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She hears her roommates giggling behind her back like they always do, but they're not talking about her this time. They're talking about him, and they're talking specifically about what they think he'd be like in bed. They, unlike everyone else, believe Hermione when she says she and Harry are just friends, because the... |
"I bet he fucks," says one of them, "you know what I mean?" |
"He's definitely got an air about him," the other agrees. "An energy or something." |
Hermione shivers a bit and thinks they're both idiots, but they're also both right. Harry does have some sort of quality about him. Maybe it's his confidence? Or his recklessness. He doesn't follow rules and sure, he may not be James Dean or anything remotely along those lines, but he mouths off to the teachers he does... |
Except for one thing. |
"Thanks for meeting me," she tells him, and he does the thing where he ruffles his hair from back to front. It's not intentional. It doesn't even look good, technically, because his hair is a mess and watching him do it again reminds her that he's really, really irresponsible (his shirt is barely pressed). |
Except then she watches his forearm muscles tense while he does it and oh, god. |
"Everything okay?" he says. He looks worried about her, which nobody else ever does. People don't worry about Hermione Granger. She's not very delicate except for, you know, when she's crying in front of their entire common room or crying in the bathroom after stupid Ronald says a mean thing or... okay, so she cries ki... |
Something close to loved, even if it isn't technically that. |
"I think we should have sex," she whispers to him. |
He stares at her. "What?" |
"Nobody would have to know," she says, and she knows he's remembering that time a few months ago, the same time she's thinking about, when she cried on his shirt and he came in his pants. "It could just be... two friends. Helping each other." |
"Do you need help?" he asks slowly. |
God, he's going to make her spell it out. This is why they could never date. She's been doing his homework for him for years now. She's going to have to do this herself, just like everything, so she pulls him out of sight and takes his hand, shoving it under her skirt. |
"See?" she says. |
To his credit he doesn't panic or anything. He strokes the little damp spot on her cotton knickers and looks up at her, and she thinks again how he's really starting to grow up. She can see his face changing, his cheeks hollowing out a little, the lines getting sharper. She knows why the other girls talk about him. She... |
"What if you hate me tomorrow?" he says. |
She rolls her eyes. "I won't hate you tomorrow." |
"Are you sure?" |
"Harry, I'm smarter than you, and I'm the one asking. I'm sure." |
She shoves his hand more firmly between her thighs and he visibly gulps. |
"Do we kiss?" he asks her. |
"If you want." Her mouth is a little dry. |
He exhales swiftly. |
"Maybe we shouldn't, if this is just between friends," he says. "Don't want to get our lines crossed." |
"Okay, fine." She squirms a little when his thumb moves. "So are we doing this, then?" |
"You swear you're not doing this to get back at Ron?" |
"Is that a joke?" |
"I'm just saying—" |
"He doesn't have to know," she reminds him, and then kisses him hard to shut him up. It's not a very good kiss, really, because their rhythm isn't exactly squared away, but in for a penny, in for a pound. She drops her hand and strokes his cock. He's quite hard already, which gives her precisely the validation she was ... |
She hurriedly slides her knickers out from under her skirt and he looks over his shoulder before undoing his trousers. Not knowing what else to do with it, she wads her underwear into a ball in her fist. He parts her thighs and maneuvers himself between them. |
Initially she suspected her roommates were totally off base with their assumptions—of course Harry doesn't fuck, he's Harry—but then she's proven wrong almost immediately. Maybe that's what he's been doing the last few months? She's heard rumors about him and Ginny and figured they were probably true. She's always thou... |
Though, clearly not before learning a few things. |
He rubs at her clit while he pushes into her and she comes quite easily. Then he kisses her sort of... perfunctorily, like he feels like he should be kissing her but isn't sure it's a good idea, so she pulls away to run her thumb across his bottom lip instead. His tongue slides out mid-pant and she shudders, breathless... |
"Was it good?" she asks eventually, catching her breath. |
He stares at her for a second. |
"Yeah, I liked it," he says. |
"Good," she says, and exhales slowly. "Okay, good." |
They have a hard time facing each other for a week or so after they have sex. Probably because it feels different now when they're both in the same room. Ultimately they agree they shouldn't do it again, because he's not sure they'd make a very good couple. She makes a face and says no, she can't imagine they would be,... |
He and Ginny get together again, sort of. He finds that either women don't want commitment from him or they assume he doesn't want commitment from them, and he's not quite sure whether they're right about that. He definitely doesn't have a problem with casual sex, though, and even develops a taste for it. Or if not a t... |
After a month or so of mostly Ginny, he suggests they date. "I'm told I'm not proficient with emotional labor," he says, "but I could practice." |
"Sure," says Ginny, and she holds his hand and it feels nice, really. It doesn't exactly make his heart pound but that can't be good for his health anyway. He's tired of sweet talk and smiling like he's paying attention. He's tired of flirting and trying to say the right thing at the right moment. He wants, for once, t... |
Only Ginny doesn't let him say nothing. She wants him to talk to her all the time, about everything. She wants to know whether he's coming home with her for Christmas. She wants him to ask more questions about her day, doesn't he care what she's been up to? She wants to know why he's not more jealous of some coach or s... |
"Why?" he asks. |
"Well, you seem to talk to her more than you talk to me," Ginny says. |
"That's not true. She and I hardly see each other anymore and when we do, we don't say much." |
"So is that a no?" |
"Is what a no?" |
"Have you ever had feelings for her?" |
"No. We're friends." |
"I don't have any friends like that." |
"Well, that's too bad," he says, and she storms off, furious. |
He doesn't know what to do to fix it and he doesn't want to talk, so he goes to see Hermione. |
"People just don't understand us," she says, and she makes him a cup of tea. It's nurturing of her. She's really very nurturing. Not enough people give her credit for that. She thinks she's terrible at this sort of thing but she isn't. She understands what he needs. |
She understands him. |
When she stands up to get more biscuits he catches her hand and stops her. He leans his forehead against her stomach and frames her hips with the palms of his hands. She stands there, frozen, for a minute or so, and then she sets her hand gently on his head, scraping methodically at his scalp with the tips of her finge... |
He lifts her skirt and brushes his lips against the inner curve of her thigh while she says nothing. Actually, neither of them say anything. He pushes her back until she's half-sitting on the table and he ducks under her skirt and sucks at her until she convulses. That's sort of all he wants from her, just to make her ... |
Afterwards, she pours him another cup of tea. "You should break up with her," she says. |
"For you?" he asks. |
"No, we'd be a disaster. But you're not happy with her," she says. |
No, he isn't. He understands that now, that he's not happy with Ginny and this isn't happiness either, but it's... something. It's comfortable and maybe that's the problem. |
"I should probably do it in person," he says, rising to his feet. |
"Good idea," she says, kissing his cheek. "Let me know how it goes." |
He thinks she's probably not happy either and maybe that first time was the start of something very troubling for both of them, but then she busies herself with the dishes and he thinks maybe not. Maybe this is just how they express their friendship. |
He's aware that doesn't make any sense but, eh, it is what it is. |
She starts dating someone older—much older—and for a while she's happy. She feels taken care of and it's reassuring. She's aware that he likes her because she listens to him, because she makes him feel important, but to her he is important and so it's really not a sacrifice, or not much of one, anyway. He's knotty and ... |
"You seem different," Harry says. |
It's summer and he's gotten golden. He keeps getting better looking, which isn't exactly a problem, but her boyfriend is suspicious of Harry because of how good-looking he's getting. She explains very dismissively that Harry used to be scrawny and messy-haired and anyway it's never been like that between them. In respo... |
She hasn't been able to get that out of her head since he said it. |
"Are you seeing anyone?" she asks Harry, forgetting that he said something first. She can't remember what it was. |
"Yeah," he says. She figured. |
"Is it serious?" |
"I don't know." |
"Why's it so hard for you to settle down with someone?" |
"I don't know." |
"What's missing with her?" |
"So then what's the problem?" |
If he's agitated by all her questioning, he doesn't show it. |
"I don't know," he says, and then, "What does your professor have that I don't?" |
She thinks about it. |
He has a slightly smaller prick than Harry. It's quite girthy but somewhat short. He's intelligent, more so than Harry, but he's also blind in a way that Harry is not. Harry reads people, which Hermione has never been able to do. Harry hates books and her boyfriend, the professor, loves them. The professor thinks Harry... |
"He takes care of me," she says, which he does. He cooks for her and takes her places and shows her the world, which Harry has never seen. Harry's never left England unless you count school, which she doesn't. |
Harry considers this for a second. |
"I could take care of you," he says. |
He rises to his feet and she makes a point to laugh loudly. "I wasn't saying—" |
"I know. But I was." |
"Harry," she says, exasperatedly. "We're not doing this again." |
He looks down at her and she thinks about how they used to be the same height until he shot up one summer and then just kept going. She thinks about how he came with his fingers inside of her once. She thinks about the way he makes her come, which is... patient. He's patient with her in a way she translates as affectio... |
"I should fetch more tea," she says, her heart racing. |
He scans her face for meaning. |
"Okay," he tells her. |
He follows her into the kitchen and wraps his arms around her from behind while she puts the kettle on. His lips brush her neck and she nods. His hands slip below her jumper and she nods. His finger drifts beneath the waistband of her jeans and she nods. No words pass between them while he undoes the top button and the... |
When they're done, they turn to look at each other. |
"Stay the night," she says. |
"Isn't he going to be here?" |
Oh, right. "Yes, sorry. He's joining us for dinner later." |
They stare for a few moments longer. |
"Or I could cancel," she says. |
"I could say I'm not up for socializing." |
"Or I can tell him you're not feeling well. He'll understand." |
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