Too Hot to Sleep

It’s too hot to sleep. The cotton sheets are damp from sweat and stick to her skin as she tosses and turns. Hermione can’t get comfortable and sleeps is still elusive. The balcony door is open but not even the light summer breeze helps. She has tried cooling charms, a fan, and is now sleeping naked but she just can’t relax.

It’s a tension that she hasn’t felt in years, not since she spent so many nights crawling into Ron’s sleeping bag with him during their hunt for horcruxes. It seems so long ago, but it’s only been six years. She’s different now, though, and that tension has been nonexistent since she and Ron parted ways after the war was over. There’s been work and friends to keep her life busy. She didn’t even realize she was missing anything, as she could take care of her own needs without needing a man.

It wasn’t until she ran into him again that she began to see that her life, while not lacking, could be better. She didn’t have to have a boyfriend to be happy, isn’t looking for a relationship at all, but she can’t ignore the sparks that are still there between them even after a decade. When she was younger, her reaction to him confused her. She’s older now but obviously not wiser as it still confuses her.

They are just friends. She works long hours doing research and often brings her work home with her. He coaches a Quidditch team and spends a lot of time traveling and training. After their unexpected reunion at a Chudley Cannons match she attended for Ron’s birthday, they have been in touch constantly. They have never completely stopped writing each other, but weekly letters became monthly and then it became cards occasionally. They now owl each other several times a week, exchange floo calls weekly, meet for dinner whenever he’s in England, and spend time together when they’re both caught up with work.

She isn’t really sure when the pleasure she felt at running into an old friend developed into something more. One day last month, she realized she was excited because Viktor was coming over for dinner and it wasn’t just the thought of catching up with a friend that had her changing her clothes and fussing with her flat. In the weeks since that revelation, she has accepted that she wants him and might very well love him. She’s good at concealing her emotions, fortunately, so he’ll never know.

It’s more difficult to conceal her true feelings at the moment, though, because they are on holiday together. She made the plans for them to spend two weeks in Italy, enjoying the history and culture of a country neither had visited, before she had her moment of awareness. There was no way she could cancel the trip without making him suspicious so she’s doing her best to keep focused on ‘friend’ and ignore the desire she feels every time she looks at him.

The nights are when it’s the worst. This is true even when she’s home in her little flat with Crookshanks purring contentedly beside her. Here, though, it’s impossible not to think of him. He’s in a room right down the hall in the small house they’ve rented and they even share a loo. How can she stop thinking about him when she walked in on him after a shower? Every time she closes her eyes, she sees him with just a pale blue towel riding low on his hips, hair wet and disheveled, and droplets of water dripping down a broad chest that is lightly covered with black hair.

That was the first morning. It’s now been three days and she's sure that she’s going to end up checked into St. Mungos before this holiday is over. And it will be all his fault! He rarely wears a shirt whenever they are in their rented house. Instead, he walks around barefoot in a pair of denims that ride far too low on his hips to be decent or shorts that show off his muscular legs. He cooks better than she does, making the most sinful sweets and the best pasta she’s ever had. There are no uncomfortable silences between them, even though they are both often quiet unless they’re having a conversation that makes her think and excites her mentally in ways she normally isn’t.

The biggest problem is that he seems to know that something is wrong. She’s caught him looking at her and sometimes feels him watching her. Ever since the disaster that was her flirting and trying to see if he possibly felt the same attraction, which resulted in him asking if she felt okay because she was acting odd, she’s resigned herself to just being friends. If she keeps ogling his body, which is far too fit, and drooling over his mind, which is brighter than most people give him credit, she won’t have to worry about being friends because she’ll scare him away.

She turns and buries her face in her pillow, groaning as she kicks at the sheets. This isn’t helping. Now she’s just more frustrated and tense than she was before. She knows what she needs to do; she’s just embarrassed about doing that when he’s right down the hall. It’s not like he’d know, but she’s sure that she’d blush horribly in the morning and that he’d be able to look at her and just know what she’d done.

Hermione tosses and turns again, trying to find a cool spot on the sheets. It’s impossible. There just isn’t a spot that she’s not tried already. She wonders if Viktor is having the same difficulty sleeping. He hasn’t mentioned it, but he hasn’t looked rested in the mornings. When cooling charms even fail to do anything, it must be ridiculously hot. With a muttered curse, she sits up and reaches for her wand. She’ll just turn the bloody sheets into ice, she decides crossly, and then she can cool off.

Before she can remember the charm for that, she hears a splash. Instantly alert, she scrambles out of bed and goes to the balcony, which looks out over the pool. She expects to find teenagers who decided to be daring and steal a swim. Its dark outside, well past midnight, and the moon provides the only natural light as it shines down on the pool. There are candles floating around the pool, giving off enough light to see but not enough to take away from the ambiance of the moonlit night. She lowers her wand when she sees the figure emerge from the water, and feels foolish when she realizes that Viktor is just taking a night swim.

Instead of going back to bed, she leans against the doorway and watches him. He is doing laps, back and forth with force and power, and she wonders if that will tire him out so he can sleep. It takes her awhile to realize that he’s naked. With how fast he’s swimming and the way he’s moving, she doesn’t notice his bare arse until he dives beneath the water. Her mouth is suddenly dry as she stares blankly at the pool. Viktor doesn’t strike her as the type to go skinny dipping.

She steps further out onto the balcony before she catches herself. She hurries back into her room before he can see her and wonders when she became such a pervert. Spying on her friend while he’s swimming naked and trying to get a better look? She should be ashamed. She runs her hands over her face to keep herself from going back for a second look. “Wrong, wrong, wrong,” she mutters as she finds herself staring at the balcony. She turns her back towards it, thinking the temptation might cease if she can’t see it.

There’s more splashing, louder than before, and she bites her bottom lip as she gives herself a proper scolding. Swimming sounds like a good idea to her, now, and she wonders if she might do a few laps herself to see if that would help her sleep. When that idea occurs to her, she knows she can’t possibly go downstairs when he’s swimming and naked.

Of course, if she’s naked, too, then it’s just two friends having a swim. The logic to that escapes her at the moment, but it sounds good. There’s no way she would actually do it. Her bravery tends to run out when it comes to anything daring, especially when it involves sex. She’s not frigid by any means, but she’s just not wanton or reckless. She hears another splash and her conviction wavers. Maybe it’s time to do something wild?

Hermione picks up her thin summer robe and puts it on as she walks downstairs before she loses her nerve. “You can do this,” she tells herself. However, she doesn’t believe it. She’s just lying to herself, she decides. When she reaches the open door that leads out to the pool, she takes several deep breaths and makes a face when she realizes that she’s shaking. She’s acting like some cowardly virgin instead of the woman that faced down Deatheaters and Voldemort.

What sort of Gryffindor is she if she can’t go skinny dipping with a friend? Okay, so swimming naked with Viktor, a man she wants and has wanted since she was fifteen and didn’t even know that it was lust, was much different than swimming naked with Harry or even Ron, but she could do this. And just hope she wouldn’t be too embarrassed to ever speak to him again.

She steps outside and walks to the pool, pleased that her latest burst of courage is still with her. “Lovely night for a swim,” she says as she dips her foot into the water.

Viktor stops his laps and coughs as he swallows water. He looks at her and treads water as he reaches up to push his wet hair from his face. “Her-my-nee, vot are you doing here?”

“It’s too hot to sleep so I thought I’d go for a swim,” she tells him as casually as possible. She isn’t shaking (too much) when she unties the belt of her robe and shrugs it off.

She dives into the water before he has time to really see her body, hoping the moonlight covers up the fact that she’s too curvy and that her thighs are fat. She doesn’t normally care about that sort of thing, but she’s suddenly very aware of every curve and blemish when the man she wants can see her.

She swims a distance from Viktor before she surfaces. “The water feels great,” she calls over her shoulder as she dips her head back and looks at the sky.

“It is a hot night,” Viktor says softly from beside her. She nearly goes underwater at the realization he has swam up beside her. He is staring at her with a look on his rugged face that she can’t decipher with only candlelight and moonlight to guide her. He holds her gaze and reaches out to brush a wet curl from her cheek. “Vy are you here, Her-my-nee?”

“I wanted to swim,” she replies softly. There is very little space between them in the pool, and the fact that they are both naked won’t stop running through her mind.

“Is that all that you vont?” he asks quietly. He is always so intense and serious even if she has seen him relax and heard him laugh more than anyone else. Tonight, his intensity makes her shudder in a way it never has before.

She looks at his lips and impulsively moves forward to brush a light kiss against his mouth. She pulls back and stammers, “I want---I---”

Her efforts at voicing her desire are caught by his mouth as his arm goes around her waist and he pulls her close. The kiss is fierce, passionate, hungry, but there is a gentleness that softens it. She feels herself falling backwards right before the water covers them both. They break the kiss and cough as they tread water and look at each other.

She doesn’t know which of them moves first but they’re soon kissing again. Her legs wrap around his waist as she rubs against him, and he groans as he moves them to the edge of the pool. She feels cool tile behind her back as he stands, the water now around his waist as the kisses become too many to count.

“I haff vonted this for long time,” he murmurs in between kisses. “I vish to make loff vit you, Her-my-nee. Ve vill go to bedroom and I vill haff you.”

“Here,” she tells him as she presses closer to him. Her breasts rub against his chest as she grinds against him in a way that she didn’t think was possible. “I want you now, Viktor. Right here.”

He moans and leans down to lick her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth as his hands grip her arse. “Ve should slow down,” he mutters. “Ve are going too fast.”

“We are not,” she says firmly. “We have been going so bloody slow that I’m about to die. I’ve wanted you for weeks, Viktor, maybe even for years. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

He looks at her then and sighs as he pulls her against him. “I haff vonted for years,” he confesses in a husky growl that makes her shudder. “I haff vaited and been friend and hoped you vould vont more.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as she traces his strong jaw and brushes her thumb over his thin lips, “that it took me so long.”

“Ve both needed time,” he says softly before he licks her thumb and nips at it. “You vont for me to fuck you here?”

“Viktor,” she moans when he speaks so bluntly, his voice making the words erotic.

“You do vont that,” he murmurs before he kisses her palm. “I vill fuck you here and then ve vill go to my room vhere I vill make loff vit you, yes?”

Hermione thought they were the same thing but the look on his face tells her that there will be a difference. She nods and says, “Yes.”

His mouth covers hers as he grips her arse and raises her out of the water. He pulls her back down, and she gasps when he slides inside her. It’s been years for her so it takes her a moment to adjust. He feels thicker than Ron, though he’s not as long. She doesn’t have a chance to compare the two because he starts to move and she forgets everything except the feel of Viktor. She rides him as he pushes her against the tiled wall. She scratches his back when he nips at her lips and squeezes her breast, listening to the noises he makes. It surprises her that he's vocal because he's usually so quiet, but she likes it, likes seeing him lose control, and likes knowing she's the one who makes him like this.

She holds him as they move, listening to the water splash around them as they fuck, and it isn’t long before she feels a familiar tension in her belly. They’re both too far gone to go slow or be gentle. His touch is firm and his thrusts are deep and hard. She feels the tension snap when he bites her neck, his teeth lightly scraping her skin before he licks the mark he's made. She trembles and whimpers, tightening around him as he keeps moving, holding him as she comes.

He shifts and changes his angle, driving into her even deeper as he pants against her neck. She feels his body tense before he shudders and sinks deep inside her. He grunts as he comes, making shallows thrusts until he’s spent. She kisses his shoulder and runs her fingers through his hair as they recover from the intensity of what they just shared.

When he kisses her this time, it’s thorough and gentle with an underlying passion that she doesn’t think will ever fade. He slides out of her finally, and she moves her legs from around his waist. The water reaches her breasts when she stands, which reminds her they just shagged in the swimming pool.

“Are you sore?” he asks softly. “I did not mean to be so rough. I vould never vont to hurt you.”

“It’s a good kind of sore,” she tells him with a shy smile. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Ve should go in now,” he says as he caresses her breasts and arse. “It is getting late.”

“It’s not quite as hot as it was,” she remarks as she becomes aware of the breeze and cooler air. "Maybe it will be easier to sleep now."

“I come svimming to, how you say, vork off energy? I vas restless vit vont for you and I haff to find vay to not think of you like that,” he admits as he smiles at her. “I haff no idea you vont me, too, or I vould not haff been svimming. I vould haff been vit you instead.”

“I’m glad you went swimming or we might not have ever realized,” she says with a sheepish smile. “I feel pretty foolish for not realizing sooner.”

“Ve haff to vait until right time but now time is right so ve are together. Ve also haff years of vasted time to make up for,” he tells her with a wicked smile as he suddenly swings her up into his arms and walks to the steps to get out of the pool. She laughs and holds him as he carries her upstairs to make up for lost time.

End