Chapter Text
The days and weeks following Harry's choosing by the Goblet of Fire as Hogwarts' second Champion were among the worst he had ever faced at Hogwarts. It was almost like Second Year and being the "Heir of Slytherin" all over again.
In some ways, the new situation was even worse. It appeared that he had lost one of the friends he had counted on the most since he had come to Hogwarts—the first friend he had ever had.
Ron had chosen to disbelieve him in a fit of jealous rage. Harry knew there was no point arguing with Ron. He had tried to reason with Ron last night, but their friendship appeared damaged beyond repair. Ron had made it clear what he really thought of him.
Harry was still shocked that Ron had taken Malfoy's taunts seriously and used them against him. He furiously decided he was glad he didn't have to put up with Ron's rubbish anymore. If Ron was going to be a stupid prat about things, fine!
But in some ways, things were much better than Second Year. At least Harry had the support of the few other friends who stood with him. There was still Neville. Ginny, the Twins, Parvati and Lavender seemed to believe him too. And most importantly, Harry had the support of his girlfriend—his best friend—Hermione. And that made all the difference in the world.
~o0o~
When Harry woke early on Sunday morning after the choosing, stiff, sore, and chilled, he was surprised to find himself still on the cobbled terrace at the top of the Astronomy Tower. He supposed he would have been a lot colder if it weren't for the fact that he and Hermione were still huddled together under their robes, arms still wrapped around one another.
Harry felt a surge of warmth as he held Hermione a bit tighter and kissed her bushy head. Hermione stirred, blinking as the fuchsia rays of dawn peeked from behind the mountains. Eyes met, and they both blushed as deeply as the sky, their breath clouding in the frigid air.
"Er…" Harry began; his breath caught when he remembered where his hands had roamed before he had stopped them from going too far.
Hermione giggled shyly, remembering where her own hands had been, and pressed her lips to his, wishing he had gone a bit further.
"Good morning, Harry," she said when their lips parted. "Shall we get some breakfast then?"
"Er… Yeah!" Harry croaked, letting out a sigh of relief. He gave Hermione a lopsided grin.
Groaning from the aches of sleeping on cold cobblestones, Harry and Hermione got up, returning to Gryffindor Tower to shower and put on clean clothes before heading to the Great Hall. When Harry spotted Ron's empty bed, he was glad that Ron hadn't slept in as he usually did on Sunday mornings. Harry felt a surge of bitterness as he dressed, realising that he had no desire to see Ron in the Great Hall either—or anyone else, for that matter, knowing that all eyes would be on him, most of them unfriendly.
"Wait here!" said Hermione knowingly when they reached the entrance of the Hall. Moments later, she returned with a stack of toast and a pile of bacon wrapped in a napkin. "Shall we go for a walk then?"
"Yeah! Thanks, Hermione," said Harry gratefully. "I've still got a few knots and kinks to work out anyway."
"Me too," Hermione admitted, biting her lip and blushing again as they exited the castle.
"Sorry about that! After you made me feel a bit better, I… er… I meant to go back when I thought Ron would be asleep."
"No, it's all right, Harry! I dozed off, too."
When they reached the birches at the edge of the Black Lake, the pair kept moving, munching toast and bacon as they eyed the Durmstrang ship gently rocking in the chilly breeze. It was peaceful by the lake; the ripples on the surface of the water glimmered in the morning sunlight poking through the gaps in the clouds as the ducks played by the shore.
Harry tensed up when he heard footsteps rustling behind them and turned around uncertainly.
"It's okay. It's just me," said Luna, her big silvery-grey eyes full of concern. "I saw Hermione come into the Hall and leave again. I thought she might be getting you breakfast. I'm sorry about what happened, Harry."
"You believe me then—that I didn't enter?" Harry peered at Luna, hopefully. Hermione smiled.
"Of course I do, Harry!" Luna said earnestly, "I saw how scared you looked when your name came out of the Goblet, and I know you're not a cheater."
"Thanks, Luna!" Harry relaxed a bit and sighed. "You're probably the only one outside of Gryffindor who doesn't hate me right now, and even a few of them do."
"I know! I saw your friend, Ron," said Luna sympathetically. "He looks really jealous," she continued bluntly, "It's not just me outside of Gryffindor, though. Parvati told Padma what happened, and she believes you, too. But I think Cho's rather gone off you. I saw her chatting up Cedric at breakfast."
Hermione couldn't help feeling a surge of satisfaction at that last bit of information, followed immediately by a flush of guilt; Harry needed all the support he could get.
For his part, Harry was relieved at the news, as Hermione always seemed to get a bit cross (but not with him) whenever Cho batted her eyelashes at him. Harry supposed he'd even be rather happy for Cedric Diggory if Diggory wasn't acting like such a bloody git at the moment.
Luna walked with Harry and Hermione by the lake shore while they finished their toast and bacon. Feeling full and more cheered, Harry tore up his last piece of toast and scattered it for the happy ducks.
Afterwards, Harry took Hermione's advice and called Sirius on his mirror. Harry told him about everything—about his name coming out of the Goblet, about finding another Horcrux—even about Ron not believing him. Sirius seemed troubled when Harry brought up his and Hermione's suspicions that someone in the Ministry might be behind things—someone connected to Malfoy, perhaps. Sirius shared a dark look with Lupin before turning back to Harry.
"Unfortunately, that seems quite likely," said Sirius. "I spoke briefly with Mad-Eye and Dumbledore last night about the situation. They both seem to be leaning toward the same conclusion. I'm glad Mad-Eye's talked Dumbledore into letting him train you up a bit."
"Yeah, that part is brilliant!" said Harry excitedly. "He's going to train Hermione too. We just need to find somewhere in Hogwarts to practice where we can't be spied on."
"Hmm… Indeed! Remus and I will give that some thought, too. We both know Hogwarts like the backs of our hands."
"Though, that room of hidden things is certainly a new one on us," added Lupin as he peered over Sirius's shoulder with raised eyebrows. "Even Dumbledore seems quite surprised."
"I was also wondering…" Sirius looked distracted by a stray thought, not finishing his sentence. "Right, well, anyway, if we come up with something, I'll contact Mad-Eye. Don't hesitate to call either of us again if you want to chat about anything, Harry."
After the mirror call, Harry and Hermione tried to stay out of everybody's way. But it proved nearly as difficult to avoid everyone as the night before. Hermione was stalwart and brought Harry platefuls of lunch and dinner, but finding places to hang out where nobody else could glare and make rude comments about him grew more challenging throughout the day.
"You're going to have to face everyone sooner or later," Hermione sighed as they sat in the boathouse together eating dinner.
"Yeah, I know!" Harry grumbled after swallowing a piece of steak and kidney pie. "I think I could deal with it a bit better if I didn't have to share a dorm with a prat who thinks I'm as bad as Malfoy."
"Are you serious? Ron actually said that?" Hermione looked shocked.
"More or less," Harry muttered darkly. "He said he reckoned Malfoy was right about me and called me a pampered prince."
"Ron thinks you knew all about the Tournament from the start and didn't tell him, doesn't he?" said Hermione, remembering Ron's attitude after the incident with Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express.
Harry nodded glumly and stabbed viciously at another piece of pie with his fork, wishing he had a drink to wash it down. He was extremely grateful that Hermione had brought him dinner, but she only had two hands. A cracking sound echoed in the boathouse. Harry nearly choked on the piece of pie. Hermione shrieked.
"Dobby?" gasped Harry, his eyes nearly popping out of his head when he spotted the House-Elf, who had appeared out of thin air, holding two bottles in his little hands and wearing an extremely odd assortment of clothes. "Is that really you?"
"It is Dobby, sir—it is!" squeaked the ecstatic House-Elf.
"What are you doing here? …in the boathouse, I mean? Hermione and I have been meaning to look for you, but we weren't sure where to start."
"Dobby is looking after Harry Potter, sir, but Dobby is staying out of sight like a good House-Elf now that Dobby is being paid properly by the headmaster, sir. Then Dobby sees Harry Potter is not sleeping in his bed last night, and Winky tells Dobby that Harry Potter is not showing up for meals.
"But then Dobby sees Harry Potter's Miss Granger is taking two plates of food at dinner, and Dobby follows. Dobby is bringing Harry Potter and his Hermione drinks, sir. Harry Potter and his girlfriend is being thirsty. It is not good being dehydrated, sir."
Despite himself, Harry burst out laughing as Dobby passed him and Hermione a bottle each of butterbeer.
"Thanks, Dobby. That was perfect timing. I was dying of thirst!"
"Is Winky here too then, Dobby?" asked Hermione. "Is she all right?"
Dobby's face fell.
"Winky is being a very sad House-Elf, miss. Winky is not liking freedom. She is not wanting to be paid—though Headmaster offers—and is not liking her clothes. Other House-Elfs is being ashamed of Dobby and Winky, miss. They is thinking that we is bad House-Elfs. Winky is drinking too much and pining away for her master. Winky is believing that she is a disgraced House-Elf."
"That's dreadful! Poor Winky," said Hermione.
"Isn't there anything we can do to help Winky?" asked Harry.
"No, sir. Winky is not being happy without her master. There is nothing to be doing that is helping Winky."
Harry shared a dejected look with Hermione.
"It's okay, Harry," said Hermione resignedly. "I know we'll have to think of another way to help House-Elves. But it's more important that we focus on getting you safely through the tournament right now."
"Yeah, I suppose so," Harry sighed. "Anyway," he said to Dobby. "Thanks for the drinks. I'm glad you came to see me. You can visit me or Hermione any time you like. We don't care about that House-Elves staying out of sight rubbish. You're our friend, and besides, you're a Free Elf."
"Thank you, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby squealed happily. "And if Harry Potter or Hermione Granger is needing Dobby, all you has to do is call Dobby's name, sir! Is there anything else that Harry Potter or Miss Granger is needing now?"
A sudden thought struck Harry and Hermione at the same time. They glanced at each other.
"I don't suppose you know a good place at Hogwarts to train for the Triwizard Tournament where the Ministry's security people can't spy on us, do you?" Harry asked Dobby hopefully.
"But Harry Potter already knows, sir!" Dobby replied, his round eyes bulging with surprise. "Every House-Elf hears that Harry Potter is finding the Room of Requirement last night. We calls it the Come and Go Room…"
~o0o~
Buoyed by Dobby's explanation of the Room of Requirement's workings—and a nice cuddle with Hermione in the boathouse following dinner—Harry braced himself for the return to his dormitory. Sure enough, the moment Harry walked into the room, Ron scowled at him and violently yanked his crimson velvet hangings closed around his bed.
"I tried to tell him again that you didn't enter," said Neville, giving Harry a sympathetic look. Harry nodded gratefully.
Seamus and Dean both avoided Harry's gaze. Harry furiously jerked his bed curtains closed, knowing Ron had been filling their heads with rubbish. He tried to force his anxiety about the tournament and his anger at Ron out of his mind with the memory of the last kiss he had shared with Hermione in the boathouse. Fortunately, that seemed to work, and Harry was soon asleep.
~o0o~
Harry knew better than to expect things to improve when classes resumed on Monday, but he had, by and large, resigned himself to it. The Hufflepuffs he understood being upset with him, as Cedric was their Champion, and the Slytherins didn't need an excuse to hate Harry.
He felt better knowing that at least two Ravenclaws were on his side. Harry glanced at their table during breakfast and noticed Fleur talking to Padma and Luna. Fleur caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile. Harry turned pink and quickly focused on his scrambled eggs and bangers.
Harry braced himself for Herbology with the Hufflepuffs that morning. It was bad enough that he had to face the sour expressions of Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Ron was repotting Bouncing Bulbs at the same tray as him and Hermione.
Ron sniggered with Ernie and Justin when Harry's Bouncing Bulb slipped from his grasp and whacked him on the forehead. Hermione shot Ron a look of outrage. He snorted at her with a disdainful smirk, muttering something about "Famous Potter's girlfriend" under his breath.
Ron's nasty smirk turned into a scowl when Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott took a break from repotting their bulbs with Neville and sharply elbowed their way past Ernie and Justin, ostensibly on their way to get more potting soil.
"Neville told us what happened, Harry," Susan said with a pointed look at the two Hufflepuff boys groaning and holding their ribs.
"And we believe you didn't do it on purpose," Hannah added, glowering at Justin and Ernie. "It's not like these two thickheads have ever been right about you!"
"Good luck, Harry," said Susan.
"Er… Th-thanks!" Harry stammered in astonishment as Hermione beamed gratefully at Susan and Hannah. Ron's ears turned crimson as he grabbed his pot and went to look for another tray to work at.
Harry was so pleased at having found unexpected support in the House of Hufflepuff that he almost didn't even care that his and Hermione's next class was Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. Ron sauntered off with Seamus and Dean, making a point of ignoring Harry and staying as far away from him and Hermione as possible—which Harry found to be a great improvement over his close proximity during Herbology.
Draco Malfoy swaggered up to the clearing at the edge of the woods near Hagrid's hut with his goon squad, his typical sneer plastered firmly on his pasty features.
"Gather round, lads, it's the Famous Champion," Malfoy pontificated to his little entourage. "Better get your autographs before he snuffs it in the First Task. I'm betting he doesn't last 10 minutes before he's killed. What do you reckon, Potter?" Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically.
"I think you'd better hope the First Task is worse than the Basilisk I killed in Second Year, Malfoy," Harry retorted with an air of nonchalance that he didn't feel. "You remember it, don't you? The one your daddy set loose on the school?"
"You shouldn't tell lies, Potter!" spat Malfoy, flushing angrily as the students who were close enough to hear the exchange gasped at Harry's response.
Harry felt a surge of satisfaction at having siphoned off some of his own fury into Malfoy. But he didn't need to see the anxious look on Hermione's face to know that he'd been a bit reckless with his words. He couldn't prove that Lucius Malfoy had been behind it, after all. Harry felt guilty for upsetting Hermione, but he was damned if he was going to let a cowardly little creep with homicidal tendencies like Malfoy get one up on him. At least he'd shut Malfoy up.
"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said quietly as Malfoy and his gang stalked away. "I suppose I…"
"It's all right, Harry," Hermione interjected, smiling sadly as she took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Under the circumstances, it's too much to expect you to bottle up all of your feelings with everything you've had to put up with."
That evening after classes, Professor Moody caught up with Harry and Hermione as they left Gryffindor Tower and headed for dinner. Moody's eye spun around wildly, affirming nobody else was in earshot.
"Ah, there you are, you two. Good! I've got workout schedules and lessons planned out," he growled. "You'll both need lots of practice to get you into fighting shape."
"And we've found a place where we can take the lessons and practice the spells," said Harry excitedly while Hermione looked over the schedules. "Dobby the House-Elf told us how that secret room we found works. It's not just a place for hiding things. It's magic. It can be whatever sort of room we want it to be. It's perfect."
Hermione's face fell when she saw that they'd have to spend at least an hour every day on physical exercises, and four training sessions a week, each an hour and a half long, including hand-to-hand combat lessons. That meant less time for the library.
"I thought this was all going to be about learning spells," she remarked lamentably.
Moody grunted.
"Toughening up your body and developing speed and stamina is just as important in a fight, Granger. The wizard who lasts longer and dodges faster is the one who lives. And sometimes, there's just no substitution for a well-placed kick or punch. There's nothin' better than muggle fighting techniques for throwing wizards off their game."
Hermione's features brightened when she realised how sensible Professor Moody's plan was.
"Anyway, there's still going to be plenty of spellwork, Granger," continued the grizzled ex-Auror, "You'll both need to get some advanced Charms books and bone up on stunning and shielding spells and a bit more as I add 'em in."
"Oh!" said Hermione, her eyes widening. "We've been reading up on those since school term began—and other spells like Bombarda and Confringo. Harry and I planned on teaching ourselves once we'd found a good place to practise them, anyway."
"Excellent! I knew you two were a couple o' eager beavers!" said Moody. He nodded with approval. "We'll be able to start on practical techniques and strategy that much quicker then. Meet me in my office after classes tomorrow. You can show me the magical room then.
"And just one more thing, Potter—I spoke to Sirius, and Dumbledore is on board. You'll be movin' into your new quarters after dinner tonight."
"Wait, what? " Harry gasped; Hermione's jaw dropped incredulously. "What do you mean, new quarters? "
"I mean Private Chambers, Potter!" Moody replied with an ugly grin, his electric-blue eye glancing at Hermione before returning to Harry.
"But why?" Harry frowned at Moody, perplexed, his skyrocketing anxiety warning him that certain others might see this as more proof that the Famous Harry Potter always got preferential treatment.
"It's for your safety, Potter!" said Moody gruffly. "From what Sirius tells me, gettin' into Gryffindor Tower isn't too hard if you've got the passcodes. And nearly every kid in that Tower is a potential security breach as far as I'm concerned—except for maybe one I could mention." Moody's eyeball darted towards Hermione briefly again, then refocused its piercing gaze on Harry.
"H-Harry, m-maybe Professor Moody is right," Hermione nervously stammered, seeing the furious look on Harry's face.
"But I don't want to be treated differently," Harry muttered through gritted teeth. "People already think I get special treatment as it is."
"Sorry, Potter!" Moody snapped. "That's part o' the price of bein' a highly valued target. You gotta learn to live with it. It was hard enough convincin' Dumbledore, and the deal's done. I'll show you to your private chambers after dinner, and the less people you allow to access it, the better—only the most trustworthy! But don't worry—it's near enough to Gryffindor Tower for your closest friends to find you."
~o0o~
Neville glanced at Harry, his face pink with embarrassment as he helped Harry lug his trunk down the stairs from the Gryffindor Fourth Years’ dorm, through the portrait hole and down the passage to the spare teacher's quarters assigned to Harry.
"I dunno, Harry," Neville moaned after Harry told him why he was moving. "I mean, thanks for trusting me, but I'm the one that nearly got you killed last year when everyone thought your godfather was really a mass murderer."
Harry thought of the foul looks that Ron had given him just now as he'd packed his trunk, which seemed to verify the notion that the move would only confirm Ron's worst suspicions about him. Then Harry considered all of the ugly looks and remarks that Ron had been giving him ever since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. He angrily decided that he wasn't going to miss those at all.
Dean and Seamus had still been relatively civil towards Harry. But he could sense some ambivalence in them—torn between being pleased that a Gryffindor was one of the Champions and their loyalty to Ron.
"I know," Harry reluctantly agreed. "But you didn't do it on purpose, Neville. And that's not the sort of mistake you'd make twice. And besides, you're a good friend. You're the only guy in our year who believes in me."
Neville's smile was a bit teary when he said goodbye and left Harry to finish settling in himself as curfew drew nearer. Harry sighed and looked around his new surroundings. The private chambers were about the size of an average flat. It had a sitting room with a settee near the fire already crackling in the hearth, a small kitchen with a dining table in the middle, a little study, a single large bedroom with another fireplace, and a gleaming, spotless bathroom with a large marble tub and gold spigots.
Harry's trepidation at having private quarters began to ebb as a peaceful feeling came over him as he cleaned his teeth and put on his pyjamas. He crawled into the four-poster bed and pulled up the covers. When his head hit his pillow, Harry suddenly realised only one thing was missing.
A smile crept to Harry's lips, and the soreness of his scar receded as the potential benefits of having private rooms finally began to sink in.
~o0o~
Harry opened the door of the Room of Requirement after asking it for a place to learn how to fight. Moody's roaming eye took in everything approvingly.
The room reminded Harry of the dojos and kwoons in the karate and kung fu films he'd seen when Sirius and Lupin had taken him and Hermione to a martial arts film festival during the summer. It even had wooden dummies. But they were far more detailed and had proper movable limbs.
One wall was mirrored, another lined with all sorts of muggle weapons. Harry supposed the room had just copied what he had seen in the martial arts films. Another wall was lined with shelves full of books—which Hermione was already eagerly perusing—and the centre of the floor was covered with a thickly padded mat.
"Bloody brilliant, Potter!" exclaimed Professor Moody. "I can't say that I have the skill set to teach you how to use most of those weapons, but I can train you with some of those blades at some point. Though you shouldn't need 'em most of the time with the right spells at your fingertips—mostly just every now and then to throw off a wizard who's expectin' a spell when you're in close quarters.
"Right then, you two—fall in!" Mad-Eye barked. Harry and Hermione nervously lined up at attention, and Moody began.
"Now, this'll be a fair bit different from Defence Against the Dark Arts. The focus of the class here at Hogwarts is mostly defending yourself from dark magical creatures with only a very cursory look at the spells necessary for defending against Dark wizards' curses. We're not allowed to teach you how to fight back good and proper."
Moody muttered something about the "bloody school board" under his breath, then continued.
"In these sessions, I'll be teachin' you both how to duel properly and how to use combat techniques when you're in a fight for your lives with multiple opponents—which means you'll be learning how to do some dangerous curses yourselves. But keep payin' attention in class because you'll need to know the spells to fight magical creatures for the Tournament, Potter."
"A lot o' these lessons will be about strategy and tactics. I'll be showing you how and when to use those spells to their greatest effect in actual practice. I'll also be teachin' you some more advanced and alternative spells which the seventeen-year-old Champions will already know."
Mad-Eye lectured for half an hour before setting Harry and Hermione to running around the gym and callisthenics for another hour. He worked them like a drill sergeant. They miserably collapsed in a sweaty heap when they were finished.
"Right! I suppose that's enough for now, then," Moody chuckled. "I want you both to be practisin' the callisthenics on your own for an hour after classes every day. I'll start teaching you spells and combat techniques when we meet again on Thursday—same time—and we'll take things from there."
Mad-Eye stomped out of the Room of Requirement and left the aching young wizards moaning on the floor.
"Blimey, that was harder than I thought it would be," Harry muttered, wiping his dripping face on his shirt.
"I'll say," groaned Hermione as she rolled onto her front and shakily started to push herself up. "Everything hurts."
"Hang on then," said Harry as he gently brushed aside the saturated tawny-brown ringlets plastered to Hermione's wet cheeks with the back of his fingers. She bit her lip and nodded.
Hermione's pulse began to race again as Harry kneaded her shoulders. She flattened herself against the cushy mat once more and let out a sigh of relief as his fingers pressed into the sore spots of her neck, shoulders and upper back.
"Thank you, Harry," she murmured, feeling some of the tenseness in her muscles melting away. Harry dug his knuckle into a particularly tight knot on Hermione's shoulder blade. She let out a small moan.
"Are you okay?" Harry paused, afraid that he'd hurt her.
"Yes!" Hermione gasped. "That feels lovely—perfect—please, don't stop."
Harry grinned and continued the massage, happy to feel Hermione relaxing under his ministrations.
"Ooooh!" Hermione moaned again and trembled as a shiver of elation flooded her senses. "That's the spot! Where did you learn how to do that, Harry?"
"Er… I dunno, really. I just know it feels good when I press the bits I can reach on myself after Quidditch."
"Maybe I could return the favour?"
"Not enough time," said Harry. "It's almost time for dinner, and we really should clean up and change first."
Hermione's breath quickened, resolve firming as Harry's touch sent another shudder of delight through her.
"What if Dobby brought us dinner in your chambers?" she asked hopefully. "I haven't even seen them yet, anyway!"
Harry swallowed nervously, suddenly not sure if he should say yes even though he wanted to, uncertain where this was leading. The fact Hermione had suggested asking Dobby to bring them dinner seemed significant, somehow. Hermione sat up and peered at him expectantly.
"Yeah, alright," said Harry, his voice slightly hoarse as he leaned in to kiss her. "I'd really like that."
~o0o~
Harry sighed when he looked at the clock and saw the time. It was nearly curfew. Hermione would have to return to Gryffindor Tower soon. The massage that Hermione had given him had felt great, and he wished he could cuddle her and fall asleep in her arms. It was a lot cosier in his new bed by a warm fire than on the cold cobbled terrace at the top of the Astronomy Tower in early November.
Hermione beamed radiantly and pulled her wind-up alarm clock out of her book bag, setting it on Harry's bedside table. Harry looked at her in bewilderment and anxiety. A bushy ginger tail twitched, catching Harry's eye. Crookshanks appeared to be grinning at him.
"Wait—are you sure about this, Hermione? I don't want you to get into trouble. What if you're missed, and a Gryffindor prefect catches you? Or one of the Triwizard security officials? We were just lucky not to get caught the night we fell asleep at the Astronomy Tower."
"I've never been more sure about anything, Harry," said Hermione firmly, a golden gleam in her eyes. "I've worked it all out. That's really why I suggested we change into our nightclothes, not just for comfort's sake.
"I spoke to Lavender and Parvati when I went back for my things. They'll cover for me, and the other girls in my dorm don't really care one way or another. All I need—if you'll let me—is to borrow your Invisibility Cloak when I leave early in the mornings."
"Er… Wow!… Brilliant, Hermione! You really have worked it all out!" Harry grinned back at her, his trepidation evaporating. "Yeah! Of course, you can use the invisibility cloak."
Feeling overcome with giddiness, Harry swept Hermione into a steamy kiss, his fingers tangled in her mess of golden curls. Hermione wriggled joyfully as she coiled her arms around him. She pressed herself against him, lit up with the flames of desire. Caresses began to travel, and Harry's hands found themselves wrapped around Hermione's hips.
After a moment of eternity, their lips separated. Both of them gasped for air, wanting more.
The large orange ball of fur jumped off the bed and slipped out of the room to give his humans some privacy. Crookshanks made his way to the heavy oak door guarding the entrance to Harry's chambers and was pleased to see a cat flap magically appear, eager for his nightly prowl with Hedwig.
Harry was suddenly aware that this time, there was no recourse, no outlet unless he or Hermione took the settee in the living room. Harry swallowed anxiously, suddenly realising how close Hermione was to him. Her scent was intoxicating, her expression of arousal stirring his ardour…
"Er… Hermione…maybe I should… er… you know…get up."
"You don't have to, Harry," Hermione murmured, finally overcoming her nervousness. "Couldn't we…just sort of enjoy ourselves together? We don't have to—you know—I'm not sure I'm ready for that just yet, but…you know."
"You mean…" Harry gulped again as Hermione's meaning became all too clear. She nodded and smiled shyly, eyelashes fluttering.
“Er... alright then!” Harry gulped a third time, his eyes widening, a thrill shooting through him. He felt himself growing stiffer.
Hermione climbed off Harry’s waist and nestled beside him, tentatively reaching for the tent in his pyjama bottoms, gingerly clasping his erection and gently tugging at it.
Harry’s fingers trembled as they slipped under Hermione’s nightie and slid across the satiny bare skin of her lower abdomen towards her knickers. She took his other hand in hers, placing it on one of her breasts, and kissed him.
Harry’s breath quickened as he gently squeezed the firm little globe through Hermione’s nightie and tenderly tweaked the nipple, his other fingers pressing the soaked fabric of her knickers into the cleft between her thighs. He probed her humid slit, eventually finding a fleshy little button near the top of her wet valley.
Hermione let out a little gasp, electrifying tingles of pleasure rippling through her body.
Knowing he’d found the sweet spot, Harry jiggled his thumb against the little pearl in little circles as two of his fingers continued rubbing her heated fold. The thin wet fabric of her knickers was so sheer, Harry might as well have been touching her bare flesh.
Hermione moaned as the intoxicating fervor began to sweep her away. Through the fog of bliss, she slipped her hand into Harry’s thick flannel pyjama bottoms to stroke his hard shaft properly. Harry gasped when he felt Hermione’s warm palm directly against the bare skin of his erection. His chest rose and fell in short ragged breaths as he began to peak.
A tremor of ecstasy took them both, and they lost themselves to the churning storm of passion. Hermione squealed Harry’s name and quivered, trapping his hand between her thighs, bathing it in her dewy nectar. Harry groaned and erupted, his stickiness spilling over her fingers.
In that moment, Harry didn’t care that he was facing some of his worst of times at Hogwarts since Second Year. Harry’s last thought before he faded into oblivion was that Hermione loved him, and that was all that mattered.