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“He’ll come back, Hermione. He probably regrets it already.”
“Harry,” she said irritably, “Butt out.”
With a huff, she rolled over and faced away from him.
Harry sighed and looked around the interior of the tent. It had been a couple of weeks since Ron left, and what a miserable few weeks they had been. The remains of their lacklustre dinner still sat on the table. Worn clothes lay strewn across furniture. Neither Harry nor Hermione had felt like doing chores lately. The mess was illuminated by a lantern suspended from the ceiling.
Right now, Harry sat on the rug beside Hermione’s bunk. It was technically his turn to keep watch outside, but he didn’t feel like stepping out into the cold, dripping forest just yet. He stared hopelessly at the lump that was Hermione, mulling over endless permutations of apologies and excuses, dismissing each within moments of conception.
There really wasn’t anything more he could say to pull her out of her misery.
So Harry sat, and let the soft patter of rain on the tent roof take his mind off his troubles for a while. By the time he remembered he was supposed to be on watch, his butt was numb and his joints were stiff. After a habitual glance at his broken watch, he craned his neck to check the working clock on the table.
An hour and a half just sitting here.
Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He’d get an earful if Hermione was awake. Quietly, he turned to make sure she was still asleep… and that’s when he saw it.
Dappled in the soft lantern-light, Hermione’s bottom was completely visible. Harry blinked slowly, but nope, it wasn’t his imagination. His best friend’s entire rear was hanging off the side of the bed.
On some level, he supposed it had only been a matter of time before he saw something he shouldn’t. Hermione often slept in the nude, though she never undressed in front of the boys. He supposed she must have curled up, pulled the blanket too far over, and now…
And now he could see everything.
Every moment he stared at her pale white globes and the bushy curls between them felt like an irreversible betrayal, but he couldn’t stop. His mind went on autopilot, committing every detail to memory: the freckle on her left cheek, the dusky folds just visible beneath her brown hair, even her pink rosebud, flexing as she breathed.
Without meaning to, Harry leaned in closer. Scant inches remained between his face and his best friend’s arse. Oh god, he thought, desperately trying to calm his racing heart, I can smell her. Strangely enough, it was a smell he recognised. After all these years together, he supposed it made sense that he knew Hermione’s various scents – he just hadn’t realised some of them came from… there.
A few moments in time came back to him, triggered by the smell: Hermione clinging to his back as they rode Buckbeak; Hermione flinging her arms around his neck in one of her traditional cannonball hugs; Hermione helping him learn the Summoning Charm before the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament, standing close to him, correcting his wand movement as they studied desperately into the night…
Harry’s nose brushed against her curls. Hermione’s lips, shining with moisture, had him mesmerised. His heart pounded against his chest. The hot musk of her privates rolled through his mind like a delirious fog, obscuring all reason. He lost himself, just for a moment… and licked all the way from Hermione’s anus to her clit. His wet tongue slid across every wrinkle of her rosebud, and dipped into her pussy briefly before settling on her pubic-hair concealed nub.
Harry jerked back, astonished at his recklessness. The taste… good God, he was losing his mind. He’d read snatches of dirty passages from books found by other boys, and overheard girls making tawdry jokes about tasting like honey or strawberries, but nothing compared to the reality. It was human, heavy, with nothing but herbal soap to disguise its animal nature.
So many long, lonely months in this tent… couldn’t he indulge, just this once?
Harry leaned in once more, deliberately not thinking about it, and pressed his mouth to Hermione’s gleaming folds, kissing her like he would kiss any girl, even tilting his head to better fit between her cheeks, ending up with his nose pressed right against her anus. His tongue danced madly inside her as he panted and sniffed and breathed Hermione’s most vulnerable parts like they were fresh air and he was drowning.
Hermione stirred. “Whuh… Harry?” she whispered.
“Shh,” he replied, so aroused he didn’t even try to pull back and make excuses. “It’s a dream.”
A soft moan escaped her. “Ooh…”
And then Hermione was pushing back, grinding her arse into his face. Harry’s hands came up from where they had been fondling his cock through his pants, and grabbed her hips, pulling her closer, harder. He sucked on her clitoris and snorted the sweat from her asshole.
More than mere saliva now dripped from Harry’s chin. Hermione rocked back and forth, fucking herself on his tongue, all the while groaning into her pillow. “Nngh… oh… nnngh…”
When it happened, it happened fast – Hermione’s whole body seized up, her anus clenched, and Harry could see the rhythmic pulsing of the orgasm in her thighs, pelvis, and lower belly. A jet of boiling hot liquid shot into his mouth, followed by another that went over his shoulder and splattered softly on the rug. Harry dived back in, sinking his fingers into her soft hips and pulling her pussy against his mouth harder than ever before. She rode his face, making these high-pitched whining noises that set Harry’s blood aflame.
Gradually, Hermione slackened into a limp, sweaty heap, and Harry rested his forehead against one of her butt cheeks, breathing heavily.
“Harry,” she gasped. “I can’t… believe you… just did that.”
“Me either,” he replied. His pants were unbearably tight. “Was it a nice dream?”
Hermione raised her head, turning to face him for the first time since going to bed. Her cheeks were flushed and her bushy hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat.
“It was,” she said quietly, not making eye contact.
“Good,” said Harry, smiling. “Then from now on, I’ll make sure you have good dreams every night.” He stood up and gently shifted Hermione fully back onto her bed and tucked her in, ignoring her mumbled complaints. He pulled his wand out and sent a refreshing charm through her sheets, cleaning the sweat from her body. She sighed happily at the sensation, which Harry knew to be pleasant.
“It’s my watch,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”
With that, he left the tent, feeling Hermione’s gaze on him the whole way.