A Boy and His Cloak
Late one night at Grimmauld Place, Harry accidentally stumbles upon Hermione in a very compromising situation. What's a boy under an invisibility cloak to do? H/Hr smut.
Note: The next chapter of ‘It Could Only Happen to Harry’ is coming along slower than expected, so here’s something to tide over all the H/Hr fanatics. It’s a PWP oneshot, set just before OotP. It’s not particularly lulzy, but it is, hopefully, hot.
WARNING: This fic contains adult situations and smut. It is not intended for younger audiences.
August 19th, 1995 – Grimmauld Place
Harry listened closely to Ron’s snores, satisfied that his redheaded friend was sound asleep. He needed secrecy and stealth for his current mission, and Ron, unfortunately, was rarely capable of either.
His mission: to take a peek at the small mountain of books in the Black Family Library that Mrs. Weasley had deemed “too dark” for anyone to read.
Harry had been going slowly stir crazy for the past few weeks. The rescue from his prison at Privet Dr. had resulted in yet another imprisonment at Grimmauld Place. He had left the house only to attend his farce of a trial, and Mrs. Weasley had kept him and the other kids busy with constant cleaning at all other times.
It was the matronly woman’s insistence that he was forbidden to look at certain books, however, that truly annoyed him. Since the resurrection of Voldemort, he had become acutely aware that he was a marked man. He needed to know how to defend himself, and he would no longer tolerate mollycoddling.
If there was something in those ‘dark’ books which might save his life someday soon, he didn’t see the harm in reading them. They were only books, after all.
So tonight he would execute his plan.
It was a simple one, really, but it required stealth. The plan was to don his invisibility cloak and sneak down to the library in the dead of night. The books set aside as improper were still in a huge pile in the corner of the room, and he thought he might be able to rescue the most useful of them.
Harry glanced outside the lone window of the bedroom he shared with Ron. It was pitch black. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he guessed that it was after 1 AM. Everyone in the house should be sound asleep.
Stepping carefully out of bed, he tiptoed to his trunk and opened it. Its hinges groaned softly, and he winced and looked in Ron’s direction. Ron snored on obviously, and he breathed a relieved sigh.
He removed his father’s cloak and wrapped it around himself, disappearing instantly. Taking a deep breath and willing himself to relax, he slowly crept out of the room and down the stairs.
Not a soul was stirring, and Harry descended slowly in the darkness so that he didn’t fall.
Thankfully he didn’t have to pass directly in front of Mrs. Black’s portrait when he reached the ground floor. Nevertheless, he held his breath as he finally reached the library door and gently pushed down on its serpentine handle.
It was locked.
Shite, Harry muttered in his head, wondering if the adults had suspected just such a clandestine foray. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the doors, whispering a quick unlocking spell.
Harry frowned in irritation and jabbed his wand at the door again. The handle seemed to budge ever so slightly, but it remained locked.
Third time’s the charm, he thought to himself, and jabbed his wand at the door with as much power as he could muster.
There was the faintest of clicks, and he smiled to himself underneath the cloak. Knowing that this door creaked, he cast a quick silencing spell on its hinges and then gently eased it open.
He stopped the door’s motion in surprise when he noticed that the room was already illuminated by weak candle light.
What the hell?
Deciding to at least investigate before he abandoned his plan, he maneuvered his invisible head around the cracked door and peered into the room. Only two candles were lit, casting dark shadows everywhere and imbuing the room with a faintly sinister aura.
There was enough light, however, that he could make out the back of a bushy head of hair.
Harry smirked and shook his head. He should have expected his bookish best friend to be in the library in the middle of the night. The allure of unread books was simply too strong for her to resist.
She was seated in an ancient red-velvet love seat, her back to him and her face staring down at a book. She had not noticed his entry.
Maybe I could convince her to help me go through the forbidden books, he mused, and then smiled wickedly. It wouldn’t hurt to give her a little fright first, though.
He stepped into the library and closed the door silently behind him. Careful not to make any noise, he crept around the love seat until he was facing Hermione, ready to whip off his cloak and give her the scare of her life. It didn’t occur to him that making her scream might wake the rest of the house.
He paused for a moment to observe her.
She was sitting Indian-style in the love seat, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid men’s boxer shorts and a thin blue t-shirt. Her robes were lying haphazardly across the back of the seat. In her lap was a large tome, opened to a moving picture that she stared at intently.
His curiosity roused, Harry stepped closer and looked down at the book. His mouth fell open in surprise, and he nearly gave his presence away.
The picture covered two facing pages, and depicted acts of such wantonness that he had not seen their equal even in the girly mags that Seamus sometimes shared with everyone.
It was an orgy; there was no other word for it. More than a dozen nude and writhing bodies filled every available space, moving in unison and striking an incredible variety of obscene poses. Harry stared at the picture in shock, unable to believe that Hermione of all people was reading such a book.
Then she reached up and cupped her right breast.
Harry’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
Ho-ly shit, he whispered to himself, hardly daring to believe what he was witnessing. His breath caught in his throat, and he unconsciously held it as he watched Hermione gently squeeze her breast and rub her thumb across it.
Her light blue t-shirt was worn and thin, and it became clear immediately that she wasn’t wearing a bra beneath it. He could see the outline of an aroused nipple as it poked into the thin fabric of the shirt.
Harry’s cock suddenly sprang to life, throbbing against his boxers and growing harder than it had ever been in his life.
He had always thought of Hermione as vaguely asexual. She had certainly been very attractive at the Yule Ball, but she wasn’t a girl in the same way that other girls were. She was…well, Hermione.
So he watched in disbelief as she treated him to the most erotic display he had ever personally witnessed.
He continued holding his breath as she gently kneaded her breast, her eyes still riveted to the action on the page. Her breath seemed shallow, and he had never seen such a look of deep concentration on her face.
A moment later she raised her head, and then swiveled around to look at the closed doors from which he had entered. Harry’s heart stopped; he was suddenly terrified that he had been discovered. He knew that he shouldn’t be watching Hermione like this, but neither did he want to reveal himself now. She would be irate that he had seen as much as he had.
She turned back around, apparently satisfied that she was still alone in the room. Harry watched in breathless anticipation as she pushed the book onto her knees, exposing more of the plaid boxer shorts.
He almost gasped aloud when he realized what she was about to do.
Bloody fucking hell! he shouted in his mind, knowing he should look away but finding himself unable to do so.
Hermione reached a hand into the front of her boxer shorts and fumbled for a moment. Then she began moving rhythmically within them, staring continuously at the moving pictures as she worked.
Harry watched, utterly enraptured, as she touched herself. He was careful not to make a single movement or sound, worried that he would give his presence away. His cock was so hard that it felt as if orgasm might be imminent, but he dare not move to adjust or relieve himself.
A moment later Hermione’s working hand stilled, and she removed it from her underwear and sniffed her fingers. Harry almost whimpered at the sight.
She took another look round at the closed doors, then sat up and slid the boxers down her legs, placing them neatly on the seat next to her when she was finished.
She moved the thick book onto the seat and turned her head so that she could continue staring at it. Then, to Harry’s astonishment and delight, she spread her legs wide, exposing her most intimate parts to him.
Oh, I’m going to hell for this, he thought miserably, but continued watching in wonder. There was no longer any doubt about it: his best friend was gloriously female.
Her mons was carpeted by a light brown triangle of hair that was sparse at the top, thick in the center, and grew progressively curlier as it descended to surround her vulva. It had been trimmed neatly on the sides.
She began rubbing her index finger up and down a little strip of flesh that protruded slightly from her curls. The movement spread her lips further apart, and he could see a flash of glistening pink below her finger.
Merlin, I can’t take this, he moaned to himself, his cock straining against his shorts and his abdomen tight with a feeling of desperate need that he had never experienced before.
Hermione’s breathing became deeper, her eyes still locked on the orgy within the book. She began slipping her finger lower, spreading her lips and rubbing along the edges of the pink entrance below. She buried the tip of her finger in her body, wriggling it and pressing it inside herself. When she pulled it out, Harry could see the wetness glistening on her finger.
Then everything went pear-shaped.
She made a soft moan, and he accidentally exhaled at the erotic little sound. He was standing not three feet from her, and she heard it.
Hermione stiffened and her eyes suddenly shot upward, boring straight through the space he occupied.
Oh, shit! he thought in panic, and unconsciously took a step backward. The slight rustling sound made by his cloak was even more audible than his exhalation.
Hermione wheeled to her right and grabbed her wand from the seat, then pointed it shakily at the space in front of her, a look of stark terror on her face.
“W-who’s there?” she whispered fearfully, the wand shaking in her hand as she pointed it almost directly at him.
He held his breath and desperately hoped that she didn’t cast a spell at him. Maybe if he remained stock still, she would think she was just being paranoid.
Hermione’s eyes roved wildly around the room, her breathing heavy and panicked. Her wand hand was trembling, but she nevertheless began moving it in a circular motion.
“Home—homenum rev—,” she stuttered, and Harry nearly swore aloud as she began the spell. He had no choice now; she was going to discover him.
She flinched back in shock at the sound of a voice, her spell interrupted. She closed her legs sharply and stared into the space from where the voice had originated.
Harry sighed and pulled the cloak off his body, now standing before her shamefaced.
“Harry?!” she shrieked loudly, and put her free hand between her legs in an attempt to cover her modesty. “What—.”
“Shhhh!” he admonished and stepped closer to her. “Quiet, Hermione. You’ll wake the whole house.”
She squeaked as he approached and grabbed her boxers from the love seat, sending her book sprawling to the floor. She ran hurriedly behind the seat and bent over to put them back on.
When she returned to the front, she had a look of such fury on her face that Harry was genuinely scared.
“Harry Potter—,” she hissed, resembling nothing so much as the angry veela he remembered from the World Cup.
“Wait, let me explain, Hermione,” Harry said hurriedly, desperate to make her understand. “I just—.”
He was unable to finish his sentence. Hermione had stepped forward and slapped him with all her might, leaving an angry red handprint on his cheek.
His eyes rattled in his skull, and he focused again just in time to receive another.
Hermione’s second slap felt like it lit his face on fire, and he stumbled backwards and gripped his burning cheek in his hand. His eyes filled with tears from the sharpness of the blow. He held his other hand before him in an attempt to fend off the incensed witch. He was grateful, at least, that she wasn’t pointing her wand at him.
When he finally blinked and regained his focus, the expression he saw on her face nearly broke his heart. Her eyes were alight with fury, but her face was contorted in an ugly grimace of shame and embarrassment. Her cheeks were beet red and huge tears had begun welling up in her eyes.
“Harry, how could you?”
“Hermione, wait, please. Let me explain.”
“You were spying on me!” she choked out in disbelief, tears now falling freely down her face.
“No! I swear I wasn’t…I mean—I didn’t plan to. It was an accident.”
“An accident,” she spat derisively. “You accidentally came downstairs in your invisibility cloak, right now, and watched while I…”
She shook her head disbelievingly, then looked at him with such genuine hurt that real tears began welling up in Harry’s eyes.
“Please, Hermione! It’s not what it looks like! I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t come down here to spy on you; I swear on my magic that it was an accident.”
Hermione’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times as she stared at him, turning over his words in her mind.
“Why were you here then?”
“Those,” Harry said in desperation, turning and pointing to the pile of discarded dark books in the corner of the room. “I wanted to read some of them. I thought…I thought there might be something in them to help me defend myself, but Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t let me near them during the day. I just came down to read, I swear it.”
Hermione considered his words in silence.
“And yet you spied on me under your cloak.”
Harry sighed and looked down in shame.
“I was going to surprise you when I saw you were here; give you a fright,” he said miserably. “But then I saw what you were doing. You were reading that…that book, and…”
“And you started touching yourself,” Harry nearly whispered, “and I was, erm, surprised. I know I should have stopped, or—or left, or something. I tried, but I just couldn’t….and it was too late to let you know I was there.”
“But you kept watching!” she retorted, her voice thick with emotion. “You just let me humiliate myself in front of you. Why didn’t you at least look away?”
“I—I tried,” Harry pleaded. “I know I shouldn’t have watched, but I just…I’ve…I’ve never seen anything like that, and it…it was beautiful.”
He winced as the words left his mouth, fully aware of how absurd they sounded.
She continued glaring at him in silence, her tense breathing the only sound in the room. Harry looked at the floor in misery, his heart in his throat as he realized he might have just destroyed a friendship.
“Beautiful,” Hermione repeated doubtfully after a moment.
Harry met her eyes abashedly.
When she didn’t respond, he continued falteringly, hoping to somehow find the words that would redeem him.
“I’d never imagined you doing…something like that…and you were enjoying yourself so much, and I…I couldn’t look away. Please don’t hate me, Hermione. Please.”
She stared at him stoically, her face starting to return to its normal color and her eyes beginning to dry.
“You really did it on accident. You didn’t come down here to spy on me.”
Harry took heart from the fact that it sounded more like a statement than a question.
“Yes. No. I mean, I would never do something like that to you; I swear it. Please, Hermione, you have to forgive me.”
She sighed and shook her head, staring at the ground.
“You still saw me doing…that. You can’t unsee it, Harry.”
“Do you want to obliviate me? I’ll let you; really.”
Hermione snorted and shook her head, but still did not meet his eyes. “Harry…that’s a stupid idea. Obliviation is dangerous.”
“Then I just won’t tell anyone; I promise. It will be just like before. We’ll forget it ever happened.”
She exhaled a huge breath and looked beyond him to the small mountain of dark books at the root of this disaster.
“Go on and do your reading,” she said evenly. “I’m going to bed. I want to think about this before we talk again.”
She turned and picked up her robes from the love seat, then retrieved her book from the floor. She strode to the library doors without looking in his direction again.
Her hand paused as it reached for the door handle.
“I…please,” he whispered desperately.
She listened a moment longer, then opened the door and stepped out into the darkness.
The next day was agonizing for Harry.
He had returned to bed soon after Hermione, unable to concentrate on reading. Then he had stared at the ceiling, too anxious to sleep, until unconsciousness finally claimed him near dawn.
He looked for her at lunch, but Mrs. Weasley informed him that she wasn’t feeling well and had eaten something light in her room.
Harry’s sense of dread grew by the hour. He avoided Ron and Ginny’s attempts at conversation, his mind focused only on what had transpired in the library the night before. He prepared one apology after another in his head, each one sounding more pathetic than the last. She was his most trusted and loyal friend, and he really didn’t want to consider what his life would be like without her.
It hadn’t occurred to him while he was watching her just how much of a disaster his discovery would be. The experience had been so erotic, so new to him. But of course Hermione had felt violated. He had invaded her most private moment, even if accidentally.
He understood why she was angry, but honestly did not understand why she seemed to feel so ashamed. He was ashamed of his own behavior, heartsick with remorse, but she had merely done something that everyone else their age secretly enjoyed. Or at least he suspected as much.
He finally saw her at dinner. She sat across from him and ate casually, appearing as if nothing were bothering her. He tried continuously to make eye contact with her, to gain some hint as to her state of mind, but she ignored him.
When the meal was finally over, she passed him on her way out the door. She whispered “tonight” as she passed by his chair, and Harry closed his eyes in relief.
To his mortification, he grew aroused as he thought over that single word. She had said it so softly, so seductively; it almost sounded like an invitation to a midnight tryst.
But he knew what she meant. There would be a reckoning tonight. Same time, same place as before. He couldn’t begin to guess what the outcome would be.
Hours later, Harry took a deep breath in the darkness as he reached for the door to the library. He couldn’t prevent his hand from shaking. He felt like a man walking to the gallows.
He opened the door quietly and stepped into the room. It was lit softly by candles. She was already here.
She was examining a row of titles along the wall, and turned to look at him when he entered.
“Hi,” he offered softly.
Harry pulled off his black robes self-consciously, revealing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. He moved over to the accursed love seat and sat down on it, then looked up at Hermione expectantly.
She made no move to join him.
“I’m sorry,” he began plaintively. “I know you feel…violated. And I wish I could go back and…and change everything. But I can’t.”
She didn’t answer. Instead she turned back toward the books and feigned interest in their titles.
“I swear on my magic that I didn’t intend to spy on you, Hermione. It happened just like I said; an accident.”
Still she didn’t respond, but he could see her jaw working in the candlelight.
“Hermione, please. I’m so sorry, but I don’t know what to do. You’re my best friend and I can’t lose you. Not over this. Please talk to me.”
She finally turned and looked at him, her eyes seemingly ablaze in the candlelight.
“You watched me,” she enunciated lowly, each word tinged with hurt.
“You…you humiliated me. You, Harry.”
Harry sighed and dropped his head in his hands. “Yes. But I didn’t mean to, Hermione. And I understand why you’re angry. But not why you feel humiliated. I mean, only I saw you and I don’t, er, think badly of you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Right. Only now every time you see me you’ll think of…of me spreading my legs. You’ll be laughing at me, even if you don’t show it.”
Harry looked at her in confusion.
“Laughing at you? What?”
“Don’t bother denying it,” she responded dryly. “I can only imagine what I looked like. I don’t know how I can look you in the eye ever again.”
He opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. He stood from the loveseat and approached her. She didn’t shrink away, but neither did she meet his eyes.
“Hermione…I don’t understand. It’s not like no one else does that too.”
He blushed as he heard his own words, and she snorted and shook her head.
“That’s not the bloody point.”
“Then what is?”
She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “Will you please just shut up now, Harry?”
An uncomfortable silence stretched out after her words, and he stared at her in bewilderment. Then finally the pieces clicked in place. He narrowed his eyes.
“You think you’re ugly.”
She snorted and looked at him defiantly, but did not deny it.
“Merlin, Hermione,” he breathed. “Last night…what I saw…it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. It was all I could do not to, er…”
She raised an eyebrow, her nostrils flaring slightly.
“Not to what?” she said, and Harry was shocked at the threat concealed in her tone.
“Not to do the same thing you were doing,” he said quickly, his face heating up.
She stared at him and then shook her head. “Right. You were laughing your arse off.”
Harry looked into eyes, unable to believe she was serious.
“What the bloody hell, Hermione?!” he breathed in disbelief. “I’m fucking serious. You were beautiful. Stunning. So bloody hot I couldn’t stand it. How can you possibly think I would laugh?”
She looked at him seriously now, practically staring a hole through him. It unnerved him sometimes how well she knew him; how she was seemingly able to read his mind at all times.
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
“Every word,” Harry responded sincerely, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring and not a lecherous grin.
The corners of her lips twitched, and a warmth entered her brown eyes for the first time since last night’s catastrophe.
“You’re sweet, Harry,” she said, almost sadly, and walked over to the loveseat. She sat herself down primly, and watched as he followed and sat down next to her.
“And you’re barmy,” he admonished. “I’m very sorry I invaded your privacy, but you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. The opposite, in fact.”
She smiled weakly, and he pressed on.
“I’ll do anything to make this right, Hermione. I don’t ever want to lose you as a friend. Please just tell me you forgive me. I’ll strip down too, if that’s what it takes, and then we’ll be even.”
She looked at him skeptically.
“You would strip down naked in front of me.”
“If that would make you forgive me, then yes,” Harry stated, with more confidence than he felt.
She looked into his eyes again, then sighed deeply. “Oh, Harry. I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean to walk in on me.”
Harry smiled and closed his eyes in relief. He felt some of the tension leave the room at her words.
“Thank fucking Merlin,” he breathed. “You scared me…and you pack a mean wallop,” he added, rubbing his cheek.
Hermione flushed and cleared her throat. “Sorry…I…I suppose I went a little overboard. I was just so mad at you, Harry James Potter.”
He grinned affectionately at her use of his full name, and leaned back against the loveseat. He was relieved beyond measure at the outcome of this meeting, and felt suddenly giddy.
The pair sat in comfortable silence for awhile, mulling over the words they had just exchanged.
“You still owe me,” Hermione said eventually.
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “Just name your price.”
She stared at the floor for a few moments, contemplating his words, then the corner of her lip twitched.
“Are you really willing to get naked in front of me?”
“Are you serious?”
She looked him full in the face, unable to resist a faint smirk.
“It’s only fair, I should think.”
“Ha ha. You’re just teasing me, aren’t you? This is Hermione Granger’s idea of a joke.”
Her face flushed slightly, and she glanced down toward his groin.
“Well, er, actually…I’m a little curious to see what…what one of those looks like. And you said you would do it.”
Harry opened and then closed his mouth, unable to form a retort. He had volunteered to do just what she was proposing, but he truly hadn’t expected her to call him on it.
“Really?” he asked with sudden dread, his voice coming out an octave higher than he intended.
“If you will,” she answered a little breathlessly, but met his gaze openly.
“Holy Merlin. You’re serious.”
Hermione shrugged. “You got to see me, and I am rather curious.”
Harry shook his head one last time, still not quite believing his ears, then stood slowly from the loveseat. His legs felt incredibly weak all of a sudden.
“All…all right, then. If you’re sure.”
Hermione gaped at him for a moment, as if she had been called on a bluff. Then she slowly nodded her head.
Harry swallowed thickly and moved directly in front of her, his knees a mere two feet from hers. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, shivered, and dropped it to the floor.
“A bit cold in here.”
Hermione didn’t answer. Her eyes roved across his bare chest and abs, which were much more defined than they had been a year ago.
He slowly unbuttoned his cargo shorts and let them fall to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Golden snitches buzzed erratically across their surface, and he looked down at them, contemplating what he was about to do. Hermione too stared at the boxers, not moving a muscle. He could see her pulse pounding in her neck from the reflected candlelight.
Harry took one last breath and then steeled himself.
“Here we go,” he said softly, and slid his boxers to the floor. He desperately hoped that it wasn’t too cold in the room. He was tense, not aroused in the slightest, and he didn’t want Hermione to think him small.
He looked down in relief, noting that there was minimal shrinkage from the intimidating circumstances.
He glanced at her, and was unsurprised by the look of intense focus on her face. She was scrutinizing his flaccid cock as if it were a new scientific discovery. She moved her head to the side to get a better view, her mouth hanging open slightly, and suddenly the eroticism of the situation crashed down on him.
He was naked in front of Hermione, and she was staring at his cock.
Quite against his will, it began hardening and stretching before her eyes. He sighed and clenched his jaw in embarrassment.
“Oh my,” Hermione whispered, her eyes huge as she watched his cock slowly thicken and lengthen, until it pointed straight at her.
In no time at all Harry was as hard as a rock. He was unable to resist the alluring thought of a girl examining his cock so closely. And he most certainly thought of Hermione as a girl now.
She stared at it with comically wide eyes, and Harry looked at the ceiling as she turned this way and that, as if memorizing his dimensions from multiple angles.
Finally he glanced down at her.
“Are you satisfied?” Harry enunciated clearly, feeling a combination of arousal and embarrassment that left him confused.
Hermione looked from his cock to his eyes and back, then blushed and cleared her throat nervously.
“Er, I think…I think maybe you should do…what I was doing…just to be fair.”
He stared at her. “Are you bloody serious?”
When she nodded hesitantly, her eyes still locked on his cock, he snorted.
He gripped his cock with his right hand and looked at a point over her shoulder, careful not to make eye contact. He simply couldn’t believe this was happening. Then he began stroking himself slowly and dispassionately, hoping to end his humiliation as soon as possible.
He knew that she was watching him intently, and wondered what she might think of him after this display. After half a minute of stroking, he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Er, yeah,” Hermione blushed, and looked meekly up at him. “Thanks.”
Harry nodded curtly and reached down for his boxers. He put them back on, Hermione watching his every move. Then he slid his t-shirt and pajama bottoms on, still leaving a conspicuous tent in their front.
When he was finished, her eyes slowly rose to meet his. They knew each other well, and their friendship had been tested many times before. Both knew from one look into the other’s eyes that it had just survived this test as well.
Harry gave her an embarrassed grin.
“Am I forgiven now?”
“You were already forgiven,” she replied, returning his grin. “That was just for fairness.”
“Yes, well, I hope the scales of justice have been balanced.”
“Oh, they have,” Hermione smirked, and her eyes returned to the tent in the front of his pajamas.
He followed her gaze, and then cleared his throat when she continued staring.
“Hermione, I’m up here.”
She looked up and blinked, then blushed furiously. “Er, right. Sorry.”
Harry smiled and sat down next to her on the loveseat, finally satisfied that he had his best friend back. Things had changed somehow between them, but he felt that their closeness had emerged unscathed. They both leaned back and stared into the darkened corners of the room.
A comfortable silence followed until Harry worked up the courage to break it.
“I do have one question.”
“What was that book you were reading last night?”
Hermione coughed lightly and reached toward a bag that was lying next to the seat. She pulled a thick tome from within and handed it to Harry.
He held it in his lap and looked at a moving picture of Adam and Eve on its cover; neither was attired in so much as a fig leaf.
“The Sensual Body: A History of Magical Art during the Italian Renaissance,” he read aloud, and then looked at her with a cheeky grin. “Only you.”
She removed the book from his lap with a huff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Whatever you want it to.” He shrugged. “It looks more interesting than Hogwarts, A History, at least.”
She swatted him playfully on the arm, and he made a show of trying to defend himself. She rolled her eyes.
“So are you going to look through more of the restricted books or not?”
“Er, yeah, I suppose I should,” Harry mused, and stood up from the seat. He extended a hand to her. “Will you help?”
She let him pull her to her feet. “Of course I will, you prat.”
“I knew I could count on you.”
A half-hour later, Harry and Hermione sat side-by-side on the loveseat, both of them poring over a small selection of dark books. Neither was finding it very easy to concentrate on the reading after the awkwardness of what had just transpired. Harry had been trying to focus on the same page for over five minutes.
Hermione finally cleared her throat, breaking the silence.
“Did you really think it was, er, beautiful…when you were watching me?”
He looked over at her in surprise. He had been wondering what she was thinking, and it excited him that she too seemed to be dwelling on their recent encounters. Her eyes never left the book in her lap, but he could tell she was holding her breath.
“I really did…do, I mean,” he replied earnestly, wincing at his awkward reply. “It was amazing.”
“Oh,” she replied timidly, her usual composure absent. “Okay. Thank you.”
Harry returned his gaze to his book, not knowing how to continue the conversation but desperately wanting it to go on.
“It was interesting to watch you too,” Hermione murmured nervously a moment later, still unwilling to look at him.
“Oh?” he inquired, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that his heart suddenly threatened to beat out of his chest. “How so?”
She glanced over at him apprehensively, then looked down again before he could meet her eyes.
“Oh, you know…it was just, erm, big. Much bigger than I expected.”
Harry’s heart swelled at her words, causing another part of his anatomy to swell in response. If he weren’t mistaken, Hermione was flirting with him. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it, but he risked closing his book and turning toward her.
“Er, thank you,” he replied, attempting to sound playful. “Although I don’t think you have a lot to compare it to.”
That earned him a slight snort and Hermione chanced another glance at him.
“True; but yours was, er, very nice…just so you know.”
He didn’t know what else to say. He only knew that this conversation was exciting him very much. His arousal was pressing uncomfortably against his pajamas now, and he tried to subtly adjust himself.
Hermione glanced over when he did so, then blushed and looked down at her book again.
Harry didn’t miss it, and he continued looking at her, wondering just what she was thinking. Could she be enjoying this just as much as he was? He could hear her breathing more quickly than normal, but couldn’t really see her face.
When she continued staring at her book, he decided to take a risk. He reached over and pushed it closed with his finger.
“Do you want to talk about it some more?”
Hermione turned and looked him full in the face this time, her eyes searching out his for something.
“If you want to,” he said softly, trying to push through the desire that was threatening to overwhelm his brain.
She frowned imperceptibly and stared at the floor between them.
“I was thinking…”
“I was thinking….what if…what if we continued?” she said in a barely audible voice, and his heart skipped a beat.
“Continued?” he urged, desperate for her to continue.
She took a deep breath, and began talking very rapidly. “It’s like you said; this is just between us, and I’m curious about what happens you, er, climax, and we’re best friends, after all…I think we could handle it without things becoming awkward, and we could just treat this as an experiment, and no one would need to know, and…”
“Hermione,” Harry grinned, trying to contain his glee, “you don’t have to convince me.”
She seemed not to hear him. “You see, we’ve already seen, er, all that the other has to offer, so it need not be embarrassing. It could even be…”
This time he put a hand on hers, interrupting her spiel.
“Educational,” she trailed off, looking up at him breathlessly.
“Hermione. I said yes. I think it’s a fantastic idea.”
He nodded emphatically.
“Okay,” she said softly, and took another deep breath. “It will be…it will just be an experiment then. Between two friends. Who trust each other. And can, erm, look at each other’s bodies without being weird about it, or, or losing control.”
Harry smiled widely. “My thoughts exactly.”
Hermione nodded and looked up at him with an expression of such vulnerability that it melted his heart. He suddenly wanted to do this very much, even though he wasn’t certain what ‘this’ was.
“Our secret, Harry. You can’t tell Ron.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. And you can’t tell Ginny.”
She shrugged. “I don’t talk to her at school all that much anyway. You don’t have a thing for her, do you?”
“God, no. She’s Ron’s little sister. She can barely put together two sentences in front of me. You, er, don’t have a thing for Ron, then?”
She shook her head. “I thought…I thought maybe I did last year at one point, but it wouldn’t work. He likes belittling me too much.”
Harry smiled. “No complications then. Just the two of us…experimenting, I think you called it.”
Hermione nodded and returned his smile shyly.
They looked at each other, both seemingly at a loss for what to do or say next.
“When you said ‘continue’…” Harry offered hesitantly, hoping she would take over for him.
“Er, what exactly did you mean?”
She blushed yet again. Harry thought it was probably a record for her.
“Oh. Well, I, er, suppose I meant just…just getting naked again and…and touching ourselves.”
He nodded in understanding, a little disappointed that she didn’t have a more thorough version of experimentation in mind.
He stood hesitantly from the love seat.
“Would you like me to go first?”
She smiled in genuine relief. “If you don’t mind.”
Harry’s libido had been teased so mercilessly by the events of the evening that he was no longer embarrassed to strip down in front of Hermione. He only knew that he needed some relief.
He stepped sideways until he was right in front of her, his knees nearly brushing up against hers. She looked up at him shyly as he pulled off his shirt and then pulled down his cargo shorts once again.
He paused to look down at her. She gave him a weak but reassuring smile and then looked between his legs. His boxers were tented massively, and she watched with rapt attention as he freed his arousal and lowered them to the floor.
His erection sprang out a mere foot from her face, and he could see her pupils dilate as she stared at it. Her chest heaved as she breathed. It excited him immensely that Hermione got so worked up by examining his nude body.
She unconsciously reached toward him, as if to touch his penis, and then suddenly pulled her hand back.
“Sorry,” she whispered, blushing to the roots of her hair.
Harry’s heart pounded as he considered what to say. She seemed to have reservations, but he wanted her to touch him very, very badly. There was a delicious pressure building up deep in his abdomen, and it begged for her participation in its release.
“You can touch it if you want.”
Hermione nodded and swallowed heavily, her eyes never leaving his cock, and reached a hesitant hand toward him.
She touched his engorged crown with two fingers, and Harry sighed in bliss. Then she wrapped her hand around his entire head, squeezing it gently and exploring its texture with her fingers.
“Oh Merlin, that feels good.”
“It’s so soft,” she whispered, tentatively exploring the skin of his crown with her palm and her fingers. He could barely keep his eyes open as she touched him.
She slowly slid her hand down his cock, gripping it in a circle with her fingers, and Harry gasped at the friction. She looked up at him curiously, a little surprised at the look of raw need on his face.
When she reached the base, she ran her fingers languorously through his dark pubic hair, then gently cupped his balls. She gave them a tentative squeeze, and he shivered. She was just satisfying her curiosity, he knew, but it felt as if she were teasing him.
She returned her hand to his cock and lifted it up to explore its underside, her finger lazily tracing the thick cord of flesh that ran its length. She let it drop, and then giggled in a very un-Hermione-like fashion when it bounced.
Harry could take no more of this exquisite torture.
“Please, Hermione. You’re killing me.”
“What do you want me to do?” she breathed softly, her nostrils flaring in a way that he found incredibly erotic.
“Just…stroke me. Like I was doing.”
She wrapped her small fingers around the head of his cock, then slid them slowly down to the middle of his shaft. Harry breathed out sharply as she progressed. Then she began tugging gently on him, her eyes now riveted on his face.
He breathed out softly with each stroke, and glanced down to see her watching him intently. Every nerve in his body seemed to have relocated to his cock. After just a few moments of this he felt he could barely stand. He reached forward and put a hand on her shoulder for balance.
She stopped stroking for a moment, and he looked down at her questioningly. She was leaning forward slightly, and his cock was only inches from her face. She stared up at him with a look he couldn’t name, some mixture of vulnerability, embarrassment, and lust.
“Do you want me to kiss it?” she asked softly, and Harry could feel her breath on his cock.
She wetted her lips and leaned forward hesitantly. She kissed the tip tenderly for a moment, emitting a soft smooching sound, then softly caressed the underside of his crown with her tongue.
“Oh Merlin,” Harry moaned, and gripped her shoulder tightly.
She leaned forward until she took the rest of his crown in her mouth, wrapping her lips tightly around it. Harry could feel her suction it gently; the feeling of her soft, warm tongue as his cock rested on it was almost more than he could bear.
She pulled back slowly, ever so slowly, and kissed the tip when she was finished. She began stroking his shaft lightly again and looked up at him in question.
“How was that?”
“Bloody perfect,” Harry breathed heavily. “I’m going to cum soon. It will make a mess.”
Hermione looked down at her t-shirt and back up at him. “Just go on my shirt. We can clean it easily enough.”
He nodded and closed his eyes as he concentrated on what she was doing with her hand. Her grip had tightened perceptibly, and she began tugging on him more firmly as his breathing became more rapid.
“Oh, god, almost there,” he gasped.
A moment later he grunted and his cock spurted a rope of white fluid onto her covered breasts. He spurted again and again, Hermione watching every second in awe, until the front of her shirt was soaked with his semen.
She used her thumb to wipe away the last of his spunk as it oozed out, and then smeared it too on her shirt. He opened his eyes and smiled at her dazedly as his breathing slowly returned to normal.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” he chuckled, and collapsed into the seat next to her with a huge sigh.
Hermione stared down at his softening cock, watching the trace amounts of cum that oozed out as it slowly shrank.
“Thank you,” he whispered sincerely, staring at the ceiling in a state of utter relaxation.
A few moments later he turned his head and smiled at her lazily.
“That’s quite a spunky shirt you’re wearing.”
“That’s the worst pun I’ve ever heard,” she snorted, and patted him affectionately on the cheek.
She reached for her wand, and with a whispered incantation her shirt became spotlessly clean once more.
“So I guess it’s your turn now,” Harry grinned, unable to conceal the anticipation from his voice.
“Right,” Hermione smiled weakly. “I…I suppose I’ll just strip down then.”
She took a deep breath and stood up from the loveseat, but Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down, her body shoving into his when she landed.
“Wait,” he said imploringly, looking into her suddenly anxious brown eyes. “No need to stand on ceremony. If we’re going to experiment, let’s do it right.”
“What…what do you mean?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, and Harry pulled her face to his.
If she was surprised when he kissed her tenderly, seeking entrance into her mouth, she did not show it. She turned her head and kissed him back passionately, seeking out his tongue with her own.
It was the first kiss for both of them, and they explored each other’s mouths with eagerness, pausing only when they felt the need to breathe.
Harry pulled away from their intense snogging after several minutes and gazed at her dreamily.
“Uh huh,” Hermione grinned stupidly, and wiped a spot of saliva from his mouth that had escaped during their kiss.
The two grinned dazedly at each other for a moment.
“Again?” he inquired.
“I should think so, yes.”
They leaned into each other fervently, attacking each other’s mouths without hesitation.
Harry eventually grew bolder and settled his right hand on her breast, testing out her response. She moaned into his mouth, and he gently squeezed it, marveling at its firmness. He could feel her nipple stretching at the fabric beneath the shirt.
He pulled away after a moment and rested his forehead on hers.
“Can I take it off?”
Hermione nodded immediately, and sat up so he could pull her t-shirt over her head. When it cleared, he dropped it to the floor and stared at her naked breasts closely.
“Whoa,” he breathed, his eyes looking between them in an attempt to memorize their contours.
She watched him somewhat apprehensively, and resisted the urge to cover them with her hands.
“They’re not very big, I know.”
Harry shook his head. “They’re incredible.”
They were not, in truth, very big, but in Harry’s limited experience they may as well have been the most enormous pair on earth. He tentatively ran the edge of his index finger along the smooth curve of one breast, then gently palmed both of them. Soft pink nipples pressed into his hands, and she shivered beneath his touch. He kneaded them softly in wonder; there was no flesh like this on his own body.
She watched him nervously as he examined her. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
He looked up at her and smiled reassuringly.
He leaned down and planted a kiss on her collarbone, then trailed soft kisses down her left breast until he reached her nipple. He circled his tongue gently around her areola before taking her small nipple in his mouth.
Hermione gasped and ran her fingers through his hair as he caressed her with his tongue. She was surprised, but not displeased, that he had been so bold.
He pulled away and looked at her with unconcealed lust in his eyes, and he was surprised that her face mirrored his. Before he could do anything else, she pounced on him. She pinned him to the seat with her weight and attacked his mouth hungrily, her hand finding its way to his cock. He was rock hard again, and she gripped him firmly.
Harry returned her kiss enthusiastically and scooted forward in the seat, giving her hand better access to his arousal. She began stroking him fiercely as they kissed, and he was overwhelmed by the desire he felt pouring off her. The part of him that could not believe he was doing this with Hermione had long since been shouted down by the raw lust produced by her touch.
She pulled on his cock as if she desperately needed for him to cum, and he sighed in bliss and kissed her with as much passion as he could muster, his hands alternately roaming across her back and squeezing her breasts in delight.
It didn’t take long for Hermione’s ferocious tugging to get the better of him. He pulled away from their kiss, panting, to warn her.
“I’m going to cum again,” he breathed raggedly, but Hermione didn’t answer him. She attacked his mouth again and pulled on his cock even more relentlessly.
He whimpered a moment later as his cock spasmed in her grip, shooting spurt after spurt of warm cum onto his chest, her chest, and both of their hips and stomachs. She was pressed against him so closely that there was an instant, sticky mess between them.
She didn’t seem to notice, and he could not have cared less. He broke their kiss as he rode out the last of his orgasm, sighing in relief at his release. She stopped tugging for a moment and looked down, as if surprised at the mess he had made.
“That didn’t take long,” she mused, panting slightly from their aggressive kissing.
“Not when you tug on me like that,” Harry grinned, not at all embarrassed by the intimacy of the situation.
She returned his grin and began to pull away, likely to go for her wand, but Harry held her fast.
“Leave it. I want to touch you now.”
She looked deeply into his eyes, then nodded, no longer caring about the sticky mess between them. She chewed nervously on her lower lip, something that Harry found absolutely adorable, as he slid a hand down her side and rested it on the edge of her shorts. They had multiple buttons in the front, and he couldn’t access them easily.
“I’ll do it,” Hermione whispered, and stood up from the loveseat. She moved directly in front of him, just as he had for her, and began unbuttoning the fly of her shorts.
Harry watched with growing anticipation as she reached the last button and slid them down her legs. Underneath she was wearing a pair of white-and-blue striped cotton panties that were cut seductively low.
He grinned up at her. “No boxers tonight. You came here to seduce me, didn’t you?”
She smacked him on the shoulder but her eyes gave away her amusement.
“Harry James Potter. In your dreams.”
“After tonight, without a doubt,” he retorted, and laughed at the affectionate way she rolled her eyes at him.
“Now on with the show.”
“You’ve already seen everything,” she admonished, and he shrugged.
“Yeah, but this time it’s on purpose. It makes all the difference in the world.”
Hermione smiled wanly at his words and slowly lowered her panties to the floor. Then she stood back up directly in front of him, giving him the chance to examine her as she had him.
He breathed out audibly, his pulse pounding as he drank in the sight of her mons. From this angle she wasn’t as hairy as she had seemed last night. He could just make out the outline of her labia, backlit as they were by the candlelight streaming between the small gap between her thighs.
It was gloriously erotic. He roamed his hand through her thick hair, twisting it gently in his fingers. He pulled on it, drawing Hermione closer to him.
“Oww,” she complained teasingly, and drew a step closer.
“Can I see, erm, underneath?” he asked softly, looking up at her.
Hermione nodded shyly and moved to his left, then seated herself next to him again on the love seat. She spread her legs for him, and he turned and looked down at the gloriously wet curls surrounding her pussy.
He couldn’t see properly from the side, so he got to his knees on the floor and scooted himself between her legs.
“Harry!” she gasped.
He looked up at her from the floor and saw that she was beholding him with wide eyes.
“Is this all right?”
“I…I guess so,” she answered hesitantly. “It’s a bit more personal for a girl.”
“Do you want me to get up?”
Hermione chewed her lower lip nervously as she stared at him. Her legs were spread wide in the love seat, and Harry’s face was a mere foot from her most intimate parts. She felt extremely exposed.
“I…no, just…it’s rather embarrassing.”
Harry cocked his head at her and grinned. “This again? I thought we had already established that every part of you is beautiful, especially this part.”
He ran a hand along her inner thigh as he spoke, and she shivered at his caress.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
She nodded and stared as he lowered his face to examine her pussy more closely. The area around her lips was soaked with arousal, her brown curls damp and sticky. He gently parted her outer lips with his thumbs, exposing the glistening pink flesh beneath the curls.
It was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. There was a hooded protrusion of flesh that stood out noticeably, which he knew to be her clit. Below it was a pair of small pink lips, opened ever so slightly and shining with the evidence of her lust.
Harry could smell the scent of her arousal from this distance, and it was unlike anything he had ever encountered. Musky, damp, intoxicating. It made him want to bury his face between her legs and inhale deeply.
“It’s, erm, a bit hairy, I know,” Hermione offered hesitantly, “but I wasn’t expecting to be giving a show any time soon.”
“It’s perfect,” he whispered, and gently brushed his thumb across her clit.
She shivered above him and tried to relax. He looked up and saw that he she was chewing on her lip again.
“I’ll come up there,” he said softly, and she smiled with genuine relief.
He settled in next to her, reclining on his side as she lay back with her legs still spread wide.
“You’re welcome, but you shouldn’t be embarrassed,” he murmured, and rested a hand on her soft belly. The heat radiating from her skin was amazing to him.
Their eyes met, and Harry smiled warmly as he lowered his hand from her belly to her soft mound and then to the wet cleft between her legs.
She stared into his eyes as he sought out her clit with his thumb and made small circles around her vulva with his middle finger. Her eyelids fluttered as he teased her.
“Am I doing it right?” he asked softly, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Uh huh,” Hermione breathed, her mouth remaining slightly open as he explored her with his fingers.
He pushed his middle finger gently in between her labia, and it slipped inside her with a soft, wet sound.
“Merlin,” he whispered, astonished at the heat and moisture that was gripping his finger.
Hermione breathed out roughly, her eyes closing intermittently as she focused on what he was doing to her.
He reached further inside her with his finger, exploring the tightness and heat of her body. He stroked the top of her walls with his fingertip, stunned at how soft and silky they were, and she panted softly and closed her eyes.
“Does that feel good?”
“Merlin, yes,” she whispered, and Harry felt himself start to grow hard again at the effect he was having on her. He absolutely loved seeing Hermione lose her composure.
He moved his thumb in small circles on her clit, pressing down a little harder, then eased a second finger into her. The fit was incredibly tight, and he had to wriggle it gently to get it in.
“Oh,” she breathed out roughly, thrusting her pelvis into his hand. He watched her face as he twisted his fingers within her. The involuntary gasps, the furrowed brow, the soft sheen on her forehead…he might think she was in pain if not for the subtle bucking of her hips when he penetrated her.
She panted softly as he continued stroking her with his fingers, and Harry began rubbing his thumb back and forth across her clit more firmly.
“Kiss me, Harry,” Hermione suddenly moaned.
He leaned in obediently and captured her mouth with his, and she sought out his tongue in desperation. The two friends wrestled with their tongues in a frenzy of lust, each overcome by what they were doing.
Harry continued teasing her clit and plunging his fingers into her as they kissed, and a short while later Hermione began panting into his mouth in short bursts.
“Oh yes, Harry! Just like that. Don’t stop.”
He pulled away and watched her face again, redoubling his efforts to make her cum. He rubbed her clit furiously and twisted his fingers back and forth as quickly as he could within the tight confines of her pussy.
Finally she gasped and reached over to grab Harry’s erect cock with her hand. She squeezed it unmercifully as she began panting and undulating her hips against his hand.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Hermione moaned, and he felt her walls contract even more tightly around his fingers.
He watched, enthralled, as she grimaced and panted in time with the contractions of her pussy. He continued pleasuring her as she came, trying to ignore the painful grip she had on his cock. She seemed to be trying to break it in half.
He sighed in relief when she collapsed completely against the love seat and relaxed her grip.
Her eyes remained closed as her breathing returned to normal, and Harry gingerly extracted his fingers from her. He sniffed them surreptitiously since she wasn’t looking, and he knew it was a scent he would remember forever.
Hermione heaved a great sigh and opened her eyes.
“Merlin, Morgana, and Maeve,” she whispered, and Harry grinned like an idiot.
“I take it you enjoyed that?” he smirked cheekily, and she beamed him a bright smile.
“I think you know I did.”
“Thank you for letting me help,” he smiled, and leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead.
“Mmmm, you’re welcome,” she smiled.
Their eyes met for a moment, and then Harry leaned in and planted a quick and tender kiss on her lips.
“I had fun tonight. I’m sorry it started out like it did, but…”
“But the result was quite…educational, all the way around,” she finished for him, still smiling.
Harry returned her smile and thanked whatever deities there were that he had chosen last night to come to the library in his invisibility cloak.
He followed with a huge yawn, and both suddenly realized that the hour had gone very, very late.
Hermione yawned in reciprocation. “I suppose we should call it a night.”
They slowly rose and cleaned themselves with their wands, then dressed a little self-consciously, each sneaking looks at the other’s body. Harry levitated the books they had been reading back to the restricted pile in the corner of the room.
When they were finished, they walked slowly to the library doors, where he took off his locking charm.
Hermione looked back over her shoulder at the reason for his original visit.
“You know, there are still a lot of dark books left to go through,” she whispered speculatively.
Harry turned and followed her gaze.
“Yeah,” he mused, then added lowly: “Same time tomorrow night?”
“Absolutely,” she answered without hesitation, and the two turned and silently exited the library.
A/N: Did you like it? Loathe it? I’d love for you to press that little review button at the bottom and let me know.
I conceived this as a PWP oneshot that gets Harry and Hermione together in a way that was at least somewhat plausible (for smut). Where do they go from here? I haven’t the faintest idea, nor do I intend to write about it. This was just a little break from my other stories. You’re free to imagine them doing whatever you like, though ;)