FicWad

Hello my fine spooky friends.

I must tenure my sincerest apologies as it seems in my perusing of 'the Raven' by Edger Allan Poe something seems to have crept into the place behind my eye, and is awakening a whole new side to my muse.

That aside.

What you find on your flickering page this cold and dark night, is something that I'm not entirely sure came from my own fingertips.

What began as a few quick key strokes quickly twisted into a beast that took my mind and heart into itself and showed them to me in a pitch of light I have never seem before. I expected to see the crude language and poor plot that plagues most of the muses of eros, but was startled to fine something else entirely awaiting patiently for a neat pruning.

Smut will be waiting in the shadows, but there will be no 'porn star' sex in here. What you will find in something that will hopefully warm your hearts as well as your laps, while offering up some light mutual laughter and merry making. There will be stumblings and a few little 'mishaps' as our heroes explore themselves and each other with curiosity and a little shiver.

Lastly, any critics that insist upon that single form of beauty that so many seem to be blinded by, will be shackled and given to Cerberus as a chew toy. That said, you will not find anything really off the beaten path. I will be trying to draw in as many followers of eros as possible, but I am more then open to suggestions.


Just a note: Eros will probably not be showing up in chapter two, but she will be glistening with anticipation for chapter three. -- though our heroes will not take that final step for a while; the longer the gentle touches and exploration, the better and more messy the ending.

-Theatrical bow

-Vlad Saturn









Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'





Hermione walked as fast as she could while still maintaining some dignity, her hair flying behind her like the wings of a Valkyrie on a mission. The first task was set to start in twenty minutes and she Knew she had to see Harry. She had left Neville and Ron to save her a seat and when they questioned her about it, had been totally unable to give them any reason. She couldn't explain it – especially not to Ron. It was something deep in her breast, and slightly to the left. There was a gnawing sensation that roused her to her feet and told her that she was Needed over here right now, and left no room for questions.

She cut away from the main stream of people and quietly slipped around the back of the tent that was set up to be the waiting area for the Champions. She glanced around, making sure that no one had seen her. She wrung her hands in nervousness and fidgeted in indecision, hopping from foot to foot.

What if she was only imagining things?

No. Harry had to fight a bloody Dragon right away, and unlike Ron who still refused to talk to anyone when Harry's name came up, she knew he hated being anything but just a normal person. He would need to know that there was someone who was watching and worrying about him, and not the Boy-Who-Lived.










He was going to be killed and the Dursley's were going to throw a garden party to celebrate, he just knew it. He would walk out onto the field or arena or where ever he was supposed to fight this thing, and get roasted. Or eaten. Or roasted and then eaten. He wasn't sure what would happen but Harry was certain that it would be detrimental to his existance.

Hell with his luck the Dragon would be in heat and it would hump him to death. He could see it now; 'Boy-Who-Lived Has First And Last Time With Dragon' – see page 13 for techniques used – page 15 for speculations on if the Dragon was faking.'

Harry fought down the rising urge to vomit and gripped his wand tightly, whitening his knuckled against the pale holly wood. He looked down at himself and almost laughed. He had decided to wear his Quidditch pads, hoping for some protection while flying, but he might just go naked for all the help it would do. He was supposed to be fighting a forty ton Dragon! What the bleeding hell were a few leather pads supposed to protect him from!

“'Arry?”

He jerked up and looked around in panic. For a single mad instant he was afraid that the Dragon might have gotten a little randy and had come to the decision that it couldn't wait.

In front of him Fleur watched Harry's reaction with something between confusion and amusement. She wore a light blue duelling vest that looked as useful as his sports pads, at least until he noticed the small runes running down the edges, wrapping across her chest before trailing down, leading his eyes to her loose shimmery pants. Harry was quickly distracted from any thoughts of scaly snuff as he wondered about what kind of material shimmered like that.

Suddenly he realized that he was openly staring at her like most of the male population and quickly looked up into her eyes. A quick flash of guilt bit at him, but she shrugged it off. He didn't see Fleur that way. Sure she was pretty and seemed like she would be a nice person, but he wasn't interested.

Harry shook himself and berated himself for acting like all the other drooling imbeciles making fools of themselves before clearing his throat. “Hi Fleur, um, can I help you with something.”

“You look diztracted.”

“Oh, sorry,” He said. “I'm just nervous, I guess.”

“Eet is not surprising,” she replied with a nod.“Zis tournament ees supposed to test people 'ears older zen you 're.”

Behind her Cedric was muttering to himself, no doubt going over last minute battle strategy. Harry wished he had a strategy other than 'call my broom and hope I don't become a kabob'. Fleur followed his line of sight and studied Cedric for a moment before turning back to him. Her hair was an almost platinum blonde. There were quite a few girls at Hogwarts, and everywhere else for that matter – that have dyed their hair in almost that same shade, but while it looks cold and fake on them, it seemed so natural and bright on Fleur.

“I guess,” Harry admitted, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I'm just hoping I won't be killed the second I step into the area.”

“Zat eez a good plan,” she said before she seemed to lose interest in him and moved away. He watched her as she wandered over to the only unoccupied corner and seemed to be thinking hard about something. Her forehead crinkled up and she frowned in a very cute way. Harry would almost laugh if he wasn't afraid of dying right away.

“Harry?”

“Um, hi?” he asked to the room in general. Even in an enclosed room with only three other people there seemed to be no end of people wanting to talk to him. At least this time it was a welcomed voice ... although Fleur wasn't exactly unwelcomed – he just didn't understand why she had talked to him. She hadn’t even called him a 'leetle boy'.

A small giggle met his words. “Behind you.”

Harry turned and saw a slit in the side of the tent, through it he could only just make out four slender fingers grasping the fabric tightly, and a sliver of bushy brown hair. Like a moth to the flame her moved closer until a single honey brown eye popped into the space and looked deeply into his very soul. He swallowed hard as a deep longing settled into his chest and ... umm, lower bits.

Merlin, Harry thought, this girl had to stop popping out at me like this or I will be liable to snog her senseless – and with her brain capacity I think we might be at it for a while.

“Not that I'm not always glad to see you, Hermione, but why aren't you up in the stands with everyone else?”

“Umm, well,” she started, looking away from. Her voice was muffled by the tent separating them, though whatever it was it seemed to be important to her. Harry glanced around quickly to make sure no one would notice if he stepped out for a second. Krum was glaring at the opposite wall like it had murdered his puppy, Cedric was still muttering to himself, and Flue was now muttering to herself too. Harry figured it was safe and slipped out through the slit.

Immediately Hermione flung herself into his arms and Harry felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. Half of him wanted to clutch her to his chest possessively and kiss her until neither of them could breath anymore. While the other half screamed in fright at the sudden touch and tried to back away, but like always, her arms simply tighten until the urge to run fled and he relaxed into her somewhat.

Harry breathed deeply from within his bushy fortress and felt some of the knots in his body loosening. Bugger the bloody Dragon, Hermione was here and that was all that mattered. His arms finally lost their rigidity, and carefully wrapped themselves around her body.

God she is so soft, Harry thought as her hot breath tickled his neck. She wasn't slender and athletic like Fleur, nor petite like Ginny, but he wouldn't change a damned thing about her and he had punched Dean last week for even suggesting it. He had surprised himself that day, usually he was very passive about things, not seeing the point in starting fights – yes, he could be riled up and pushed into reacting. Malfoy can attest to that; but usually he didn't like fighting.

All of that went off the tower when that bastard Dean said that Hermione was fat compared to the anorexic fourth year that he was seeing. Lisa Turnip was also rumoured to be bulimic on top of it, but it didn't matter to Harry. Something hot and angry reared up inside him and screamed that no one bad mouthed those important to him.

He sighed into her, fighting the urge to nibble on her neck that was just millimetres from his lips. Every place that her body touched his was a thousand times more sensitive, registering everything. Her head was resting on his shoulder and he could tell from how her breath was slowing that whatever it was that drove her here was becoming less important.

Her thighs were pressing up against his, trapping his manhood between them. Harry can feel himself starting to harden, and he knews that he has to pull away quickly before she notices, but he is in his own little haven and just imagining letting his Hermione go makes him hold her tighter. Her tummy was not flat and toned like Fleur's, but rather it was lightly padded and so soft. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and he could swear that he could feel her heart beating.

He fought off a blush as his mind started to conjuror up images. He could see her perfect breasts glistening with sweat and heaving as she approached another peak. He could see her thighs straining, and her stomach tensing as her breath became even more rapid. Harry could almost feel his lips nibbling up her neck, the taste of her sweat like the richest nectar, before gently descending on her quivering lips. She gasped into his mouth as his finger trailed down though the silky soft brown hair on her mound before carefully touching her heated center almost reverently.

Hermione was feeling something very much the same, even though she understood it better. She had felt him tense up and try to pull away like always, but had just held on. She knew he needed a hug right now, though because of his upbringing he was ... very hesitant could be one way to say it, and he didn't want to accept it at first. She had heard about the bars on his bedroom window and the locks on the other side of his door that the Weasley brothers had broken through in the start of the second year, and she was smart enough to understand at least some of what that might mean.

She always meant to ask him about it, and she would, but right now he wasn't ready to be that open with anyone. Merlin, he was just so tense from a simple hug that she couldn't see him being able to relax and open up about his home life. Maybe soon. Maybe sometime when he felt the same calm peace around her that she felt around him. She was smart enough to know that he would most likely need a few knocks in the head and written instructions when the time came, but she was pretty sure she could figure something out.

Until then, she would have to content herself with these little stolen moments. She wanted to huff in frustration. Didn't he know what he did to her sometimes? Those bright green eyes that looked at her in such trusting curiosity, as he so cutely tilted his head ever so slightly to the side while she tried to explain something to him. He never told he she was being a know-it-all like some unmentioned red heads, and he never brushed her off when he even suspected that she needed him for anything.

Argh, he could be so, infuriating sometimes, and he didn't even know it. But she guessed it was part of who he was. She held him tighter, and lamented how he was still so tense, and his chest was still too thin. She made a mental note to have him to try to eat more in the mornings.

She could feel him nuzzling her hair like it was the most beautiful thing in the world, and it took all her willpower not to tear his cloths off right there. She felt his lips come so close to her neck that she almost unconsciously bared it to him, hoping that she would feel his lips there, even as she knew he wouldn’t. He was just too damn noble. He would be frightened to break whatever friendship they had, so she would have to content herself with her nightly fantasies until she could get him to relax more.

And speaking of nightly fantasies, she could feel her own small pleasure center beginning to stiffen, begging to be caressed. She could also feel Harry just starting to rise, and so wanted to press her mound up against his manhood. Her body began to warm, and her breath caught when he squeezed her even tighter, pressing down onto her nipples in a way that felt divine. Did this stupid, lovable boy what he was doing to her!

“I-I-” he started several times. The heat that had been creeping down her chest and into her knickers started to cool as she felt him struggling to tell her something.

“I'm afraid,” he finally admitted, feeling a little of the weight pressing down on him lessen. She tried to pull back to look into his eyes, but he held her tighter, silently begging her not to. He couldn't stand to look at his precious Hermione when he felt this weak. “I don't know how I'm supposed to get out of this.”

“You have a plan,” said said gently, squeezing him tighter.

Harry laughed bitterly. “I'm going to summon my broom and try to out fly a Dragon. Hermione, even I can see this is insane.”

“But you've done so many great things already. I know you can survive this too.”

He gulped past the painful ball in his throat as his eyes began to sting. Damn whether. The Professors had assured him that it would be sunny today, and it goes and starts to rain. “I wasn't afraid then because I wasn't fighting for me.”

“Yes you were,” she said firmly. “It was only you there. You fought V-V-Voldemort in your first year, you fought a Basilisk in your second year, and it was no one but you who drove off all those Dementors and saved Sirius. Yes, you got lots of help from other people, but who held the wand and stood tall in front of things that would send most full grown adults running in fear?”

“I know, but that's just it,” Harry said into her hair. “I was fighting for someone else every time, so I wasn't afraid then. In first year all I was thinking about when I was facing Voldemort was Ron laying in the chess room, bleeding, and you stuck behind the fire. Ginny was going to die if I didn't fight that great dirty snake, and the Dementors were going to suck out Sirius's soul if I didn't fight them off. Then there was that Troll in the first year, and pretty much every Quidditch match I have ever played in. People always say that I'm so brave, but I'm only brave when people need me to be, and no one needs me now.”

Hermione had never hear Harry sound so frightened. He was always the one leading them into or out of something, but that was just it, wasn't it. His 'saving people thing' was so strong that he probably never felt fear when he thought he was protecting someone. But now when it was just him and a Dragon, he was afraid. There was no girl to save or a soul at risk. There was just him and a nesting mother who could kill him instantly.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She knew that she was needed over here, but what could she possibly offer up that could help him after hearing all of that. She knew – suddenly Hermione got very angry with herself. Was she a Gyrffindor or not? Here was Harry pouring out more of his heart then she could have ever imagined, and she could fix it if she would just get up the courage.

Steeling herself, Hermione knew that Harry was still very embarrassed by his own words and he would not let her pull away until he had closed himself in again. That will not do. Hermione felt one last prick of fear, but she squashed that down. She was going to do something that would leave her very venerable, and if Harry wished to, he could crush her. But he wouldn't. She knew him, and she trusted him. There was a warmth inside her whenever he was close, or when he smiled. She could laugh with him even when she wanted to cry. He was an idiot when it came to pretty much anything that couldn't be fought, but he tried so hard.

He could laugh at her, or just sneer before turning and walking away from her, but even though she had no guarantee he wouldn't, she trusted him. If he felt the same way, she would be over the moon, but if he didn't, she knew that he would be as gentle as possible when he turned her down. So, calling upon all the courage that got her sorted into the house of the Lions, Hermione leaned down the least few inches, and gently kissed the place where his neck met his chest.

Harry was just getting control of himself. He took one last steadying breath in his fortress of Hermione, and prepared to go face the world. He cursed himself for almost crumbling in her arms. He had to be strong if he wanted to even have a chance against the Dragon. He had shut down everything, and was almost ready to face his precious Hermione again, when he felt her lips touch his neck.

He froze.

Her lips were so soft; just as soft as the rest of her. They were hot and her could feel a dampness on his skin when she pulled away. He was so caught up in this strange new sensation, that he almost missed her leaning back into him.

Harry relaxed around Hermione when she kissed his neck, just as she planned. She pulled back and looked at the expressions that flitted across his face. He looked shocked beyond all reason, before it melted into confusion. She smiled softly, and leaned back in just as he was starting to get reacquainted with his surroundings. This was it.

Their lips met, and Hermione's heart felt like it was breaking with pleasure. She was kissing her best friend, and he wasn't pushing her away. It wasn't the most romantic kiss in the world. And it was no where near the 'passion filled' french kisses some of the girls bragged about. She had gotten Harry in a moment of surprise, so his lips didn't respond much, but the look in his eyes as she pulled away made it more magnificent then anything else in the world.

Harry tried to speak, but he was still too shocked to be able to form anything resembling coherent thoughts, let alone words. He could still taste her, and her scent was all over. Hermione blushed when he unconsciously pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, as if savouring her taste. She backed off a little, but kept her hands wrapped around his neck, waiting patiently for his mind to catch up.

A loud voice began to boom from inside the area, breaking the spell over the two. The Dragons came back to the foreground of Harry's mind, though he couldn't quite get his mind off the kiss. “What was that for?” he asked, as clueless as always.

“That was me needing you,” she said softly, her breath sending shivers down his spine. “You are not allowed to die. Do you hear me? All those idiots out there can scream and yell about the Boy-Who-Bleeding-Lived until they drop dead. I don't care. What you should be thinking about is that I need you to come back to me. Do you have that?”

Harry was a decently smart lad when he put his mind to it, but he had very little experience in understanding people, and more importantly matters of the heart. But he did manage to understand that two things were very important: his Hermione said that she needed him, and she had kissed him. Bugger those damned over sized lizards, he was going to live, and then he was going to came back here and find out exactly what just happened.

A wide and honest smile crept across Harry's face, and his deep green eyes were brighter then Hermione had ever seen them. He wanted to kiss her back, but that was a lot further then his comfort zone would allow. He wanted to stay here with her, but he knew he had to go. Her honey brown eyes watched him with promises of mischief, before she turned and began walking back the way she came. “Remember, you have to come back to me. No excuses.”

Harry was reasonable sure he called something back, but he had no idea. He was still catching up on what just happened. Hermione kissed him? Her lips were so soft ... she was so soft. He felt a ... hunger? A need? Something was telling him to follow her; to follow that beautiful bushy hair that gleamed in to sunlight. He wanted to run his finger though it and kiss her again. His chest hurt with ever step away from him she took. He Needed her to come back, but he knew that he had other things to do. So he watched his Hermione walk away.

Some other part of him dragged his eyes lower, down the water fall of brown hair that flicked back and forth, and he stifled a groan as he watched her perfect bum rolling beneath her robes as she walked away. She was wearing robes that went down to her mid-calves, but he could still make out the swell of her bottom. That second part of him talked to the first part and the came to an agreement; he should walk up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist, kissing her neck, listening to her moan of pleasure, while he pressed his hardness up between those soft orbs.

Harry shook himself, and tried very hard not to stare anymore. He didn't understand a single thing that just happened, but he knew it was very nice, and he very much wanted it to happen again.








Harry stood at the gate that all the Champions were told to enter through and watched Fleur as she fought her small red Dragon. She bolted from one spot of cover to the next, transfiguring rocks into animals that would charge and distract the Dragon. Several times the beast had killed her creations faster then she had anticipated and she was forced to throw up the oddest shield Harry had ever seen. It seemed to be made up of at least eight separate layers of blue light spaces with some kind of purple mist that turned to steam when struck with Dragon's fire. Every time her shields held only just long enough for her to dodge out of the way before they collapsed and the fire from the belly of the beast scorched the stoney floors.

Fleur was quickly running out of steam after casting that strange shield twice on top of a dozen animal transfigurations. She created three more dogs, and directed them to attack the Dragons other side before she darted in to snatch the egg. She grabbed it and was going full tilt for the safety zone when the Dragon noticed her. Harry had his wand in his hand in a flash, but it wasn't needed. Just before the Dragons fire could strike her down, it triggered the Runes stitched into her pads, casting a smaller version of that same shield charm.

It deflected most of the blast, but her shimmery pants were still singed. Harry guessed the shimmery material must be some kind of fire-resistant fabric. Harry finally relaxed when she crossed into the safety zone and a dozen men including Charlie Weasley ran into the arena casting spells that Harry didn't recognize. Two of the men seemed to be 'Shielders', who's sole purpose appeared to be casting those same multilayered shields that Fleur used, except their's had dozen's of layers and they could cast more of them in a row.

Harry clapped along with all the other people as Fleur's score was presented. Was that the power and experience difference between a fourth year and a seventh year? Or even a professional Dragon tamer? If Hermione hadn't come to him before, he probably would be a wreak right about now.

Which of course was still a little true. Now what did he do about Hermione? She was always there for him. He felt ... calm and contented, even when Malfoy was around, as long as she was there she could at least take the edge off his most towering rages. Harry had no idea what real love could possibly be, but he imagined it might be something like what he felt for Hermione.

But in that case what did he feel for Cho?

Even now he wanted nothing more then to go up into the stands and press his body and lips up against Hermione's until everyone knew that he belonged to her, and she belonged to him. But would she let him? Would she want him to? Merlin, were girls this confusing for every one? Or in the other case... were boys this confusing for girls?

Up in the stands Hermione seemed to be blushing a little as Ron interrogated her. Harry didn't like that at all, but he also knew that he couldn't go and punch the boy in the face for being a prat. And why, in the last few weeks, had he started feeling so damned threatened by other guys looking at Hermione? It was almost like there was something primal inside him that was telling him that ... that.... that she was his mate and he belonged to her. That was a very weird way to put it, but it felt ... right?

Harry heard his name called over the speakers and he tried to shove most of his thoughts aside. But he couldn't get Hermione out of his head. Damn!

Harry trudged out onto the field in nothing resembling a good mood. He looked up and could immediately find Hermione, almost as if there was something connecting them.

The trainers brought in the Hungarian Horntail, and Harry swallowed hard. Damn, it seems to have grown since the last time he saw it. Or it might have just eaten a small tank. Either one really.

It was huge, towering over Harry like a human to a worm. The top of it's spiked head almost reached the bottom most rows of seats and it's tail thrashed around carving huge gouges out of the solid stone around them. It locked green slitted eyes with Harry and drooled acid like spit onto the ground as if she wanted to make a meal out of him.






'Tis the end of the first chapter. What did you think?”