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A Moment Alone

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Warnings:

This story contains: smut and some explicit language.

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Hermione’s eyes skimmed over the parchment before her, searching through the potions essay she had written the day previous looking for any small errors or areas that she could add additional clarifications. Ever since Professor Snape had moved on to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts her potion essays had grown even longer and more explicit with detail because she no longer had to worry about the bitter man docking points for no reason – like her adding ‘obvious’ and ‘unnecessary’ details or her sneaking in ’too many’ words on a small amount of parchment. She was finally able to write the essays the way that she wanted to with the details that she felt were warranted given the subject – potions were complex, dangerous and challenging after all and she wanted to do the subject matter justice.

She’d always thought that Snape’s bad attitude to those trying to capture the full picture was abhorrent, especially since he would just as quickly dock points for not including enough details or leaving out critical information – the man was just impossible to please. Professor Slughorn on the other hand… well, he was perhaps a bit too lenient with his essay assessment, but it was still an improvement nonetheless and Hermione was thoroughly enjoyed writing the essays so far this year.

The only problem that she was having right now was with concentrating and it was a problem that seemed to be increasing with each passing day. Especially since she was working on potions.

She felt her stomach knot at the thought of Slughorn – not about the man, no not even close – it was because of the thoughts and memories of the Slug-Club Christmas party that crept into her mind at the very thought or mention of the man’s name. It was because of what had happened – or more accurately worded, because of what had almost happened at the party.

She could feel her cheeks start to flush with heat as images from that night came tumbling back despite the fact that she was currently seated in the library with her friends and despite her best efforts to push them down and concentrate on her work.

She’d not really wanted to go to the party. Socializing and small talk had never been her thing and she’d wanted to use the evening to work her final essays due before Christmas break – but Harry had asked her to go. She knew he was only going because he’d been pressured by Dumbledore to befriend Slughorn, and she knew he hated those sorts of parties and get-togethers just as much as she did – but still, that didn’t stop the flutter of her heart when he’d pulled her aside in the common room and asked her to attend with him so he wouldn’t have to be there alone and she’d quickly said yes.

She couldn’t help it.

It was Harry.

Somehow over the last two years, things between them had shifted and the lines between friendship and something more had blurred. It had started with the Yule Ball in fourth year – she’d attended the event with Viktor Krum because he’d asked her as his date, but the evening had felt off. The entire night she found her eyes tracking over to Harry, who was looking incredible in his new crisp black dress robes and it wasn’t until about halfway through the night that she’d realized she was doing it and started to wonder – when did I start thinking Harry looked incredible?

Harry had attended the ball with Parvati and Ron with Padma because neither one of them had been quick on the uptake to find dates. With Harry worrying about his tasks and schoolwork he’d all but entirely forgotten about the ball and not asked anyone until the very last minute – he likely would have skipped it if he could, but as the fourth Triwizard tournament Champion Professor McGonagall had made it abundantly clear that he must attend. So, last minute, he’d asked Hermione to go with him and she’d found herself surprisingly disappointed that she’d already made arrangements and couldn’t accept his offer.

It struck her at that moment that it was not only odd that she’d not considered going with Harry in the first place – she supposed it was because she’d been so used to him just being a fixture of a friend in her life that her mind had not even considered it as an option – but that it was also odd just how disappointed she’d felt about it losing the chance.

At the ball they’d spoken, laughed and everyone had had a good time – but she was left with an odd sense of longing that was unfamiliar, and her mind had seemed to be hyper-focused on Harry and everything that had transpired between them. Even now, two years later, she could distinctly remember the way that his hand had lightly brushed hers when he handed her a glass of punch. She could still feel the way that his fingers had skimmed across the back of her dress when they’d gone dancing partway through the night. She could still remember smiling at him brightly, her face feeling oddly heated as they sat at the table chatting while Ron badgered Krum with some quidditch questions.

The truth was… she’d been disappointed then.

Disappointed that she’d not thought to ask Harry. Disappointed that she hadn’t been able to go with him and disappointed that she’d agreed to go with Krum at all. After all, she’d only agreed to go with Krum because when he’d asked her the logical part of her brain thought it would be good for cross-school relationship building. She’d noticed that not many of the Hogwarts students were intermingling with the guests and so it’s seemed like a good idea at the moment.

But the truth was – she hadn’t really wanted to go with Krum. They had nothing in common and she wasn’t overly interested in him aside from by an academic perspective – it had been fascinating to hear about the curriculum at Durmstrang and she’d enjoyed asking him about the Bulgarian magical communities.

But in the back of her mind, for as long as she lived, she’d always regret that she never got to go to the Yule Ball with Harry. She’d never forget the slightly pained expression in his eyes when she’d gently turned him down in the quiet hallway outside of class. She’d felt her heart sink in her chest and an odd sensation encompass her body even after he’d plastered a warm smile on his face and told her it was ‘no big deal’ and that he ‘should have asked her sooner’.

She’d not expected to feel so upset about it. And even though they didn’t go together – after that moment, things had started to change.

Hermione started to notice Harry more – not that she’d ever been neglectful of him or inattentive, but now she found herself starring at him, watching him, or catching his eye in the middle of class. They’d both smile awkwardly and then turn away and go back to their work as she felt an awkward burn race down her spine to the pit of her stomach as her heart fluttered nervously. Then, when nearing the final challenge, she’d held his hand one night when she caught him sitting by the fire in the deserted common room staring blankly into the dark because he’d been unable to sleep.

They’d not spoken as she sat down beside him and took his hand, but she’d felt him grip her hand tightly while the flames crackled. She’d sat there by his side until her eyes started to droop and she woke up hours later with her head resting on his shoulder and his fingers still laced with her own. She’d initially been flushed and embarrassed at their blatant closeness and the entire lack of space between their bodies – but his quiet ‘thank you’ had stopped her from retreating and instead she’d sat with him until the sun came up and didn’t move until they heard their friends coming down the stairs for breakfast.

They never spoke about that moment after they’d untangled themselves from the couch, and it only made her bizarre feelings rush even harder. Each time he moved close to her or she found herself alone with him she could feel the heat growing in her body as her heart started to flutter. She could remember sitting up at night wondering what the hell was going on – this was Harry after all, Harry – her best friend, the boy she’d known since first year. They’d been through everything together and he’d been close to her physically and touched her countless times before and it had never left her so flustered. It took her nearly a year after the Yule Ball to finally realize what the bizarre feelings were and halfway through fifth year the conclusion hit her hard like a bludger – she liked Harry Potter.

As in liked him liked him.

But it was so much more than a crush.

So much more than a stupid infatuation like most girls seemed to have on Harry. He was her best friend, her confidant – the one and only person that she truly trusted and the one person she could always rely on. She’d stuck by him through thick and thin and he’d always supported her – she loved him. Sure, her feelings might hold less weight than a long-established adult relationship, but they were still valid. She knew how she felt, and she knew it was real. With the close friendship that they’d had and the things that they’d been through, she realized that there was really no other way to describe it. The word like simply didn’t cut it and it didn’t capture the deep-seated feelings that she held for him.

And that realization had terrified her.

She hadn’t wanted to damage the incredible relationship that they had. She hadn’t wanted to add any additional stress or pressure to his life when he was already going through more than any one person should. So, shortly after Christmas when she realized how she felt, she decided to do nothing about it. She decided to continue being his friend and to support him however she could because she had no idea how he felt about her.

Yes, there’d been moments between them that made her wonder – like the time Harry’s foot brushed up against hers under the table in fifth year and neither one of them moved and allowed the contact to happen. Or how Harry would linger near her side, choose to sit beside her or how his hand would linger on her back or arm when he was giving her instruction during their DA meetings. Or how Harry had hugged her after the Department of Mysteries battle and refused to leave her side while she healed. Or the unmistakable way she’d catch his eye and a thick, heated and infinite moment seemed to stretch between them unspoken and she swore she saw something deeper flitter behind his eyes.

But even with all those past moments, Hermione had been nervous to assume too much – or at least she had been until the summer before sixth year when everything had changed.

It had been a hot night in late July. The Burrow was packed what with her and Harry staying there and the remaining Order members constantly popping by for one thing or another. The twins were building their business and testing out products and Ron was obsessed with practicing quidditch in the yard – he seemed particularly set on trying out for the house team once school started and he would constantly drag Harry and Ginny out to practice. Hermione hadn’t participated, but she had sat on the grass to watch with a book open on her lap – though if she was being truthful, she spent most of her time watching Harry.

She couldn’t help it.

Even though she wasn’t really into the sport, and even though she hated flying – even she knew that Harry was talented. Even she was impressed by the ease at which he soared through the air and the way he handled himself.

But on that particular night, it was like the air was different – it was tighter, hotter and thicker. Not with stress or anxiety – but it had a feel of something unresolved, a feel of tension and heat that wrapped around her body like a constricting blanket. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were out on Order business, the twins were at their apartment and only she, Harry, Ron and Ginny were left in the house playing exploding snap while casting a plethora of cooling charms. They’d been laughing and having a good time and Hermione had very purposefully not allowed herself to think too hard on the fact that Harry was sitting directly at her side. His leg was brushing up against hers on the floor of the living room and each time he laughed his elbow would brush hers and she’d have to fight down a blush. If not for the fact that it was so bloody hot in the house and everyone was flushed from the heat, she knew everyone would have wondered what was wrong with her.

Maybe it was because of the charged tension in the air – or maybe it was because they were tired from quidditch practice that day, but either way Ron and Ginny had gone to bed early, leaving Hermione alone with Harry in the living room in the dim evening light. She could remember even now the way that she’d blushed as she looked at him and asked if he wanted to play another round or pack it in – and she’d secretly celebrated when he said another round of snap because she’d not wanted the night to end. So they’d played.

And they’d played.

And then they’d stopped playing – but they didn’t go to bed.

Instead, they talked. They talked about everything, anything and she didn’t even notice the way that the lights had started to dim further or that the clock was well past midnight. They talked about their families, their dreams and their futures – Harry had told her things that she was certain that he’d never told anyone else and at some point, she’d ended up leaning on his side with her head resting on his shoulder while his arm snaked around her waist. It had been intimate, quiet and unlike any other conversation they’d ever had until suddenly, she was looking up into his eyes and everything around them seemed to fade out.

She could feel her heart beating in her ears as she watched him watch her, as her gaze travelled over his face, across his lips and back up to his eyes and she felt her breath catch. He was looking at her in a way that she’d never seen, and it stirred something deep within her. Even now months later as she sat in the cold library recalling the words that he’d spoken it sent shivers down her spine.

 

 

‘Hermione,’ his voice was deep and husky, and she felt her stomach knot in anticipation.

‘Yes,’ the word was almost a whisper as it left her lips.

‘You’re the most incredible person that I know,’ Harry said quietly, and she felt his thumb graze along her side. ‘You’re my best friend and I – I need to know if I’m misreading this before I do something stupid. Before I ruin this by kissing you – because I want you, Hermione. I want more than just this – but I would rather have you as a friend than as nothing at all – so please tell me.’

‘You’re not misreading this,’ Hermione’s voice was shaky with nerves but her grip on his sleeve tightened with resolve. ‘I want you too Harry.’

She watched as he leaned forward and she closed her eyes, his lips grazing hers softly as electricity shot through her body. It was slow, his lips shifted across her almost nervously as she exhaled sharply at the contact, and her body trembled. It was everything that she’d wanted, everything that she’d been craving and it was impossible to stop. She nearly groaned in pleasure when his tongue grazed along her bottom lip and she opened her mouth to him, craning her neck to give him better access as he deepened the kiss and she felt her heart flutter.

 

 

Still to this day she had no idea how long they'd kissed. She had no idea how late they’d stayed up holding each other and revelling in the close contact that they’d both so clearly desired. It was like they’d been starved, and they were trying to make up for lost time while they had it. It was a few days after that night that they’d confirmed they were exclusively dating and then they’d spent an afternoon debating how to tell Ron and Ginny.

But that question had been quickly answered for them when Ginny caught them kissing in the kitchen in their final week at the Burrow before returning to Hogwarts. The youngest redhead had let out a loud and exasperated: ‘Finally! For fuck’s sake I thought I’d have to spell it out for you two. It’s about time you two dingbats finally got together!’

And thus Hermione found out that apparently, Ginny and several other people in their group of friends had known about her feelings for Harry well before she even realized them herself. But Ginny had been committed to not pushing them into anything and she had wanted Hermione to figure things out on her own. She’d already throttled Ron for trying to meddle in Fourth year and told him to back off and let it happen naturally.

And thus, was the beginning of their official relationship, though to Hermione it felt like they’d been together much longer. In a strange way, they both agreed that it had always felt like they were together even when they technically weren’t before.

Things had started relatively slow, both her and Harry had taken their time to adjust to the shift in their dynamic while trying to balance time between themselves and their friends. They often didn’t get much time alone, so for the most part their physical relationship had been a bit stunted and had largely been limited to snogging.

Or at least it had been stunted, Hermione thought as she flushed and shifted on the bench she was currently sitting on in the library. She could feel her blush creep up her neck as she recalled the more recent events of their relationship – three weeks ago Harry had touched her over her clothes, two weeks ago she’d straddled his hips and sank low on his lap on the common room couch when no one was around because neither of them could sleep and their kiss had grown heated. She’d rocked against him gently while his hands wandered her body and she clung to him tightly. Then, her blush deepened, there were the events of the Slug-Club Christmas party – where things had become, for lack of a better word, intense.

And she could see it clear as day – like watching a muggle movie where she could rewind, play and even skip through the boring bits up until the end where it seemed like her brain forced her to watch the events unfold in slow motion and she felt the heat in her body increase further as it started to play in her mind despite her best intentions to stay focused on her essay...

 

 

Hermione ducked behind a large curtain, groaning in frustration as she leaned against the cool stone of the castle by the open window and closed her eyes – wishing she was anywhere but at this party. All in all, the party wasn’t that bad – the food had been okay, and the punch was delicious and the butterbeer was excellent as always – but it was the constant small talk and chitter-chatter that was unbearable. And her desire to escape had stemmed from one of Slughorn’s guests who had not only been badgering her for information on Harry, but they’d also been staring at her like she was a piece of meat.

It made her skin crawl and it had taken every bit of her self-control not to hex him six ways from Sunday for his inappropriate comments. The creepy man had purposely waited until Harry had left her side to go chat with Slughorn too – which had been part of Harry’s plan to try and grow closer to the Professor as per Dumbledore’s instruction – and she’d been left waiting by the food table when the strange man decided to approach her. To say that his company had been undesirable would be a massive understatement and she’d stepped away as quickly as she could when Neville accidentally created a distraction by tripping over his dress shoes.

‘What a creep,’ Hermione breathed as she opened her eyes once more and looked up at the charmed falling snow.  Slughorn had obviously allowed the house elves to decorate and they’d gone to town, covering the room in mistletoe, holly, long glowing curtains and the charmed snow that fluttered around near the windows. She sighed as a cold breeze bristled past her feet and she turned to look out the frosted glass to the blackened night as her voice dropped to a murmur. ‘At least it’s beautiful.’

‘You are beautiful,’ a familiar voice sounded to her right and her head jerked quickly to take in the sight of Harry dropping the curtain behind him. He was smiling at her as he closed the distance between them. ‘Incredibly beautiful, just like always.’

Hermione snorted, but she couldn’t help the blush that flushed her face. ‘You’re ridiculous, Harry.’

‘I’m only speaking the truth,’ Harry grinned, stopping just a foot before her and resting his hands gently on her waist. ‘We both agreed to always be honest with each other.’

‘Well you’re very handsome,’ Hermione smiled as she looked up at him, straightening the front of his black crisp dress robes before she threaded her fingers into the fabric. Something about seeing him all dressed up and looking incredibly dapper was playing with her mind – she felt nervous in front of him but in a good way.

‘I’m sorry I had to leave you at the table there – I saw that guy come over, I hope he didn’t give you a hard time,’ Harry said apologetically as his thumb stroked her side.

‘Ugh him – he was just regular creepy, but I managed to get away don’t worry,’ Hermione said softly, knowing that her voice was buried in the noise of the party that was still going on behind the curtain to their right. For the first time since that night on the couch, they were alone and could talk privately. ‘How did it go though – with Slughorn, get anything useful?’

‘Not really,’ Harry frowned and let out a sigh. ‘We were interrupted by someone else, but I think the conversation went well at least. Like an investment for future conversation that is hopefully more useful – and he seemed happy.’

Slughorn’s drunken chortle filled the room and Harry’s brow twitched in amusement as Hermione shook her head with a laugh.

‘Then again,’ Harry sighed in mock defeat. ‘He is also quite drunk – so I think he is just having a fantastic time regardless. I’m sorry I dragged you here, I know you wanted to study tonight.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous Harry, I would have come anyway even though I didn’t want to. Slughorn is all about this stuff and at the very least he does have good contacts. So as much as I hate schmoozing, being here and participating in Slughorn’s stuff could help us out in the future.’

‘Mmhmm,’ Harry hummed as he stepped closer and Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine at the way he was looking at her. ‘Plus, I get to see you in this dress.’

Hermione blushed again. She’d grown incredibly comfortable with Harry since they started dating in the summer, but she still couldn’t help but feel flustered when he complimented her. And the heated look in his eye was making her pulse quicken. ‘Oh, the dress – you like it?’

‘Yes,’ Harry grinned before he leaned down and kissed her gently. ‘It’s gorgeous – but not nearly as gorgeous as you.’

‘Hmmm, you know I’ll kiss you even if you don’t say those things,’ Hermione teased as she tightened her hold on his robes.

‘I know,’ Harry whispered before he kissed her again. ‘But I want to say them.’

Hermione’s breath hitched as his lips shifted over hers. He tasted like bliss, his touch was warm against the cool breeze and her body instinctively leaned into his. Her memory slowed, time warped to an agonizing pace as her breath caught in her chest and she opened her mouth to him, groaning softly as she deepened the kiss and pulled him closer. He easily and happily complied, stepping into her body and pushing her gently against the cold stone wall of the castle as the noises from the party became like a distant memory.

She was breathless as she kissed him, desperate and wanting. Maybe it was the party, maybe it was the butterbeer or maybe it was the fact that things had started to grow physically between them and they’d not had a moment alone since their night in the common room. But either way, she was craving his touch and she could feel the desperation in his body as he kissed her deeper. His hands shifted up her sides, his thumbs tracing gentle circles across her ribs over the fabric of her dress as he pressed himself against her and groaned into her mouth. He shifted, his hip pressed against her abdomen and his thigh slipped between her legs. She felt the pressure against her center, and her body ignited.

It was like gasoline being poured on a fire.

Like water after spending days in the desert.

His lips slid against hers as his hand threaded into her hair. Her fingers twisted harder into his robes as a spark shot down her spine and she shuddered. The only other time she’d felt this sensation was when she’d straddled Harry and he’d slowly guided her to rock against him. She hadn’t been thinking at the time – just allowing her body to react in the middle of the night but the memory was one she would never forget and one that she replayed often. He’d been hard beneath her that night and each slow roll of her hips had sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

And ever since that night she’d been wanting more. She’d known confidently for a year that she loved him, and she knew deep down it had been even longer than that. Their connection was deep, unshakable and entirely unlike a typical Hogwarts student romance. She knew to the very core of her being that she’d always wanted him. She’d always cared for him. He was her partner and she was his.

This was always where her heart had belonged and she wanted him – she wanted more. Ever since that first night he’d slid his hand over her body she’d been itching to grow closer and in the past few weeks, they’d been touching more and pushing the boundaries of what could be called innocent. She wanted to take their physical relationship even further and she wanted to feel him touch her everywhere and now, safely hidden from view behind a thick curtain, her body was reacting and she was loving every second of it.

Hermione gasped as his lips left hers to trail along her jaw and she fought to keep herself quiet as his thumb grazed her nipple over the thin fabric of her dress while his opposite hand curled deeper into her hair. Her hips rolled against him gently as she trailed her hand down his chest to his waist, grabbing the sleek leather belt he was wearing and tugging it closer. He kissed along her jaw to her neck and she bit back a groan as his lips moved along her soft skin as she wriggled against him.

‘Harry,’ Hermione nearly whimpered in a pant as his fingers continued to caress her body over the fabric of her dress and her mind clouded with desire. ‘I want you.’

She heard him groan softly in the crook of her neck before he pressed into her further and raised his head to meet her gaze with a heated look. He had just opened his mouth to speak when a loud crash sounded and broke them from their daze.

Malfoy had been caught crashing the party and commotion had started on the other side of the curtain.

 

 

“Hey Hermione – it’s getting late I’m going to head back to the common room,” Ron’s voice broke her from her thoughts, and she startled in her seat. Ron was standing from across the table, he’d already packed up his books along with Ginny and Neville and they were looking ready to leave. Harry was still seated next to her and his books remained open before him.

“Alright – yeah, I’m just going to stay for another hour. I want to finish going through this essay,” Hermione smiled up at her friends. She desperately hoped that she didn’t sound too flustered. She’d just replayed the scene from the Slug-Club Christmas party, her heart was fluttering like crazy, her body felt heated and she knew she was sporting a faint blush. Though thankfully, her voice had somehow managed to come out controlled and even.

Stupid, she berated herself mentally when Ginny gave her a knowing smile, but Ron and Neville seemed oblivious to her flustered state. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to get so caught up in her memories and relive the moment.

“Sounds good,” Ron grinned as he tucked his chair back in. “You staying, Harry?”

“Yeah – I need to finish my essay too,” Harry said calmly, but Hermione could feel his eyes on her, and it only made her blush deepen.

“Alright – well make sure Hermione doesn’t stay too late,” Ginny teased as she slung her bookbag over her shoulder. “Last time Madam Pince found her sleeping on the table remember?”

Harry chuckled but Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Yes, I remember,” Hermione grumbled as she pushed her hair behind her ears and tried to calm down. Her heart was still beating much to quickly and her mind was filled with the sensation of Harry’s hands on her body. “Don’t worry I’ll only be another hour tops. I’m almost done, but I need this book as a reference and she won’t let me take it out.”

“Only because you have too many others checked out,” Ron laughed.

“No Ron,” Hermione sighed. “Because it’s a limited–“

“Edition tomb,” Ron finished with a grin. “Yes, I remember Hermione, I was only teasing. Alright let’s go I’m beat – I’ll see you for practice tomorrow Harry.”

“Sounds good,” Harry waved goodnight to them.

“Goodnight!” Neville called as he turned and led the way down the aisle.

“Goodnight,” Hermione said softly as she turned her eyes back to her essay and let out a sigh. The sound of movement filled her ears as the chairs around the table shifted and were pushed back into place as they left the library. She could hear their footsteps echoing along the aisle as they made their way to the exit until silence finally filled her ears and she let out a low sigh, dropping her head into her hands and closing her eyes.

“Something on your mind?” Harry’s low voice echoed to her right and she felt her blush deepen.

“No,” Hermione lied, forcing her eyes open and turning to give him a flustered look. “Why?”

“Oh no reason,” Harry grinned at her and shifted on the bench, twisting around to face her directly. “I just couldn’t help but notice you were doing that thing you do when you’re thinking about something inappropriate.”

“Something inappropriate?” Hermione nearly sputtered as her blush only darkened.

“Mhmm,” Harry leaned forward and gently touched the base of her neck. She felt a familiar buzz of excitement wash over her body. “You blush starting from here. And you bite your lip and stare intently at the page before you even though you’re not looking at it at all. You’ve been doing it all week.”

“Well I’ve been flustered all week,” Hermione muttered dropping her quill and shivering as Harry’s hand trailed down her spine to come to rest on her hip. The lights in the library had started to dim in time with their evening schedule, but she refrained from lighting her wand like she usually would if she was working because she found the darkness always made it easier to talk openly. It reminded her of the nights that she and Harry had spent talking at the Burrow at the start of their relationship and it was a comforting feeling.

“It’s about the party isn’t it,” Harry said quietly as his gaze turned to one of mild concern. “Well, and the night in the common room too. I wanted to talk to you about that actually – things have been crazy lately and we’ve not had even a moment alone but I want to make sure that I – well things have gotten a bit heated between us and I just want to make sure that you were okay with everything – that I didn’t push anything too far or–”

“Oh no!” Hermione said quickly, her heart spiking and she started to fidget with her fingers as she shifted on the bench to face Harry. She had figured that this was going to come up eventually. Harry had always been very careful about making sure he never pushed her into anything that she wasn’t ready for. So, she’d suspected that he would naturally want to talk about the fact that over the last three weeks they’d become much more intimate – and that one week ago she’d been plastered against his body moaning in pleasure and telling him that she wanted him. “Not at all Harry I – uh – I’m very okay with what’s happened. I um – well I meant what I said at the party, and I was just thinking about it.”

“Really,” Harry said slowly, his eyes flicking over her face.

“Really,” Hermione shifted and dropped her hand to his knee, running her thumb over the fabric of his pants. “I’ve actually been thinking about it a lot.”

“And what have you been thinking,” Harry’s voice dropped lower, and she felt her stomach knot in nervous anticipation.

“That I want to go further.”

“You know we don’t have to – I mean, trust me I want to, but I’m never going to push you to –“

“I know,” Hermione cut him off with a shy smile. Harry was so adorable, he was always so willing to put his own wants and desires aside for everyone else – but she wasn’t everyone else, and she wanted this. She wanted him the same way that she knew he wanted her. He didn’t need to worry that he was pressuring her. “That’s why I’m telling you now that I want to.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded, and she noticed the way that his voice had shifted into the deeper tone she’d heard at the party. She watched as a small mischievous smile began to form at the corner of his lips and she shivered in anticipation. “So – what was it you were thinking of that got you so flustered then?”

Hermione swallowed, her pulse quickening at the small circles that Harry was pressing into her hip. He always seemed to have this effect on her body.

“I was thinking about that kiss – how you felt,” Hermione whispered, realizing now that somehow the space between them had started to naturally close. “And the way you were touching me.”

Harry’s grip on her hip tightened and he leaned in and kissed her softly, whispering against her lips. “Do you like it when I touch you, Hermione?”

“Yes,” her breath shuddered as his hand slowly slid up her leg and she leaned forward to grab the fabric of his robes. She could feel his fingers trailing up her bare skin to the hem of her skirt and her pulse was hammering in her chest. In the back of her mind, she knew this was risky – they were in the library after all – but then again…

No one would be coming here at this hour.

And Madam Pince never came to the back rows until after midnight to kick her out. For the first time in weeks, she and Harry were truly alone and would be for the next few hours. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen, all she knew was that she wanted to see what would happen – that she wanted Harry and the way his fingers were tracing over the bare skin of her thigh was doing something strange to her body and sending shivers of excitement down her spine.

She unconsciously licked her lips and fought to keep her heart steady. She didn’t miss the way that his eyes trailed to her lips and watched the movement before he leaned in and kissed her once more – and this time it was slow and heated. Languished like he was determined to drive her absolutely mad as he lazily explored her mouth and made heat flood her body. She could already feel the air growing tight around them just like how it had at the party and in the common room and any other time they were alone. The library was starting to fade away as she kissed him back and leaned into his touch, shifting on the bench so that she was facing Harry directly and threading her hands into his robes as a soft sigh left her mouth.

He tasted like heaven.

His touch, like hers, was always a bit hesitant and inexperienced but it still sent her body into overdrive and made her shiver in excitement. His fingers brushed under the fabric of her skirt, but they went no further as his grip on her waist tightened and he shifted along the bench and closer to her body. She threaded her hand into his messy hair, tilting her head to the side to kiss him deeper as the silence of the library remained steady around them. She’d already cast a silencing charm on the area when they first arrived – but even still she fought to stay quiet as their kiss grew heated and she lost herself in it.

Soon she was panting and gasping for air, she was pressed against Harry and her left leg was draped over his as she straddled the bench and he twisted awkwardly towards her. His hand had threaded up her spine to tangle in her hair and the one edging around the base of her skirt was now resting on her upper thigh, his thumb rubbing against the inside of her leg only inches away from her center.

Her heart was racing, her blood was pounding and something had started to curl and tighten in the center of her core – she felt desperate. But just when she thought she couldn’t take the building anticipation any longer Harry finally shifted his hand and his thumb pressed against her center, his digit gently ghosting along her slit and making her body shudder with a low groan.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, her voice rough as her head dropped to his shoulder and she held him tightly.

“Do you want me to stop,” his hand had frozen the second she’d reacted to his touch and he was waiting for her direction. Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine, as she thought about the small risk they had for getting caught – but she knew it was extremely low and she didn’t want to stop. If she was being honest, the fact that they were in a library while this was happening only seemed to turn her on more.

“No,” she whispered and she shuddered again as his thumb gently grazed over her knickers once more. “Please don’t stop.”

“Okay,” Harry’s lips were on her neck, shifting up her skin toward the base of her ear and his deep voice reverberated through her body and made her tremble. “But tell me when to stop.”

She nodded against him, murmuring a yes but knowing already that she wasn’t going to. She wouldn’t say stop because she already knew this was what she wanted. She kissed him deeply as his finger continued to stroke along her slit. Each slow circular motion was agonizing, building the tension in her body and leaving her breathless and desperate as she naturally began to rock her hips against his hand. She didn’t even realize how much she was moving until Harry’s low whisper made her flush a deep shade of crimson.

“You’re wet Hermione,” his words were like sin and it made her tremble. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” Hermione breathed, nodding her head and groaning as he continued to stroke her. Her body was on fire and her mind was racing with excitement and anxiety and a million emotions and sensations she couldn’t categorize. She wanted him to touch her, she wanted him to be the first person to touch her and the only person to touch her and she stammered her words as she shook under his touch “I want this – I want you. Only you. P-Please touch me Harry.”

He shifted his hand, pushing her wet knickers aside and she heard him groan as he slid a single finger inside her and she let out a gasp. It had slid in so easily and she revelled in how good it felt as he slowly slid it out and then circled her bud once more. She fought to steady her breath, her hips rocking against his hand as he repeated the process until she heard his voice once more.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered against her neck before shifting so he could look at her, his bright green eyes still visible even in the dim light. His finger was still trailing slowly across her slit and somehow watching him as he watched her as he touched her only made her body even hotter. “Can I try something?”

“Okay,” she breathed nervously, her eyes nearly fluttering closed as he circled her bud and gently pressed against it. It felt so incredible, so much better than the few times that she’d tried to touch herself to relieve pent up stress. “What did you want to try?”

“You would need to sit on the desk,” Harry murmured, his eyes never leaving her face as he continued to work his fingers. She’d not known what to expect but she felt her heart flutter with nervous excitement.

“O-Okay,” she stammered, her fingers knotting into the fabric around his shoulder more tightly. “I – I’m not sure if I’m ready to go all the way yet – “

“I didn’t mean sex,” Harry kissed her gently, his hand stopping the tantalizing motions between her legs. “But if you don’t want to try this we –“

“No, I want to try it,” Hermione whispered, looking up at Harry sincerely, her thumb brushing along his neck. “I trust you Harry – I want this, I want to try it.”

Nervously she untangled herself from Harry and shifted her school books and essay to the side. Then she carefully sat on the edge of the table, gripping the edge with her fingers tightly and flushing even deeper as she looked back to him and saw the heated look he was giving her.

“What?” she laughed nervously, squeezing her thighs together to try and relieve some of the pressure that Harry had built when he’d touched her only second ago. It was dark enough that if anyone glanced down the aisle they might miss them, but she could still make out the distinct features of his face and see his eyes trail over her body.

“You’re so beautiful, did you know that?” Harry said quietly as he stood and pushed back the bench to stand before her. She shivered as his hands ran down her arms then came to rest on her shoulders.

“I look a right mess Harry,” Hermione countered. “I’ve got ink on my fingers, a quill holding my hair in a knot, and my clothes are all rumbled from our – our activities – you don’t have to –“

“You’re perfect,” Harry cut her off as he leaned down and kissed her gently. She practically melted into him. “I’ll never understand how I got so lucky.”

Hermione's heart swelled at Harry’s words as he kissed her deeply. His tongue sliding over her lips and slipping into her mouth to tangle with hers once more. It started slow and gentle like it always seemed to but soon it was heated and heavy. He stood between her legs, his hands wandering her body while hers slipped under the fabric of his shirt to skim across his back. She tugged him closer and he stepped into her, his hips aligning with her own until she felt his hard length against her core. It sparked the same exciting sensations that had run through her body the last time she felt it and soon she was panting.

“Harry,” she groaned out as his lips moved down her neck and she clung to his tall frame. “Please touch me.”

“Lay back,” he whispered, his hands guiding her back against the surface of the table. She let him lay her down, her heart thudding loudly as she waited in nervous anticipation. “Just relax – and tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Okay,” she breathed, kissing him one last time before he pulled away and began kissing his way down her body.

She gripped the edge of the table tightly, fidgeting beneath him as he slowly trailed his way down to her lower half and stopping to drop to his knees. Her chest constricted as she realized what it was he was about to do and nervousness flooded her body. Sure he’d touched her there, but no one had ever seen that part of her before. Her body shivered as he traced a finger down her bare leg and she felt the fabric inching up her skin. She thought about stopping him – she knew that he would if she asked. She thought about saying she wasn’t ready, but she knew her nerves were just a reaction. It was just fear of something new and fear of him being the first to see and touch her there. She had no idea what to expect and her body was nervous – but the truth was she wanted it.

She was curious.

She wanted to know what it would feel like. She wanted Harry to touch her and she wanted this unbelievable pressure and tension in her core to release because it was driving her crazy!

She watched the fabric of her skirt bunch around her waist. Her heart nearly stopping as his fingers skimmed her center once more and he hesitated as if waited for her to say stop – but she didn’t. Her breath caught in her chest as he gently pushed her knickers aside once more and she felt him glide his finger through her wet.

Her whole body shuddered and a soft moan left her lips.

It felt so good.

So good that it outweighed any of the nervous doubt that she had. She had to remind herself to breathe as his breath ghosted along her inner thigh, his lips skimming across her skin until she knew he was only inches from her center. She squirmed on the table, breath coming in pants, but she refused to let her anxiety get the best of her and she refused to tell him to stop. Her heart was thumping, her head was raised from the table and her eyes were locked to the space between her legs where she could still see his messy black hair and in the back of her mind, she remembered where they were.

We’re in the library, she thought hesitantly and it was the only thing that made her question what was about to happen. Then something hot and wet traced along her slit and her head fell back against the table with a thump.

“Holy shit,” she breathed her eyes fluttering shut as the sensation happened again and her hips instinctively rolled. Any thought or doubt she had on their location was lost and entirely evacuated from her mind as Harry proceeded to trail his tongue through her folds and circle her bud in a slow and tantalizing motion.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt. Entirely different from his fingers and on a completely different level of pleasure than her own poor attempts at masturbating. It was soft, yet firm, direct and smooth and it was bloody perfect. It was the most exquisite feeling she’d ever felt, and her mind went blank as her nails dug into the wood of the table. She had to remind herself to breathe as his tongue swirled her bud and she moaned out in pleasure. She’d been trying to keep quiet this entire time, but she just couldn’t help it – she couldn’t keep it in.

Her hips reflexively rolled and she felt his hand grip her hip to steady her as he continued to torment her bud and trace his tongue up and down her slit. She’d wanted to see where things would go tonight – but she’d not been expecting this. She never could have expected or anticipated this and how amazing it would feel. She never would have thought that she’d be sprawled out on a table with Harry’s head between her legs groaning in pleasure. She never would have thought that this is something that she would have tired and if not for the building tension Harry had created and the dark that surrounded them she suspected she would have let her nerves get the best of her and she would have asked him to stop.

But she was so glad she didn’t - because this moment was perfect.

A shiver ran up her spine as she felt his opposite hand trace along her thigh and her back arched as he shifted and she felt him slip a finger inside her.

“Harry,” she panted, her body writhing under his touch. “Unghh oh my god.”

It was starting to build. She felt like a wave was building inside her, a pressure in her center winding tighter and tighter and becoming unbearable as he continued to lick her bud and slide his finger in and out. She wasn’t sure how long she could take it, she didn’t know how long she would last. She could feel the orgasm building and it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. The lust and want were compounding with the heat and desire she felt towards Harry – and the nervous anticipation she had about being in the library was only making it more intense. Her hand unconsciously slid into his hair, her finger threading into the thick mess as she continued to rock against him, unable to get enough.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get any better and she couldn’t take it any longer, his finger twisted, curling up toward the center of her abdomen and grazing across something that made her whole body convulse as a deep throaty groan left her lips.

“Shit – oh my –“ Hermione’s words were nonsense, her body was writhing in pleasure and anticipation as he stroked the same spot again and she felt the coil tighten impossibly tight. She knew what it was – she’d researched it after all like everything else. But she’d never found it before on her own so she’d had no idea how good it would feel – she had no idea her g-spot was so sensitive.

It was becoming too much.

She was panting and moaning and gripping his hair tight like death. His tongue relentlessly circled her bud, his finger continued to slide in and out of her slick channel while stroking that glorious bundle of nerves deep inside of her. It was positively euphoric and she could feel her control start to slip.

“Harry,” she panted, her breath becoming ragged. She had no idea how he was able to breathe down there but it was the last thing on her mind as she squirmed under his hold and felt the wave inside her body compound beyond comprehension. “Harry I – I think I –“

But she didn’t get the words out. She couldn’t even breathe to finish her sentence as Harry’s tongue pressed firm against her bud, and his finger stroked her g-spot – and everything crumbled. Her body jerked, her mouth opened wide into a silent scream as her legs tensed around his head and her grip on his hair tightened. Her eyes pinched shut as a wave of pleasure rolled through her body like a tsunami. White flashed behind her eyes as she groaned out deep and throaty, her orgasm ripping through her and leaving her breathless as she panted and tried to keep her mind grounded in reality. But it was impossible. It felt like time stopped, or maybe it slowed down or sped up – she wasn’t’ sure. All she knew was that her body felt warm, ravaged and worn. Her legs were trembling, her face was heated and flushed and her mind was nothing but mush. Then a wave of deep relaxation slowly began to creep through her veins.

“Holy shit,” she said roughly, her bleary eyes opening to look up at Harry who was leaning down before her now. Apparently her hand had slipped out of his hair and he’d stood but she didn’t remember that happened – and she didn’t even care that her skirt was still bunch around her waist and her knickers were exposed.

“You okay?” Harry grinned, looking at her with a mix of amusement and want. He held out his hand to her and helped her sit up on the desk.

“I think so,” she murmured breathlessly, dropping her head to his chest and leaning into him as he circled his arms around her small frame. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“I took a leaf out of your book and read about it,” Harry’s voice rumbled in his chest and she smiled into his sweater. “I thought you might like it.”

“That’s probably an understatement,” Hermione whispered, pulling her head back so she could crane her neck and kiss him.

“So – you’ll let me do it again?” Harry asked, his eyes showing that hint of mischief that she’d seen earlier.

“Yes,” Hermione grinned at him. “But I think you need to let me repay the favour first.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply but stopped when the click of heels against the library floor began to echo down the aisle. Without saying a word Hermione hopped off the desk and Harry quickly began to fix her skirt as she straightened his hair. Both of them silent but wide-eyed as they tried to make themselves look presentable. Hermione had just finished re-knotting her hair into a bun and Harry had just started piling his notes when Madame Pince turned down their aisle and her wand light flashed across the table.

“Oh – Miss Granger, Mr. Potter,” Madame Pince said kindly, her eyes flicking between the two of them and back to the table. “I didn’t see I light, I thought perhaps you might have already left.”

“We were just packing up,” Hermione smiled, fighting to keep her voice steady as she started to collect her own papers. “We didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

“That’s what you say every time dear,” Madam Pince smiled and Hermione felt some of her panic subside. Apparently they didn’t look too conspicuous. “If not for me coming by I swear you would spend more night sleeping in here than you do in your own room. Good thing you at least had Potter here to make sure you didn’t pass out this time.”

“That’s exactly why I stayed,” Harry grinned, laughing when Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes – we all know the story. Very funny, Hermione fell asleep in the library – ha ha,” Hermione groaned as she finished packing up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Thank you for coming to check on me all the time Madame Pince – it’s very kind of you.”

“No problem dear,” the older witch nodded and stepped out of the way and gestured for them to leave. “Now come on – off to bed, or you’ll get caught in the halls for sure.”

Hermione and Harry both thanked the witch as they left and began their cold long trip back up to the Gryffindor common room.

“Do you think she knew?” Harry asked Hermione as he took her hand and they moved silently through the hallway.

“I doubt it,” Hermione grinned at him. “She has a very strict policy on food and liquids in the library – no matter the sources. If she knew she’d have said something – I once saw her go off on Lavender for aggressively snogging in the library and she banned her for a month.”

“Good,” Harry squeezed her hand and her stomach fluttered. “Because I’d never want you to lose your second bedroom.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and groaned as Harry laughed, smacking him lightly on the arm but still gripping his hand tight. She couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at her lips as she thought about what had just happened, in an odd way, it almost made sense it had happened in the library because Harry wasn’t wrong. It was her second bedroom. It was basically her second home and it was the place that she felt most secure outside of her four-poster bed. She leaned into his side as they walked, fighting to keep her shaky legs steady as she appreciated the brief moment they'd had alone together and began planning how and when she might get to return the favour.