Small moments

This takes place in the 4th movie where the Champions of the Triwizard Tournament are waiting in the tent for their first challenge.

“Harry, are you there?”

Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, Harry turned away from his fellow Tri-wizard competitors and began conversing with the tent-flap.

“I’m here, Hermione.”

“Harry, are you sure you want to do this?” Hermione asked. “Facing a dragon? No one will blame you if you forfeit this round, you know. You are the youngest Tri-Wizard competitor—”

“Hermione…trust me.”

Harry smiled at the heavy sigh that followed.

“I do trust you, Harry—”

“I’ve faced worse.”

“I know you have, but…just promise me one thing, okay? Promise me you’ll come back.”

Harry was glad that the tent separated him and his best friend. If she saw how much he was smiling, she would impale him with his own wand. And he feared that even more that staring down that Hungarian Horntail he was bound to get (fate’s funny that way). But he appreciated that Hermione worried that much about him. (Not that Ron wouldn’t be as worried, he’d simply commune it through fearful whining or fearful silence.)

“Sure, I will,” Harry grinned. “I always come back, ‘Mione.”

Harry heard Hermione shuffle outside, until her hand slid through the tent flap. He reached for it, ready to give her a reassuring squeeze.

Instead, Hermione ended up squeezing Harry’s groin.

Harry was ready to call it an accident, until her hand groped its way under his robes and up to his zipper.

“ ‘Mione—” the words caught in his throat as Hermione snaked his limp cock out of his pants.

“Sorry my hands are cold,” she whispered.

Her hands were freezing, but that wasn’t the point. She had the softest hands…

Harry didn’t notice her pulling him towards the opening of the tent till he felt the cold breeze against his cock. Then he bit his lips as something warm ghosted across his foreskin.

“This is so you know what you’re coming back to,” Hermione murmured.

Then she engulfed him.

Harry gasped, feeling his wand harden inside her mouth. Inside, she was so wet, so hot!

Suddenly, the warmth and heat pulled back, leaving his shaft wet. Soft hands quickly grasped him, gently pumping his length. Something wet—her tongue—flicked his head, before taking him back inside. Slowly, she bobbed her head, taking a little more into her mouth every time.

Harry’s knees buckled. He wanted so badly to just grab her head and shove his entire length down Hermione’s throat—but he cared about her more than that—he wanted this to be special. He wanted to see her eyes, to tangle his hands in her hair.

A hand slipped through the flap, gently cupping Harry’s sack. Her other hand followed the motions of her mouth: sliding up and down his shaft. Harry didn’t last long. Frankly, he couldn’t afford to.

“ ‘Mione! Hermione!” he whimpered, furiously thrusting his hips forward. She accepted his thrusts, dropping her hands and moaning furiously.

It was all too much.
Harry felt his balls tighten.
He felt his seed burst from his wand.
His vision went white.

Slowly, he stopped thrusting. Hermione dragged her mouth off his cock, taking as much of his cum with her as she could. Harry wasn’t sure if she swallowed, but he sure as hell didn’t hear her spit!

Harry felt her hand tighten around the base of his cock, dragging the spent member against soft skin and stopping at another wet and hot hole.

“It’ll be waiting for you to get back,” Hermione whispered huskily.