Chapter 13Notes:So, it's happening! *fanfare sounds* This scene turned out to be quite long, so I decided to break it into two chapters (they are also twice as long as the other chapters). Enjoy!
Chapter TextEverything was repeated again: the hospital wing, the turmoil, the deathly pale Hermione, unconscious, lying on the snow-white sheets, so quiet and motionless that at the first second even Dumbledore decided that the worst had happened.
"Albus, you finally found him! Good. For a few seconds the girl stopped breathing, and I had to perform resuscitation. Now she's stable again, but we're running out of time!"
Madam Pomfrey's voice cut into Harry's ears, professional and merciless, like a scalpel. The boy froze next to his friend's bed, unable to believe that she was in such bad condition. She was only a little pale when he left her this morning, but now Madam Pomfrey says Hermione almost died – and it was all because of the bloody vow she made to Harry! Dumbledore warned that breaking the terms of the ritual would affect both of them, but for some reason Hermione had it much worse. All Harry had to deal with so far was trouble sleeping and loss of appetite, but otherwise he felt no worse than usual.
He never meant to cause any of this! If only he knew... If he could somehow help...
"But I can help. I know what needs to be done. Dumbledore warned that we had no other choice, but I kept putting it off like a fool... I kept hoping to the last that this would somehow be resolved by itself... I could have guessed right away. When have I ever been lucky at all?"
Harry touched one of Hermione's hands on top of the blanket – it was completely icy. The girl's lips were dry and cracked, her usually round and rosy cheeks were sunken, so she looked more like a ghost than a living person. Only her eternally unruly hair, scattered like a halo on the pillow around her emaciated face, still refused to look any different and curled wildly in all directions, like a wild thorn bush.
"I don't want to do this to you, Hermione. You are my best friend. But I also don't want you to die. I don't know if you'll be mad at me for this later or not, but I just..."
"I can't lose you," Harry whispered, barely audible. "You and Ron are the two closest people in the world to me. You are my family. I won't let anything happen to you. Please... please don't hate me too much, okay?"
"I can never... hate you," a weak, creaky voice, not at all like Hermione's usual ringing manner, made him fall silent and jump up to the girl, almost bumping noses with her.
"Hermione! You woke up!"
"I think so… I'm not sure... Everything is so foggy... What happened?" She could barely move her tongue and often stopped between phrases, incredibly tired and sleepy, but Harry seemed to have a stone lifted from his soul.
"She is alive!"
"You... it seems you lost consciousness for a short time, but Madam Pomfrey helped you."
"Yeah? I don't remember... Can you... pour some water? I'm terribly thirsty."
"Of course! Wait a second…"
As Harry helped Hermione sit up higher on the pillows and drink a few sips of water, he thought that he had never been so happy and so scared at the same time in his entire life. Hermione was still here, but that could change at any moment.
"We can't hesitate any longer," he realized. "We have to do this today. Now. I have to do it. This is for Hermione's sake... for both of our sakes. We can handle it. We must".
"Hermione..." he called quietly.
"M-m?"
"I know we agreed to wait until we learned the theory, but you're not getting better, and I thought..." Harry took a deep breath, as if about to jump into an icy lake, and said as confidently as possible: "We can't put this off any longer."
The effect of his words was so strong that Hermione's eyes instantly opened, and she even sat up in bed without anyone's help.
"Harry, I..." the girl paused, and then looked down at her knees, hidden by the sheets. After a minute she muttered: "You're right."
"Oh, damn... shit... This is happening! This is really happening!"
He tried not to let his face reflect his real emotions – fear, uncertainty, wild nervousness, because right now Hermione needed him and his support more than ever.
"So... are you willing to do it with me?" It was more of a formal question, but Harry couldn't help but ask it. He just felt it was right. In a couple of hours, everything would change forever for them, and he just wanted to smooth out as many rough edges as possible before that inevitably happened.
"Yes. And you?"
"Uh... of course! I trust you."
And he really did. Perhaps if he had to marry someone else instead of Hermione, he would have been much more scared and embarrassed. All the other girls only wanted the Boy Who Lived, the hero. They were not interested in Harry himself, an imperfect, cocky, often insecure boy, full of fears and not very pleasant personal secrets, who did nothing but constantly irritate everyone around him and get into stupid troubles. Hermione was the only girl on the planet who truly knew and appreciated him for who he was.
"I trust you too, Harry. I'm... glad that it will be you."
After this confession, Harry's cheeks turned red, and some hitherto unfamiliar feeling blossomed in his soul, as if a warm fluffy ball had inflated right in the middle of his chest, where his heart was, and instantly warmed him from head to toe. He had never experienced anything like this even around Ron, who was his first friend in his life. He, of course, loved Ron like the brother he never had, but with Hermione, somehow everything felt... different. Deeper. Closer.
Yielding to an impulse that was difficult to explain in words, Harry leaned over Hermione's palm, which he still held in his hand, and quickly "pecked" the knuckles of her thin fingers with his lips.
When he looked at his friend again, her cheekbones were painted with a slight blush, as if with one touch Harry had returned to her a piece of lost energy and health.
"Or maybe I really did return it. It gets worse for both of us when we try to keep our distance. This means we need to change this, and as soon as possible!"
For some reason such thoughts no longer caused him the panic horror that before. The sight of Hermione bedridden and the knowledge that she could die at any moment forced Harry to sharply reconsider his priorities and finally find his lost courage. After all, he was a Gryffindor, and true Gryffindors do not shy away from danger!
Leaning forward again, he left another, this time longer and more confident, kiss on Hermione's thin wrist, and was pleased to see a timid, warm smile on her face.
* * *
When Hermione and Harry, blushing and stuttering, explained their intentions to the adults present, they only nodded. As difficult as it was, everyone agreed that the time had come.
Madam Pomfrey remained true to her calm nature and without further ado went into the utility room to fetch the necessary potions – mainly strengthening ones so that Hermione, who was literally melting before their eyes, could hold on a little longer.
Meanwhile, Professor Dumbledore cleverly expanded and transformed the screen around Hermione's bed so that it turned into a real room with stone walls and a massive oak door. Together with sound-repellent charms, this guaranteed the young couple the necessary privacy. The Headmaster also transformed the narrow hospital bed into a comfortable double bed. Finally, he waved his wand, turning the crumpled piece of parchment into a small cube, which he then placed on the nightstand.
"If you need anything, just squeeze it in your hands," with these words he left the makeshift bedroom and tightly closed the door behind him.
There was a slightly tense silence as Hermione drank her potions and Harry just sat on the bed, swinging his legs back and forth. As soon as he caught himself doing this, he immediately stopped, because the last thing he wanted to do was look like a child now. What he and Hermione were about to do together here was not childish at all, it was an adult thing, and he should start acting like one.
He glanced sideways at the girl, who was just putting the last empty vial on the nightstand, looking strangely unperturbed. However, the secret of her calmness was revealed quite quickly.
"Here, take it," she handed Harry a bottle with some kind of iridescent azure-blue liquid. "It's a sedative. Madam Pomfrey gave us one each."
"Oh... Okay. Thank you."
Having drained the bottle in one gulp, Harry experienced an immediate effect: the nervous tremors in his body immediately stopped, and he realized that he could function normally again without the danger of collapsing with a heart attack at any second. The potion was really good, it didn't affect other senses and didn't cause drowsiness, which was the last thing he and Hermione needed at the moment.
"Well... Are you... um... ready to start?" Having squeezed out this, Harry immediately mentally scolded himself for being rude and tongue-tied, but Hermione didn't seem to mind.
She reached for the buttons of her pajama jacket, apparently about to take it off, but then stopped abruptly.
"Harry... can you look away, please?"
"Oh! Yes, sure! Sorry!" The boy spun around so quickly that he almost got whiplash.
"I should have asked Dumbledore to turn off the light before leaving," he thought with annoyance. The room was too bright, although the source of the light could not be determined – it seemed to be pouring from everywhere at the same time, imitating the effect of a soft candle flame. It was probably meant to create an intimate, tranquil atmosphere, but right now Harry would prefer complete darkness.
"I'm going to see Hermione naked!" A belated understanding fell on his head like a sack of flour, followed by another, equally obvious: "And Hermione will see me naked too!"
This meant that she would look at absolutely everything that his clothes usually hid, including his scrawny figure and protruding ribs that even the large Hogwarts diet could not correct in just a few months. She will probably decide that he is some kind of dystrophic freak! It would be disgusting for her to touch him...
This meant that she would look at absolutely everythingthat his clothes usually hid, including his scrawny figure and protruding ribs that even the rich Hogwarts diet could not correct in just a few months. She will probably decide that he is some kind of dystrophic freak! She would be disgusted to touch him…
"I finished. You can turn around now," Hermione's quiet voice interrupted his racing, panicky thoughts.
When Harry turned around, he saw that the girl was already sitting on the bed, completely covered with the blanket again. Her pajamas and socks were neatly folded on the nightstand.
"I... uh... I guess I need to take off my clothes too..." Potter muttered stupidly.
He reached for his red and gold uniform tie and tried to untie it with his fingers, which were wooden from tension, but he was too nervous, even with the potion. Hermione continued to stare at him blankly, as if she couldn't quite believe that they were both actually doing this.
"Hermione, can you... uh... close your eyes, please?"
In response, she nodded silently and did as he asked. Harry hoped she wouldn't peek.
"As if it would make any difference. In a few of minutes she'll see everything anyway."
With some effort, the boy managed to manage the damned knot of his tie, and then, trying not to put all this off any longer, he took off his robe, shirt, boots and trousers in turn. He seriously hesitated with the underpants, although it was stupid. He's come too far to back out right now. Finally, the underwear also went into the general pile on the chair along with the rest of the rags, and now Harry stood completely naked, except for his socks. For some reason, the latter one made him felt even more indecent and strange than if he were one hundred percent naked, so Harry hastily pulled off this last piece of clothing, after which he immediately shivered – the air in the hospital wing was not very warm.
Hermione never broke her word and still kept her eyelids closed tightly.
"I'm ready."
Still silent and without opening her eyes, the friend moved to the right on the mattress, giving Harry a little space while he padded barefoot to the bed. The cold stone slabs of the floor burned his bare feet, which literally turned into ice in just a minute.
"Hermione, I'll get on the bed now, okay?"
"Okay…"
It was easier for him, commenting on his every action. From awkwardness and inexperience, he was afraid of doing something wrong and making himself look like a complete idiot, or, even worse, inadvertently offending or frightening Hermione in some way. He was still desperately afraid and soon began to tremble again – this time more from the cool air freely flowing over his unprotected body. Covered in goose bumps, Harry wished he could get under the covers as soon as possible, but first he needed to make sure Hermione didn't mind.
The mattress sagged silently under his weight as the boy carefully sat down on the very edge, unsure of what to do next.
Perhaps adults didn't act like that in the bedroom. They weren't afraid to look at each other without clothes and they weren't worried about being laughed at or driven away, but Harry wasn't an adult. He had no idea what he was doing. No one explained anything to him, everyone just expected him to figure it out on the fly again, so he tried his best. He had no idea what Hermione was thinking right now. The girl was still lying quietly and as if she was generally trying to become as unnoticeable as possible, which was not at all like her usually bright presence wherever she found herself. If this went on, Harry would have to do everything himself, and he was not at all as confident in his abilities as he wanted to show.
"C'mon, Hermione! Help me out here a little! Just tell me something, please!"
And either his silent cry for help worked, or his friend was simply tired of waiting for him to begin to behave more decisively, because the next moment she herself lifted the edge of the blanket, unequivocally inviting him inside.
Harry closed his eyes almost immediately, only managing to catch a glimpse of what looked like the pale side of the girl's body. Moving gropingly, he climbed under the soft feather beds and finally breathed a sigh of relief when the long-awaited warmth enveloped him.
The bed was large enough to fit two teenagers and still had about the same amount of free space, so for a while Harry and Hermione just lay next to each other, mindlessly staring at the ceiling and making no attempt to move closer. It was peaceful and almost innocent, so it was possible to pretend that they were just relaxing together... but this could not last forever.
No matter how afraid and worried he was, Harry still could not calm down some primitive part of himself, which right now was screaming with growing delight and excitement. His young brain was about to explode from overheating, struggling to cope with what was happening around him.
"I'm lying completely naked! In bed! Next to a girl! Next to a naked girl!! Next to naked Hermione!!! I'm lying completely naked in bed with an equally naked Hermione and I'm going to have SEX with her right now!!!"
That's it. He said it. Even if only in his thoughts.
He's about to have sex with someone right now. To fucksomeone. In just a few minutes he will insert his penis into the vagina of the girl next to him and...
Harry had to bite his lip almost until it bled, because his previously flaccid cock swelled rapidly, filling with blood and increasing in size literally in seconds, until it was pressed against his thighs like a heavy, oozing stick, aching with desire.
"Shit... Oh!.."
The boy tried to quietly even out his ragged breathing. He almost came right there, just from just thinking about sex! If this really happened, he would most likely die on the spot from shame.
"Harry?"
"W-what?"
"Are you okay?"
"I... Yes."
"Good. Then we probably need to..."
"Yeah..."
Harry clumsily tried to move towards her, but Hermione stopped him with a wave of her hand.
"Oh... s-sorry... I thought you meant..."
"Wait a minute. I would like first... if possible..."
"Huh?"
"Harry, could you show me your... your penis first?" Despite the obvious embarrassment, she looked at her friend very seriously and clearly had no intention of backing down.
"Why do you…? I mean... uh... Yeah, okay."
"Why does she want to look at my dick? Oh... She also never saw the boy without clothes! She's probably curious too... But... should I also ask her to show me her… vagina?"
At the thought that very soon he would see what was between Hermione's legs, Harry's aching member twitched even more. Even though he had a very vague idea of all this (the illustrations in the medical reference books that he briefly glanced at were too sketchy and incomprehensible), the boy could not get rid of the growing excitement. In the end, he had to tighten his fists on the sheets and remember to breathe again. He literally felt his penis twitching in anticipation, and his balls tightening more and more, ready to push out a portion of sperm.
"No! Wait! It's too soon!" Harry mentally screamed.
It was some kind of primitive subconscious instinct that made him literally go crazy from tension and something else that he couldn't even come up with a name for yet. The only thing he was absolutely aware of now was his painful arousal, which he was trying with all his might to curb.
Meanwhile, Hermione was still waiting patiently for him to show her his penis.
"Flobberworms... flobberworms... flobberworms... Snape's greasy hair... Uncle Vernon's mustache... Dudley's stinky socks... flobberworms... "
With burning cheeks and a nervous sigh, Harry yanked the covers on his side of the bed open, exposing himself to Hermione's curious gaze. He winced slightly as the cold air again burned his hot body, but stoically remained there. At these moments, he involuntarily felt like an insect under an entomologist's magnifying glass, but he tried not to dwell too much on it.
First, his best friend's brown eyes slid over his thin neck and collarbones, then smoothly moved to his bony shoulders and sunken chest, after which they inevitably rushed to his navel and below...
Harry swallowed hard and involuntarily held his breath as Hermione's gaze fell on his tense organ. Despite the stress and not very comfortable room temperature, it did not decrease at all. On the contrary, it was painfully hard and practically throbbing with desire. From the red, protruding tip, a cloudy whitish liquid oozed onto Harry's stomach, completely exposing him.
"Flobberworms! Flobberworms! Flobberworms! Dudley's fat ass! Aunt Marge's nose hair!.."
"Thank you... You can cover yourself again if you want," Hermione's voice was hoarse, and her eyes were again looking anywhere but at Harry.
Potter hastily lowered the blanket, without which he felt absolutely helpless. Now he would give half his safe at Gringotts just to know what Hermione thought of him. However, he would never have dared to ask her directly... He could only hope that she did not consider him too hideous...
The sheets on Hermione's half rustled, but Harry didn't dare look in that direction and therefore didn't know what his friend was doing. He was so deep in his thoughts about his own unattractiveness that he almost jumped when Hermione's hand found his own and insistently pulled him towards her.
Somewhat slowly, the boy realized that Hermione was encouraging him to approach, andafter that he immediately obeyed. It took them several minutes of awkward fiddling under the blankets before Harry was able to perch himself on top of Hermione. At the same time, he still leaned on his arms and legs on either side of her body, because he was afraid of hurting her. The air between their naked bodies quickly heated up and now seemed red-hot, as if they were a pair of radiators turned up to maximum. Both of their faces were bright red, like two ripe tomatoes, and were almost smoking.
After a minute of this "plank", Harry's limbs began to tremble slightly, and he realized that this was not going to work, and they needed to change position in order to start somehow... He just had no idea how to suggest this and almost panicked again, but Hermione very deftly curled first one leg, then the other, and finally pulled both legs outward in such a way that Harry suddenly found himself in the circle of her thighs, so that he did not have to move at all. The new position placed his pelvis directly above Hermione's, and his erect, dripping cock was positioned just above her entrance.
All this caused a short circuit in Harry's brain for a few seconds, and he went numb. Without waiting for him to come to his senses, the girl reached out her hands and gently touched his tense shoulders, and then softly pulled him down, bringing their bodies closer together.
Their equally flat chests collided softly, belly pressed against belly, and their genitals pressed tightly against each other in the most indescribable and delicious way, and Harry could not stand it any longer. With a loud, drawn-out groan, he came at that very second, instinctively pressing Hermione into the mattress and spraying copious amounts of sperm over her pubic area and warm belly until stars danced before his eyes.
Chapter 14Chapter TextHermione's shock at being suddenly pinned to the bed before she could even squeak turned her into a salt statue for several minutes, unable to move or speak on her own. Harry's naked body pressed tightly against her own naked body with such sudden fury and urgency, as if the boy was trying to strangle her with his weight. Having pressed his pelvis into her crotch as hard as he could, he jerked uncontrollably several times, as if in a fit.
"A-A-A-AH!!"
Something hard and wet – his penis, obviously – poked Hermione hard in the stomach several times, and a second later a stream of hot white liquid splashed onto her skin, and then another, and another, and another...
"A-ah... A-a-ah!.."
For several seconds, Harry still continued to reflexively push into her, but each time slower and quieter, until he finally froze, leaning tightly on top of Hermione. Sandwiched between the overexcited boy and the mattress, from her position she could not see Harry's face – he buried his nose in the pillow somewhere behind her right ear, covering her cheek with his cheek.
Stunned by what had happened, Hermione allowed him to lie on her like a dead weight for a while, but soon enough her usual rationalism began to return to her, and she became slightly worried. Now Harry seemed somehow too still and quiet...
"Harry...Harry, are you okay?"
"Mh-rr..."
"Oh, he just... He fell asleep? Seriously?!"
She was both relieved that her friend was okay and slightly annoyed that he hadn't found a better place to sleep than lounging on top of her, as if she were some kind of freaky mattress. His behavior was not unexpected, really. Sexologists argued that this is a completely normal phenomenon for a man to instantly fall asleep immediately after completion of sexual intercourse. The problem was that for Hermione this very intercourse was, to put it mildly, incomplete.
She strained herself and tried to push Harry off her, but he was surprisingly heavy and rigid. His awkward teenage figure dug into her with unexpected sharp angles, promising to crush all the soft parts of her. Besides, his cock was still pressed tightly between their stomachs and, oddly enough, it was still quite hard. Wet with cum, it was pressing sharply into Hermione's navel, making her wince from the unpleasant sticky sensation.
"Wake up... C'mon, wake up! Harry!"
"M-m?"
"Harry, you're going to strangle me! Get off!"
Her words finally reached the sleepy consciousness of the boy, who at that moment suddenly opened his eyes. The next second, his face was contorted with pure horror, and he stumbled away from Hermione so quickly that he almost flew off the bed, tangling himself in the sheets.
"S-sorry! Please, forgive me! I'm so sorry!"
If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, Hermione would have laughed at the way Harry was comically trying to simultaneously cover himself with a piece of blanket and get as far away from her as possible, which were two contradictory actions. It had clearly already dawned on him what had just happened, and now he was rapidly turning purple, clearly wanting to fall through the ground from embarrassment.
"Well, of course he's embarrassed. Poor Harry... He doesn't know that it's completely normal for a boy to finish everything in a few seconds for the first time."
Hermione felt condescension and pity for her less well-read friend. She doubted Harry had gotten through even a tenth of the books he'd brought from the library, so he was probably terrified by now and thought he'd somehow offended her or something. It was necessary to somehow calm him down and do it quickly, otherwise they would never get off the ground.
Hermione could already feel the effects of the potions starting to wear off, which meant she didn't have much time.
"Harry..." she called quietly and carefully, as if she were talking to a frightened wild animal. "It's okay. Everything is okay."
"But…"
"Really. I'm totally fine. You didn't do anything wrong. It's just... that's how it happens sometimes. Quite often, actually. I read that this is completely normal for young men who have not yet had sexual experience..." She continued to say this, using a soft tone and logical, scientifically backed phrases, and after a while it really worked. Harry's shallow, forced breathing evened out, and he finally decided to look up at her again.
Judging by the hard bite of his lower lip and the slightly wary expression his brow, he was still not completely over the embarrassment of his previous fiasco, but Hermione continued to persuade him patiently and kindly, so that his shoulders gradually relaxed.
"I'm sorry," he muttered again five minutes later, gloomily staring at his palms. "I don't know what came over me. I have never…"
"It's fine. I understand. All this also seems very strange for me too, but I know that you will not harm me."
"Never!" The boy nodded so furiously that Hermione couldn't help but smile.
She knew it was true. Harry would rather let someone hurt him than do something to hurt her on purpose.
Of course, Hermione was still scared. Very much! All this happened too suddenly. This morning she thought that she and Harry had at least a week, maybe even a little more, so that they would have time to prepare mentally, but reality burst her little pink bubble of denial and made its own harsh adjustments. Now Hermione, not having even a hundredth of the information she needed, was forced to improvise on the fly, which was completely not her path. Of the two, it was Harry who usually dealt with unexpected problems without preparation – like that time in their first year when they got caught in the Devil's Snares and he had to remind Hermione that she was a witch, which meant she could simply use Insendio on plants.
Now they seemed to have switched roles, and this unsettled Hermione. It seems that this time she will be the one who will have to lead Harry by the hand – both figuratively and literally. Some things in his behavior had already led her to believe that her friend was both desperate for physical contact, but at the same time seemed completely unaware of how to properly initiate it. Harry had never shown much love for tactile interaction with anyone in general, but perhaps it was because he simply didn't know what it was like.
"I doubt he was hugged very much as a child," Hermione thought sadly.
Armed with this new discovery, she decided to change her tactics slightly. If she really wants to achieve results in the near future, she will have to become more assertive.
"Think of it as a levitation charm. The main thing is self-confidence and a clear understanding of what you want to achieve."
What did she want to achieve...
She wanted her and Harry to complete the ritual properly, which required Harry's penis inside her vagina and his seed inside her womb.
Judging by Harry's hunched figure in despondency, he was definitely not going to try a second time himself, which meant that Hermione would have to take the initiative.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds, gathering her strength, and then decided to go for broke.
"Harry..." she called again, and then, making sure he was watching, she slowly pulled the blanket off her shoulders, completely exposing herself.
The look on Harry's face was worth photographing and hanging on the wall for posterity – it was completely hilarious. His huge green eyes became even bigger, almost equal in shape and size to his glasses.
"H... hr..." something gurgled loudly in his throat as he stared at the naked girl in front of him.
Without giving herself time to change her mind, and trying to ignore the pulse pounding in her ears as much as possible, Hermione pulled her knees to her chest, and then very slowly spread them apart.
"Mh-r…"
Well, now Harry's eyes were definitely round.
"Oh my god... oh my god… oh my god… He's looking right at me! Jesus Christ…"
Hermione's fingers clenched her kneecaps painfully as she continued to sit there, completely still, with her thighs spread wide and her crotch exposed, giving the boy in front of her a perfect view of her virgin vulva and tiny anus. Her pubis had only recently begun to become covered with fuzz, so Harry could see literally everything.
And he damn sure looked.
Or even more. He was staring. He burned her with his gaze – so relentless and greedy, so hot that Hermione was even slightly frightened.
No one had ever looked at her like that.
As if... as if she were a valuable prize or the most delicious food in the world that was about to be devoured.
"He wants... me," the realization shook Hermione's entire being, causing a major shiver along her spine, but this time there was something else mixed in with the fear... something that she had already felt several times over these weeks when she found herself next to Harry.
Now she could no longer deny it. She was excited. She loved the way Harry – nobody, but Harry – looked at her as if she were the most desirable thing on the planet.
Just like last time, Hermione extended her hand, and Harry understood the gesture without words. He hastily stood up and, no longer paying attention to the blanket that had slipped down, reached out to the girl, allowing himself to be pulled back onto the pillows.
This time they tried to take their time, even if it was difficult. First, Hermione took off Harry's glasses so that they wouldn't threaten to fall on her face at the most inopportune moment. Then she took one of the pillows and prudently placed it under her lower back so that her pelvis was raised above the rest of the mattress. Waiting until she spread her thighs wide, Harry obediently settled between them again and rested his hands on either side of her head.
Squinting her eyes further south, the girl swallowed hard. Harry's phallus – again standing proudly upward, red with arousal and long enough to reach from Hermione's crotch to her navel – was pointing directly at her center. It was ready to enter.
"This is really happening!"
She was going to lose her virginity to this boy, her best friend, whom she had accidentally married, and have sex with him in the hopes of getting pregnant from him – and all this was going to happen in the next few minutes.
"I'm ready," she leaned back on the pillows and tried to relax.
Lines from scientific articles and medieval treatises flashed randomly in her head, but the only advice that Hermione could remember from there right now was: "Close your eyes and think of England." Not too romantic, but very practical.
Harry's face, bending over her, was tense and almost stern as he took his member in his hand and brought it to her entrance. From her vantage point, Hermione could see tiny beads of sweat rolling down his temples. He was trying really hard not to screw it up again, and in a strange way it made her feel better. Was there another boy in the world who would have been so worried about her on their first time, rather than pursuing his own pleasure?
"He'll be a good husband," Hermione thought suddenly.
She heard a quiet sigh above her, and at the same moment Harry's dick pushed hard in her direction... and slid up her pubis, leaving a wet trail on her skin.
Biting her lip, Hermione waited for Harry to place his phallus against her hole again and push in again... and past again.
The boy's breathing was heavy, and his abdominal muscles were tense and hard as stone.
"It's okay. Go on…" Hermione encouraged. She placed her palms on his sharp shoulder blades, stroking them in soft, circular motions that made them both relax a little.
"It's okay... It's Harry... just Harry... He won't hurt me... "
After some fiddling, Harry made a third attempt. Pressing the head of his penis against Hermione's narrow passage, he began to slowly insert it between her labia until the entire tip was inside. After that, he moved his hips forward just as restrainedly.
"Oh..." a quiet, painful whine escaped Hermione's mouth.
For her part, she felt it as if some kind of hard, hot stick was being roughly pushed between her legs, mercilessly expanding her inner walls until it rested against the natural barrier of her hymen.
Harry's ribs were shaking as he tried to recover and get used to his new position. With his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched tightly, no more than a fifth buried inside Hermione, he desperately tried to hold out longer and not come prematurely again. This time he needed to complete the job at all costs.
In turn, Hermione beneath him tried not to hiss in pain as he stretched her tight entrance with his rod. In hindsight, she couldn't help but be glad that he hadn't turned out to be even bigger. She doubted she could handle having something even thicker and longer enter her right now.
"Are you alright?" Harry asked dully after a while, and Hermione nodded briefly. "Then I…"
"Yes. Go on."
"I'll try it... quickly."
"So he did read some of those medical reference books," a chaotic thought flashed through her head, and the next moment she had no time for thinking at all.
As he exhaled, Harry moved his hips sharply, pushing himself as deep as possible, and Hermione could not help but let out a painful cry.
"A-a-ah!"
Her mouth curled into a silent moan as she dug her nails harshly into Harry's shoulders, trying to cope with the sharp pain in her crotch. The boy's penis continued to enter her centimeter by centimeter, pushing deeper and deeper, expanding her more and more, until, in the end, it reached the very bottom and stopped like that, buried up to the balls in her vagina.
"A-a-ah... Hermio-o-one..." a thin, pitiful moan escaped Harry's throat as he remained frozen in place like that, gasping for breath, completely overwhelmed by the whirlwind of new sensations. He struggled to control the instinct to immediately start moving, taking, fucking the girl under him until he spilled into her and filled her belly with his sperm.
"Please, continue... It's fine... I'm fine…"
"Oh…"
She had to wait until he pulled his hips back just as slowly, almost completely withdrawing from her, and then pushed again, and again, and again. It was slow, and excruciating, and terribly painful, but Hermione knew there was no other way. Harry tried to be as gentle with her as possible, and she was eternally grateful to him for that, but she still couldn't help the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.
"C'mon, Harry... do it... please..."
Obeying her request, he sped up slightly, and now moved in a steady rhythm, entering her with deep, strong thrusts. The cum from his previous eruption and her virgin blood mixed together, creating a scant but much-needed lubricant that at least somewhat eased the friction with which Harry's cock stubbornly slid inside Hermione.
It didn't take too long for Harry to begin to lose control again, succumbing to the primal need to cum into the body spread out beneath him. Quickly accelerating, he picked up a frantic pace in the blink of an eye, pounding into Hermione for a few more seconds before screaming loudly and exploding deep inside her, flooding her womb with thick, creamy liquid.
"Hermione!.. A-ah… oh… Hermio-o-one…"
She was looking at the ceiling over his shoulder, tired, sore and absolutely empty. Her fingers continued to mechanically tug at the hair on the back of his head, matted with sweat. Harry's hips still made small jerks, pushing his cum even deeper into her insides, but he soon stopped completely.
"Hermione… oh… you… I… Oh my god… It was… ah…."
"Ugh..." she hissed painfully and winced when Harry's penis came out of her, followed by a portion of seed mixed with bloody streaks spilled onto her thighs.
"Sorry..."
"It's fine," she repeated for what must have been the hundredth time that day.
She really wanted to cry right now, but she held it in, not wanting Harry to take it personally. He truly was a wonderful friend and did everything he could for her.
Judging by the excitement clearly visible in his eyes, Harry was completely unconvinced by her little lie. However, he had enough intelligence and tact not to come to her now with questions, which was unexpectedly adult behavior on his part.
"Do you want some water? Or…"
"No." She tried to soften her harsh answer, adding: "Maybe later."
"Do you… want me to leave?"
"I..." she listened to herself, really trying to understand what she wanted most at that moment. Oddly enough, she didn't want him to leave. "No. Stay."
"Okay."
Rolling onto his side of the bed, Harry lay down on his back and began to silently look at the ceiling, while Hermione continued to lie silently on her side of the mattress in the same way. Her butt was still propped up with a pillow – she had read that doing so increased her chances of conceiving, so she continued to hold herself in that position.
"That's it. We did it. It's all over now."
Despite the dull pain in her lower abdomen and the sharp pain in her groin, she didn't fully believe it. However, she had more than real physical evidence on her hands: the remnants of her blood and Harry's sperm were drying on her thighs and crumpled sheets.
"I'm not a virgin anymore. Harry and I are officially married. And I might already be…"
Hermione placed her hand on her flat belly and pressed lightly.
As far as she knew, penetration of a sperm into an egg occurs, on average, in a couple of minutes, but complete fertilization can take up to several hours. This means that she will have to remain in this position for quite a long time if she wants to achieve results.
Squinting her eyes towards Harry, she was not surprised when she found him already dozing. Without glasses, with disheveled bangs falling over his forehead, and his mouth slightly open in his sleep, he looked even younger and more innocent, despite everything they had just done. It was hard to believe that he really was her husband... and soon, perhaps, the father of her children.
Unable to resist, Hermione reached out and brushed a couple of unruly strands from his eyelids.
"You're so shaggy, Harry... I'll have to cut your hair," she muttered out of place and smiled at how ridiculous it sounded. She's been his wife for just five minutes, and she's already trying to decide what he should look like.
"Mm-m... Herm... what?.." He tried to open his heavy eyelids, but they did not give in.
"Shh... nothing. Sleep..."
Hermione pulled up the edge of the blanket and threw it over herself and Harry, then closed her eyelids tiredly. For some time after this, only the quiet breathing of two teenagers, exhausted from hard work, could be heard in the room.
"Sleep, Harry..." Hermione quietly repeated a few minutes later and add with a brittle, sad smile: "And thank you."
Chapter 15Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextHarry was definitely dreaming something good. He even woke up with an absent-minded smile, although he did not really remember what exactly he saw in his dream. He just hadn't felt so good and calm for a long time... He felt wonderfully rested and content, as if his body was filled with a buzzing energy that was literally overflowing him. Still not opening his eyes, Harry was bathing in this wonderful feeling, half immersed in a sweet morning slumber, from which, it seemed, for once, no one was going to force him out.
"Mmmm..." Harry groaned contentedly, stretching and yawning like a cat. He opened one eye in turn, then the other, and lazily squinted into the light, sighing at the quiet bliss spreading around him.
The world around him habitually floated in multi-colored spots, so Harry blindly stretched his hand to the left, hoping as usual to find his glasses somewhere there, which, as a rule, he left on the nightstand next to his bed in the tower.
When, instead of the desired object, the hand slapped across the void, suspicions crept into his sleepy head for the first time that something was wrong with this morning. For starters, for some reason he didn't hear Ron's snoring – an invariable attribute that accompanied every new day for him at Hogwarts for the second year in a row. In addition, instead of the usual smell of unwashed socks and shirts in a boys' bedroom, the surprisingly appetizing aroma of food wafted through the air here...
And then he remembered.
Sitting up with a jerk, Harry, in a rising panic, began to fumble around with his hands and, fortunately, by some miracle he came across his wand lying on the nightstand.
Sitting up with a jerk, Harry groped around in rising panic and, fortunately, somehow miraculously came across his glasses lying on the nightstand. Hastily putting them on his nose, the boy looked around, trying to understand what was happening and where Hermione was.
The transfigured screen still stood as blank walls around the bed. Harry's things, which he had dumped hastily hours ago (or was it yesterday? he had no idea), were still lying on top of the chair in the same pile he had left them there. Hermione's clothes, like herself, were not visible in the nearest visible space. However, on the corner table nearby there were fresh scrambled eggs with sausages and bread, the very sight of which made Harry's mouth water.
Due to the fact that there were no windows, it was impossible to know what time it was and how long he had been absent from the world of the living. Harry felt one hundred percent well-rested and so invigorated that it seemed that if he wanted, he could now run a dozen laps around the castle and not even be out of breath. Energy bubbled through his veins like bubbling soda, and in every bone he felt extraordinary contentment and peace. It was as if all the problems of the world suddenly faded into the background, and all the old cracks in his being instantly healed...
God, if this is how it feels every morning after sex, he would want to do it all the time for the rest of his life!
"I think I just have found my new favorite thing in the world. Sorry, Quidditch, but you're screwed!" Potter couldn't help but grin stupidly and chuckle awkwardly as memories of recent events again filled his head like a stormy stream.
Hermione without a single scrap of clothing, shamelessly revealing her thighs and everything between them to him… Her little pink slit, invitingly exposed for Harry... Harry's cock, pushing with difficulty into this incredibly narrow channel, which was hugging him from all sides like a hot, pulsating silk glove...
The sheet on his hips instantly stretched like a tent as his morning erection rose to its full height, demanding his immediate attention. Without hesitation, Harry put his hand in there, grabbed his dick at the base and began to jerk off hard and quickly.
Hermione's mouth open in quiet moans... The smell of her silky hair tickling Harry's nose... The wet, obscene slap of Harry's thighs slapping against Hermione's... His balls slapping against her crotch faster and faster... Their mutual heavy breathing, and the creaking of the bed, and the ever-accelerating rhythm of their connection, and...
"Ah!"
The sheet had been lying on the floor for a long time, thrown there by the impatient hand of Harry, who was furiously masturbating to the memory of Hermione's delicious vagina squeezing his penis so nicely, so sweetly that he could not stop thinking and dreaming about it since the first time he came deeply inside her.
"Ahh! Oh!"
He desperately wanted to be in this bed with her again, to immerse himself in her, to take her, to make her his own... He didn't understand how he had ever lived without this before! He wanted Hermione! He wanted her perfect vagina. He wanted to fill her. Fertilize her. Breed her. He wanted…
"A-a-a-ah! HERMIONE-A-A-AH!"
Arching like a tightly drawn bow, he came with incredible force into his fist flashing in the air, continuing to hoarsely cry out Hermione's name, randomly releasing more and more streams of sperm into the space around him until he splattered all over his stomach and the sheets around him.
"Hermione... a-ah… god... oh..."
The world still continued to spin and flash colorful lights around him as Harry slowly returned from his sudden and extreme flight into outer space. His glasses were askew and now hung on one ear, but he was unable to do anything about it yet. Casually lounging on the pillows with his legs spread wide apart, covered in sweat and sperm, he continued to lazily jerk himself off, drawing out the last crumbs of pleasure along with droplets of seed still oozing from the flushed, strained head of his cock.
"Fu-uck..." he cursed for the first time in his life and closed his eyes with a contented sigh, not thinking about anything at all for a while. There was a peaceful smile on his lips, as if he had found his heaven on earth, and in some ways, he had.
Alas, as the post-orgasmic haze dissipated in his head, and the heavens became more and more distant, lowering him to the sinful earth, the harsh reality fell on Harry more and more, and with it came shame.
What was he just thinking?! How he would like to have sex every day until he dies? How he would like to do it again with Hermione? How could he be such an insensitive blockhead?! You'd have to be a blind degenerate cretin with the emotional range of a stool not to understand that yesterday she felt anything but pleasure! Harry even saw how she was barely holding back tears, but he did not say anything then, fearing to provoke her even more. And what did he do now?! Fiddling with his penis on memories of how he fucked Hermione?!
"Asshole!" If Harry could beat himself up, he would do so. "Damn creep!"
Full of remorse and shame for his previous actions, he wiped the sticky drops from his stomach in disgust and used the blanket to cover up the fresh cum stains on the sheets as best he could. After that, he got dressed in record time and grabbed his wand, ready to get the hell out of there. He would definitely come back and visit Hermione again... just a little later. Preferably when his ears no longer burn bright red, and his conscience stops screaming at him about what a complete asshole he is.
* * *
Outside the window it was a sunny, albeit very chilly Scottish morning, typical of Hogwarts in early December. And although drafts were blowing through the corridors of the castle, as usual, this did not in the least affect the temperature inside the bathroom adjacent to the hospital wing. Thanks to the burning candles, the hot fireplace, and the spell of comfort cast over the room, it was warm and cozy, so it was easy to completely forget about the cold outside.
Hermione lay relaxed in the massive bronze bathtub, neck-deep in the hot, steaming water that washed over every fold and pore of her body, listening to the soothing crackling sound of the logs. She was almost sure that Madam Pomfrey had added some kind of healing and calming potions to the water, because as soon as she was inside, Hermione felt all her wounds begin to heal, and she uncontrollably slipped into a realm of peace and serenity.
For an hour, or maybe longer, she soaked like this, mindlessly playing with trickles of water, scooping them into her palms and watching the transparent liquid flow through her fingers, looking like living molten gold in the light of the fire. Fascinated by the aesthetics of this pointless activity, Hermione allowed herself to drift, not thinking about anything at all, and simply enjoy the long-awaited break from all her problems that tormented her behind the doors of this room. Later she would inevitably return to them, and also to her strange life, which had suddenly become so chaotic and stupid, but for now she allowed herself to enjoy this quiet moment for as long as it lasted.
When it became too boring to just sit and do nothing, she reached for the row of bottles of shampoos and gels that were still waiting in the wings on the shelf. Having opened and smelled each of them in turn, Hermione decided on a honey-golden liquid with an unobtrusive herbal aroma.
Taking the opportunity to pamper herself with such exceptional idleness, she thoroughly washed her hair twice, not even being lazy to use the conditioner, which she usually neglected in favor of quickly getting ready in the morning, and then just as leisurely moved on to her neck and shoulders. The skin beneath her fingers was soft and supple as she painstakingly lathered her frail shoulders and thin wrists and hands. Moving along her armpits, she began to massage her still shamefully undeveloped breasts and nipples in a circular motion, gradually working her way down to her ribs and belly. She pulled each leg out of the water in turn to thoroughly wash her feet, calves, and thighs. For a moment, Hermione hesitated before the next section, shackled by unpleasant memories, but still overcame herself and slid her hand under the water...
She frowned in advance, expecting to feel a sharp pain – an echo of the pain she experienced yesterday, when her body was irreversibly changed, turned into something else and not yet fully understood.
With trepidation, she tentatively touched her pubic area with her fingers and, when nothing terrible happened, she just as carefully slid further to the folds, gently pushing them apart and sticking her middle finger inside...
A sigh of relief escaped her as Hermione realized that she didn't feel any discomfort at all. Whatever was in that water it actually healed her to the point where she was now completely fine again. At least physically... As for the mind, here she still rushed back and forth between the stages of denial and depression, but the further she went, the more and more inevitably she leaned towards acceptance.
Continuing to move with the same leisurely pace, Hermione ran her palm along her slit several times, carefully and thoroughly washing each fold until she felt sufficiently clean. Although she understood in her head that the male's seed had long been deep inside her and at these very moments, perhaps, was connecting with her egg, she still enjoyed cleansing herself in this way – through this she was regaining lost control over her own body, which had just recently was subjected to a severe test.
She didn't know what she wanted more at the moment – to forget about everything completely or for this to simply never happen to her. Although her first sexual experience was not something catastrophically terrible, like if she had been raped, it could not be called pleasant either. And it wasn't about her partner at all, it's just the way the world works, and Hermione could only come to terms with it...
Sweet Harry, he was so careful with her... as careful as an inexperienced and extremely horny twelve-year-old boy could be while trying to have sex with an equally inexperienced thirteen-year-old girl for the first time in their lives. All things considered, he deflowered Hermione like a true professional. It wasn't his fault that the female anatomy was so uncomfortable and practically guaranteed that a virgin female would not have any pleasure on her first time, no matter how affectionate and attentive her partner was.
Now, when Hermione wasn't focused solely on her own unpleasant sensations, she could once again quite calmly think about the first time she and Harry had sex and, to her surprise, found the experience not completely terrible. At least one of them definitely enjoyed it. She remembered the look on Harry's face when he first entered her and began to move...
With each new friction his features were distorted, as if in pain, but at the same time it was clear that he was at the peak of bliss. Pushing into Hermione harder and deeper, he breathed heavily, never ceasing to look intently into her eyes. His muscles – thin, but still stronger than Hermione's – tensed and relaxed, rolling under the soft skin, and it was surprising in its own way, almost mesmerizing… His beautiful green eyes, deprived of the usual barrier of glasses, seemed even brighter and deeper, so it was impossible not to look into them, not to fall further and further with every second… As Hermione had suspected before, he was thin... too thin, to be honest, so she didn't expect him to hold her so tightly, take her with such strength and passion...
He desperately wanted her. Even now she was haunted by an openly lustful gaze, with which he literally devoured her body... His uncontrollable moans still rang in her ears, as when he violently fucked her for a few short minutes, which then seemed like hours to stunned Hermione. He laid claim to her over and over again, mercilessly sliding between her folds, inexorably stretching her over his cock, forcing her to accept him, to submit, to take his seed as if she were...
The loud splash of water over the side of the bath burst into Hermione's thoughts and made her wake up from this crazy fantasy-memory, filled with the smell of sweat, moans and the inexorable pounding rhythm with which the boy's penis entered her over and over again, opening her, fucking her, filling her...
In shock, Hermione suddenly realized that she was breathing heavily, with her heart pounding against her ribs and her hand buried deep in her crotch, where her index and middle fingers were rubbing haphazardly against the slimy folds of her swollen vulva.
"Oh my god!"
Confusion, fear and heavy arousal mixed in Hermione's body in a contradictory mad whirlwind, sparking and colliding with each other like thunderbolts during a storm, and the center of it all was the slit pulsating with desire between her thighs, where not so long ago Harry had furiously burst into and came.
"Jesus... Harry!"
Her hand shuddered awkwardly, accidentally touching her clitoris, and it seemed to pull some invisible string in her body, wresting a dull, drawn-out moan from her throat...
"A-a-a-ah!"
Hermione immediately cut herself off, covering her mouth with her hand in fear.
She had never heard such a voice from herself. She sounded... lecherous. She was... lustful. She wanted...
"Harry-a-a-a-ah!"
Hermione's fingers pressed against her clit again, this time deliberately, causing her hips to jerk uncontrollably, like a frog being electrocuted. Out of surprise, she quickly pulled her hand out of her crotch and stood up to her full height in the bathroom, splashing even more water on the floor.
"S-shit…"
What was that?! What did she do now?! It looks like she just nearly…
Hermione jumped out of the bath as if scalded and grabbed a towel lying nearby.
But she had never…
She almost…
It was so…
But it was wrong! Or not? Oh, she didn't even know what to think…
She didn't even intend to… She didn't imagine she would feel so…
Full of confused thoughts and ambivalent emotions, Hermione hastily dried herself off, stuffed herself into a clean pajama set and rushed to the door, eager to get out of here as quickly as possible so that she could finally breathe in some fresh air. She will definitely think about what just happened here (and overanalyze it) later.
Chapter 16Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextDespite the fierce wind, blowing to the bones, the frost-covered stands of the Hogwarts stadium were crowded with spectators who came to cheer for their favorites today. The students of the red-gold and green-silver faculties were especially riotous, since it was their teams that day that competed with each other for the right to advance to the semi-finals of the school cup. The sympathies of the other two Houses were, as usual, divided, but all the students, without exception, were glad to break away from routine for a while and have fun. Because of all these attacks, at first they wanted to cancel the game altogether, but then the school administration decided that it would not hurt the children and teachers to relax a little, so the event was simply postponed to December.
To everyone's delight, the players of both teams performed at the highest level today, trying to outdo each other not only in the number of goals scored, but also in the entertainment with which they cut through the air in dizzying feints.
The Slytherins, who were now all flying on brand new Nimbuses thanks to the "generosity" of Lucius Malfoy, were head and shoulders ahead of their rivals in speed and maneuverability, but they were severely lacking in coherence. Each of them seemed more interested in showing off for the crowd than interacting successfully with their teammates. However, forty minutes into the match they were still leading, 120 points ahead of Gryffindor.
The Gryffindor team, which did not have such a technical advantage, tried to compensate for this with reinforced concrete tactics, worked out through repeated training. Led by the relentless Quidditch fanatic Oliver Wood, the Gryffindors had trained like hell almost every day for two weeks leading up to the match, and were now slowly but surely gaining ground, starving out their boastful opponent.
While the rest of his team played cat and mouse with the Slytherins, Harry himself flew much higher, knowing from experience that the Snitch often likes to hide among the clouds. Like the others, for the last two weeks he practically did not get off his broom, forced to hone all the new tactics that the merciless Oliver regaled his charges with 24/7. As a Seeker, Potter was pushed to give his best even harder than the others. He was forced to endlessly cut circles and make various figures over the field in any weather in search of a tiny golden ball. However, he didn't complain. In fact, Harry often stayed even after the main training to practice a little more alone, and left when it was completely dark. Of course, after that he could barely move his legs and fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow, sometimes without even taking off his sports uniform, but it was worth it. This way he could successfully distract himself from pressing problems... and not think about sex or Hermione for at least a few hours a day.
"Hermione..."
The boy's eyes scanned the stands, where he knew she was now sitting with the rest of the Gryffindor fans. Even though she wasn't a big sports fan (to put it mildly), Hermione wouldn't miss Harry's game no matter how strange and tense things were between them right now.
After they had parted in the hospital wing the previous time, Harry, to his own shame, had never visited her. Not because I didn't want to, but because pretty soon the girl was discharged. Literally a day after... that event, she felt so much better that Madam Pomfrey saw no point in continuing to keep her in the hospital wing. After surviving another day of preventative treatment, the very next evening Hermione returned back to the tower.
After everything she had been through, such a rapid recovery could be called a real miracle... except Harry knew first-hand that there was nothing particularly "miraculous" about it. They simply did what the ritual required of them, and fortunately it actually worked.
Shaking his head, Potter tried to drive away the oppressive thoughts that were inappropriate at the moment. He once again wiped his snow-covered glasses and resumed circling around the perimeter of the field in search of the elusive Snitch. Malfoy was glued to his tail all this time, clearly adopting his less-than-original tactics from his predecessor, but Harry didn't mind. This way he could be sure that he would not lose sight of the rival Seeker and would be able to enter the race in time if Draco spotted the ball first.
Cutting through the air in the currents of the snowstorm, which was only becoming stronger every minute, Harry listened out of the corner of his ear to the distant voice of Lee Jordan, forcibly breaking through the howl of the wind. The Gryffindor cheerfully commented on the game in his typical funny manner, for which he constantly received scoldings from McGonagall, but this did not detract from his enthusiasm.
It turns out that while Potter was in prostration, deeply immersed in his own thoughts, the Slytherins managed to score twice, thereby gaining an additional 20 points, but Katie and Alicia immediately knocked them back with their own pair of masterful goals. The overall gap in the score remained considerable, 80:200, but it was still not catastrophic. If Harry manages to grab the Snitch in the near future, he will earn his team 150 points at the same time and thereby end the game in favor of Gryffindor...
Something flashed almost at the very ground, and Potter immediately rushed there at full speed, followed by Malfoy, but, unfortunately, it turned out to be just the shine of someone's blinking banner wishing good luck to the players.
Flying past the Gryffindor stands, Harry could not resist and hovered in front of them for a couple of moments. As if enchanted, his eyes immediately unmistakably found in the sea of faces one well-known face framed by a wild mane of brown hair.
"Hermione…" the word came out of his mouth with a cloud of steam. His lips barely moved, blue from the cold, but an amazing warmth spread in his chest.
All because Hermione was staring straight back at him. Even through the thick stream of snowflakes, Harry could see her cheeks flushed in the frost and soft chocolate eyes, burning with an unreadable cocktail of emotions, which Potter was unable to understand, but subconsciously knew that they unmistakably repeated his own emotions.
For long seconds, the two teenagers' gazes collided in the air, forming an invisible corridor between them, and Harry swallowed hard. Despite the gusts of icy wind, he suddenly felt stuffy under all the layers of his uniform, so that even his glasses immediately began to fog up, and a second later they were covered with frost.
With growing horror and shame, he realized that he was rapidly beginning to harden between his legs, while he was right in the air, two hundred meters from the ground, in the middle of a Quidditch match, in a stadium full of hundreds of spectators, while life-threatening Bludgers and other players fly around him with all their might.
Madam Hooch's sharp whistle and her angry screams at the Slytherin beater brought Harry to his senses. With a jerk of the broom handle, he turned one hundred and eighty degrees and flew at maximum speed to the other end of the field, as far as possible from the object of his crazy desires. The rough wood of the broom dug painfully into his engorged balls, but Harry welcomed the pain and only squeezed the handle with his thighs harder in the hope of reducing his stupid arousal.
It was no secret that all these days that he and Hermione spent apart, once again studiously avoiding each other, Harry missed her desperately. The girl did not ignore him completely, but the former warm friendship between them was no longer observed. Even Ron, who was usually deaf to such subtleties, managed to notice that it was like they had a nasty falling out. Ron tried several times to pin them against the wall with questions, but he never achieved anything, and therefore decided to take offense at them too. Now he's increasingly in the company of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, leaving the other two halves of the "golden trio" to sort out their differences on their own.
In truth, Harry himself didn't know exactly what was wrong between him and Hermione. It's just... well, they both changed, and the relationship between them became different too, that's all. As much as he wanted to regain the lost ease with his friend, Harry could not simply ignore or erase from his memory the fact that two weeks ago he had taken her virginity and came inside her in the hope of giving her his child.
Speaking of the latter, Harry didn't know if their attempt had been successful and if Hermione was now pregnant. Perhaps he was already a future father... no matter how wild and absurd it may sound. But even if not, this did not change the essence of the matter. He could no longer treat Hermione the same way as before, as if they were still just friends, and he didn't want to. No matter how bad and lonely he felt right now, he wouldn't want to undo what happened between them.
What they did literally turned his whole world upside down, and it wasn't just about sex, although that certainly was of great importance. It was just the first time in his entire conscious life that Harry felt so… accepted. Hermione opened her arms to him and voluntarily let him in, which mean not only her body, but her all life too, and Harry simply could not resist it. He had grabbed hold of what was offered to him and now selfishly refused to let it go. All he could think about since that night was how much he wanted to feel Hermione next to him again. In all senses.
Having tried her once, he instantly became addicted to her. To the feeling of her body sliding against his, to the tickling with which her hair stroked his skin, even to her smell and voice... Lately she had been much quieter than usual, even in class preferring to remain silent and not attract too much attention to herself, so Harry found himself missing her absurdly long and detailed explanations, which used to bore him. He missed her manner of persistently raising her hand and jumping on the spot with excessive enthusiasm and desire for Professors to notice her and allow her to answer... So strange that before it annoyed him and seemed stupid, but now Harry thought it was cute and so… Hermione.
He was amazed at how quickly he began to see in Hermione not just the girl with whom he had been friends for the second year, but someone much more valuable and closer to him. Now everything connected with her touched him so much, no matter what exactly it was...
Exhausted by endless thoughts, in the end, Potter could no longer deny the obvious. He was attracted to Hermione as a girl. As a woman. And at the same time, Harry wanted her to continue to be his best friend.
He didn't just want Hermione. He needed her.
Over the past few days, Harry had run up to the room on the seventh floor several times to jerk off properly without fear of being interrupted, but each time he had left less than satisfied. It was pleasant, of course, but... Having learned what real sex with a girl was, Harry realized that he could no longer be content with simple self-satisfaction and his own fantasy. He was well aware that he was too greedy, and that other boys his age and even older probably had no problem just masturbating, but fucking his own hand after fucking a girl's warm, wet vagina was like chewing strawberry gum instead of the strawberry itself: tasty, but not the same. He wasn't sure if it was his magical vows that were pushing him to do this or if he was just naturally lustful, but right now all he could focus on was the desire to shove his cock between Hermione's legs again and come as deep as possible.
This made him completely absent-minded in class, which inevitably caused his grades to slip, but Harry couldn't bring himself to worry. Lately, when he wasn't dead tired from Quidditch practice, he found himself incredibly horny.
Having tried real sex only once, his penis seemed to take on a life of its own from then on. At least he had clearly acquired a separate will, in no way connected with the will of Harry himself, because he began to get up at the most inopportune moments, such as yesterday at lunch, when Hermione sat next to Harry and accidentally touched his thigh with her thigh... Never before had he jumped up and ran out of the great hall with such haste, covering the rapidly growing bulge in his pants with his bag. And that wasn't even the worst part!
Every morning, as if on an alarm clock, Harry now woke up with his hand shoved into his shorts, holding his penis, which stood at attention. Needless to say, Potter quickly learned to get up early in the morning, the very first, in order to have time to hastily jerk himself under the cover of the canopy before the rest of the boys began their morning preparations... A couple of times he even came in his sleep and realized this only when he woke up in a puddle of his own sperm. On such nights, he invariably dreamed of his and Hermione's first sex, the memories of which, after replaying it multiple times in his head, managed to blur and be filled with non-existent hot details like Hermione moaning with pleasure, never stopping begging Harry to fuck her harder and spread her wider.
It is not surprising that after just two weeks of such life, Harry began to seriously fear for his mental state. It was like the beginning of the year when he suddenly began to hear a strange voice in the walls whispering about murders (around November this stopped just as suddenly, which Harry was infinitely glad for, because he was not sure that he would be able to withstand two different types of madness simultaneously). But the worst thing was that Harry had absolutely no idea who to turn to with his problem. He really couldn't go to Dumbledore with this...
"Excuse me, Professor Dumbledore, sir! There's one thing... You see, I have a hard boner all day long for my best friend aka my accidental wife, whom I dream of bending over and fucking hard right in the middle of Charms class, and I don't give a two flying farts about anything else except those part where I breed her deeply. Could you please, sir, if possible, advise me of something to deal with this issue? Maybe some exercises or spells? Or probably some meditations? Thank you very much in advance, sir!"
The boy mentally laughed sarcastically, imagining Dumbledore's astonished face. Well, after this, the orderlies will be called on Harry, and he will spend the rest of his days in a straitjacket in a room with soft walls... But who knows, maybe it would be better for everyone, including himself. Lately, his desire to pounce on Hermione in order to have sex with her again was beginning to exceed all acceptable limits. It seemed that a little more, and it would finally turn into an obsession, which Harry did not like at all. What if someday he just couldn't help himself and did it? What if he's dangerous?!
Of his own free will, he would never do anything against Hermione's wishes, but these days Harry was not himself. The further he went, the more he felt like an obsessed, sex-crazed maniac. Completely crushed by his sharply awakened teenage libido, Potter was drowning in this whirlpool, having no one next to him to whom he could turn for advice.
"If only my parents were alive..."
Harry spent most of his life, especially in his early years, imagining that Lily and James Potter were not actually dead, but had only disappeared for some inexplicable reason, but would definitely appear again and take Harry with them... He stopped actively fantasizing about it after his eighth birthday, when he became too old for fairy tales. And yet, right now, he desperately wished for his parents again.
If Harry could ask his dad for advice right now, what would he tell him? Surely something along the lines of "you shouldn't pester and force yourself on girls if they don't want it, son," because James Potter was a good person... at least, that's what everyone told about him. All in all, it would have been excellent advice in the spirit of a true gentleman, but it still wouldn't have helped much with Harry's predicament.
"Apparently, soon I'll just start jerking off non-stop until hair grows on my palms and my dick falls off to hell," the boy thought gloomily.
His childhood imagination had already imagined various scenarios, one more dramatic than the other, where he dies in his bed from a stroke after masturbating until he lost his pulse, and in the morning his roommates find his cold corpse with his underpants down, covered from head to toe in dried sperm. Or he bruises his penis to the point of bloody blisters, but he's too embarrassed to go to Pomfrey, so he dies a few weeks later from gangrene. Or he just can't stand it, grabs Hermione and lifts up her skirt right in the Gryffindor common room to try to rape her, for which he is stunned and thrown into prison for assault, where he soon dies in solitary confinement from spermotoxicosis. Or…
"HARRY, WATCH OUT!"
The scream of one of the Weasley twins sounded behind Potter, breaking through the furious whistle of the wind in his ears, and the next second some blurry black spot crashed into the Gryffindor's hand with force.
"Ouch!" With a short cry of sudden and blinding pain, Harry almost fell head over heels, but at the last moment he managed to hold on to the broom shaft with his good hand.
"HARRY!"
Now he was ready, and therefore hastily swerved to the side when some mad projectile – a Bludger! – flew towards him again, this time aiming for his skull. Not wanting to be left without a head, Potter tightened his grip on the handle and bent down, launching the broom into high-speed flight.
From all directions, Harry could see figures on brooms flickering and heard their unintelligible screams, but he was too busy trying to maneuver as best he could in the air with a broken arm and not fly off due to inertia on the sharp turns. It soon became obvious that the crazy Bludger was indeed pursuing him, Harry Potter, completely ignoring other players unless they tried to fly closer to try to help the Gryffindor Seeker. No matter how much Harry tried to shake the ball off, it continued to find him everywhere and pursue him with the same persistence. Several times the boy almost got caught, missing certain death by only a couple of millimeters.
"Harry, right here!"
The Weasley twins tried to reach him again to help with their bats, but their old brooms were unable to keep up with Potter's Nimbus, and he simply could not slow down – the pursuing Bludger refused to retreat and maneuvered almost faster than any Snitch. As soon as one of the other players tried to get closer to Harry, the Bludger began to circle around the boy, like a living, thinking cannonball, and would not let them get close.
Taking another sharp turn, Harry flew around the Gryffindor hoops several times, and then began to jump between the posts, hoping to knock the persistent ball off the track, but the damned thing did not lag behind, as if it had really been possessed by a demon who wanted Potter's blood.
"Just get lost already!" Harry yelled in anger before diving down and doing something very close to the Wronski Feint, hoping to fool the annoying Bludger, but only succeeded in nearly crashing himself to the ground.
The pain in his injured arm was becoming more and more excruciating with each passing minute. Harry was certain the bone was broken, as he had clearly heard the crack when he had struck it (and he was all too familiar with the feeling after Dudley and his friends had deliberately broken his arm a few years ago when Dudley had jumped on Harry from the stairs while Piers and Malcolm had pinned him down). It was entirely possible that the wound was also open and bleeding profusely, given how quickly the sleeve of his robes was freezing together as it wrapped around the injured limb.
As if to confirm this theory, after five minutes of non-stop pursuit, Harry began to feel disorientated and weaker with every heartbeat. He suddenly felt a strong desire to sleep, so much so that it took all the willpower he had left to just keep his eyes open.
"Shit… Wake up! Don't sleep!"
Harry didn't know if the game was still going on or if everyone in the stadium was frozen in horror, looking at his wild antics and wondering whether he would break his own neck or whether the Bludger would finish him off first. For his part, he gave up searching for the Snitch at the very beginning of the chase and was now exclusively occupied with survival.
Weaving between the stands and goalkeeper hoops like a hare fleeing from a hawk in the grass, he flew several times close to where he assumed Dumbledore might be sitting with the other teachers. Harry hoped that they could help him with something, but the speed at which he was flying was too fast, so it was unlikely that any of them would have time to see more than just two blurry spots: the bigger one, in the shape of a terrified boy, and the smaller one, in the shape of an iron cannonball, persistently trying to kill him.
"Shit, shit, shit…"
A sharp roll, a turn, a spiral, a Cuban eight, a chandelle, a steep dive...
Harry knew that he was running out of steam and that his reactions were getting worse with each new maneuver, so it was only a matter of time before he was taken out.
"I should have talked to Hermione," belated remorse suddenly washed over him. Now, if he crashed or was killed by the Bludger, he would never be able to tell her that he...
"Oh, fuck."
Harry didn't have time to finish his thought about what exactly he was going to say to Hermione, because at that very moment the Bludger finally caught up with him and slammed into his temple with a loud crunch, causing the world around him to instantly go dark.