A/N: I do not own any character references by JK Rowling in the Harry Potter series or agree with her comments. This story is a product of my pure imagination. I do not profit from this and will not pay for any commissions for art about this story.
I can feel the magic floating in the air.
Being with you gets me that way.
I watch the sunlight dance across your face.
And I've never been this swept away
All my thoughts just seem to settle on the breeze
When I'm lying wrapped up in your arms
The whole world just fades away.
The only thing I hear
Is the beating of your heart
'Cause I can feel you breathe
It's washing over me.
And suddenly, I'm melting into you.
There's nothing left to prove
Baby, all we need is just to be
Caught up in the touch
Slow and steady rush
Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be?
I can feel you breathe.
Just breathe
~Breathe by Faith Hill
~*~ 22nd November 1997 ~*~
Warmth. Real warmth.
Hermione stirred slightly. Her pillow was unusually firm and smelled like… something familiar, warm, and safe. She shifted, her nose brushing against the fabric, and breathed in deeply.
A sleepy voice rumbled under, rough with sleep, "Are you sniffing me?"
Her eyes snapped open. Green eyes blinked at her, and her heart lodged somewhere in her throat.
"What are you doing in my bed?" she asked, her voice much higher than it should have been.
Harry rubbed his eye with his hand. "We were cold last night, remember?" he stated with a yawn. "Decided sharing a bed would be better."
Hermione could feel her face flush with embarrassment as she scrambled up, attempting to climb over Harry, but instead slipped and landed back on the bed with a yelp.
The floor. It was wet. Slimy and cold.
"What the…" Hermione said as Harry cast a Lumos and cast a soft glow through the darkened tent.
Hermione's breath caught. The floor of their tent was thick with sludge. Mud had crept in at some point of the night, saturating everything with a dark muck.
"Oh no," Hermione moaned, realizing how much cleanup they were going to have to do.
Outside, the birds chirped, the first cheerful sound in days. The rain had finally stopped. Of course, now that the marsh had swallowed them whole.
Harry threw the covers off and stood grimacing at the cold earth underfoot. Hermione attempted to stand, but her foot slid out from under her on the slick floor. She flailed, grabbing for Harry, and took him down with her.
With a wet thump, Harry landed flat on his back in the cold, damp mud. Hermione landed half on top of him, gasping as the chill soaked through her pajama trousers. Her other hip was warm, so very warm, pressed against something very male that was pointing up and awake.
Her eyes went wide as she froze. Harry's eyes met hers, equally shocked.
"I… I…" She stammered as she tried to push herself off him, but the floor offered no traction, and she slipped back down on him with a groan. This time, her leg rubbed against him.
"Accio wand!" Harry barked, flinging out his hand.
Hermione ducked into his chest as the wand zipped through the air, smacking into his palm. "I thought you struggled with wandless magic."
"It comes and goes," Harry muttered as he pointed his wand underneath them, "Scougify!"
The worst of the mud vanished from around them, and they managed to sit up, clothes wet, muddy, and clinging to them.
Hermione looked around with a groan, "This is going to be a nightmare to clean up."
Harry sighed, dragging his hand down his muddy face. "Let's clear what we can and pack up before the whole tent floats off."
Hermione stood carefully. "Can we go into town first? Maybe the farmer's market is open again. If we don't find more food, we will be down to the old food that Perkins had left."
Harry snorted. "Mystery stew may be good."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, thank you."
Harry groaned, pulling his shirt over his head without thought and squeezing it out, "I need a shower."
Hermione swallowed hard as she grabbed her wand and turned to clear the mud.
~*~ 23rd November 1997 ~*~
The wind off the North Sea bit through Hermione's jacket like icy needles. Her cheeks felt raw, and her hands like icicles, and she could no longer feel her toes. They had walked for what felt like days, but had only been hours, trudging through trails and along cliffs, soaked despite it not raining, as the sea sprayed on them.
Hermione could barely feel her legs anymore.
They reached the edge of a quaint town, its old stone buildings nestled against the coast.
"Thank Merlin," Harry muttered as their feet hit cobblestones, then pavement.
They stumbled inside a small café next to a bus depot, its windows steamed up from the warmth within. The bell above the door chimed softly as they entered, to the scent of coffee and baked sugar, making Hermione's eyes flutter shut.
They ordered and collapsed into a booth near the back, where they could see who came and went through the steamed glass and the door.
The waitress brought Hermione her warm mug of cappuccino, and she cradled it between her freezing hands. Harry sipped on his tea as their croissants arrived, flaky and golden. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel like they were on the run. No one was hunting them to capture them. They were just two friends on a late afternoon coffee date. In another life, they'd be two teenagers on a date, comfortable with each other. Instead of being two tired teenagers aged much earlier than they should have been, with aching limbs and empty stomachs.
Harry took a bite of his croissant and looked out the window. "Why don't we take a bus?"
Hermione paused mid-sip. "Because if we did, how would we flee if a Death Eater found us, Harry?"
Harry shrugged, "Get off? Disapparate? We have a whole stash of Polyjuice, and we've only used it twice. We could blend in for once. Disguise ourselves. Ride north. The forecast in the newspaper stated that it was clearer up there, cold, but with less rain. I'm tired of rain."
Hermione chewed her croissant. The idea wasn't without risk, but they were exhausted. On foot was slow going, and apparating, as tired as they were, was dangerous. Polyjuice made things easier, especially when it came to disguise.
She took her map out of her beaded bag and unfolded it. "We don't go far," she said, glancing at him. "We ride to Grantham at most. It won't take long, but it will be quicker. We'll still be close enough to avoid crossing too far into territories. Shouldn't be too expensive either."
They finished their food, and nerves tugged at her stomach instead of hunger. At the depot, they paid for two tickets and then tucked into the loo, using two hairs that Hermione had gotten from a couple sitting near them, which came out looking older than they went in. By the time the bus pulled up ten minutes later, they were a middle-aged couple. Keeping their heads low the whole ride. The bus rumbled along the roads. It wasn't until the sign read Grantham as their next stop that Hermione let out the breath she seemed to be holding.
It wasn't safety, but the distance that they had tried so hard to cover.
They passed a few buildings in an attempt to head toward the trails when Harry spotted it. Angel and Royal. A tiny little inn with light spilling from the windows. "Just one night?" he asked, his eyes practically begging. "Come on, Hermione. Hot shower. Warm food. A real bed."
Hermione hesitated. "One night," she relented as her thawing toes throbbed. "And it better be affordable."
And it was. Harry paid in cash with their stash of Muggle money using the names James and Jean Wilkins.
Harry unlocked the door, dropped his rucksack, and all but dove onto the first bed with a groan. "This is heaven."
Hermione closed the door behind her and cast as many protective charms as she could. Turning around, the room they got was small, cozy, and had two beds, a proper bathroom, and even a fireplace that Hermione nearly moaned at the warmth coming from it.
Still, her chest ached with unease. "I don't have a good feeling about this, Harry."
He peeled his arm off his face. "I do. Do you want a shower first?"
"No," Hermione said, waving him off as she took off her coat. "You go. You still have marsh in your hair. You need it more."
He sat up with a grin and crossed to her in two steps. Leaning in, he kissed her cheek.
Hermione froze. It was quick, soft, warm… oh so warm.
Harry grinned and rushed into the bathroom, shutting the door with a click.
Slowly raising a hand to her cheek, her skin tingled from where his lips had touched. She stared at the closed door in disbelief, her mind racing far faster than it should.
The soft sound of running water filled the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she swallowed hard. Everything suddenly felt different. She closed her eyes for a moment and must have drifted off. When the bathroom door clicked open, she opened her eyes, and steam poured out like mist.
Hermione glanced up to see Harry emerge, towel low on his hips, bare skin flushed from the heat of the warm water. Droplets slid down his chest, and she looked away as they ventured down to the bit of hair near his belly button that she discovered yesterday existed.
"Call and order us something to eat?" He asked.
Hermione's mouth was suddenly dry. She nodded, or thought she nodded, she wasn't sure because her brain had apparently left her body, leaving her just a shell.
"Cool," Harry said as he disappeared back into the bathroom with his rucksack in hand.
The door clicked shut, and Hermione grabbed the pillow nearest to her, buried her face in it, and screamed. It was muffled but satisfying. Where had her brain gone these last few days?
"What the hell are you doing, Hermione?" she muttered under her breath. "It's Harry. Harry. You don't scream into pillows because of Harry."
Except she had. Multiple times, in fact, since Ron left. Her body betrayed her. Lately, he wasn't just Harry. He was the person she could trust to keep watch, make her laugh when her soul felt hollow, even to hold her when the nightmares crawled their way into her dreams. Now he was the person who just kissed her cheek and wandered out of the steamy bathroom in nothing but a towel like he was straight out of a romance book.
Hermione snatched the small menu from the bedside table, flipping through the overpriced items with a frown before finding the most affordable but filling option.
Grabbing the phone, she placed the order for two cheeseburgers. When the call ended, she dropped the receiver and stared at the wall until the bathroom door opened again.
Harry came out, fully dressed this time, barefoot and rubbing a towel over his hair, making it more disheveled than possible.
"Your turn," he said, dropping the towel on the edge of the bed and sitting on it with a sigh.
Hermione blinked. "Right. Shower."
She grabbed her beaded bag and all but fled into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The warm, lingering steam wrapped around her, and she leaned back against the door.
"What the hell are you doing, Hermione?" she whispered again.
Inhaling, she groaned as Harry's scent overwhelmed her. Stripping down, she climbed into the shower with her shower kit and leaned under the water, trying to catch her breath. Her hormones, damn hormones, overwhelmed her as the warmth of the water, Harry's scent, and her brain all betrayed her.
Between her legs pulsed.
Swallowing hard, she tried to ignore it. Grabbing her shampoo, she lathered it up and washed the grime out of her hair. Her brain left her again as she scrubbed her body, instead imagining it was Harry running his hands over her. Running her hand over her belly, she started to wash in between her legs, only to find it swollen, and when her fingers ran over her clit, she nearly moaned.
She heard Harry cough outside the bathroom, and she froze, nearly there as she heard her wand vibrate on the sink as her enchantments sensed someone. A knock on the door was like cold water over her head as she heard Harry open the door, greet a woman, and thank her for their food. Swallowing hard as there was a knock on the bathroom door, "Food is here."
"Thanks," she squeaked out, reaching for the water handle. She turned the faucet cold, dousing herself. "You are disgusting, Granger."
Finishing her shower, she quickly dressed and walked out to find Harry sitting on his bed with his food in his lap as he flipped through the tele.
"You know, I never got to watch TV. I have no clue what is even on it," He commented, "The only time I ever watched it was when the Dursleys would leave me alone."
Hermione set her bag on the small desk and sat on her bed. "I'm not a huge tele person. So, pick whatever."
Harry settled on a movie called Forest Gump as Hermione opened her food and took a bite of the cheeseburger, nearly moaning as the taste hit her tongue.
Harry grinned, "Good, isn't it?"
"Anything that isn't mushrooms would be good at this point. I don't think I'll ever eat another mushroom in my life after this," Hermione said honestly.
Harry laughed as he took a bite and swore.
Hermione looked up to see him getting up, with a big stain of ketchup on his bedspread. "Way to go, Harry."
Harry wiped it with a towel, making it larger, then threw it to the floor. "That's not coming out. They're going to charge us for this between the ketchup and the mud I got on the bed earlier."
"Fill the tub and put it into soak," Hermione suggested, "In the morning, we can try to remove the stains with a spell if it doesn't soak out."
Harry nodded, taking it to the bathroom.
Hermione bit a chip and moaned. Harry had just stepped out and froze. Clearing his throat, "That good?"
Hermione nodded, "Salty goodness."
"The shower sounded good, too," Harry said, sitting on his sheet. Hermione froze as he continued. "The warmth on my muscles felt good, too."
"Yeah," Hermione swallowed, "A good night's rest will help too."
Harry looked at her, "Could we share tonight? Your bed is closer to the fire, and my covers are in the tub."
Hermione licked her lips. "Sure."
Hermione cursed her brain, demanding it to stay normal. This was Harry, her best friend. But now, with him asking to share a bed, her thoughts and body were behaving in distinctly un-best-friend ways.
"Sure," She stated again as she shoved another chip into her mouth.
Harry grinned, taking another sip of water. "Thanks."
They finished their meal, mostly in silence, as they watched Forrest Gump. Just two teenagers watching a movie, pretending for just a moment that the world wasn't falling apart around them.
When Hermione stood up to throw away her rubbish, Harry grabbed her hand. "Thank you."
Hermione blinked, "For what?"
"For letting us do this. Come here. Rest. Just to be… human for the night. I know you worry, but I don't say it enough. I wouldn't have lasted a week without you." Harry told her.
Hermione's heart sputtered. She squeezed his hand. "You don't have to thank me. We're in this together. You and me."
Harry let go of her hand and then moved over to her bed. "Which side? You want the right side again?"
Hermione nodded and stared at him as he slid under the comforter of her bed and sighed. Grabbing her bag, she went into the bathroom and washed her hands, then brushed her teeth. When she returned to the room, she turned off the light. The fire gave a low glow, and the only other light in the room was from the television. Harry was lying on his back, one arm under his head, as he watched the tele.
Hermione hesitated. They'd shared a bed over the last few weeks for warmth. But this felt different.
Carefully, she slid into bed beside him and turned away from him, her back to him. She laid stiffly, willing her heart to calm down.
After a few minutes, she felt him shift and reach over her. Not touching her but grabbing the remote to turn off the tele, then setting his glasses on the bedside table.
Silence filled the room as he settled back in.
"Goodnight, Hermione," Harry whispered, not far from her head.
"Goodnight, Harry," She whispered back as he turned over and sighed.
Under the covers, she could feel his heartbeat and his scent… the same damn scent she had smelt in that cauldron last year, overwhelmed her. Closing her eyes, she slowly breathed in and out, willing her body to let her relax and fall asleep.
~*~ 24th November 1997 ~*~
Hermione stirred slowly, the faint morning light creeping in around the edges of the curtain. Warmth cocooned her. A solid weight, firm but comforting, cradled her from behind. Sometime during the night, she'd shifted into Harry's arms.
Her breath caught.
He was holding her, his arm around her waist, his body pressed to hers like a blanket. His chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic motion. Her head rested just beneath his chin.
Tears sprang to her eyes. It had been so long since she'd felt this safe.
Closing her eyes tightly, she willed herself not to move. Not to break the illusion. For just a moment, she wanted to forget the war, the constant fear, and the ache of missing those she loved.
Harry let a small moan and shifted. His body pressed closer, face muzzling into her hair, and then she felt it. The distinct, unmistakable press of something very male. Her eyes snapped open, and Harry went rigid behind her. Neither of them said a word.
She feigned sleep, barely breathing as she felt the slow, careful extraction of his limbs from around her. The mattress shifted. The sound of his quiet footsteps across the floor, then the bathroom door creaked shut, and the shower sputtered on.
Hermione rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, cheeks burning. She pressed her hands to her face and groaned quietly.
"This is getting out of hand," she whispered.
Shoving the blankets off herself, she padded across the room to her beaded bag, digging out clean clothes for the day. Pulling on jeans and a jumper, she grabbed her brush and began working out the tangles from her hair.
The bathroom door opened, and Harry stepped out, his hair again wet, a towel around his neck. He wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Got that dirty during the night?" she said lightly.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Did I wake you?"
"It was time to get up," Hermione replied.
Just then, her wand buzzed on the nightstand, making them both freeze, and a knock sounded on the door. Harry grabbed his wand and crept to the peephole, peering out, then relaxed, unlocking the door.
A chipper voice greeted him, "Sorry if I woke you. This is just our complimentary breakfast basket, enjoy!"
Hermione let out the breath she was holding and put her wand down, which she didn't realize that she had grabbed, as he came inside with the basket and shut the door. "That was nice of them," she murmured, focusing back on a particularly stubborn knot in her hair.
"Plus side, we can save the rest of these muffins," Harry said, flopping back onto the bed and biting into one. "Fuck, that's good."
Hermione smiled and walked over to the window. Drawing the curtains, she frowned. A thick gray fog had settled over the street. Heavy and seemingly unnatural. "Was it supposed to be foggy today?" she asked.
"No clue," Harry said as he came up behind her and peered over her shoulder. "We need to keep an eye on it."
Hermione nodded, her fingers tight on the edge of the curtain as she pulled it tightly closed. The fog wasn't moving like a regular mist. It was like smoke, clinging low to the ground as if swallowing everything it passed. She turned toward him. "So, I was thinking, there is a train station here in town."
Harry blinked, "Yeah?"
"I checked the map last night." She grabbed the paper off the desk and unfolded it. "If we head to Scotland, before it snows, it might buy us some time. Fewer people, less rain. You said the forecast was clearer up north."
Harry stared at the map. "Seriously?"
Hermione gave him a small smile. "Let's get out of here. We've got enough Polyjuice to cover our tracks. If we travel in disguise and use Muggle transportation, we stay off the magical grid. Especially if that is what I think it is outside. I don't want to be hiking anywhere near where these things are."
Harry nodded, "Sounds great to me." Pulling the curtains back, "The fog is still there, and it's chillier in here, isn't it?"
Hermione swallowed hard.
"Call the station," He said, "See when it leaves. I want to be out of here as soon as possible."
Hermione reached for the phone book with trembling fingers. She could feel the chill in her bones. They had to move now before the magical world caught up with them again, especially if dementors were nearby.
~*~ 25th November 1997 ~*~
The cold was sharp as they apparated over the Scottish loch that they had found. Hermione pulled her coat tighter as Harry pulled the tent out of her bag. Quickly setting it up, she stepped into the tent, grateful for the protection from the wind, but winced when she was met with a lingering musty scent. Pausing in the doorway, her nose wrinkled as she inhaled.
"Is it just me, or does it still smell like a swamp?" she asked, frowning.
Harry walked in behind her and tossed his rucksack on the table. "It's all we have," he muttered, pulling off his coat. "Unless you got scented candles in that magic bag." He turned to her, "You gonna take that thing off?"
Hermione blinked, and then, looking down, she remembered she was still wearing her disguise. The Polyjuice potion had worn off an hour ago, but she hadn't removed the pillow she'd stuffed under her jumper to appear pregnant. It had been comforting in a strange way, a weight cradled against her, grounding her.
Running her hands over the bulge, she looked back up at Harry. "Would you still be my friend if I were bigger?"
Harry grinned. "Of course. I'm going to go get more wood and some water before it freezes solid," he said, pulling his coat back on.
"Get some ice for the ice box too, if you can," she said, brushing her hair back. "Might help keep what's left of the meat from going bad."
He nodded and disappeared back through the tent flap. She stood alone for a moment, the stillness of the loch pressing around her. The wind outside was gentle. Snow was beginning to fall steadily all around him.
When she saw her reflection in a tiny mirror, she paused. Turning sideways, she stared at her reflection, running her hands over her fake stomach. Pulling the pillow out, she threw it onto her bunk and stared at her flat stomach in the mirror. Her hand rose to rest against it, her hip bones sticking out more than usual, and just for a moment, images of a future that she'd never have came to her mind. She and Harry getting married. She and Harry expecting their first child. Harry holding a tiny baby.
She squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that light danced on her eyelids as she tried to hold back the tears.
Later that night, the storm had become fat flakes drifting silently around their protective enchantments. The snow muffled the world around them, turning the air outside into a glowing haze.
Hermione sat curled against Harry on the sofa, Tales of Beedle the Bard open in her lap. Dumbledore's notes were scrawled in the margins. Her voice trailed off more with every page laced with sleep. She was translating one of the older tales, her words slow and careful, until her focus slipped.
She blinked several times and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm.
"You okay?" Harry murmured beside her.
"Give me a moment," she yawned. "My eyes are just… hurting." They burned from fatigue, but she didn't want to move. Not yet.
Harry shifted slightly and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, rubbing small circles on her arm, lulling her more into sleep. Her head found his shoulder without thinking, and before she knew it, she heard herself let out the tiniest snore.
She stirred, half-aware of the sound that had come from her mouth. Harry chuckled, and she felt his brush a loose strand of hair from her face.
"You're not alone, Hermione," He whispered. "Not ever. Thank you for being you."
She smiled as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her heart was clenching, tight. She wanted to say something, anything, but her mouth wouldn't work. Her body was heavy, warm, and tired. Then she felt his arms slide gently under her.
"Go back to sleep," he whispered. "I'm just putting you to bed."
Hermione nestled into Harry, then felt herself be set into the soft bedding. Curling onto her side, she smiled as she drifted off to sleep.
~*~ 27th November 1997 ~*~
Hermione sat in silence, pulling her jacket tighter to her body. Their tent still sat on the small island in the middle of a Scottish loch. Wind howled against the tent's canvas, creating an eerie whistling sound. The snow was beginning to pile up on the ground in front of her, and she brushed it away more frequently as the sun went further down on the horizon.
"Hermione, you're going to catch your death."
Hermione looked up to see Harry standing behind her, holding a steaming cup. She swallowed hard, seeing the edges of his glasses fogging in the cold. "It's my turn to keep watch."
Harry sighed and stepped out of the tent, the snow that had gathered at the edge of the canvas crunching under his feet as he sat beside her. "Here."
Hermione took the cup from him, smiling as the warmth spread through her hands. "Thank you."
Harry let out a breath and watched the steam float between them. "Hermione, there is no reason for you to sit out here and freeze to death. We are in the middle of an impending snowstorm. We have our enchantments, and no one will cross this icy loch in the middle of the night to find us. Let's get inside before you are buried in snow."
Hermione looked at the setting sun, then over at Harry. With a sigh, she relented. "Fine, but only because despite the warming charm, I am losing feeling in my toes."
Harry held out his hand, and she let him pull her to her feet. "I have some soup warming too."
"Thank you," Hermione said as she sealed the tent's flaps behind them.
After eating a bowl of Harry's tomato soup with some slightly expired bread, Hermione curled up with a book while Harry flipped through his photo album. Looking up from her book as she heard him sigh, Hermione watched his face grow sad. "What's wrong?"
Harry stared at the page of his album before slowly closing it. "I was just looking at Mum and Dad's pictures." He told her softly. "I wonder what they thought in the end, you know? They were hiding just like we are, but they were stuck in the house. They had protection, and they had each other."
Hermione leaned forward and touched his hand. "You have me, Harry. I may not be your partner, but you are my best friend, and I wouldn't be anywhere else."
Harry swallowed hard. "I'll never have that."
Hermione frowned. "What? Friendship?"
"No." Harry shook his head. "What they had. Love. Someone you'd die for." Harry laughed bitterly. "I know you had Viktor. Ginny and I… just some fantastic snogs. I am going to die by his hand, never being loved, never… having sex."
Hermione blinked as he whispered the last part. "I love you, Harry."
Harry shut his album with a snap and stood. "Not like that."
Hermione followed him to the kitchen, where he put his mug in the sink. "No, maybe not yet, but I could. Easily."
Harry swallowed hard and looked at her. "Don't pity me."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've fancied you since our third year."
Harry gasped, choking on his spit. "What?"
Hermione looked into his eyes. "It was bound to happen, being friends with two boys. It happened."
Harry frowned. "I thought you liked Ron."
"I do," Hermione said as she bit her lip. "But nothing like you." Hermione moved closer to him, "I dream at night, Harry. I dream at night about us battling him, winning, and growing old together. I dream of children, our children."
Harry swallowed hard. "You dream of us together?"
Hermione turned away from him, embarrassed. "I know you want to be with Ginny, it's alright."
Harry caught her wrist. "I wanted Ginny because I thought you wanted Ron."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really," Harry said as he gently touched her face. "So, you want to be the mother to my children?"
Hermione felt her heart race and saw him grin. "You like that? I can feel your heart racing as I called you that." Harry said, feeling her heartbeat through her neck.
Hermione licked her lips. "Only if you are their daddy."
"Bloody hell," Harry said as he leaned down, capturing her lips in his.
Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as his lips moved down her neck. "It's just a pipe dream. We have to survive first." She murmured.
Harry tangled his hands in her hair and gazed down at her. "Until then, it doesn't hurt to pretend. Just for a bit, does it?"
She put her arms around his neck and jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist. "If we are pretending, then I am Mrs. Potter."
Harry chuckled as he walked them backwards to his bed, tangling his hands in her hair and deepening their kiss. Hermione moaned softly as one of his hands ran down her arm and side, then cradled her hip. As he gently laid her down on his cot, Hermione gasped as she felt his hardening length against her.
"I want you, Hermione," Harry whispered.
Hermione's heart raced as she nodded. "I want you, too."
Harry stood up, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt over his head, his glasses flying across the floor. "Shit."
Hermione smiled as she stood up and picked them up for him. Once seated back on his face, he began slowly undressing her. Hermione helped him, shivering at the breeze floating through the tent, eager to feel the warmth of his body against hers.
Once they were both naked, Harry gently laid her back against his bed again, his body covering hers as he kissed her deeply. She moaned as her hands tangled in his hair and his tongue explored her mouth. She gasped as he kissed her neck, and his hands moved lower to cup her breasts. "I dream that our children will rest here against your breasts." Harry gasped against her neck.
"They will call you Daddy," Hermione groaned as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.
"Mommy, you will be Mommy to them," Harry said as his hand moved lower, and he looked into her eyes. "Is this okay?"
"Yes! Daddy, yes!" Hermione said as his fingers slid between her folds.
"Fuck, Hermione," Harry said, finding her wet, as he found her clit that the boys in the dorm always talked about.
"Mommy, I'm Mommy, remember?" Hermione reminded him, cupping his face.
Harry kissed her hard as he stroked her, and Hermione moaned, moving her hips against his hand, finding herself closer to the edge she rarely got herself to. "I'm going to… right there, oh God."
"Mommy," Harry whispered into her ear, and she cried out, shuddering as her orgasm tore through her.
Hermione took a moment to catch her breath and looked up at him to see him grinning. "What?"
Harry kissed her forehead. "Who would have thought that Hermione Granger, the swot extraordinaire, secretly had a Mommy fetish?"
Hermione blushed. "It's just something I never thought would happen to me. Who would want to settle for me?"
Harry kissed her. "Me, gladly. Are you ready?"
Hermione swallowed hard. "Make love to me, Daddy."
"Fuck," Harry said as he moved between her legs, "Tell me if I hurt you."
Hermione moaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist, as he found her entrance and slowly began to slide into her.
"Fuck, you feel so good," Harry groaned as he inched inside her. "You are so tight."
After what seemed like forever, he was fully inside her. "Are you okay?"
"It's uncomfortable but manageable. Move," Hermione told him.
Harry slowly started moving his hips, and Hermione met his rhythm, keeping time with him. She felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge again, trembling as he gasped above her. Reaching up, she wiped away a bead of sweat before it rolled onto his glasses. "Daddy, I want you to come."
Harry groaned, moving faster as she reached down and touched herself. A small spasm around him was all it took. "Shit!" As he came hard, she cried out as her orgasm washed over her.
Hermione ran her fingers through his sweaty hair as he collapsed against her, both catching their breath. "Well, that's one way to stay warm."
Harry chuckled as he slowly pulled out of her and rolled onto his back. "Who knew, Hermione Granger, you are kind of kinky."
Hermione swatted at his chest. "It's called a fantasy, Potter."
Preview of Chapter 7 – I'm Just a Kid
She laughed, "That's not their titles." Reaching out, she used his shoulder for balance as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Can't wait to read it."
His ears were turning red, but he grinned. "It's about a professor and his student, sounded interesting."
Hermione looked at him with a grin. "Oh, really?"
Harry cleared his throat and moved to put the pasta away in the cabinets. "Yeah, I thought you'd like it."
Hermione watched him, the book still in her hand, as she set her bag on the table. "You know, you were my professor once."
The box of pasta he'd been holding slipped through his fingers and hit the floor as he turned around. "What?!"
Nonchalantly, she perched herself in the armchair, curling her legs under her. "Well, you were," she said, "The DA, remember?"
Harry bent down, grabbing the box. "You can't say stuff like that, Hermione. Bloody Hell."