From Bad to Worse

Disclaimer: I don’t own them. That’s all there is to that.

Author’s Note: First of all, thanks for reading this! I appreciate it more than I can say! Second, I’ve decided that I am going to change it up just a bit from the way it was posted on RS.org (If you’ve been reading it over there). The changes will start with the next chapter. I don’t know when that will be up, but I’m going to start working on it tonight, as soon as it stops storming. :D Third, sorry about the problems caused by the borders (caused your screen to roll sideways?? That’s just weird…) I’ll stop using them! Thanks again for reading and hope you enjoy!



Seventh Year

Hermione awoke grudgingly, groaning against even the dim bit of sunlight that was filtering through her closed curtains. Her head ached and her body was sore, and she couldn’t for the life of her remember why. She thought for a moment that she’d come down with the flu, and cursed her luck that it had hit at exam time.

The flu, however, didn’t explain why there were certain other parts of her body that were hurting, nor why she was completely naked. Then, groaning again, she rolled over and her eyes fell on something that certainly wasn’t normal. Someone was sleeping beside her.

She realized instantly that it was Harry. It didn’t take her long, either, to realize that he too was naked. "Oh god," she muttered. She may not have been able to remember the actual events of the night before, but this was all painting a not so subtle picture for her as to what had happened.

"Good morning," Harry said softly, turning his head to glance over his shoulder at her.

"Oh god." She ran her hand through her hair. "Harry, did we--?"

He turned back to face the wall. "Yeah."

"Oh god." She sighed, burying her face in her hands. "How could we?"

"We were drunk, Hermione. It was just—it just happened."

"Drunk?" She frowned. "I don’t--drink." Which, she remembered rather quickly, was exactly what she had said the night before. Right before she took the first shot of Firewhiskey. And probably, although, she couldn’t remember exactly, before she’d taken the third and fourth shots. She wasn’t sure how many she’d had after that, but she knew that it was more than enough. Oh yeah. Drunk.

"I don’t either," Harry muttered, but she thought she heard amusement in his voice.

"Oh god," she muttered again. "Do you--remember any of it?"

He shrugged. "Bits and pieces."

She couldn’t believe that she was actually going to ask the next question, but considering they were laying in bed together, starkers, and covered in the evidence that they had indeed done more than sleep the night before, she supposed there was no reason not to. "Was it—how was it?"

He chuckled softly. "As far as I can recall, it was brilliant."

Well that, at least, was good to hear. She wanted to remember. She needed to remember. There was a party. N.E.W.T.s had finished just yesterday, and the seventh years had celebrated. With whiskey. And she’d had more than her fair share. Way more. That much, she remembered. The rest, however, was gone.

"How did we--How could we have ended up here? I don’t--I can’t remember anything." She glanced at Harry again, and noticed a deep blush rising on his neck. "Oh, Harry. I didn‘t mean it that way. I didn‘t--"

He shook his head, still not looking at her. "It’s fine, Hermione."

She sighed, turning over to face him. "Harry? Look at me, please."

He didn’t move for a minute, but she saw a the flush deepen. Finally, he turned over and faced her, still not meeting her eyes. He looked mortified.

She reached out and touched his chin, pulling it up so he had to look at her. "Hey, don’t be—don’t let this bother you. It’s not like we did anything—wrong. Right?"

He was squinting at her, his eyes unfocused without his glasses. He still looked embarrassed, but he also looked thoughtful, and—something else. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it stirred something deep down in her, something that pooled around the sore spots of her anatomy. He looked away again, staring at the thick comforter that was spread over them. "It’s fine. I’m fine."

She didn’t understand the force that made her reach out and touch his chest, but when her hand touched the solid flesh there, they both jumped. His eyes flew back to meet hers, widened, and he glanced down to where her skin met his. "Is this all right?" she asked quietly, gently scratching her fingers against his warm skin.

He looked at her carefully, then swallowed hard. "You—don’t have to."

She laughed. "I know that. I’m doing it because I want to."

He blinked at her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Like I said, it seems a shame that I can’t remember last night. I really would like to."

He hesitated a minute, then scooted closer to her. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her until she was flush up against him. She moaned at the contact, clutching him to her as tightly as she could. Nothing had ever felt this good to her before, and she just lay there a minute, holding him, and reveled in it.

Then, his lips came down on hers and she sighed against them. It was wonderful. He was tender, and unhurried, sliding his mouth against hers as though there was nothing on earth he’d rather be doing.

She was the one to slide her tongue into it first. She ran it across his lips, teasingly slow, and he let out a noise that was half-moan, half-sigh. When his lips were parted, she slipped her tongue between them. His met it, caressing hers in a way that made the warm feeling in her belly intensify greatly.

She could hardly keep herself from flipping him onto his back and climbing on top of him right then. Especially when she shifted her hips slightly and felt his erection pressing back against her. She had to stop a minute and peek under the covers at it. Holy hell, she thought, her eyes widening. From this vantage point, all she could really see was the head, and the thickest part of his shaft, which is what amazed her most.

"Can I--?" she whispered, looking at it in awe.

He laughed softly. "Yeah, just go easy so I don’t pop too soon."

She reached down and ran her fingers over the head, giggling as it twitched slightly. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and she looked up just in time to see his eyes slide shut. Then, slowly, she wrapped her hand around it and marveled at the fact that, at its widest point, her fingers would barely meet. She stroked it a few times, loving the soft grunting sounds he made, then leaned back in to meet his lips.

She kept her hand still, grasping but not stroking, and smiled against his lips as he slowly started rolling his hips back and forth, so that his cock slid through her fist. She noticed he kept it slow, and that he would occasionally stop altogether. In the meantime, his hands were pressed firmly against her bum, cupping it without actually squeezing it, and his lips began to wander down her chin, onto her neck, her shoulders. He pushed back from her a bit, bending his head so he could kiss further down, and then his lips landed on her breast.

As soon as he took her nipple into his mouth, she groaned, arching her back and reached both hands up to fist them in his hair. His tongue trailed over her, flicking and rolling, and she felt her breath catch. She almost didn’t notice when one of his hands left her bum and traveled lightly over her hip and around to the front.

She jumped when he pressed his palm against her groin, and he looked up at her. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, so softly that she almost couldn’t her him.

"N-no. God, no."

He looked more than a little relieved. "Thank God," he muttered. "Tell me if I hurt you, okay?" She nodded, stiffening as he slipped a finger between her folds. "Open your legs up a bit," he whispered, and she felt the warmth intensify again, just at his words. She unclenched her thighs and spread them apart slightly, and his hand slid easily between them. She gasped as his finger found what it was looking for, pushing gently into her opening.

He pumped her gently, watching her face carefully and she let her head roll back slightly, trying to lose her last bit of self-consciousness. It was all too weird, having Harry touching her there, having his naked body pressed so close to hers. Harry. She was in bed with Harry, whom she’d known forever and always considered a friend. And it was Harry who was making her body arch and writhe. Shy Harry, who had barely been able to talk to Cho Chang, who had blushed furiously when he’d had to dance with Parvati at the Yule Ball. Harry who was now calmly sliding his hand back, pushing two fingers back inside of her.

"Ungh," she moaned, pushing herself down on him a little. "God, Harry." His lips brushed her throat, her collar bone. Then, he did something with his thumb that made her cry out. He rubbed her clitoris with it again and she gasped, squirming. "Oh God!"

She felt his mouth turn up into a grin against her skin. "That’s it," he whispered. "Tell me what you want."

She found that the words just tumbled out of her mouth, regardless of the slight bit of embarrassment she felt at saying them. "Harder. God, please, harder."

He pumped his fingers into her with a little more force, still keeping his thumb against her swollen nub. "Like that?"

She gasped, clutching tight to his shoulders. "More," she groaned. "I want something—more."

He was quick to roll her onto her back, taking his hand off of her long enough to open her knees further. She felt the head of his cock brush against her as he sat back on his knees, pushing them up under her bum just a little. She watched what he was doing, feeling all the more turned on by the sight of him kneeling, naked, between her legs.

He was staring down at her, spread open in front of him, and she watched as he reached down and grabbed his shaft, stroking it a few times, his tongue sliding out over his lips. She made a mental note of how he moved his hand over himself, how he would run his thumb across the head with each stroke.

Then he nudged it against her and her eyes rolled back into her head. He was gentle as he pushed into her, still up on his knees, and he took it easy on the first few thrusts. One hand curled under her thigh, and the other found its way back to her clit.

She had to hold fast to the sheets below her to keep from arching all the way off the bed. She had no idea how long she lasted. A minute, maybe two, probably much less, but it felt like forever. She came with a grunted screech, bucking wildly against him as he continued to pump into her. She wasn’t completely sure that she didn’t black out for a minute. All she knew was, when she finally managed to open her eyes again, he was still moving inside her albeit a bit slower than he had been.

He smiled down at her, shifting off his knees to lay on top of her, still thrusting gently against her.

"You all right?" he asked, dropping a soft kiss on her lips.

"God yes," she muttered, panting. "Didn’t you? I mean, you haven’t--?"

He shook his head. "Not yet, but I can stop if you want."

"No. Keep going. Please, I want you to--."

"Come, Hermione. You can say it." He had picked up the pace again, but he wasn’t rough about it. He was already breathing a bit heavily, his mouth just centimeters from hers, and she looked up into his eyes as he moved. She thought she saw it. The moment that his orgasm started to build, she saw his eyes darken ever so slightly, go out of focus a bit.

"Are you coming?" she asked softly, and his eyes slid shut. He nodded, but couldn’t, or maybe just didn’t, say a word. His mouth was still slightly open, his eyes shut, his arms tightening on either side of her body. He let out one of the sexiest moan she’d ever heard and his hips faltered a bit in their smooth strokes. He grunted, sucked in a breath through his teeth, grunted again. His eyes squeezed tighter and his back stiffened under her hands. She couldn’t actually feel him spilling inside her, but she felt the twitch of his cock, and thought she felt a bit of warmth spread into her.

It was, all in all, the most incredible, beautiful thing she’d ever watched. He let out a long breath, his arms going lax, letting his weight down on top her. His head rested on her shoulders and she felt and heard him panting.

She held him tight against her, reaching one hand up to wind her fingers through his hair. He sighed against her skin, and she kissed his shoulder gently, noticing for the first time that he had a huge purpling bruise at the base of his neck, knowing immediately that she had left it there the night before.

To hell with last night, she thought, snuggling herself against him as much as she could. She couldn’t remember the night before, had no clue what their first time had been like, but she had today. She had this time. And it was more than enough for her.

After a few minutes, he shifted, leaning up to look at her. He didn’t look quite as embarrassed now, but he still looked a bit uncomfortable. She reached up and brushed his fringe off his forehead, bending her knees a bit more so she could hold his hips with her legs.

"Thank you." It was all she could think to say, and it seemed pretty pitiful considering what he’d just done to, for, her.

He laughed softly, leaning down to catch her mouth in a tender kiss. "Uh, you’re welcome?"

She giggled. "Sorry, I just—I don’t know what you’re supposed to say to someone who’s just—I mean, damn."

He grinned, looking pretty proud of himself. "It’s all right. I know what you meant." He jumped slightly as she shifted and she felt his now soft dick start to slide out of her. "Tickles," he muttered, shifting, with a wince, to slide the rest of the way out of her. She felt empty without him and wondered when she’d next be able to have him inside of her.

Suddenly, the full force of what had happened hit her. They weren’t—They were friends. That’s all they’d ever been until last night. What if—what if this was the end of it? What if there wasn’t a next time? The idea made her feel all too cold.

"You all right?" he asked, frowning down at her.

She forced a smile onto her face. "Yeah, I’m great. Why?"

"I just—you looked a little—I dunno, sad maybe?"

She shook her head, running her hands up his arms, trying to memorize the feel of him. "Just—I’m glad this happened."

"You are?" he sounded shocked and also a little suspicious. "Why?"

"Because it was—great," she said, pulling him down for what she hoped was another mind-blowing hiss, passionate and just a bit rough. "It was fun," she added softly as they broke apart. "And I think—well, I think we’re incredible together."

He was still looking at her with an odd expression, but he said nothing.

"Didn’t you think so?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose so. So, at the risk of sounding like a total girl here," he quipped, which earned him a smack in the arm, "what does this mean for—well, from here on out?"

She shrugged, trying to seem much more nonchalant than she felt. "I don’t know. I suppose we can just—well we can be friends and have this too, right?" Please say no, her brain cried out to him. Say that you want more than friends now. Say you want to be with me.

The thoughts shocked her. She had always seen Harry as a friend, but now--now she wanted more. And what was even more surprising was the familiarity of these feelings, as though she’d wanted this for longer than even she knew. She wanted him, all of him. Desperately.

A tremor of what had to be shock passed through him but he masked it quickly. "Oh, well—I suppose if that’s what you want. We can try it."

She forced another smile. "So, how soon can we do this again?"

He chuckled, lifting his weight off of her and sitting back on his knees. "Well, I think we should probably have some—lunch, first," he said, glancing at the clock.

She watched him dress as she sorted through her trunk for some fresh clothes. Say something, you ninny. Tell him! He turned to look at her, fully dressed. She couldn’t get the words out.

"I’m going to go brush my teeth. Meet you in the common room?"

She nodded, hoping her smile didn’t look as sad as it felt. "Okay." And he walked out of her room before she could pluck up the courage to tell him the truth.

Two days later, Harry disappeared.