After a while he finally rolls to the side not to crush her. And he immediately misses the contact. She seems to feel the same because her hand searches his. And…
The tingle again. Stronger. Harry feels a current of magic flowing into him. He looks at Hermione. Her mouth is hanging open. She blinks a few times. With one look Harry knows she felt it too.
"We need to find out what this means." She says in a whisper.
Harry exhales heavily. With a wave of his hand he cleans them, freshening up the sheets. Then, he brings her to him and settles comfortably on one of the pillows. They relax in an embrace, a position they're already familiar with. His fingers caressing her arm, her hand on his chest, above his heart, one of her legs above his.
"Do we?" He asks faintly. "Maybe it's nothing. And to be honest I don't even know where to start searching for answers."
"But aren't you curious? This isn't normal, Harry."
"What do we really know about magic? Maybe it is."
She snorts. "You know it isn't."
He makes a face. "Fine. We can try figuring out what it means."
"Don't sound so excited." She mocks him and he chuckles.
"Are you… sleeping here?" He's angry he has to ask. And even angrier he fears the answer.
"Until you fall asleep." She says in a low voice.
"Then I won't."
Hermione chuckles.
A silence follows.
She sighs. Then says, "I wasn't honest with you earlier." He frowns. She continues, "I sent you the message because I wanted to talk about Lestrange. I know for sure where he is. I went there to spy a bit. He's alive."
Harry freezes at that, not sure of what to say.
Hermione keeps talking, "But when I saw you, I- I just wanted to be with you." She looks up at him. "And I'm glad I did."
He opens a smile. "I loved our night together." He whispers. Now that he opened the dam, the word seems to be at the tip of his tongue.
"Me too."
She moves up, seeking his lips.
"I want to go see Lestrange as soon as possible." He says when they separate. "Maybe he knows where the others are and whoever killed Karkaroff can't get to him before we do." He knows they won't, but Harry needs to pretend in front of her, so…
"Okay. Do you wanna go tomorrow?"
He nods, biting the insides of his cheeks, thinking. "Sounds good."
"I'll send you the location directly through the coin so we can meet there, okay?"
"Okay."
He brings her impossibly closer. Hermione nuzzles his neck, her lips finding his earlobe. "And how are things here? With Chiara and your grandfather?" She asks casually but he feels an edge at her tone.
"Well, better than I expected. I had a… necessary conversation with Chiara and regardless what happened, we're friends so we'll try to stay at peace."
Hermione raises her brows, pursing her lips. "She said she loves you. It didn't seem she meant as friends."
"She wants me back." He clicks his tongue. "But I can't. She broke our trust. She broke everything between us. I can't go back to the way things were before." He looks at Hermione. He wants to say that he loves someone else. Wants to say that he loves her. But- "And with my grandfather things are… as expected. We barely talk and when we do, we try not arguing."
"Is he sure about winning?"
"He is. He will." Harry says. "But I don't think he'll interfere in London." It's his sincere opinion, but there's no way of being sure.
Hermione sighs. "Let's wait and see."
And even if he tries fighting it, after a few more kisses and caresses, sleep starts to take over Harry. It hurts him to know that he'll wake and she'll be gone, but at least he gets to see her tomorrow.
Her and Lestrange.
(...)