Midnight visitor

A/N Here we go, back to Hermione... maybe I'll just ping it back and forth between her and Harry just for the time being. I just really want to be in both their heads when all hell breaks loose.

Rayder and Anon, thanks so much for your ideas. I think I'll take a little of both. All it will take is a bit of sexual tension, at least this time around. Beginnings are just so nice, aren't they? I update quickly, yes?
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Ch 3: Desire and Belief


Oh, gods, he's coming for me. Harry is coming for me, is crawling over me, it's not Voldemort, it's just the two of us now. This is real- this is wrong, this never would have happened if not for HIM making Harry want me like this. His lips slide over mine, so soft, so like that first time, before things got horrid and painful, when I thought he was still him and not a monster.

The sun is up, Hermione, this is all Harry, kissing you with his sensuous lips, that's his cock in his pants, wanting you, taking you. He wants to fuck you, he wants to make things right, he probably isn't even thinking straight right now. I'm such a whore, how can I be doing this to Ginny? How can I just snog her boyfriend like this? They love each other so much, I could see it, I was happy for them. I was glad, even when Voldemort took me with Harry's body, he couldn't take that love between them away. But now, Harry is discarding it, cheating on Ginny, with me, and it's ALL MY FAULT!

I push him away, "MM-No! this isn't right." I'm surprised for a moment that he doesn't stop me, or fight me, or hurt me. But this is Harry, I tell myself. The sun is up. He isn't like that. It's just this closeness, this desire that blurs the edges in your mind between the Harry in your bed last night and the Harry who's your friend. It wasn't quite as hard to make the distinction when he didn't know. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that he'd react like this, now that he knows.

"Hermione," his breathing's hard, he's fighting for clarity, for sanity. His body's having a hard time making the distinction, too. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry for me, you idiot, think about your girlfriend!" Anger helps me concentrate on the problem at hand and not the problem still pressed against my groin.

"I... Ginny... I." He's so quiet for a moment, the wheels in his head are turning visibly, his emotions flit over his features one by confusing one. "I don't know." He collapses atop me, his head rests on my breasts, and he is my friend again. I stroke his hair consolingly. This is all we can be, this is the only closeness we can have, otherwise Ginny will be heartbroken and Harry will ruin everything he has going for him, with me. I am not so selfish as to sacrifice my friends' happiness for my own. "And Ron...." He murmurs.

"What does Ron have to do with this?" I ask, still brushing my fingers through his hair in what I hope is a motherly gesture.

"He fancies you, you know. He's just too much of an idiot to tell you himself," He muses, closing his eyes to the hypnotic movements of my fingers.

I don't even know what to think about that. He's like a brother to me. He'd be the epitome of everything I am too ruined to have, as well. "You love Ginny, right?" I switch topics.

"I do," he's trying to let me help him clear away the confusion.

"And until today I was just a friend."

"You were... but now," He sighs, and lifts himself above me. I'm startled as he looks searchingly into my eyes. "Now, I can't get you out of my mind." I feel my heart lurch to the side. When did Harry get so good at saying all the things a girl wants to hear? "This is too hard," he lowers back down and lets me resume my soothing ministrations. "Your heart... it's beating so fast," his ear to my chest, he hears everything I wish to hide. "You're shaking."

That isn't all that's happening to me. My chest feels tight, and my head light. "I wish we could just stay like this forever," I admit. No boundaries being crossed, just the delicious torment of these feelings washing over us. It's intoxicating, this closeness. I'm feeling safe, but wild, such promise here beneath him. Everything is new, exciting, uncertain. So much to be lost and such a fragile thing to gain. If we can just stay like this, poised on the edge of surrender but never giving into the pull, I would be content. Because I know how it could be between us, and so does he.

We reach a kind of rapport, not going any further, just staying. It's sweet, beautiful. My crotch is aching with being unfulfilled, a sweet ache, this aroused awareness of Harry, my Harry. After what seems like a lifetime, he breathes in, gets up, stands, holds out his hand to me. A wave of sorrow and loss overtakes me for a moment at the absence of his comforting weight. But I know it is for the best. We can never go on with where our desires would take us. Maybe Voldemort will still use him, but I know it will feel different than this emotional attachment that we've found.

No boundaries are crossed. Nothing that we can't take back, nothing we will regret in the light of day. "Have you eaten yet?" I ask him.

"I had a muffin, but I could eat again."

"Let's go to breakfast," I hold his hand, still not willing to give up the contact as we leave my head girl suite and emerge out into the halls.
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I drop his hand outside the great hall. He smiles at me. He's saying, 'well, here we go,' without words. I guess we've gone beyond words. I nod. He opens the door. We step in.

Conversations don't stop, no one looks up. This is normal, him and me, walking in together, we've done it so many times. Why did I think everything would be different? Because everything is different. We've changed, he and I, and I can't believe no one can see it.

We head over to the table. There's a seat beside Ginny, a seat beside Ron, and a space big enough for the two of us to sit together, down the table from them. I look at Harry, willing him to sit beside his girlfriend, where he belongs. He gets the message, it takes less than a second. He slips in beside a grinning Ginny, who watches me to see if I'll take the seat beside Ron, obviously meant for me. It's such a little thing, I've done it before without thinking. But now I know why it is this way: he fancies me, and is trying to tell me without having to put it into words. With my new knowledge of his feelings, and a new look into non-verbal communication, I can see it. I don't know how to handle it. So I act like nothing's wrong, everything is normal. Nothings changed, and I sit next to Ron.

The wattage of Ginny's smile seems to go up a notch. She's his sister, how could she not know, of course she knows. I barely catch the relieved breath that Ron lets slip out. He was holding his breath. I'm sure he didn't even know it. He resumes the messy eating that he's infamous for. Harry scoops some eggs onto his plate and immediately tucks in. "Morning, Ginny! Ron," I chirp. I'm good like that, always polite.

"So," Ginny begins immediately. "What are your plans for Christmas? Harry's staying at the Burrow with me and Ron, all the family will be there."

"Actually," I blush, putting bacon on my plate, with eggs and a flapjack, "I was going to stay here at Hogwart's. My parents are going to visit family in Australia. I thought I'd get some extra studying done for my NEWTS. My head girl duties don't leave all the time I'd like for that."

"Sounds riveting," Ginny's voice is laced with irony. Ron takes that moment to swallow whatever it was in his mouth and put his two knuts in.

"You know, it's not exactly the way I'd want to spend Christmas."

"I know, Ron. You practically have to be hog-tied and forced to open a book and study."

"No... I didn't mean studying, I meant alone, without your family or your friends. Every one else will be at home, opening presents. Maybe you could come to the Burrow, too, just for Christmas Eve."

"I don't know, Ron..."

"Come on, it'll be fun," Ginny coaxes. "Mom will probably give you one of her sweaters, there's a huge feast, a lot of Order members are going to show, and then we all get roaring drunk about midnight off rum and Egg Nog and sing christmas carols around the piano. Last year, Fred and George charmed the tree to sing 'Deck the Halls,' It looked so much like the Sorting Hat we laughed for hours!"

"Yeah," Ron nods, never as eloquent as his gushy little sister.

"Maybe," she sees me crumbling.

"The year before that, Lupin got up on the piano and sang 'Santa Baby'..." she dangles that precious little image in front of me like a piece of candy.

That's it. I'm hooked. "Okay."

Ron beams. Ginny claps her hands. Harry smiles, although a little bit of apprehension blips through. I look at him steadily, thinking, we can do this. Just like always. A little Egg Nog and Christmas spirit isn't going to make us THAT incredibly stupid. Besides, there's still three full weeks to go before we're crammed into the Weasley Nest like so many human sardines.
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A week passes by, then two, with no sign of Voldemort's little midnight visits. I start to think I am free. He's never stayed away this long. My dreams are untroubled and my sleep becomes easy. I'm warm and safe beneath the covers and the restless beating of my heart stills as I start awake as the aforementioned hour comes. Nothing. There's nothing there. Relief and regret dance in the shadows again tonight. I pass into easy dreams once again.

A start awake an hour later as a familiar weight shifts the bed. It's Harry. Voldemort has caught me off guard again. My pulse speeds up and I'm fully awake.

"Hermione?" My belly does a flip-flop. My snatch floods my thighs.

"I'm here," I play along with our little game.

"Will you hold me again?" This has never been part of it, but Voldemort is devious. "I just need to reassure myself. I won't try anything. I know we agreed."

"Harry?" He's fooling me, I just know it, he's doing it all over again. "Harry, how can I know if it's you?"

"I know. The sun's down... but... I still can't stop thinking about you. Just an hour, it's all I need, just an hour in your arms and I can sleep."

If it is Harry, I should send him away. This will only complicate things. But I'm so very wet, I've had nothing for weeks. It makes me weak. And I love him. If it's Voldemort, well, I should just play along and let him have his way, otherwise he'll hurt me. I make up my mind, lift back the covers. He slides in beside me, rests his head on my shoulder, so like that first night.

"Please," I whisper, "I don't want to play any more...."

He lifts his head, pulls out his wand from some pocket somewhere. "Lumos," I can see his face, his eyes are his own, the emotion he shows me is a needy, insecure one. I am mostly reassured. Mostly. That expression weakens me further.

He probably has no idea what it is he truly needs. But I do. I feel like I need it, too. So here we are, back where we shouldn't be, poised at the edge of that huge precipice and drawn there. The only difference; that it's night, and everything is so much easier to excuse in the night, and that we're only half-dressed, and that this is the stage where all of the acts of sexual release between our bodies were preformed. I'm sure flesh and places have memories. So it's completely different.

The edge of the cliff is slippery one. I can feel myself falling already.

"Harry," my voice is low with the dangerous emotions with which we play. It also lets him know that I am aware that it is him, only him, here of his own will. Our choices are our own. It is a warning, a beckoning call, a confession, all rolled into that one little name.

I watch it trickle down over his awareness. He shouldn't be here. I am weak. I cannot send him away. I want him. It's torment. Does he have the strength for both of us?

"I'm...." he starts, cannot finish. His hand clutches in the satin of my nightgown at my stomach. Our breathing is hard though we stay and do nothing. His eyes close, he turns his face away. Strain is evident on his features. When did this become so hard? "I shouldn't have come."

"But," I can't stop myself from calling his eyes back to mine, "You did."

"I did." My hand reaches up to cup his cheek. He presses his face into the palm, kisses it. "Oh, Hermione," something snaps inside, the dam breaks, a torrent of emotions sweeps us under. He grabs my wrist and pulls me under with him, his lips descend and capture me. The tears he cries splash down on my face, a rush of warmth and delight sweeps upward from my toes to my scalp. The hand at my stomach sweeps to my side and slips over the satin to curl around my back.

I am lifted in his arms, off the bed, his lips are making tormented love to mine, a wealth of wanting poured into the sweep of his tongue, the caress of his hand on my neck, lowering down to settle over my breast. My arms go round him, I kiss him, reverently, worshiping the muscles of his back, so taut with restrained passion. He bears my weight back down, sweeps his legs over mine, between mine. They've fallen open without a thought, only the whisper of sound against the sheets.

I'm too keyed up, too far gone, I can't stop this, and neither can he. I hook my big toes into the waistband of his trousers and push them down. His back arches up to help me. They make it to his knees while he still devours me, fumbles with the edge of my nightie. My arms are so tight around him, hooked behind his shoulders, his arms are a frame within which I am safe. We press together in desperation, his hard, sweet cock rubs my swollen flesh and slides over my slickness.

"Wet, wet, Gods so very wet," he groans against my lips, bucking his hips.

"Har-ry," the hitch in my breath is all I can do to say how much I need him inside me.

He finds the angle, pushes deep with a groan and we stare into the wide eyes of the other. Surprise, triumph, wonderment, it's all there between us, like it's the first time all over again, for both of us, and in reality it is. "Perfect fit," he says in awe, his head descends to kiss me again. Our bodies speed up into a frantic rhythm, as if our pause had never been. His thrusts meet the spot created for him, there at the back, I've had no other lover but him. He's wild, hard, tormented passion sprung from its cage and released into me, he isn't gentle, like I thought, though nothing about this hurts but my heart, knowing we've given in.

He has amazing stamina for some one who's never truly done this, though his body has. This whole night is the gift that Voldemort unwittingly gave us, regardless of what the consequences will be in the morning. His thrusts get harder, wilder, he pulls back from me and pushes my legs toward my chest. The familiar clenching sweeps me, the pleasure in me spirals quickly closer and closer to release. My cries grow frantic, needy, close oh so very close, he's crying out, too, his urgency matching my own. "Pull out, you need to pull out, Harry," I find somewhere within me.

So close so close so close- and he does pull out, my orgasm hits me with the very last thrust to throw me over the edge, his seed spurts out to hit my satin nightie on my breasts, my belly, as he jerks and grunts above me. He falls over on his side, letting out a groan of spent passion. We stare up into the canopy of my bed as our breathing returns to normal. He grabs his wand, still glowing, tangled in blankets. "Nox," he mutters, then "evanesco", before he drops it and his arm heavily to the side. "Oh, god," he grunts, and smiles at me. I smile back at him. He gropes for my hand and holds it limply in his own. A peculiar light is in his eyes.

Don't say it, please don't say it, if you do, it'll mean so much and ruin everything and Ginny and Ron-

"I love you," he murmurs fondly. My heart skips.

"I love you, too, Harry," I whisper with all the sorrow in my heart.
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A/N So, there we have it. What will it do to Ginny, I wonder? And will Voldemort give up so easily? What about Ron? Will they keep it a secret so not to hurt every one? How can you keep something like that secret? I have lots of work to do, but I hope you liked this chapter.