Chapter 46
Chapter Text
Of course, they landed straight in a snowdrift.
Harry and Hermione hissed in unison, jerking at the piercing cold as the icy fluff swallowed them up to the thighs. A sharp Scottish gust playfully flung a handful of prickly snowflakes at their backs in greeting, making them shiver, but luckily a moment later they were wrapped in warming charms.
"Sir, what about our things?" Harry asked, belatedly remembering that their bags and more importantly their wands had been left in Hambleford.
"They'll be delivered a bit later. For now, let's not keep Madam Pomfrey waiting."
The castle corridors were empty, stripped of their usual noisy crowds, and Harry couldn't have been more grateful. The last thing he wanted was for any student or professor to see him and Hermione looking like this… especially Hermione in that hospital gown with the slit down the back, leaving her bottom exposed. Thank goodness they didn't run into anyone on the way – not even Peeves or any of the other ghosts, who for some reason were nowhere to be seen – and all the portraits appeared to be fast asleep.
Madam Pomfrey greeted them with her typical ohs and ahs, lamenting how often Harry and his friend ended up in her domain (as though they were doing it on purpose, for goodness sake). The full diagnostic took her only a couple of minutes and ended with the predictable result.
"They're both absolutely healthy," the mediwitch declared, frowning at the two long scrolls in her hands. "Physically, I mean."
"What about their magical cores?"
"Stable for now, but I can't guarantee that won't change tomorrow. Or within the next hour."
"Miss Granger…?"
"No. She's still not pregnant."
Judging by everyone's faces, it wasn't just Harry who felt conflicted in that moment. Hearing Madam Pomfrey's verdict, he couldn't help quietly exhaling with relief. The thought of himself as a father still sounded utterly absurd.
This was all so strange, tangled, and wrong…
"What do we do now?" he muttered, not addressing anyone in particular.
"Well, to begin with, I suggest you have a rest after your journey," said Dumbledore. "It's been quite a difficult start to the day for everyone, and I'm sure you both missed breakfast."
He conjured a pair of trays, piled high with all sorts of dishes. With a few more flicks of his wand, he transfigured the space around them into a room resembling the one Hermione had stayed in last time here.
"Er… So we're not going back to the Tower?" Harry clarified.
"Not yet."
"They're not planning to keep us here until next term, are they?"
From Harry's point of view, being stuck in the Hospital Wing for the whole holiday was even worse than being taken back to Hermione's parents. At least in Hambleford they could walk outside… Here, they'd be lucky if they were even allowed out of their beds until it's New Year. Not to mention all the foul potions Madam Pomfrey would no doubt make them swallow!
"So… how are you?" Hermione's question broke into his thoughts, shaking him awake. He'd managed to miss it when Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey left, leaving them alone.
"I'm okay… more or less. You?"
"Same."
They picked at their plates without enthusiasm, sitting cross-legged on the bed. There was a table and chairs, but it was more comfortable eating like this, closer to each other. The mattress was wide enough that they could have easily lain across it if they'd wanted to.
"This is such a mess, isn't it?" Harry muttered, gloomily prodding a chunk of a mushroom with his fork.
Hermione didn't answer, but he knew she thinks exactly the same.
Neither of them had much of an appetite, weighed down by everything that had happened today. Only recently they'd been spending Christmas with Muggles, and now they were back at Hogwarts… and between those two events Hermione had almost died. Again.
"I know you don't like this, but…"
"Hm?"
"I really thought we'd get to spend a bit longer with Mum and Dad," Hermione admitted with a sigh.
"Of course she misses her home," Harry thought, though the idea was still foreign to him. Probably because he had never missed the Dursleys or thought of their house as home.
"Your parents… they were really upset, weren't they?" he asked carefully.
Family ties might have been new territory for him, but he was trying his best. He didn't have to fully understand Hermione to sympathise.
"Yeah. This is the first holiday I won't be home. It's just…"
"Hard?"
"Yes."
"I won't pretend I completely get it, but… I can imagine," Harry said honestly. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
"Me too."
They finished their meals in silence, after which their plates simply vanished from the trays. Outside, the day had already passed its zenith and was steadily drifting towards sunset, though it was still bright enough that going to rest seemed premature.
"So… what shall we do today? Do you want to have a bit more sleep?" Harry suggested. He felt a slight drowsiness, but more from boredom than tiredness.
"I don't know. I think I've slept enough. Besides, if I lie down now, I'll probably wake up in the middle of the night… I'd rather not mess up my schedule."
Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed, absent-mindedly kicking them one at a time out of habit.
"We could play something? Chess? Or Exploding Snap?"
"Er…"
"Or go outside. Our things are here now."
Their trunks – with all their clothes, presents, and wands – had indeed arrived about half an hour ago and were now resting at the foot of the bed.
"I doubt they'll let us go," Hermione pointed out reasonably. "Madam Pomfrey…"
"Oh, right. Of course," Harry groaned, smacking his forehead as he remembered. "Damn."
* * *
With nothing else to do, they pulled out the books they'd received for Christmas and read in silence for a while, until the light outside began to fade. Harry had sunk so deeply into Jacques' Redwall, unexpectedly captivated by the tale of the enchanted abbey and its warrior mice, that he didn't immediately notice Hermione absently flipping through the pages of her own book instead of reading.
"Everything alright?" he asked just in case, glancing up and meeting her distant gaze.
"Yes. I was just thinking…"
"About what?"
Harry watched with surprise and growing curiosity as her face took on a faint blush.
"Interesting…"
"Well… it's getting rather late, and we'll need to go to bed soon…"
"Er… right?" He still had no idea what she was getting at, but he was definitely intrigued.
What could Hermione be thinking about that would make her cheeks go pink? Harry fought back a grin threatening to spread across his face. He had a couple of guesses…
"Um… so, I thought since we've nothing else to do anyway, we could maybe… well… do…"
"Huh?"
"I mean… you know…"
"Oh. You mean…?"
"Um… yes."
"Yes! Er… of course! Yeah!"
They simultaneously tossed their books aside, which landed haphazardly, and lunged towards each other. A moment later, their lips met in a firm kiss.
God, how he had missed this!
It didn't matter that he had done this with Hermione just a couple of hours ago – Harry had still managed to miss her and the feeling of her mouth pressing against his. Their tongues quickly found each other, sweetly clashing, and both teenagers moaned deeply, growing aroused within seconds.
"Ah..."
Hermione's hands buried themselves in Harry's unruly hair, pulling his head closer, while Harry's fingers traced circles at the back of her neck. Minutes later, they were breathing heavily and tearing at each other's clothes, wanting more. Their faces were flushed, their lips swollen, and they had both turned into a pair of mindless, hormone-fuelled puddles – but they didn't care at all.
Blood had completely left Harry's brain, pulsing heavily between his legs, forcing him to think of only one thing. His cock was hard again, long and thick, and Harry couldn't wait to free it from his clothes as soon as possible. His balls ached, heavy with semen.
"Mmm..."
Hermione moaned helplessly into his mouth as Harry pressed down on top of her and rubbed his erection against her belly, letting her fully feel his desire. He wasn't ashamed of it at all. Not one bit! He wanted her to know exactly how much he wish to be with her right now.
"Without clothing?" Harry suggested hoarsely.
"Y-yes..."
They didn't even think about whether the door was locked behind them. The adults who had left them alone here might have taken care of it… or not. It didn't matter. Both their minds had completely melted, dripping down straight between their legs, where it was growing hotter and wetter with every pulse.
It didn't take them long to rip off all their clothes and collapse onto the mattress naked, pressing tightly against each other with their stomachs and chests, limbs entwined, lips sucking in messy, wet kisses. They couldn't stop sliding their tongues against each other for even a second, trying to taste as much as possible.
"Hermione… May I…?"
"Yes… yes, please!"
Everything was so right this time.
Finally, they could do it without fearing anyone, without thinking it might lead to something… unwanted or scare either of them. They were still extremely inexperienced, and Harry was cautious, remembering the need to be gentle, but neither he nor Hermione doubted what they wanted this anymore. They didn't want to stop.
"Harry, I need you… inside…" she babbled, moving her hips uncontrollably towards him.
"I know… I know…"
He laid her on her back and helped part her knees, then immediately covered her with his body.
"Ohh" A whimper of pure pleasure escaped Harry's lips as his cock pressed against Hermione's dripping vulva, sending a flurry of goosebumps racing down both their spines.
It felt so good… And he hadn't even entered her yet.
"Please… Harry, please!" Hermione whimpered under her breath, burning with the same impatience and urgent joined with him, and Harry didn't delay.
Taking his cock in his hand, he stroked it briefly, spreading the precum oozing from the head, then lined it up with Hermione's entrance. He lightly stroked her labia, allowing her own thick juices to coat the shaft completely. He indulged in the pleasure of teasing her a little further, sliding past her entrance, listening to Hermione moan and literally beg for him. She wanted him so desperately… Harry could feel the rapid, strong beating of her pulse right where their genitals touched…
"Are you ready?" he asked finally.
"Yes! Yes!"
"Ahh!" Her eyes squeezed tightly shut as he slowly parted her narrow vagina, pushing in millimetre by millimetre.
God, this was so fucking good! The best feeling in the world!
"Oh God… Hermione… you're so tight…" He rasped.
Beads of sweat rolled down his temples from the strain as he fought the urge to start moving at once and finish it all in a single minute. This time, he wanted it to last at least a little longer, so he forced himself to be patient.
Instead of focusing solely on his own sensations, he shifted his gaze to Hermione's face. Without his glasses, he couldn't see her with perfect clarity, but at this distance, it didn't matter. Her face, framed by chestnut strands splayed messily across the pillow, was flushed and deeply concentrated. Her long front teeth bit hard into her lower lip as she breathed slowly, steadily. A crease had formed between her brows, as if she were struggling with discomfort.
"Will it always be like this?"
Harry desperately hoped not. He didn't want to hurt Hermione in any way! On the other hand, he could also see how good it felt for her… in the end. And she had asked him to do this…
Breathing in time with her, Harry pushed forward a little more, then a little further – until he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing against her cervix, his balls resting against her anus. Their pelves pressed flush together as they fully connected, and he held still, letting them both adjust to the sensation.
"You alright?" he whispered after about a minute, eyeing the girl beneath him with concern.
"Yes. I'm fine. Please… keep going," she murmured back.
"Okay. You'll tell me if it gets uncomfortable, yeah?"
"It won't. Move, Harry."
Encouraged by her words, he slowly pulled his hips back, withdrawing slightly but not fully, then pushed forward again.
"Ah…"
"F-Fuck…"
Harry braced his hands on the mattress on either side of her body and arched his shoulders back so only the lower halves of their bodies stayed in contact. Satisfied with the new position, he set a steady pace, fucking her slowly, and with each thrust, it grew a little easier. He could feel her relaxing beneath him, taking him deeper, her dark eyes locked onto his – all of it filling his lean body with incredible energy and enthusiasm.
"Hermione…"
"Harry… oh…"
He whispered nonsense into her ear – mindless things about how beautiful her eyes were, how many freckles dotted her cheeks, how hot and tight she was down there, how well she took him, how amazing she felt around his cock… Hermione answered just as incoherently, breathing his name over and over, urging him on, demanding he go faster, not to stop.
She moaned loudly when he shifted the angle slightly and picked up speed, driving into her deep and hard.
"Harry… god… yes! Like that… just like that… oh god… it's so good…"
"Oh…"
Feeling himself nearing the edge but not wanting it to end so soon, Harry abruptly slowed, earning an immediate protest from Hermione. He leaned down, kissing her to effectively silence her.
Her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging, then slid down to his shoulders, tracing his spine, making his mind grow emptier, lighter. He wasn't thinking about anything in those moments except one goal – move, take, push, push, push…
"Harry! Ah! Aah!"
He lost himself completely in the haze, snapping his hips as fast as he could. At one point, he felt Hermione's hands grip his arse, pulling him as close as physically possible, and it sent him hurtling toward the brink.
"Aaaah!" He cried out as he came hard inside her, trembling and jerking, still fucking her deep and rough as she writhed beneath him, lost in her own sensations.
His lips found hers, and they melted into another messy, wet kiss while his cock continued to throb against her cervix, pumping spurt after spurt of cum inside her, wave after wave, but slower now, softer…
* * *
After that, they kissed for a very long time – thoroughly, completely absorbed in each other – and when they finally broke apart, Harry leaned back just enough to look at Hermione again, unable to suppress a satisfied sigh.
She was a total mess – utterly wrecked, naked, sticky, and flushed, her lips swollen and her hair wild, breathing hard and fast. Her small breasts trembled like a pair of pink marshmallows, and the sight made Harry once again immediately want to press his mouth against them. It was starting to become a habit in his head.
"Maybe someday..."
Chuckling to himself, he placed his palm over one of her breasts and experimentally rubbed a thumb over her erect nipple.
"Oh!"
Encouraged by the reaction, Harry traced slow circles around her areola, rewarded by Hermione's open thighs instinctively pressing against his sides and another moan escaping her lips.
"How does that feel?" he asked curiously.
"They're… really sensitive."
"Yeah?"
Harry wet his finger with saliva and returned to her nipple, gently stroking it while watching her face twist in pleasure.
"Does it feel good?"
"Y-yeah…"
His softened cock was still fully inside her – they hadn't even thought to separate – and that wasn't a problem. Far from it. Now that he finally had Hermione, Harry didn't want to let go of her. And judging by the dazed, aroused look in her eyes, she didn't want to let go of him either.
He wasn't sure if Hermione had come as he had this time. He could have just asked her outright, but that would've felt… too formal, somehow? Instead, he focused on his little exploration.
They didn't have to rush anymore, did they? They were stuck here, just the two of them…
Harry didn't mind. Being stuck with Hermione – what could be better? He wouldn't wish for anything else, or anyone else, right now.
"Feel good?" He murmured, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her neck.
"Mmm… So good… You?"
"Really good. I love you so much, Hermione…"
"I love you too…"
They exchanged quiet, unhurried kisses as Harry's fingers continued massaging her breast, making her arch into him involuntarily, practically purring against his mouth. This was new. She was so sensitive… so incredibly responsive under his hands…
"You're so beautiful, Hermione…"
"I love you… I love you…"
Before half an hour had passed, they were rocking together again. Now fully hard, Harry's cock glided lazily inside Hermione, barely moving through her slick, swollen channel. This time, they took it slow, foreheads pressed together, arms wrapped tightly around each other, washed in a sense of unprecedented closeness.
Harry's lips found the tender spot behind Hermione's ear, kissing it until she giggled and shivered. He loved hearing her laugh… but he loved her moans and cries of pleasure even more. He dreamed of the day he'd finally uncover every secret spot on the outside and inside of her body, just to draw out as many of those sweet sounds as possible.
For now, he already knew Hermione was ticklish on her neck and under her ribs, that her nipples were incredibly sensitive, and that she still needed gentle handling when he first entered her. He was learning more about her with every touch, mapping her body with his hands and mouth, licking her salty skin, nipping and sucking everywhere he could… He wanted to know all of her. Exploring her was intoxicating!
"My Hermione…" he breathed, watching her pupils dilate until they nearly swallowed her irises.
"Yours… I'm yours…" She moaned, pressing against him, kissing him hungrily.
"You're mine…"
"I'm yours…"
No matter how much they tried to hold back, they were both too worked up, too young, and their restraint didn't last. Lifting her hips, Hermione hooked her ankles around Harry's backside, urging him deeper. In response, he snapped his hips forward, pinning her to the mattress with a sharp thrust that made her hiss in pain. Wanting to make up for it, he followed with a rapid series of shallow, quick movements that left her gasping.
"Harry… Harry!"
"You want it… faster?"
"Yes! Please! Please!"
He picked up speed, fucking her properly now, not particularly worried about being gentle. That wasn't what they needed. Hermione wanted a good, hard shag, and Harry wasn't about to disappoint. He really hoped he could make her come this time.
"Harder! Oh, Harry! Oh!.."
The enchanted mattress silently bounced beneath them as their hips collided again and again, completely lost in the frantic rhythm. Harry's cock felt ready to burst, but the lingering effects of his recent orgasm kept him from finishing too soon. Playing with Hermione's reactions – and his own – he experimented with angles and pacing, alternating between sharp, quick thrusts and deep, slow plunges – and the contrast making it feel absolutely incredible.
Pushing himself to the absolute limit, Harry gripped Hermione's sides and ramped up his speed, making her cry out – then suddenly writhe beneath him as if trying to pull away, but he instinctively kept driving into her, yanking her against him so hard he'd probably leave finger-shaped bruises later…
"Harry! Oh, Harry! HARRY!.."
Hermione's body arched sharply – and then her inner muscles clamped down on his cock with crushing force, nearly robbing him of the ability to move.
"Mione!.. Oh, FUCK!" He rocketed into the stratosphere a second later, swearing loudly as he trembled, feeling her cunt milking him, pulling him deeper. "Hermione-aaah!"
The orgasm hit him with staggering intensity, far stronger than the last one, and for a few seconds, he was completely lost among the stars bursting behind his eyelids. His hips kept jerking on their own, forcing his cum deeper and deeper into Hermione's womb as he rode out the agonisingly sweet release.
Eventually, he collapsed like a sack of bricks, breathing heavily, whimpering softly, unable to tell up from down, half-conscious at best.
* * *
He thought he might've blacked out – or at least dozed off – for the briefest moment.
"Harry… oh my god…" Hermione groaned beneath him, shifting restlessly as she tried to get comfortable.
"Oh, fuck…"
"Don't swear," she chided, though it came out rather weakly since her own tongue was still tangled.
Harry could feel her trembling against him, both of them still riding the aftershocks of their shared climax.
"She came with me!" He thought triumphantly, swelling with some odd, primal pride. She came, which means he did it right this time!
Bracing a hand against the mattress, Harry rolled them both onto their sides with effort, careful not to break their connection. He wasn't ready to pull out yet. If Hermione let him, they could even fall asleep like this, still joined…
"Harry?"
"Mm?"
He felt her lips brush against his and responded lazily, savouring the aftertaste of their coupling – salt and musk, his mind as light and empty as dandelion seeds…
"Harry," she said again, snorting when he didn't react.
"What?" He grumbled, still refusing to open his eyes.
Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, she'd leave him alone, and he could actually drift off…
"Don't you want a shower?"
"Nah…"
"Harry!"
"Go away… I'm knackered."
She giggled in response, peppering his face with more tiny kisses. It was nice. It was also annoying because he really wanted to sleep.
"Someone could walk in and see us like this," she pointed out reasonably.
"Mm… Don't care."
"Seriously?"
"Let 'em," he yawned widely, blinking sleepily. "You're my girlfriend… wife. We're allowed."
"I'm your girlfriend-wife?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, god…"
Her laughter reached his ears distantly, along with whatever else she said next – words he couldn't quite make out as he sank deeper into sleep, surrendering completely to Morpheus.
Hermione's arms and legs wrapped around him like a tender, protective cocoon, and he could still feel the heat of her womb against him. It was like a living dream…
If someone did barge in right now, he didn't give a damn. He just wanted to sleep…
And so he did.
Chapter 47
Chapter Text
Hermione felt… splendid, to be honest.
The permanent exhaustion, drowsiness, and irritability had vanished, not to mention the underlying sense of an impending catastrophe – in short, all the things that had accompanied her for the last month practically constantly, to the point where she sometimes began to think it had always been this way.
But this morning, everything was different. She opened her eyes and… to her surprise, for the first time in a very, very long time, she felt none of the aforementioned symptoms, only absolute peace and serenity. It was as if she had surfaced from an incredible depth and could, at long last, truly breathe again.
It was intoxicating!
Her muscles still ached sweetly, as if she had run a very long and arduous cross-country marathon the day before, but it was a pleasant sort of tiredness. Even the stickiness and slight soreness down below weren't too distracting, and were more than compensated for by the delightful lightness and contentment in the rest of her body.
She felt… sated. Complete. She was herself again, only… somehow renewed.
Stretching contentedly, Hermione turned her gaze to Harry, who was lying face down on the pillow beside her. The sunlight streaming through the window gilded the unruly tufts on the back of his head, making them look like melted dark chocolate and coffee, and she had to seriously fight the urge to run her fingers through them again, to feel their softness. She didn't want to wake him. He had been genuinely tired after giving it his all yesterday…
A flustered giggle escaped her lips as Hermione recalled a few particularly vivid moments from their previous… encounter.
God, was that really her?
The things she had done then… oh… Never in her life would Hermione have thought she could behave so… uninhibitedly. Or perhaps "frankly" was a better word? No, that all sounded too crude and didn't quite capture the essence of it… The truth was, she couldn't even find the right epithet to characterise what had happened.
It was just… raw. Primal. And very, very hot.
She hadn't a clue she had it in her.
And Harry… The things he had said to her in the heat of the moment, the way he had moved with her in unison… it was as if, at some point, they had ceased to be separate beings and had merged into a single entity, focused on one sole purpose. Their bodies had become so intertwined that at times it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began…
Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione pressed her palms to her burning cheeks, breathing deeply through her nose. She desperately needed to calm down, because the very thought of it was making her crotch hot and wet again.
But how could she remain calm when it was all so thrilling and astonishing?
She felt… as if she'd been made anew. Not so much physically as within herself… In her head, perhaps? Hmm… Did this mean she was, like, older now, because she'd had this adult experience? If so, it had probably affected Harry in the same way. She was itching to ask him about it and compare notes. After all, yesterday they had finally, truly shared something they had both experienced! And that was because yesterday, for the first time, she had really felt… it. The thing described in books.
Orgasm.
And not just an orgasm, like the time she had touched herself in front of Harry, but a full-blown nuclear blast in her brain that had happened during their more than vigorous sexual congress.
Good God, those encyclopaedias and medical textbooks had left so much unsaid! They hadn't warned her about anything of the sort. What "tidal wave" and "slight tingling" her arse!..
A storm. A hurricane. A whole bloody tornado multiplied by a forest fire, a tsunami, and an earthquake – that's what it had actually been. Even now, her heart started to race at the mere memory of it.
And it had all happened so suddenly…
There she and Harry were, rocking on top of the mattress faster and faster, kissing and whispering nonsense to each other, and she could feel the pressure building inside her – and it's just get bigger, and bigger, and bigger… until the explosion happened, making her mouth fall open in shock, and she started to cry out helplessly, arching towards Harry, only to try and pull away from him a second later from the colossal overstimulation.
It was so much. So intense. So insanely good.
Afterwards, Hermione had continued to gasp for air for a long time, her body still twitching as if in a fit – only this time it was a good fit… if that made any sense at all.
"Oh, God…"
Right now, her breathing was becoming ragged and shallow, and she was already burning up. Hermione couldn't stop thinking about sex and recalling every tiny detail of the previous evening. She unconsciously moved her hand towards her crotch, hidden under the duvet, and pressed her fingers against it, then rubbed gently…
She was wet. She wanted it again so badly…
Hermione glanced at Harry beside her, who was still asleep, unaware of her state and of what she was doing.
Was it normal to touch herself in his presence without even asking him? Wasn't it… well… rude?
"Bugger…"
What was she to do? She was so aroused… But she didn't want to wake Harry for this. So, she supposed, she really ought to… hm… help herself…
"Damn it."
Never in her life had Hermione been so consumed by a desire for anything as she was by this dumbstruck urge to have sex again! It didn't even compare to her ceaseless craving for reading. The urge to reach into her cunt and touch herself was crude, utterly wild and filthy, but at the same time so powerful that she could barely resist it.
Her clever brain, nourished by book smarts and theories about everything under the sun, was rapidly surrendering under the assault of hormones and the most basic, stupidest need in the world – the desire for release. Immediately!
She wanted to be fucked again so much…
What Harry had done to her body yesterday… Jesus Christ…
The feeling of his cock sliding into her again and again; the sight of his tense, flushed face looming above her; the softness of his arse under her fingers; the touch of his warm stomach rubbing against hers; the thrusts of his pubic bone pressing against her clit – it all swirled in her head, sending tons of signals racing along her nerves straight to her vagina, which was literally burning with need.
She wanted to be filled again. She missed Harry's cock, which was supposed to be inside her. She needed it! Needed it so badly! Right now!
"Ohh…"
Biting her lip, Hermione parted her folds with her fingers and slid inside, shuddering with pleasure.
"Oh, God…"
It was so hot and tight in there…
"Hermione… you're so tight…" Harry's voice from her memory sounded in her ears, and she trembled as goosebumps of pure delight ran up her spine.
Last night, when he had entered her, it had hurt only a little – and even that had soon passed, once they had properly adjusted to each other. They had found their rhythm so quickly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world… and, she supposed, that really did make sense.
They just… felt each other.
With every muscle, every nerve, Hermione was acutely aware of Harry's presence beside her. The way he touched her. The way he looked at her. The way he breathed in unison with her. The way their hearts beat loudly together as they thrust towards one another, burning with an animalistic need to merge and never, ever be parted again…
Harry understood her. She could see it in his eyes. He truly saw her.
And he definitely liked what he saw.
"You're so beautiful… My Hermione…"
Her hips jerked reflexively, pushing against her own hand as she slid her finger inside herself faster, already beginning to feel a bit breathless.
"My Hermione…"
She was so close… so close…
"Hermione?" Harry's sleepy voice startled her, making her flinch and stop.
Her heart was pounding in her ears.
"Bollocks!"
"Er… what are you doing?" Harry was looking at her with slight bewilderment, which was gradually being replaced by amusement as he pieced everything together.
"Oh, God…" She squeezed her eyes shut, sliding lower down the mattress, crimson with embarrassment.
"Whoa," Harry's eyes widened amusingly. "Wow. You're… right now? Wow."
"Oh, shut up!"
"Noooo. No way! You were just touching yourself, weren't you? Yeah, you definitely were!"
"Please, be quiet!"
"You're so cute when you're flustered, Hermione, you know that?"
"Argh!.."
He pounced on her with kisses without warning, simultaneously tickling her ribs, causing Hermione to literally squeal, laughing uncontrollably and writhing beneath him.
"Ahahaha! Harry, stop! Oh, God… Harry, stop it! Ahahahaha! I can't… Ahahahaha!"
They wrestled playfully under the covers for a while, tickling each other and giggling, exchanging tiny pecks all over their faces, until Harry's lips eventually found hers again and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, drawing Hermione into a much longer, more serious kiss.
"Harry…" She moaned, breathless, as his hard erection pressed against her thigh. He was wet and so hot, and she couldn't wait to feel him inside her again.
"Mmm…" Harry groaned into her mouth, thrusting instinctively, causing a sweet ache to stir in Hermione's stomach and her crotch to respond with a dull throb.
Lifting her right thigh, she slipped her hand under the duvet and gently touched Harry's cock, then guided it inside herself. It slid in easily, sinking halfway at once.
"Ah…"
They set a slow rhythm, lying face to face and thrusting against each other simultaneously. It was a bit awkward doing it on their side – Hermione still felt a lack of fullness, but she liked being able to look at Harry from this angle while they were, in a way, on equal footing.
Harry was so sweet and cute with his furrowed brows and concentrated expression… He was trying so hard to be gentle with her…
"Relax," she whispered and kissed him again, briefly. "I'm fine, I promise."
She knew how much he feared hurting her – it was so obvious now… He treated her with such great love – so bright that it caused an unfamiliar, aching feeling in Hermione's chest. No one had ever looked at her like that before him… and, she supposed, no one ever would again.
But she didn't need anyone else to look at her that way. She had Harry, and that was more than enough.
His cock moved in and out of her, sliding between her legs, hard, firm, and lubricious, no longer causing her any discomfort, as if her body had finally accepted it and was no longer trying to fight its presence.
As if sex was no longer something strange and wrong between them…
And it wasn't weird. It wasn't wrong. Maybe for someone else, but not for Hermione. Not anymore.
This was the fourth or sixth time they had sex, depending on whether you counted that morning in Hagrid's hut as a full sexual act, and then the incident in the kitchen at her parents' house. Be that as it may, it seemed the more they did it, the more naturally it came to them.
"It's like magic lessons," Hermione realised.
Just like magic, sex was something that had lain dormant within her for a time. And, as with magic, she had to be patient and careful, learning each new action with caution and without haste, in order to become more proficient over time.
Fortunately for herself and for Harry too, Hermione possessed a rather decent supply of patience.
And she loved to learn.
She was doing so enthusiastically right now, pressing her stomach against Harry's, letting him fuck her slowly and gently for a while, but gradually she began to want more.
"Can you… go faster?" She asked between breaths.
Harry nodded and silently flipped them over so that Hermione was on her back again, like yesterday. He then began to thrust into her quickly and deeply, making her instantly lose her train of thought, melting under the rolling waves of pleasure.
They were breathing heavily into each other's faces, completely indifferent to their morning breath, focused solely on their mating. It wasn't a couple of minutes before both began to tremble, moaning loudly and losing their rhythm completely, clinging to each other only to pull away again, the wet sound of copious lubrication sloshing between them.
This time, Harry came first, with Hermione following a couple of seconds later, whimpering into his sweaty neck as he drove into her hard, once again in the last two days filling her with his seed.
* * *
"O-oh…"
Their chests rose and fell heavily as they slowly came back to themselves, cooling down, still pressed closely together. Harry's semen was slowly trickling down his balls and Hermione's arse, staining the sheets, while he remained deep inside her.
"Ugh…" Hermione tried to move, but Harry refused to budge.
His green eyes roamed over her face as he looked down at her with an expression that made Hermione's heart stop and her inner muscles clench reflexively in the remnants of bliss.
She had just come for the second time in her life from penetrative sex with Harry, and it was the best thing she had ever experienced!
Unlike yesterday, when it had happened for the first time and, frankly, had been rather staggering and even a little frightening, this turn of events was no longer a surprise. On the contrary, it had all the makings of a welcome stability.
If it was always like this, Hermione wouldn't mind at all doing it again… And again. Even every day!
That is, if Harry wanted to as well, of course… Although, judging by the absolutely happy and contented look on his face, he was more than fine with it.
"Well… good morning, then?" He whispered, grinning widely.
"Good morning," Hermione replied brightly, pecking him on the tip of his nose, which made them both chuckle.
"I wouldn't mind more mornings like this," Harry admitted.
They settled back onto their sides, rubbing their foreheads and noses together softly like kittens.
Hermione's vagina was still stretched wide, snugly embracing Harry's cock as it gradually softened. It would slip out on its own soon enough, once it had shrunk enough, but for now, she liked feeling him inside her. Judging by how insistently Harry tried to keep their bodies together even after coupling, Hermione suspected he felt the same way, not wanting to lose the sensation too soon either.
They just didn't want to be parted. Not yet.
Though later, they would definitely have to – at the very least, to use the loo and have a shower. And – oh, God – eat!
In response to this last thought, Hermione's stomach let out a loud rumble.
"Hungry?" Harry smiled at her. His own stomach was also making periodic, plaintive noises.
"Very!"
That was an understatement. Hermione thought she could easily devour an entire cow and half a sheep right now, which wasn't surprising, considering they had just burned a whole heap of calories together again.
They lay like that for a little longer, floating in each other's arms on the waves of post-coital haze, but with each passing minute, it became less comfortable. Hermione's bladder was demanding attention, and as much as she liked lazing about naked with Harry, they were both too sticky and were starting to get a bit smelly.
"Time to get up," She sighed, sitting up first.
The duvet slipped from her shoulders, and she shivered from the cold – for some reason, the air in the Hospital Wing was always a few degrees below comfortable. She didn't miss the look Harry gave her naked body as she stood up and walked around the room to find her toothbrush and other things in her suitcase.
He watched her greedily and hungrily, his thoughts written all over his face. He was so obvious in his desire… She loved it!
But she still really needed to wash. Harry's semen was still leaking out of her, drying on the inside of her thighs and making her skin feel unpleasantly tight.
So it was a good thing she didn't have to go far to find the bathroom. Right next to the exit of their and Harry's "VIP suite" was another door leading to an adjoining room, where, in addition to a toilet, stood the bronze bathtub Hermione already knew, equipped with all necessary toiletries and a stack of fluffy towels.
"You go first," Harry gallantly offered, stretching lazily on the bed and closing his eyes again – probably in hopes of dozing off a bit more.
"Mmm… what a gentleman," Hermione teased him before disappearing behind the door.
"I wonder what would happen if I invited him to join me?" she smirked to herself.
She had to shake her head to banish the unwelcome vision of her and Harry together – absolutely naked, in one bathtub, surrounded by hot steam…
Bloody hell! This was too much!
It was as if she'd finally gone completely mad for sex. She and Harry had literally just shagged – and here she was wanting him again and unable to think about anything else! Good Lord…
With an irritated flick of her wand, Hermione turned on the taps. While waiting for her bath to fill, she managed to use the loo and brush her teeth thoroughly, and also took a good look at herself in the mirror.
A dishevelled but, on the whole, ordinary thirteen-year-old girl stared back at her, whose appearance gave absolutely no clue that anything at all had changed in her life.
And what would have given it away?
It's not as if she'd suddenly got older overnight or turned into some great beauty or anything like that… She still had those horrible tangled masses of hair, and her front teeth were still too long and big, and there was her chubby childlike face… but for some reason, today, it just didn't bother her anymore. She was almost indifferent to her lack of breasts and a slender waist.
Listening to her inner voice, Hermione realised she was simply too happy to get hung up on her own imperfect looks right now.
Besides, Harry thought she was beautiful.
What's more, he saw something in her that Hermione herself couldn't yet see, and that something made him literally go mad with lust in her presence…
Was it all because of the curse?
Hermione frowned and stepped closer to the mirror, to get a proper look at her large pores and bushy eyebrows, trying to be as critical as possible. In reality, her skin was too pale. Her teeth were crooked. Her lips were too thin. From this angle, her nose looked like a potato…
Harry had kissed her nose countless times. He couldn't get enough of her lips. He had sucked and licked her skin greedily. He wasn't bothered in the slightest by her big teeth – in fact, he'd said he found them beautiful. It seemed that in the last two days, he had managed to kiss every single one of the faint freckles on her cheeks.
He kept repeating how much he liked her. How much he loved her…
Such feelings couldn't be a mere product of the curse. Hermione didn't believe that. And what she herself felt in Harry's presence was much more than a simple desire to get into his trousers. She refused to believe that Harry's reciprocal interest in her could be inspired by a spell. It simply couldn't be – end of story.
She touched her fingers to her breasts, remembering how Harry had touched them there… He seemed to have a particular fascination with her nipples, because he literally couldn't stop stroking and kneading them, and it felt so incredibly good! Hermione had no idea where he'd got the idea, but she certainly wasn't going to stop him.
Sliding her hands lower, she ran them over her ribs and down to her navel and below, to the space just above her pubic, lingering there briefly. Right there, beneath the skin, the fat, and the muscle, were her ovaries and her uterus…
Could she and Harry's baby already be in there?
Since her last check-up with Madam Pomfrey, Hermione had had sex twice, so it was possible. The nurse would surely want to diagnose her again, but for now, Hermione didn't want that. Perhaps she could allow herself just a little more time to remain in ignorance. Just… to live in this limbo a little longer.
Her fingers slid lower, touching her labia. She wasn't going to masturbate again, but she was still curious. Slipping a finger inside, she scooped up a bit of the fluid from there and brought it to her face to see it better.
The male semen was clearish-white and sticky, and mixed with her own vaginal secretions, it looked like… well… like snot. A terrible comparison, of course, but, in truth, the human body was often quite disgusting.
True to her inquisitive nature, Hermione brought the extracted mixture to her nose – and immediately winced, catching a faint whiff of urine.
"Ewww!"
Why in the world did she do that?! She should have thought better before sniffing it. The last time she and Harry had washed was yesterday morning, and since then, all sorts of things had been inside Hermione, including medical tubes and the fingers of numerous doctors.
"Bleh…"
Perhaps it was better not to think about some things at all.
Hermione hastily turned off the taps before the water overflowed. Testing the surface and confirming the temperature was just right, she climbed into the tub with a contented sigh, glad to finally wash away the previous day…
* * *
The sea waves lap gently against the pier, swelling right at Hermione's feet as she peers down curiously, showing not a hint of fear. She is only six, but she is already quite independent and brave enough not to be afraid of looking at the dark water from a height.
While the other children in her group play on the beach, chasing each other or building sandcastles, she prefers to walk alone in search of interesting objects.
Although the sun is shining brightly, the day is windy and already rather cool for August. Hermione knows the camp counselor will call them all back to the bus soon, so in the time she has left, she tries to find as many colourful shells, pretty pebbles, and unusually shaped twigs as possible – she'll use them later for her crafts.
Lately, she's particularly enjoyed making collages and painting watercolours on marine themes. Her tutor in her club says she has a talent, and her mum and dad think so too… but Hermione herself simply enjoys creating something every day.
On the other hand, perhaps she really should try her luck in the county's talent contest… But in that case, she ought to prepare better first.
"Hey, it's Granger! Look, guys, she's walking alone again."
"Ewww… She's so weird."
"My cousin's in the same school as her, and she says Granger does all sorts of weird things during break time."
"Really? Like what?"
"I heard it from Miranda, who heard it from Malcolm, who was told in secret by Susan, that one time a boy in Granger's class pulled her hair, and then a bookshelf fell on his head! He even had to be treated in hospital!"
"No way! You're lying!"
"It's true! I also heard that once she made another girl's hair turn purple because she called her a beaver. And Miranda said that…"
"Aaah! She's looking at us! Weird Granger is looking at us!"
"Run, quick!.."
Squealing like a pen of pigs being slaughtered, the children scatter away from Hermione as if from some hideous monster. For a few minutes, she watches them go with hurt, clenching her fists in anger, but then her indignation fades, and she sighs tiredly.
"How typical."
This happens always and everywhere she goes. Other kids, their parents, even teachers and neighbours on the street – they all avoid Hermione, one way or another, as if she's infected with a dangerous disease.
Hermione doesn't understand what's wrong with her. Or, perhaps, there's something wrong with all of them?
Well, yes, perhaps she isn't the friendliest or most open person in the world, but she is, at least, well-mannered enough to behave politely and not recoil from people as if they had the plague. Which is more than can be said for these idiots, who ran away from her shrieking, even though they don't even know her personally! They just blindly believe everything they're told because they're simply too stupid to think for themselves!
For some reason, it's always Hermione that so many of these ridiculous rumours seem to swirl around...
It's true that the fool Johnny Pepper did pester her for a whole six months in junior school, but Hermione certainly didn't do anything to make a heavy bookshelf fall on his head! She just got very angry at that moment – so angry that her vision blurred, and she screamed at Johnny to leave her alone... The next thing she saw was him lying on the floor unconscious, his head bleeding, with books scattered all around him... But she didn't do that! How could she possibly have done something like that? She didn't even touch that bookshelf!
Other people often lie about her, making up all sorts of tall tales because they are cruel and prejudiced, that's all.
They said Hermione is weird because she's reading too much and always wandering off alone, and they are annoyed that she's too smart and serious and spoke too complexly for her age. They calls her swot, show-off, and bookworm simply because she loves books more than running around like a ninny with her tongue hanging out!
Well, fine! As if she'd ever want to be friends with any of them anyway! Hmph. It's not her fault if she's different and smarter than them. They could know more too, if they read something instead of staring at the telly all day.
With a scornful sniff, Hermione turns away from the gaggle of children, not wanting to watch them run and play together anymore. Besides, she had something much more entertaining than a silly game of tag to do – a treasure hunt!
She walks slowly along the beach, occasionally picking up an interesting shell or piece of gravel and putting it in her plastic bucket. The wind grows stronger, billowing her white dress with its large red polka dots and making the sea roar louder…
Hermione wanders about a bit more, then returns to the pier to look at the horizon from there. A cargo ship is sailing in the distance, and on a whim, she gives it a little wave.
She's just about to leave when she suddenly hears a loud thudding sound behind her. Someone laughs, and then something shoves her hard in the back – and she begins to fall from the pier, straight down into the dark water beneath it.
"A-a-ah!" She screams loudly, panicking for a second.
BANG!
Something happens – and the world around her disappears with a crash in a bright flash of light.
BANG!
Hermione's feet hit the ground, and she falls to her hands and knees from the shock, but for some reason, she doesn't even scrape her palms and knees on the sharp stones. She gets up awkwardly, bewildered by what's happened, and finds herself on the dry part of the beach, about ten metres from the pier.
"What just happened?" She can't understand it. "How could I have been there one moment and here the next?"
She clearly remembers falling straight into the water in an instant… And now she's standing on the sand, perfectly safe, completely unharmed. Even her dress and shoes are perfectly dry.
"How is that possible?"
She glances around and notices the group of children, who are staring at her in horror and pointing. One of the girls from their group is standing on the very spot on the pier where Hermione had just been, looking down at the water. Then she finally notices Hermione… and starts to scream hysterically. They all start screaming.
They run in a mob straight for the coach, as if mad, while Hermione watches them with confusion and a growing, unpleasant feeling in her chest, her brow furrowed.
She flinches as a piercing seagull cry rings out in the sky, and…
…wakes up with her nose in nearly ice-cold water. In the bathtub.
* * *
Hermione sat up with a jolt, coughing and spluttering loudly from the soap that had got in her mouth. Her body was wracked with a great shiver from the cold and the shock of the nightmare.
She'd nearly drowned!
And this was the second day in a row she'd dreamt of an episode from her early childhood. So strange… Did it mean anything? Others would surely find a hundred hidden signs in it, but as for Hermione, even being a witch, she didn't particularly believe in omens and other esoteric nonsense.
Besides, what special meaning could dreams have, in which she was reliving the bullying from the idiots she'd gone to primary school with? Exactly – none.
She turned on the taps again and started the hot water. Having hastily finished washing, she dried herself off, wanting to leave this place as quickly as possible.
Grabbing a comb from the sink, she began to furiously brush her unruly mane, trying not to think about the hooligans and school bullying. Truth be told, she hadn't thought about any of those people in a long time – not since she'd started at Hogwarts… So why the hell were they doing, suddenly resurfacing in her subconscious?
"What a nonsense," She grumbled to herself, looking at her pale reflection in the mirror.
It was absurd. She should have known better than to fall asleep in the bath! To think, she'd nearly drowned! What a stupid way to die that would have been…
Dressing in a fresh set of clothes, jeans and a hoodie, Hermione tucked her wand behind her ear, and only then did she finally feel composed and calm enough.
She quietly opened the door, suspecting Harry might still be asleep – and she was right. He was lying in the middle of the bed in a starfish pose, his mouth slightly open, clearly fast asleep.
Hermione tiptoed to the table to take yesterday's book – the "Advanced Transfiguration" textbook she intended to finish by the end of the holidays. Her hand was already hovering over the cover when another idea struck her… Rummaging through her suitcase, she found the encyclopaedia her mum and dad had given her for this Christmas.
Settling into the armchair by the window with it, Hermione cast another glance at the sleeping Harry. He was so funny and sweet even now, though he wasn't doing anything at all.
"He must be absolutely exhausted. Poor thing…"
For a moment, Hermione considered joining him again, but she was already too wide awake for that. In fact, at that moment, energy was practically fizzing out of her! She felt as if she could run around the castle ten times right now and not get out of breath at all.
"A Young Lady's Guide" lay heavily on her knees, its glossy high-contrast hardcover with a picture of a punk-rocker who looked a bit older than Hermione. There was something off-putting about her – whether it was the black-and-pink top with skulls on it, or the crooked smirk that marked her as a typical "troubled" teenager… What on earth were Hermione's parents thinking when they bought her this? It looked like cheap pulp fiction!
"Oh, well. Don't judge a book by its cover, as they say. Maybe there's something useful in there about sex and pregnancy. It is a book for teenagers! All teenagers are interested in sex…"
It was still very early, so perhaps when Harry woke up, they could persuade Madam Pomfrey to let them go outside for a little while. Nodding to herself, Hermione opened "The Guide" to the first page:
"Hey, girlfriend! You're holding a book that many of us would have loved to have at thirteen, fourteen, or fifteen. A book that talks honestly, but not scarily, about what happens when you're growing up. About friends who sometimes seem closer than family; about feelings that come unexpectedly, like a sudden summer shower; about a body that changes faster than the new posters on your wardrobe door…"
"What utter rubbish," Hermione muttered, fighting the strong urge to roll her eyes.
She really, really hoped Harry would wake up soon.
Chapter 48
Chapter Text
"Not pregnant," said Madam Pomfrey, lowering her wand.
Harry heard Hermione mutter something indistinctly beside him, a sound that was both dismal and irritated. He was thinking much the same thing himself – that this was beginning to feel like some sort of cruel joke.
How could it be that they'd still had no luck? They'd done it so many times! If Hermione really wasn't being given any more contraceptive potions, why the bloody hell wasn't she pregnant with his child yet?
Harry vaguely recalled something about phases and cycles, but it had been too confusing, even though Hermione had tried to explain it. That must be it! He didn't know or understand something important and was therefore… doing something wrong.
He had to change whatever it was, and fast, and he should start by asking Hermione how she was feeling. After yesterday's emotional day and this morning's equally turbulent one, they hadn't had a single moment to just sit down and talk about it.
"Are you alright?" he asked Hermione as soon as they were alone in the ward again.
It was already lunchtime when he woke up for the second time and found her in an armchair, engrossed in a book as usual. He'd had a quick wash in the adjoining bathroom, scrubbing off the sweat and other bodily fluids, and gratefully changed into fresh trousers and a shirt. Right after that, as if on a timer, Madam Pomfrey had paid them a visit – and before they'd even had breakfast, they were being thoroughly examined.
The "not pregnant" verdict dropped like a lead weight, twisting his insides with anxiety.
Well, yes, it gave them a bit more time, but the joy about it had somehow… worn a bit thin. After everything he and Hermione had been through these past few days, including the emergency trip to a Muggle hospital and the subsequent Parent-Talk-From-Hell, an additional delay no longer seemed like a good thing.
"If it's inevitable anyway, it might as well happen now," Harry thought grimly.
He didn't know why he'd been so sure this time that they'd finally managed it, but his disappointment was sharp. If Hermione were pregnant, it would mean the danger of dying a painful death was definitely over, but no. His "swimmers" whatever it was had clearly failed in their mission, so they were still stuck exactly where they had been – in deep shit. Hanging over a precipice by the last thin thread.
Sometimes he really hated his life.
"I don't know," Hermione answered evenly in the meantime. "In my head, I know I should be upset right now or, maybe, happy instead, but… I just don't know."
She fell silent, but Harry didn't need to hear more. He was also tired of this endless, maddening wait – as if he were a prisoner on death row, with the execution constantly being postponed but never cancelled altogether.
And, of course, neither he nor Hermione were mentally prepared for the next step in their already complicated "family relationship"… if you could even call it that way. The fact that they were now shagging like rabbits didn't automatically mean they were ready to accept the idea of parenthood just as easily. They were only just beginning to understand their own bodies and each other's needs, and anything more right now was too much to take in.
"What if that's the problem?" a worrying thought crept into his head.
What if they simply didn't want it enough or were subconsciously pushing away the idea of pregnancy, and that's why nothing had happened yet?
Maybe they had to really, really want this baby to get it? Like… genuinely want it. With all their heart. Something like "once upon a time, a girl met a boy, and they fell very much in love, and got married, and from that love, they had a baby"...
Or maybe he was just being naive, and in reality, it didn't work that way at all. After all, Harry didn't really know anything about it beyond the fact that his sperm had to be inside Hermione for it to have any chance.
Most likely, he just needed to try harder...
"Fancy a walk?" he suggested, to chase away the unpleasant thoughts. He felt that if he stayed in this enclosed space for another half-hour, he would simply explode.
"Sure. But let's have breakfast first, alright? I feel like if I don't eat something soon, I'm going to faint."
"Ron?! Is that you?!" Harry joked, comically rounding his eyes and recoiling from her with mock horror.
"Oh, get lost," Hermione snorted. "For your information, the last time I ate was yesterday morning."
"Same as I," he shrugged.
"Exactly. So you could do with a bite to eat, too, before we go."
The only truly good news for them today was that Madam Pomfrey considered their condition satisfactory enough to allow them to leave the ward. They weren't yet allowed to go outside, and they still had to return to the Hospital Wing at night, but otherwise, they were free to do as they pleased.
After devouring the dense protein breakfast that had once again been delivered to their ward, and washing it down with a decent slice of rhubarb pie and a generous portion of sweet cocoa, they also dutifully drank all the potions prescribed to them (this time Harry also got a whole battery of little vials, whose contents and purpose he tried not to think too much about) – and finally, they were left to their own devices.
The sound of their shoes echoed loudly in the empty corridors as they wandered slowly together in complete silence. Because of the strange emptiness of this place, Harry now felt an instinctive urge to start sneaking, even though they weren't breaking any rules at all.
As far as he remembered, there were supposed to be students still at Hogwarts – a few from each house, but they hadn't met anyone else since yesterday. It was… a bit boring, to be honest. Not that he minded Hermione's company, of course. It was just unusual to see the castle so empty and evoked a strange sadness.
Besides, what were they supposed to do now, seeing as going to Gryffindor Tower or out into the grounds was still forbidden? They couldn't be expected to do their homework, really... If Ron had been there, he and Harry could at least have had a game of Gobstones, or later, if they were eventually allowed, gone down to the Quidditch pitch, but Harry couldn't go there with Hermione. She certainly wouldn't want to be "freezing her arse off on a broomstick", and making her do the same from the stands while he himself was soaring through the clouds, enjoying the flight, seemed somehow... ungentlemanly.
Well, crap. They had a whole castle at their disposal, and Harry had no idea how to spend his day! Why could he never think of anything fun when it was needed?
"We could always just go back to the ward and cuddle a bit more…" a more brazen and daring part of his personality suggested slyly.
It wasn't such a bad option, actually. That is, if Hermione agreed, of course… But what if she was too upset by Madam Pomfrey's verdict and not in the mood for that kind of "fun" right now?
In the fifteen minutes since they'd left the Hospital Wing, she hadn't said a word and had barely even glanced at Harry.
"What is she thinking? She's not… um… angry with me about something, is she?"
He knew he should have paid more attention to her after sex. Even those teenage magazines he'd found in an abandoned room, for all their contradictions, agreed on one thing – girls were much more sensitive than boys, and often felt vulnerable after a shag.
Harry tried to remember what he'd done right after he'd come...
"Oh, shit".
He fell asleep – that's what he did. Every single time. Just passed out and slept like a log, while Hermione… what, actually, was she doing? Was she sleeping too? Or did she get up and go somewhere while he lay there like a useless lump?!
How could he be such an insensitive bastard?! Bloody hell... No wonder she'd been so quiet all morning! She was just too kind to point out his failings.
And again, Harry couldn't stop thinking that he might have done something terribly wrong. People often told him he was constantly making mistakes and was generally useless... What if he was somehow to blame here for Hermione not being pregnant? Because he wasn't attentive enough to her state and needs?
"But I definitely saw her come with me at least twice," that reassured him a little, but not for long. Because it clearly wasn't enough. Otherwise, they wouldn't have this whole problem with conception in the first place.
What if he was moving wrong, or doing it in the wrong position? Maybe he needed to last longer and not finish so quickly? Or be faster?
Could it be he was supposed to be on the bottom all this time, not on top? Did the position of their bodies matter? Or the number of times he entered her? Like… when brewing a potion in a cauldron… Snape always yelled at him for not counting his stirs… Ugh, ewww, no! He was not going to think about Snape now. Gross…
Was he perhaps just still too young and… and small? Maybe his sperm… well… wasn't mature enough? Or was it his skinny body? He was constantly underfed at the Dursleys'... Could he be too weak to make babies?!
Was it all to do with his diet? The fact that he was constantly sleep-deprived? Or… or because he wasn't very sporty? If he changed his diet or routine, would it help?
Might it not be him at all, and not even Hermione? Could it be an external factor? For instance, the temperature in the room was often too low? Or perhaps they needed a different mattress? Were they supposed to be aligning with the phases of the moon, or the sun, or some other stars?!
Did any of that even matter?! How was he supposed to know what was important and what wasn't?!!
"Where do you want to go?" Hermione's question broke through his chaotic thoughts just a moment before he was about to have a panic attack.
"I haven't a bloody clue!" his startled brain screamed.
"Library," he said the first thing that came to mind.
"Er… what?" Hermione gave him a surprised look.
"What?" he frowned.
"Nothing," she said hastily, biting her lip. "It's just that's usually my line."
"Well, thanks," Harry rolled his eyes, crossing his arms defensively. "I just thought we don't really know much about all this… pregnant… er… baby thing, and we should look up more information. Last time I went there at night, and we didn't even know what we were supposed to be looking for. Maybe if you look for the right books yourself or… well, I don't know… if we just ask Madam Pince…"
"Of course!" Hermione's eyes lit up, and she nodded in agreement. "Harry, you're absolutely right! We'll just make a new list, based on what we already know, and start from scratch."
She gave him a quick hug, instantly dispelling a good half of his anxiety. Harry pecked her on the cheek in return and wrapped his arms around her waist, and was just about to give her a proper kiss when Hermione pushed her palms against his chest.
"Not here. Someone might see us."
"Who? Everyone's on holiday," Harry said airily, pulling her towards him again.
"Harry! I'm serious!"
"Oh, all right. But I won't let you forget this later!.."
* * *
Full of newly found hope, they hurried to the library with enthusiasm… only to slump back in their chairs three hours later with heavy sighs.
"Shit, there's bloody nothing useful here at all," Harry grumbled in disappointment. He rolled his stiff neck, wincing at the dull ache. "A damn waste of time…"
Hermione ignored his swearing, as she mentally agreed with him. She was also rubbing her tired eyes, exhausted from trying to decipher the barely legible squiggles in all the ancient tomes and treatises, which had – what a surprise! – proved to be just as "useful" as everything Harry had brought her the first time.
The closest they'd come to their desired topic were grimoires such as "The Witch's Womb, or the Path to the Birth of the Supreme Magus", "Rituals and Mysteries of Birth Under the Moon", and "666 Tips on Procreation" – and even then, most of it boiled down to potions, rituals, and various celestial omens that supposedly allowed one to bring into the world a magically gifted, pure-blood, perfect infant of unprecedented power.
At the same time, there was almost nothing on how to increase the chances of conceiving a child by normal means, aside from various potions, half of which were, at best, dubious, and the other half outright illegal. And even if Harry and Hermione had decided to brew one of them, no one would have allowed it – certainly not after the whole business with the Ritual.
The question that plagued Harry the most right now was: were all wizards so bloody fertile that standard methods of conception held no interest for them at all? And what if… that was the case?
What if he and Hermione had some sort of unique problem that no one else had?!
"No, that's rubbish," Harry cut himself off. "If there was something wrong with either of us, Madam Pomfrey would have said something by now."
"Yeah, right… As if adults have never lied to you or hidden important information before," his inner voice hissed.
"So, what now? Are we stuck again?" he asked Hermione neutrally, though in reality, he was one step away from a full-blown hysterics.
He was so bloody sick of it!
Just earlier, he had been compelled to hurriedly set aside yet another treatise with the evocative title "The Ailments and Afflictions of the Birthing Witch. An Illustrated Edition". He seriously doubted he would ever be able to get rid of his mind the image of sweaty, large-breasted, bloated women with huge bellies and red, wrinkled faces, straining and screaming in agony while red, wrinkled babies emerged from between their legs… not to mention everything else that came out of their anuses at the same time… ughhh…
If that was what all birthing mothers went through, Harry didn't understand how the human race still existed. It looked like torture – both for the woman herself and for anyone witnessing the nauseating act.
And Hermione would have to go through it, not just once, but many, many times – until he and she were completely old or one of them died! What a nightmare…
And also, in that case… how many children would they have, in the end? Like… how many children can one family have? One woman?
When Harry was in primary school, there was a girl in his class from a large family; she had seven or eight older brothers and sisters and a couple of younger ones. But they were all Muggles, as were their parents… Perhaps things were different for wizards? He hadn't seen many siblings at Hogwarts – it was as if the vast majority of families only had one or two children at most.
The only mother-witch he knew with a large family was Molly Weasley, who had a whopping seven children… He wondered how old she was now. Surely not over fifty, right? Hmm… Do people still get pregnant at that age, or not?
"How long do wizards live, anyway? And for how long can witches have children?" He'd never thought about it before, but now, that kind of information had suddenly become critical for him.
Maybe he should just write to Ron and ask him?
"What a brilliant idea! Hey, Ron, d'you know if your mum can still have kids? No, no, just asking. No, I'm not a pervert! No, I'm definitely not interested in your parents' sex life!.." Harry mentally recoiled in disgust.
Right. Fine. That would be a very bad idea – writing to Ron.
Instead, perhaps he should focus on what he knew so far?
Right, for one thing, he knew that any human woman, be she a witch or a Muggle, carries a child for nine months – plus or minus a few days or, in rare cases, weeks. Sometimes babies could be born prematurely – for example, at seven or eight months – but that was considered abnormal and often caused by some health problem with the foetus or the mother (Harry didn't want his children to be unhealthy under any circumstances, so he automatically assumed that each of them would "ripen" in the womb for exactly nine months).
Next, he knew that although men were fertile for almost their entire lives, from a fairly early age to a ripe old one, things were arranged very differently for women in that regard… And this is where the grey area of guesses and vague assumptions began for him, because some books claimed that "the maiden young must be given in marriage upon her first blood," while others (those newer than the 17th century) insisted that "all must happen in its hour, but not before the maiden's loins wither, and she dies."
So, what was this "first blood" they were talking about? When is "in its hour"? And what was that about "loins"? He didn't want Hermione to die because her loins suddenly withered!
"Just fucking breathe," Harry ordered himself, taking a few deep breaths and forcing himself to calm down and not jump to conclusions.
Alas, all this pulp that he and Hermione had gathered didn't answer a single one of the truly important questions, but it did vividly illustrate all the most disgusting details of pregnancy and… well… childbirth. Their table was piled high with treatises on pregnancy pathologies and medieval methods of healing, enough to make even a person with a strong stomach feel their lunch trying to climb up their throat.
Harry already suspected that a good half of this nonsense had no relation to reality – and Hermione had confirmed his assumption, saying that much of it was long outdated and had been debunked by modern medicine…
He didn't even want to think about the look on Madam Pince's face when they told her exactly what they were looking for. Although the elderly librarian made no comment on their highly unusual request, she more than made up for it with a very stern and cold glare that made Harry feel even smaller and younger than he already was.
It was as if she knew exactly what they had done and was sharply judging them for it.
"But how could she possibly know that?!" Harry thought in a panic, and then it dawned on him. "Dumbledore! He's told everyone! Bloody hell!.."
And, of course, the old man must have had some "very good reasons" for it! Right. Of course. Only it was Harry who was paying the price!
"Breathe."
Alright. Perhaps, in some sense, it really was reasonable… If you thought about it, it was indeed simpler – to tell the Hogwarts' stuff the truth right away, rather than waiting for someone to accidentally expose Harry and Hermione.
Harry just hoped that none of them would talk… Snape, for instance. Or – oh, Good Lord – Lockhart! That fame-obsessed cretin would sell them out in a heartbeat if it helped him get even more attention!
"Oh, shit. Oh, no! What the hell was Dumbledore thinking?!"
All these people now knew that Harry and Hermione were shagging! God, how humiliating… What were they going to do?! If the two of them managed to survive the rest of the year without dying of shame, it would be a miracle.
"Unless the Ritual's curse kills us first…"
"No. Stop it. One problem at a time, okay?"
Now wasn't the time to think about what would happen in the future, when everyone found out about Hermione's pregnancy and that she and Harry were married. They wouldn't have any future at all if they didn't solve the baby problem.
They needed normal, not outdated, sources of information – Muggle ones, preferably, if they wanted to live long enough to face public condemnation.
"Think, Harry. Think…"
So… They needed Muggle sex education books. Where could they get them? If they were still in Hambleford, all they'd have to do was go to the local bookshop. Harry now deeply regretted not having done so on their first day… At Hogwarts, they were cut off from the rest of the world again, which meant for this mission, they needed a reliable intermediary who wouldn't talk and whom they could trust.
They needed someone like…
"Dobby!"
Right! Why hadn't he thought of that sooner? All he needed to do was ask his new elf friend to bring him a couple of Muggle pamphlets! It was perfect!
There was only one tiny, minuscule snag…
Harry glanced at Hermione, unsure how best to phrase it all. If he knew her at all, she wouldn't be happy about what he was about to tell her, that was for sure. In fact, he'd be lucky if she didn't try to kill him on the spot.
He swallowed and cleared his throat:
"Ahem… Listen, Hermione…"
"Hm?" She pulled her attention away from trying to decipher another murky piece of writing and looked at him tiredly, he thought with a hint of secret relief. Sometimes she got tired of books too, though she'd never admit it out loud.
"I've been meaning to tell you for a while…" he began, circling the topic. He knew he was treading on a minefield right now.
"About what?"
"You… er… don't be angry, okay?"
"Harry, what is it?" Hermione pushed the tome aside, sitting up straight.
"Oh, bloody hell."
"Well… remember that match?"
"The one where you broke most of the bones in your body and a Bludger nearly killed you?"
"Well, yeah, that one," Harry gave a nervous smile. "Anyway, I found out later that it didn't just happen…"
* * *
"WHAT?! SOME CREATURE TRIED TO KILL YOU SEVERAL TIMES, AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ANYONE ABOUT IT?!"
Centuries-old library dust rained down on their heads, instantly clogging Harry's glasses and sending him into a fit of loud coughing. Hermione, who had been sitting opposite him, shot up from her seat, trembling with rage, unable to believe he could be so stupid.
"Miss Granger, I will not have shouting in my library!" Madam Pince barked from somewhere behind the shelves, and both teenagers flinched, ducking their heads.
"Harry, what the hell were you thinking?!" Hermione hissed, several octaves quieter. Her eyes were blazing furiously.
"Sorry!" he whispered loudly, distressed. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean to hide anything. It just… well… it happened. And Dobby isn't that bad…"
"Not that bad?!" she stared at Harry in shock, as if he were a complete moron. "Harry, you could have died!"
"Oh, come on, he was just trying to help," he replied weakly, giving her a placating smile. "He just goes about it… well… a bit radically. And anyway, that's not why I told you about him."
Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously:
"Wait, is there something else I don't know about?"
"Er…"
"Harry James Potter, I swear to God, if you…!"
"Hey! Stop! Honestly, Hermione, it's fine. He just helped me organise that picnic and the table. That's all, really!"
She continued to drill him with an angry and frustrated look for a moment, but then slumped back in her chair, shaking her head with an expression that said, "Good grief… what am I supposed to do with you?"
Trying to show her that there was a rational point to his actions, Harry hurried on:
"Look, I know I was stupid, okay? But Dobby really didn't mean any harm! He said he did it because there was some 'terrible danger' threatening me at Hogwarts…"
"Danger?"
"He didn't specify," Harry shrugged. "But he swore not to try and 'save' me again!" he added hastily, seeing Hermione open her mouth to lecture him again.
When she didn't say anything to that, Harry breathed a small sigh of relief.
"Anyway, I thought he might be able to help us somehow… like, get something that isn't in the library. He already helped me a lot with those Christmas presents too."
Hermione had no argument for that. In half a day, they truly hadn't moved an inch in the right direction, so any help was welcome.
"Fine," she grumbled. "But I don't like you being so reckless with your safety, Harry. This isn't the first time."
"I'm sorry," he mumbled awkwardly. "Really."
"Strange… She's just told me off, but for some reason, I'm not upset about it at all."
In fact, it was the complete opposite. Inside, he felt that fluffy warmth again – just like that time at Hermione's parents' house, when he'd had a panic attack and couldn't breathe properly until Hermione took his hand. And that's when he'd first truly felt it – the light. The softness. As if a little piece of the sun had broken off from her hand, seeped through his skin, and gone straight to his heart.
"She worries about me. She cares," every reminder of this was like a lightning strike, if only lightning could give tenderness and warmth.
"You don't have to apologise to me," Hermione sighed. Leaning across the table, she brushed Harry's grown-out fringe aside. "Just try not to be so trusting in the future, okay? Not everyone around you is your friend and wishes you well, you know."
"Tell me about it," Harry snorted to himself, but on the outside, he was smiling again.
Hermione was still angry, but it wasn't directed at him. Not truly.
She was angry because he had put himself in danger, but she wasn't going to reject him for it. That was the whole difference. And that was precisely why Harry didn't feel bad at all when she yelled at him. On the contrary.
"She did it, because she worries about me, not because she wants me to stop getting under her feet."
And she was, of course, right. Harry had trusted Dobby too quickly, which was stupid of his part – he understood that perfectly well now. If, instead of the slightly unhinged but ultimately harmless house-elf, there had been someone else – someone who actually wanted to harm him – Harry would most likely be dead already.
"Right. If you're ready, let's get out of here," he offered, getting up and holding out a hand to Hermione. "There's nothing more to do here anyway."
Hermione didn't protest – she also knew when to admit defeat when she saw it. With their wands, they quickly returned the books and scrolls to their places, then left the library under Madam Pince's hostile and suspicious gaze.
If they were going to talk to Dobby today, Harry knew just the good, quiet place where they could do it without being disturbed, and he was planning to take Hermione there right away.