Much Ado About Hermione

Chapter 5: The Rose

Harry's eyes were set on the boy sitting across from him. He watched as Ron's hand brought the spoon of porridge to his mouth. That hand, Harry thought, was the same hand that gave him so much pleasure.

He almost felt uncomfortable observing Ron in such a fashion, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. He had attempted to keep his glances casual, but was now blatantly staring at the other boy.

The image of the redhead's ecstasy laden face was permanently fixed on his mind, haunting him every time he closed his eyes. He thought of the images with a slight mixture of fascination and repulse. He had never seen anything of that nature before in his life and had grown more captivated by the sight.

That was the first time he had been able to peek inside the masturbatory world of a classmate. That summer, he had gotten glimpses into Dudley's world as he recalled his Aunt scolding the boy, mentioning something about going blind.

Harry was sure other males at Hogwarts took part in this practice, explored the pleasure that their bodies could produce. But he could not recall a moment when he had gotten a hint or suggestion that his dorm mates engaged in these acts of self-fulfillment.

All those nights lying awake on his bed, he had never heard anything out the ordinary, other than loud snoring or the occasional squeak of the bedsprings when someone rolled over on their bed.

Harry watched as Ron put down his spoon and turned his attentions to the brunette sitting next to him. He leaned down and began to speak to her in hushed tones.

Harry loudly cleared his throat. "I can see that Madam Pomfrey did a good job with you."

Too engrossed in observing Hermione, Ron opted to quickly glance at him from the corner of his eye. "What?"

"Madam Pomfrey. I guess she used the paste because you don't seem to have any scars on your arm."

Ron slowly turned his head and stared at on him with a blank statement on his face. "I don't know what you're on about."

Hermione stopped eating her breakfast and put her hand on Ron's arm. When he looked her way, she mouthed something to him.

"Yeah, Pomfrey did a good job with my burns," Ron said. His voice was casual and nonchalant.

Harry drew his eyebrows together as his gaze flickered from Ron to Hermione, who kept sneaking him nervous glances.

As they continued with their breakfast, Harry's thoughts stayed fixed on the redhead. Although the plunging neckline of Hermione's shirt would normally have kept him preoccupied for the entire day, she was the last thing on his mind at that moment.

Harry leaned on his elbows, and closed his eyes. His thoughts brought him back to the previous day when he stood in the dorm room entryway, watching as Ron lay on his bed, oblivious to everything but his pleasure. His eyes grazed down his friend's bare chest once more; that chest that was lean and hairless, like his own. He thought of how their bodies were so much alike, except he was more chiseled and his skin was sun kissed, unlike his pale friend.

He saw that arm as it rose and fell, mentally kicking himself for not taking a step into the room to see what was at the end of that hand. The question of what his friend was holding weighed down on him all night. Although he already knew the answer, he would have liked to see it for himself, just that once.

He of course had measured himself, pleased to see that he was above average; but he wondered about his friend. He had never examined that intimate part of another male's anatomy before. Although his Quidditch teammates often walked around naked in the changing rooms, Harry kept his eyes to himself, not daring to look at anyone's body.

However, one night in the bathroom, his curiosity had gotten the best of him. Spotting Neville as he dressed for bed, Harry dared to look at the boy, allowing his eyes to creep down low. But his eyes never reached their target, for Neville quickly wrapped a towel around his body when he noticed his stare. The round-faced boy has shied away from him since.

Harry's thoughts soon wandered to that picture that lay on Ron's chest. He was very familiar with the portrait of Hermione that Ron had used as an aid, for he had the same portrait by his bedside. But he never considered using it to heighten his excitement; the smiling image of her in a sundress was not erotic enough for him.

He much preferred the magazines that were piled under his bed; the magazines he only looked through at night, when he was sure everyone else was asleep. It was through Dean, the dorm's porn connoisseur, that he was first introduced to the publication.

"This magazine is the best," stated Dean. "It's not like those other sleazy ones. It's really high quality."

Sitting on Harry's bed, he opened the magazine so the other boy could take a look. "They have all sorts of girls in here. It doesn't matter if you're into Asian, black or Latino birds, they're all in here. And every year they have a special edition of girls with big cans or something, it depends on the theme."

Harry took the publication from the other boy and began to flip through the pages. His eyes gazed over photographs of women engaged in various sexual acts with one another. He put the magazine down and pushed it away. "I don't know. I wouldn't want the whole school to know I was getting it. What if Neville walked in here and saw it sitting on my bed? I'd be mortified."

Dean put his hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. A barn owl delivers the magazine. And the packaging is plain brown paper, so no one will suspect. People will probably think you're getting something from the school."

Harry agreed to get a subscription. Thanks to the publication's glossy and explicit pictures, he now had a catalog of images in his head of Hermione doing perverse things to him, herself and other women. Just when he thought he had exhausted all possible scenarios, another issue of Wizard Skin would show up on his pillow and enlarge his mental catalog of erotic acts.

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice and wondered why he was so preoccupied with sex as of late. He concluded it stemmed from not having any relations in a long time, not since Cho's last night at school several months before. The last time he had been somewhat intimate with a girl was the previous week with Ginny.

Late that Thursday night, the couple had found themselves in their regular room. They lay on the floor, kissing and caressing, the moonlight guiding their fingers as they explored each other's body. They rolled around, breathing rapidly and moaning, their touching growing more frenzied. But as Harry's hands reached inside her skirt, Ginny pulled away.

Harry sat up and looked at her. "What's wrong?" He was dizzy and lightheaded, finally feeling the downside of drinking those glasses of wine earlier in the night.

"I really don't want to go that far. I always thought I'd wait until I was married." She pushed her hair out of her eyes and glanced at him. "Plus, I don't want my first time to be on a classroom floor."

His hand rose and touched her hair. As he fingers curled around her auburn strands, she moved closer to him, gazing at him with half closed eyes. He knew she would do whatever he wanted if he continued touching her in that manner. He released her hair and began to button his shirt. "You know, never mind. You're right. You should wait until you get married."

"But we don't have to stop completely, we can do other things if you want."

"It's okay, you don't have to." His liquor-induced excitement was now wearing off.

But before could stop her, she had found her way into his pants. "Oh my God," she said with wide eyes. He watched the expressions on her face as they alternated from shock to surprise.

"Does if hurt when I do this?" she asked.

"No, not really." In actuality, her timid and light caresses did nothing to neither cause him pain nor arouse him. He pushed her hand away. "You don't have to do that just to make me happy. In fact, I don't want to you do anything. Just lie down with me and hold me in your arms for a moment."

In the end, the lay cuddled close together. Her arms wrapped around him as they watched the shooting stars from the small window.

Harry was brought back to the present by the heighten noise of the other students as they excitedly watched the owls enter the Great Hall. A brown owl swooped down near Hermione and dropped a red rose onto her lap.

Her eyes lit up as she examined the plant. "Who could have sent me this?" she asked. She brought the flower to her nose and inhaled its aromatic scent. "I wonder if it's from Krum."

Placing the flower on the table, she opened the card that was tied around its stem. Ron leaned towards her and tried to sneak a peek of the sender's name, but she moved away.

Both boys remained quiet as she her eyed the gold inscription on the card.

A smile spread on her face as her eyes slowly lifted to meet the gaze of the young man sitting across from her. "Oh, Harry. You didn't have to do this."

At the mention of his friend's name, Ron flashed Harry a surprised look. Their eyes locked as they stared at one another.

But Hermione soon broke their face-off. "This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me." She grabbed Harry's hands and held them in hers, stroking his skin with her fingers.

Her touches made his body tremble, exciting every nerve and muscle in him. "Damn you Hermione," he said in his head. "Please don't do this to me now, I can't afford to miss another class."

He watched her with darkened eyes, greeting her smile with his own. He enjoyed the sensual touch of her fingers against him, feeling himself grow warm, as that sensitive organ began to respond.

But his smile waned when he noticed Ron's intense glare. As he turned to glance at him, the redhead noisily got up from the table and gathered his books. Giving Harry a hard look, he stomped out of the room.

Harry let go of Hermione's hands and lowered his head, looking down at his untouched food. Picking up his spoon, he began to stir the porridge, which was now cold and hard.

Hermione touched his fingers and waited until he looked up at her. "Don't let him get you down. He'll be all right, he's just thick headed." She picked up her flower and stared at it with a look of melancholy. Gingerly she began to pull out each one of its delicate red petals, while muttering something under her breath.

Harry looked back from her to the door that Ron had left from. He opened his mouth to ask her a question, but decided to keep quiet.