# Quidditch Robes

Amethyst

Rating: NC17
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 21/12/2005
Last Updated: 21/12/2005
Status: Completed

Hermione likes Quidditch players. Really good Quidditch players.

## 1. untitled

Title: Quidditch Robes

Category: Erm. Smut. But with substance.

Pairing: H/Hr.

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Hermione likes Quidditch players. Really good Quidditch players.

Disclaimer: Dude, so not mine. Really. And please, JKR, I know we’re not at all on friendly terms, but please don’t sue me for doing naughty things with your characters. Honestly, if you’d just put the right people together in the books, I might not need to write out my imaginings in fanfic!

~

A sharp stab of desire shot through Hermione as Harry walked into the common room, sweaty and disheveled from Quidditch practice. There was something about seeing him in the uniform, she decided, smiling at him as he walked toward her. She hoped the severe extent to which she wanted him at that moment wasn't glaringly obvious. Her face was flushed, she was sure, but that could easily be blamed on the roaring fire nearby. As long as she didn't let on how he affected her…

"Hey, Hermione. Not knitting tonight?" he teased, grinning. Oh, the grin, the grin. The grin and the Quidditch uniform. She wasn't built for this.

"No, not knitting. Is that all you think I do, besides homework?" Argh. She was smiling in her stupid, please-take-me-now sort of way…he was sure to notice…

"Oh, I'm sure you have many other hobbies that you've never told me about in six years," he said. Stop grinning at me, you idiot…do you want me to molest you right now? Hmm. If you're anything like Ron… "Hermione? You all right?"

"Oh - yes - fine, just…it's a little warm in here, don't you think?" she stammered, turning redder. Shag-me red, even.

"A bit," Harry said. He frowned slightly. "Maybe you should lie down? You look a bit faint." Faint. Weak in the knees. About to pass out with desire. Yeah…I should probably lie down for a bit.

"Perhaps. Yes, that might be for the best…." But can I do it in your bed? Underneath you, perchance? Naked? Argh, no, bad Hermione! You can't keep doing that…this is Harry, and it can’t ever happen… Blast, if only my clit would listen to my conscience.

"Well…lie down for a bit. I'm going to hit the shower…hard practice. I'm sure I'm repelling people as I speak."

Hermione smiled at that. Oh…oh, heavens no, not repelling me…damnit, if only you could… He left her there, pondering things…but that only led to imagining Harry in the shower, which wasn't helping her with her little problem. How on earth could she ever get over him with those thoughts?

Maybe, if I could have him just once…maybe I could get over this. But Harry would never…no, stupid idea, Granger, just…

…Well, maybe not. He is a teenage boy. And he'd do anything for me, same as I would for him… So why wouldn't he? This probably isn't what he has in mind for 'anything,' but it's worth a try…

Oh, god, I just want to ride him…

Determined, she headed upstairs, grateful that the Founders had thought girls to be trustworthy in their intentions, though she was proving them very wrong with each step she took. She reached the seventh year boys’ room and peered inside. Harry was still there. His robes and shirt were already off; she faltered, watching for a moment as he bent over to pull a T-shirt out of his trunk. Merlin, it was a nice view.

Harry turned around and saw her there and fidgeted awkwardly. They were both very aware that Harry was shirtless. “Um, do you need something, Hermione?”

“Well, I – I, um…Iwanttohavesexwithyou.”

Harry dropped his T-shirt. “You what?”

Hermione took a deep breath, blushing down to her toes. “I just – I want to be with you, just once – I…well, I can’t stop thinking about you in ways that I shouldn’t be thinking and if I could just have sex with you once, I think that maybe I could get over it and move on.”

“Um…Hermione…much as I…er…well…aren’t you a virgin?” Harry muttered, cheeks flaming.

“Well, yes,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

“...Hermione, I can’t be the one to – I mean, you deserve more than ‘just once’ if it’s your first time, and –“

“Harry…if I didn’t want you to be the first, I wouldn’t be asking you for this. I mean, the way I see it…I should be with someone I trust, and you’re the person I trust most in the world.”

His face was red as a cherry. “Well…er…I…I don’t know what to say.”

Hermione sighed impatiently. There he was, all shirtless and delectable, and they were discussing virginity. “Do you want to, Harry?”

“Well – I – of course I want to,” he stammered, “but I’m not sure if this is quite the way to go about it.”

Nice attempt at being nice about it, Potter. “I understand. You just don’t want me –“

“I told you, I want to…and I do, er, want you,” he said, blushing even more. “But, well, just having sex doesn’t seem like the greatest plan. I mean, we’re best friends, and if we just do that, it’ll change things….”

Hermione frowned, knowing he was right and determined to make her plan work anyway. “Why does it have to change anything? If we don’t make a big deal about it, things can stay as they always have.”

He made that face – the one that he adopted when he was about to give in but needed just a little more incentive. She smiled to herself; she could give him what he needed.

Hermione took a few steps forward, until there were barely inches between them. She heard his breath becoming rapid. She gave him the most seductive smile that she could muster as she ran a hand down the center of his chest, trailing down his abdomen to the button of his Quidditch trousers.

"Hermione…"

"If you want me," she whispered to him, so close that her lips brushed his earlobe, "Then I'm yours."

She felt him shiver. "God, 'Mione," he moaned as he crushed her to him, taking her lips in a kiss that was far from gentle. He wasted no time in pushing her robes off her shoulders, and she unbuttoned his trousers. She could feel him as she unzipped them and pushed them off his hips, already hard. A thrill of satisfaction shot through her – he wanted her, and she’d barely done anything.

Hermione helped him unbutton her blouse, tossing it to the ground once she'd shrugged it off her shoulders, and he moved on to the zipper of her skirt, lips trailing down her neck as he did so. Her skirt fell to the floor, and she pressed her pelvis against him, hearing a gratifying moan in response.

"You're so perfect," she vaguely heard him murmur as he reached behind her to unsnap her bra, and she shivered. It sprang loose, and she let Harry take his time in pulling it down her arms and letting it drop to the ground, her warm breasts reacting strongly to the cool air around them. She felt her skin flush further as he gazed at her, eyes dark and hazy.

"Touch me," she demanded breathlessly, and he obeyed and then some, dipping down to take a nipple into his mouth, rolling the other between his fingers. She moaned loudly and shamelessly, fisting her hands in his hair. This feeling was incredible. While she’d known that this would be enjoyable – Harry was simply too delectable for it not to be, no matter how clumsy he might have been – she’d never imagined the thrills running through her body could short-circuit her brain and make her feel so free, so sexual – so completely uninhibited and brazen.

“Bed,” Hermione commanded as her legs began to tremble, and she stifled a whimper when his lips left her. They stumbled back together until Hermione felt the foot of Harry’s bed against her thighs and fell onto it, pulling him with her. Harry landed heavily on top of her and the feel of his hardness pushing into her through their undergarments made her head swim.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, lifting his body off hers. She scooted back toward the pillows and tugged at him to get him to move with her.

Harry settled between her legs and ran his hands slowly up her thighs as she pulled him down to her for a kiss. Running her hands over his back, she could feel the thin coating of sweat that was forming over his skin and his muscles tensing under her touch. She wanted to feel more of him.

Harry progressed downward again, forcing Hermione to forget about everything but his mouth and his hands and the wicked, wicked magic they were performing. His tongue darted out teasingly against her abdomen and his thumbs traced the edges of her panties, hovering dangerously near where she wanted him.

Harry’s fingers hooked in the waistband of her knickers and began pulling them slowly down her legs, his heated gaze never leaving the one part of her body he had yet to explore. Her breath hitched in anticipation of what was to come as her last article of clothing hit the floor and Harry’s calloused hands made their way back up her legs.

Hermione arched her back as Harry touched her aching clitoris for the first time. He grinned devilishly and dipped a finger into her.

I’m not the first girl he’s touched this way, she thought through the zap of pleasure that coursed through her, feeling a surge of jealousy and possessiveness rush in, filling her chest. Suddenly she wasn’t content to be a single notch on his bedpost – she didn’t want this to be just once.

“Hermione?”

Harry was looking up at her with concern. “Is everything all right? Do you want to stop?”

One look at his familiar face filled her with determination. No matter what happened after that afternoon, no matter who else he touched this way, she was going to make sure that he never, ever forgot this.

She wiped the worried expression off his face by pulling him up to her for a rough kiss. Pushing him onto his back, she tugged down his boxers and tossed them to the floor. For a moment she stared openly at his penis, too eager to satisfy her own curiosity to care if she made him uncomfortable. While Hermione knew very little about this particular piece of male anatomy, some primal part of her brain told her that Harry’s was of rather decent size, long enough to please but not thick enough to hurt. Experimentally she began to stroke him, and she would have been amused by the whimper Harry let out if she hadn’t been preoccupied with giving him one of the best and most memorable sexual experiences of his life – that, and trying out everything she possibly could with him in the chance she was given.

Without the slightest bit of hesitancy, she lowered her mouth to his abdomen as she continued stroking him, trailing her tongue along those firm muscles she’d suspected he’d been hiding under those baggy sweaters, traveling downward until she reached the line of dark hair that led right back to where her hand was currently employed.

Slowly, so that he would know exactly what she meant to do and be tortured with the anticipation of it, she slid backward on the bed and, with great care, gave a firm lick to the head of his fully erect penis.

Harry cried out something indiscernible as he threw his head back against the pillows and clutched at the blankets until his knuckles were white. Hermione delighted in her newfound power over him when she took him fully into her mouth and watched him quiver uncontrollably with the effort not to thrust upward, further into her. She suckled almost greedily on his taut flesh, memorizing the indescribable taste of him, studying his features as he twisted in the throes of physical pleasure, understanding more with every passing second that what she felt for him had progressed far beyond a carnal desire.

Eventually she moved off of him, sensing he was nearing his breaking point, and had to smile at his unintelligible protests.

“Sorry,” she said quietly, huskily, in a tone she hoped sounded sexy and not affected, “but I had to stop. I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Hermione moved back up the bed and kissed him, coaxing her way into his mouth, an action met with his enthusiastic approval. She wanted him to taste his flavor on her tongue, to know without a doubt that she had indeed been the one to have him so intimately – her, his bookish, innocent best friend.

Not so innocent anymore, are you? Really, not innocent since the first time you imagined what he might look like in the showers after Quidditch practice…

And that little thought reminded her exactly why she’d followed Harry up here in the first place – not to prove a point to him, but to learn what that lithe body of his might do to hers.

She pressed more firmly into him, trying to communicate without relinquishing his lips that she was ready for more of him now, more of his boyishly rough hands on her skin, more of the heady, intoxicating feeling that only he could give her.

Harry took the hint as well as the lead, rolling her onto her back, and set about the business of exploring her once more. He touched and kissed her in all the right places, even the ones she hadn’t previously been aware of – that spot under her neck, that exact vein in her wrist – perhaps by accident, perhaps by some strange intuition. She didn’t know nor care, having abandoned thought a long time ago. All the while, she could feel his hardened member teasing the damp, hyper-sensitized flesh of her sex, and it was quickly becoming more than she could bear.

Not knowing how to vocalize this particular desire, she bucked pleadingly against him and finally reached a hand down to guide him forward.

He glanced downward, surprised, and looked back to her, hesitation written all over his face.

“Hermione, are you –“

“Yes, I’m sure,” she interrupted, knowing instinctively what he meant to say.

“And you’re…er…protected?” he asked delicately.

“Yes.” She’d been taking the potion since things had become serious with her last boyfriend and hadn’t stopped after the relationship dwindled to its natural end, more out of habit than of any real expectation of needing it. Now she was glad for her choice – both not to waste the potion on that stuffy Ravenclaw and to have been prepared for this rash but worthwhile idea.

Harry nodded wordlessly and skillfully brought her arousal back to its peak with a languid kiss. And then he was back where she wanted him, positioning himself before thrusting forward in a swift, piercing movement.

It was painful. She dug her fingers into his back and clung to him for dear life, waiting for it to pass. Beyond the pain, though, she could feel herself already becoming addicted to the sensation of Harry filling her, could understand just what people found so alluring about this act of ultimate intimacy.

“Hermione?” Harry whispered in her ear, remaining rigidly still above her. “Are you all right?”

Hermione nodded, releasing her grip on him a little. “I’m fine now. Keep going.”

He kissed her as he pulled out a little and pushed back in. The pain was quickly receding, forced further away with each thrust Harry made, and soon she was gasping not out of pain, but rather a more overwhelming warmth that spread through her nerves and across her skin.

She watched Harry’s control slowly unravel… His hips rocked against hers, a little harder, a little faster with each passing moment. His eyes would flutter closed and open again and he breathed heavily, a layer of sweat coating his back. His body trembled with the force of his efforts to restrain himself. Hermione liked seeing him this way, losing himself in her.

Harry’s movements became more frantic and his pants and groans in her ear drove her even closer to release. There was something about him, something she knew wouldn’t be the same if it were anyone else.

The warmth was growing now, pooling between her legs until it burst, pulsing throughout her skin and sending her mind flying away from everything except what Harry was doing to her.

As she came down from her high, she felt Harry reach his climax. He slumped against her and nuzzled her neck, evidently having forgotten that this was supposed to be nothing more than a favor between friends. Unfortunately, Hermione hadn’t forgotten, and the contentment lingering in her bones slipped away, supplanted by a deep sadness she hadn’t been expecting.

Harry pushed himself off her and lay beside her. He’d taken off his glasses at some point without her noticing; he looked younger without them. It reminded her of the Harry she’d first met on the train six years ago, the Harry she’d stood by through trolls and basilisks, dragons and Death Eaters...the Harry she’d built her entire life around. How stupid she’d been, thinking that she could simply feel lust for him, isolated from all the other emotions involved.

The beginnings of panic began to well up in her chest, and she left the bed, searching frantically for her clothes so that she could flee, flee and pretend it hadn’t happened, that she hadn’t fallen in love with her best friend.

“Hermione?” Harry said, forcing her to turn, clutching a wad of clothing to her chest. “Where are you going?”

“I – I just thought –“

“Stay awhile,” he said drowsily, his eyes closed.

“What about the other boys? They’ll be wanting in soon…”

Harry sat up, grabbed his wand from his bedside cabinet, and with a few flicks had their clothes hidden away in his trunk.

“Come on. You can sneak out later,” Harry said, and she tentatively went back to the bed. Harry closed the curtains around them, and together they slipped under the covers. Harry curled his body around hers, which eased her heart a little. Maybe things would work out after all.

“Well…did it work?” he asked eventually.

Hermione started. “What? Did what work?”

“You said you needed to get me out of your system. Did it work?”

Hermione shifted to look over her shoulder at him. “Honestly?”

“Of course honestly,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes.

Hermione sighed. “Honestly…no. It didn’t work.”

To her surprise, Harry smiled. “Yeah, it didn’t work for me, either.”

“You? I was in your system?”

Harry grinned sheepishly. “Maybe just a little. You are beautiful…you know that, don’t you?”

Hermione blushed. “So…you think, maybe, that I was a bit hasty in saying that it would be ‘just once?’”

“Definitely,” Harry said, tightening his arms about her. “I think that for once, you weren’t thinking straight at all, Miss Granger.”

“Oh, stop smirking,” Hermione said, although she couldn’t stop the smile on her lips. “It’s not my fault you waltzed in wearing those Quidditch robes.”

Harry laughed. “The Quidditch robes, eh? You really do like your seekers, don’t you?”

Hermione turned completely in his arms to face him. “Yes, I suppose I do.” She turned sober, needing to voice her new anxieties. “Harry…you realize this is going to change everything, don’t you?”

Harry nodded. “I suppose it will. But we’ve already come this far, haven’t we? I know I can’t go back now. Could you?”

Hermione smiled at him, knowing that she’d received far more than she’d bargained for in following Harry upstairs, and feeling sure that every risk she’d taken was completely worth it. “No, I couldn’t.”

~

Before you go, I want you all to know that I only posted this because I had to write something for fanfict00bs (http://www.livejournal.com/community/fanfict00bs), and I was trying to finish Kissing Lessons 7 for it, but I got stuck on it. So I am working on Kissing Lessons, I promise, and this is only here to tide you all over. It’s smut. It’s better than what I normally give you to wait with!