Experimentation by simons_flower

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 07/08/2006
Last Updated: 07/08/2006
Status: Completed

Harry asked for a very special birthday present. Hermione was going to do her best to fulfill
the request. Warning for slash in minor secondary pairing.




1. Experimentation
------------------

**author's note:** For The Quidditch
Pitch's July challenge, Wear Your Birthday Suit! Many
thanks to Dawn for the quick beta. She is a goddess.

**Experimentation**
It wasn't that she was a prude, but Harry's request for his birthday made her hex him
before she made him sleep on the couch for a week. Honestly! A *strip* club? With her
*dancing*?

But he looked so pitiful during that week that she considered his request. He was going to be
turning thirty, after all. He'd never expected to live to eighteen, let alone thirty. Then he
turned his puppy-dog eyes on her. She never could resist the puppy-dog eyes for long and he damn
well knew it.

That still didn't explain to Hermione why she was in a dressing room, dressed in a version
of her old school uniform, sliding Muggle lipstick over her lips as she prepared to dance for him.
In public. And it involved a pole.

When she began to feel light-headed, she realized she was starting to hyperventilate. She
quickly ducked her head between her knees.

"You okay?" Ron asked from the doorway.

She blinked uncertainly, then lifted her head to look at him. He was leaning against the
doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching her.

"What the hell am I doing, Ron?" she muttered, straightening.

"Giving Harry a birthday present he won't forget," Ron answered, amusement
threading his words.

She tipped her head to the side. "What are you doing here?"

He laughed as he crossed the room to sit on the edge of her dressing table. "Ah, Hermione,
just because I'm gay doesn't mean I don't want to watch."

A bright red flush stained her cheeks.

"Gryffindor courage and all that, yeah?" She knew he was trying to be supportive, but
that didn't mean he was safe from being hexed. "You know you can do it, Hermione. Anyone
who could come up with the spell to trap You- V-Voldemort can do this."

She rolled her eyes. Even more than ten years later, Ron could barely say Voldemort's name.
With a sigh, she shooed him out, slapping his ass after he made a comment about finally seeing the
brass balls she must have.

She could do this. She would do this for Harry. Harry wanted to see her, had made this request
for his birthday, and the least she could do was fulfill his request.

She stood, studying herself in the mirror as she smoothed her shirt. It looked like her school
uniform –plaid skirt, knees socks and all –but it was spelled to rip off when pulled in the right
place. Her undergarments were emerald, nearly the colour of Harry's eyes, and was done
deliberately. Her knickers were lace, they rode low in the front and were no better than a thong in
the back. It was uncomfortable, but she knew Harry would like it. Her bra was barely more than
triangles held together by string.

She could do this. Of course, she'd never worn stilettos with her school uniform.

"And now, a very special guest dancer, I give you Jane!" The voice, under a
*Sonorus* charm, echoed through the club and made her more nervous. Her hands shook as she
fastened her emerald mask over her eyes.

Her chosen music began, the beat thrumming through her body.

With all the arrogance she could muster, she strode onto the stage. She could hear whistles and
catcalls, but her eyes were only for her husband. He sat in the front row, dumbfounded. He had no
idea she'd taken his admission of finding her school uniform sexy and run with it.

Draco, sitting next to his boyfriend Ron, nudged Harry, who then gasped. A smile turned the
corners of her mouth. She'd driven Harry to breathlessness. It gave her enough courage to
saunter to the pole in the middle of the floor, sliding her legs on either side of it and shimmying
down.

She barely heard the catcalls she was receiving. Instead, she concentrated on virtually fucking
the pole. Her gaze came back to her husband after each piece of clothing she stripped off until she
was left only in the skimpy emerald undergarments and stilettos.

Releasing the pole and bending forward, she allowed her hair to fall to the stage, covering her.
A quick tug removed her bra. A faux-innocent smile touched the corners of her mouth when she heard
the noise after raising the bra and dropping it to the stage. She rose slowly. She'd practiced
this move many times, wanting to titillate but not expose more than she had to. Once standing
straight, her hair barely covered her nipples but did cover them.

She closed her eyes and swayed slightly. There was power in doing this. No matter that she was
exposing herself; she had a room full of wizards under her control. Slowly, oh-so-slowly, she slid
her hands up her body until they were crossed over her chest. A pirouette turned her back to the
audience, after which she moved her hands higher, lifting her mass of hair up to expose the long
line of her back.

She had intended to stop there but wicked inspiration struck. As if invisible hands were forcing
her down, she bent backwards until she was in a perfect arch. A whispered spell removed her
barely-there knickers, tossing them to the side.

*Let them all be jealous of Harry*, she thought before kicking her legs upward, bringing
her into a handstand. She held the pose only for a moment, before bringing her legs back down and
straightening. A shake of her ass at the crowd signaled the end.

Both horrified and proud of herself, she raced back into the dressing room. A moment later,
Harry Apparated in with a loud *crack*. She couldn't describe the look on his face, but
took a step backwards automatically, both aroused and frightened by the intensity she saw.

He waved his hand at the door, shutting and locking it against Ron –who then pounded on it –and
anyone else who might think to enter. He took two steps forward and Hermione took one back, finding
herself against her dressing table.

With a feral growl, Harry lifted her up onto the table, shoved both hands into her hair and
devoured her mouth. She wasn't sure if the moan she heard was hers or Harry's, but the
sound of it served to arouse her further. Releasing her hair, he reached down to fumble with his
trousers.

Once free, he gripped her thighs, tugged her to the edge of the table, shoved them apart and
drove inside her. Her hands scrabbled under his shirt to the bare skin of his shoulders, gripping
them tight, as her head fell back and she gasped for breath. She heard bottles fall from the table
with each thrust.

The only thing she could focus on was Harry.

He bent forward and sucked hard on her skin where neck and shoulder met. A bite to the cord of
her neck sent a terrible shudder through her, making her grip his cock so tightly he could barely
move. But, as if a man possessed, he merely bent his knees slightly and continued.

"Mine," he growled, finally saying something.

She arched upward, fingernails drawing blood on his shoulders, stilettos leaving marks on his
ass where her ankles were crossed at the small of his back. "Yours," she panted.

Twisting slightly, he bent his head to suck on one nipple. She suddenly arched even further,
head slamming into the mirror, at the electric spark that rocketed through her. It was enough to
trigger her climax, her legs tightening around him enough to leave bruises on his hips later. He
grunted, drove into her with a series of short, hard thrusts, and emptied into her.

Sweaty and panting, they didn't move until someone began banging on the door.

"Potter, quit shagging your wife and open the door," Draco yelled.

"Malfoy, leave them alone," Ron growled loudly enough to be heard through the
door.

There were more words, too quiet for Harry or Hermione to hear, then Malfoy yelling,
"Potter, you're going to be late for your surprise party."

"Malfoy, you git!"

They heard a thud, then "Weasley" in a voice that definitely was not annoyance. Harry
began to laugh softly, bringing his head to rest against Hermione's. Neither of them understood
why Ron and Draco's relationship worked, but it somehow seemed to work well.

"Do I really have a surprise party?" he asked softly, lowering her legs.

She bent her head, tangling her hands gently in his hair, and kissed him.
"Surprise."



