Life is Strange

Help by the Beatles


Help, I need somebody,
Help, not just anybody,
Help, you know I need someone, help.

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me?

And now my life has changed in oh so many ways,
My independence seems to vanish in the haze.
But every now and then I feel so insecure,
I know that I just need you like I've never done before.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me.

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
But now these days are gone, I'm not so self assured,
Now I find I've changed my mind and opened up the doors.

Help me if you can, I'm feeling down
And I do appreciate you being round.
Help me, get my feet back on the ground,
Won't you please, please help me, help me, help me, oh.


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It had just been a dream, thought Hermione as she walked down the corridor alone towards the Great hall the next morning. Nothing to worry about, just a dream. No one knew what had happened in her dream. She could tell them, if anyone was so beastly as to ask, that she had dreamed about being awarded the highest honors of any student in Hogwarts history. They would just laugh at the idea of her wet dream. Laughter like that would be acceptable. Yes, indeed. Ha Ha! Oh that Hermione! Always the bookworm. She was perfectly willing to endure that kind of derision. No one ever had to know that she secretly fantasized about an amazing, passionate, and perverted encounter with her best friends. No indeed.

With this in mind, she still shook with fear as she opened up the door to the Great Hall. The smell of bacon and good strong tea assaulted her senses. She cringed, waiting for the cat calls to begin. Nothing. She sighed in relief and sat down in her usual spot at the Gryffindor table. She had come very early with the hopes of avoiding anyone, and though there were a scattered amount of students at each of the four house tables, there was no one who might have witnessed any of last nights....indiscretions. Only a few first years at her own table, and thankfully, a tiny peek over at the Slytherin table showed it devoid of Malfoy.

If only the stupid charm had been the cause of her “closet” experience. But as Hermione began to sip her tea, she resigned herself to the truth. No, she hadn't had a threesome with her best friends, but...she did have a quick snog with her worst enemy. Which, really, might be even worse. He had kissed her and she had kissed him, and it had been wonderful, and wanton and amazing. And when she had heard his voice, and it had really, really sunk in whose hands were in her hair and whose tongue was in her mouth, she had thrown open the cupboard door and ran away as fast as her feet could take her without a backward glance.

No one need never know about that either. It would never happen again, she didn't doubt. The next time she saw Malfoy, she was positive he would spew his usual bigoted venom at her, and things could go back to normal. She would study hard, get good grades, be the model of propriety and not the kind of girl her parents might be ashamed of. She straightened her shoulder, and nodded to herself with conviction. Yes, she had let her hormones get the best of her. She had had some interesting experiences. Now, she knew for herself just what the other girls talked about, and she could put all this foolishness behind her.

But her resolve was crushed when she saw the doors open, and Harry and Ron walking towards her. And who would be just seconds behind them but the Ravishing Blonde Bully himself. Hermione sighed and shook her head. She seriously needed help.

Breakfast was unbelievably awkward. The had sat down, murmured good morning, and began to eat. No chatter, no pigging out. The boys picked at their food, and kept glancing at her out of the corner of their eyes. Gone was the overt flirting of the last few days. In fact, they were both doing their very best to avoid touching her at all. When Hermione had accidentally reached for the same roll as Ron, and their fingertips touched, he'd reacted as if he'd been burned, and repeated he was sorry over and over again. Hermione herself had blushed a deep crimson, thinking about where Ron's fingers had been in her dreams.

“I'm not exactly hungry,”she stammered as she stood up. “I guess I'll be off...well, you know...got to...well...books.” And with those witty words she left the hall, wondering if their friendship would survive this.


Something was off, he noticed it right away. Draco stared at the threesome, mouth pinched tightly. She couldn't have told them. They would never just sit there and eat their porridge knowing that their prized Hermione had been with him yesterday. He looked at her, angry that she wasn't looking at him. Same girl. Same hair. Same mudblood. But his body got hard again just looking at her. And it was worse now, because now he knew what she smelled like, what she tasted like, what sounds she made when his tongue was in her mouth. When she got to her feet and left, he couldn't help himself. He followed her.


Ten minutes later, he lay on top of her, grinding his hips into her, on a window seat just before the doors to the outside. He devoured her, twisting his hands in her hair, pulling her close. Her hands were on his lower back, pulling him close as her tongue so sweet and wet, danced circles in his mouth.


She pulled her mouth away from him, catching a breath. His erection, very discernible between his crisp black trousers, ground into her center, as he fastened on her neck, biting and sucking. Merlin, what was she doing, she groaned to herself as she convulsively rubbed his shoulders. What in the world was going on? Why did he make her feel so amazing and alive?


“Granger, Granger, Granger,” he growled, sending a surge thoughout her body like electric shock. To hear his voice, low and intense with passion, was driving her over the edge. Of their own accord, her ankles wrapped around his waist, pulling him fast to her. He moaned, grabbed one leg and hefted it up in his arm, griding still further into her. Any possible thought left her, as she felt his lower half so close, so tight into her. Her underwear was soaked and a detached part of her wondered if she was leaving a damp patch on his clothes.


“What are you doing to me,” he groaned softly. “I hate you so much, but...” his words were cut off as she pulled his mouth down over hers. After a few moments, his mouth found her ears, and in between biting on them he whispered, “I want you.” He held himself in check tightly, trying to remain in control as he heard her start to whimper and writhe underneath him. He stilled her movements by holding her down with his greater weight. He whispered in her ear again so softly, so tensely that Hermione could barely hear him.


“Granger, I'm going to have you right now, and I don't care why.”

She felt him reach down between them, and as his hand brushed against her soaked underpants, she bit his shoulder and groaned, her hips bucked convulsively. Dots exploded behind her closed eyes as she felt herself give way to crashing waves of pleasure.


Draco's hand froze as he felt Hermione tense and explode. She writhed underneath him, and uttered such a strange exhalation of breath, that he was about to be sent over the edge himself when they both froze, hearing footsteps fast approaching their hiding spot in the curtained alcove. Faster then he thought possible, especially since she was still shaking from her orgasm, Hermione pushed him off of her and ran away as quickly as her feet could carry her.

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Harry watched Hermione closely as she listened attentively to Hagrid's lecture about the feeding habits of viral whispertoads. She stood a little apart from the other students in the class, her fingers twiddling with a long stem of grass. She would wrap it around her finger, and let it go, only to wrap it around her finger again, all the while her eyes never leaving the giant. People who didn't know her might assume she was enthralled with the discussion of mashed dragonfly pudding and other whispertoad delicacies, but Harry was her best friend. He knew Hermione's thoughts were far away; she never once raised her hand and tried to answer any questions. Not once.

Maybe she was thinking about what happened last night, Harry thought nervously as he approached her. Maybe Neville had told her that he had had to wake up Harry again late last night, because he had been moaning her name. No, Neville had promised not to tell. No one else had heard him. But he knew that she knew about what those two brats had done to them. Maybe she was appalled that he and Ron had...But well, come on...they were two healthy boys... that kind of stuff happened all the time. But she might be shocked to know that she had been the cause of many a wet morning for Harry over the last few years. Sure, he had liked Cho, and had even tried dating Ginny, in the midst of trying not to be killed and all, but when he dreamed in the dead of night, it was never about either of those girls. No, all of his wet dreams had consisted of doing things to his female best friend that he would never think about during the day. Never let himself think about. Never.

Like for instance, right now. He would never think about stepping close to her and reaching his hand casually under her skirt, to rub underneath her panties, patting her smooth bottom. Never think about her kneeling down in front of him, in the middle of class, and taking him in her mouth. Never. That's just not the kind of guy he was. She was his best friend.

She glanced at him as he came to stand beside her. Part of her was so glad that he did so; maybe they could put last night behind them and continue on as friends, but part of her wished he wouldn't stand so close. She hadn't had any time to change, after what had happened with Draco, and she was terrible afraid he might be able to..well..smell her. And besides, she was so keyed up, she felt like her body was acting on it's own accord, and she was afraid just to get close to any boy, but especially afraid to stand so close to the boy who had been such a vivid part of her dream last night.

Harry just stood there, arms folded, pretending to listen to Hagrid as well. He kept sneaking glances at her, sometimes catching her eye and quickly looking away. When Hagrid finally ended the class, giving them an assignment to find four dragonflies apeice to feed their own whispertoads, which he would be passing out tomorrow, Harry and Hermione continued to stand there as the rest of the students headed back up the hill to the school.


Enough of this, thought Hermione. We're still friends. Just act like it.


“So Harry, would you like to look for the dragonflies right now? I think there should be plenty down by the lake's edge near the willows.”


“Sure,” he agreed, hoping his voice didn't sound as strange to her as it did to him.

Sitting by the willow roots, 8 stunned dragonflies lying in a nearby pile, Harry was deliberating with insanity. Hermione sat next to him, her arms around her knees, head down and eyes closed, off in her own world. She looked...beautiful. Like the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He knew he was called the Boy Wonder, looked at with adoration at times, with hate at other times. He'd rode on the changing winds of his notoriety, and throughout it all Hermione had stood by him, defending him fiercely with her words, or sometimes just with her silent presence beside him. She was so strong, and good, and beautiful. But what was he? She'd never really looked at him in the way he secretly wished. So this year, he'd started being more forward, not really on purpose. But he was almost 18 for god's sake, and the one person he wanted to explore these new exciting feelings with, these changes in his body, that one person didn't even have a clue that he thought about her that way. Maybe now, with this being the last year they would be together, at least for sure, maybe, maybe he should risk it.

He reached out and put his hand gently on her shoulder. Her eyes opened wide.


“Hermione,” he said, leaning over towards her.


It was happening again. Hermione looked at Harry, and he looked back at her. And he was not looking at her the way she was used to seeing him look at her. It was not the look of the boy thinking of Quidditch, or even immersed in thoughts of morose despair. Sometimes Harry seemed to be a perfect case of bipolar...


Her thoughts were cut short, as Harry leaned towards her. What should she do? What about Malfoy? What about...


His lips brushed hers so very lightly. She didn't pull away. She didn't scream. She didn't laugh. He sat back a little, and just looked at her. Her eyes met his. She smiled a little.


What the hell, she thought.

She leaned forwards towards him and brushed her lips to him. She put a hand on his chest and pushed him back onto the springy moss covered bank. When he put his hands up to touch her face, and pulled her face down to him, kissing her just as lightly, just as gently, she felt a warmth suffuse her body. It wasn't anything like the feelings she had experienced with Malfoy. That warmth was like burning lava, molten metal; this feeling was more like sunshine on a beautiful day, not as passionate, but spectacular in its own way.


Her hair lay like a curtain around him, all he felt was her gentle lip, her sweet skin. He breathed in her scent, something like vanilla and cinnamon, mixed with the mineral smell of the lake and the rich earth around them. He had always seen her in the light of the schoolroom, amidst the smell of dusty books, and he had still admired her. But now...here in this fading twilight, with the sound of the rippling water and the gentle sighs of the wind, she was transformed. She was...just...just...


“You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,” he murmured in her ear.


She startled abruptly sitting up and pulling away.


“What?” Harry questioned, sitting up. “What did I say? What's wrong?”


Hermione just covered her face, mortified remembering what Malfoy had whispered in her ears just a few hours earlier. How beautiful would Harry think she was if he knew how she had panted underneath the boy he hated more than anything? She made as if to stand up.


“No,” he said, pulling on her arm. “I'm not ready for you to go yet.” His voice no longer sounded soft.


Without warning, she was underneath him, and he was kissing her, his dark hair brushing her cheeks, obscuring any vision. This was not the gentle kisses of a few moments ago, gone was the tranquil warmth and serenity. It was replaced by a furious passion that shocked her. His lips were bruising hers with their force, and when she opened her mouth to voice protest, his tongue pushed its way inside.


This was her best friend Harry Potter? This..man..who was kissing her so heatedly and growling as he did so? Her friend who was even now pushing his hand underneath her school blouse, stopping just short of her breasts? Her friend whose very hand on her belly was causing tremors of excitement to streak over her body?


“It's ok, Harry,” she whispered into his hair as he began to kiss her neck. “You can touch me.”


She spread her arms back above her head, leaving her chest open to his touch. He sat back on his knees, bringing the lower half of his body onto hers. She could feel how excited he was, but he kept his eyes on her exposed belly, his hair hanging down in his face. Slowly, he reached out and began unbuttoning her shirt. When he was done, he gently pulled it open, drawing in a quick breath when he saw her cream colored bra. Feeling somewhat silly and still somewhat heated, Hermione reached down and flicked the catch open in front, her bra springing away.


She didn't look at him, choosing instead to look away out onto the lake. His were the first eyes to see her breasts, and she didn't know what he would think.

This had gone beyond his hopes. He had kissed her, kissed like he had in
his own dreams, and she hadn't stopped him; she'd even exposed herself to him, and she was beautiful, just like he'd expected. Her breasts were full and milky white with softly pink nipples. He put one hand hesitantly on her left breast, and felt her draw in a deep breath. It pushed her breast more fully into his hand. He squeezed lightly, feeling it's resliency and suppleness. Then he fulfilled one of his most buried secrets, and put his mouth on her nipple.


Laying there, by the lake, Harry suckled on his best friends beautiful breast and thought it was the best moment of his life.


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They left when it got full dark. Hermione slipped back into her shirt and together they walked back to Gryffindor tower. Neither spoke, but they didn't let go of each other's hands until they entered the school. Whereupon Harry was immediately hailed by Professor McGonnagal who ushered Harry away, bent on going over some necessary plans for Harry's future as an auror. The stern teacher walked briskly towards her office, never doubting that Harry was right behind. The dark haired boy looked over his shoulder at Hermione, gave her a wistful smile and followed his teacher down the dark passage.


Hermione felt a moment of mixed relief and disappointment. Who knew what would have happened had they gotten to Gryffidor tower. Perhaps Harry would have shooed his roommates away, laid her down on his bed and...


And what? Made love to her? Hermione Jane Granger making love to Harry James Potter? It sounded too crazy to be true. But, she shook her head in amazement, it might have happened, and who knew? Maybe it still might later tonight. And though she knew that there were several girls, Ginny included, who would have done just about anything to have that kind of moment with Harry, Hermione mostly felt anxious and a little afraid. All of this....this sudden craziness...it was just too much. She threw up her hands in a moment of strange despair and headed for the one place where she knew she could feel safe, and have a certain amount of normalcy return to this mixed up life she was apparently now leading.


The library was a sanctuary that had long succored her when times were tough. Just standing against the shelves, a hefty book on transmutation of unicorn tears into a draught of healing in her hands, Hermione once again felt like herself. No hormones here. No boys hell bent on deflowering her and turning her once useful brain to mush. No...


Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him coming, but she was unable to stop it. Ron was walking toward her in such a purposeful way, that she knew what was about to happen and part of her shrieked in despair, while the other, newer part of her relished what was to come.


He leaned his long frame against the shelf, not really looking at her, just glancing about casually. And then without warning, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into the dark forbidden section, extinguishing candles with his wand as he went.


With a clatter he dropped his wand, and took her in his arms. He smelled of beeswax and treacle pudding. His lips were on her face, her neck, her hands, her face again, then her lips. As he kissed her already bruised lips, Hermione was able to wonder, just what had happened. Was there Veela in her bloodlines somewhere? Why were the three boys who had been so pivotal in her life, all of a sudden deciding to fling themselves upon her? Why had she, in the span of one day, gone from underneath Malfoy, to underneath Harry, to being devoured by Ron? And then, here was the biggest question of them all...why had she let them?


This question was answered very simply when Ron's tongue entered her mouth.


Because it felt so good.