Undeniable

Undeniable

Chapter 3

A grumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Another storm would be on their, her sanctuary before long. The tapering rain became gentle and caressing.

Harry's hiding spot had provided him with enough cover to keep him relatively dry. She, on the other hand, had chosen to be completely out in the open and was now just as wet as when she first climbed out of the lake encased in living, shimmering silver.

The silver that had once coated her was now pooled around her body, which rested on a blanket. He could not repress the twinge of disappointment that coursed through him as he watched her sit all the way up and pull her feet underneath her thighs. Rotating her ankles, she transferred her weight to her toes, flexed her leg muscles and pushed her self-upright. Edginess crept into a corner of Harry's mind as her saturated hair began separating itself into frustratingly screening waves. Stepping backwards until she was no longer standing on her blanket, Harry took in the sight of her bending at the knees, jutting her bottom out as she grasped the decorative fringe that made up the perimeter of her ground covering. Then he heard her murmur. Was she casting a spell?

Ending almost as soon as it started, there was a blur of movement that Harry's mind had to instantly replay to fully comprehend as to what had just occurred.

When she took hold of the blanket - she did whisper a spell. Then she raised her arms only as high as her waist and gave the blanket such a 'snap' that if Harry hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he would have sworn someone cracked a whip somewhere in his general vicinity.

Droplets of that shimmering, living silver splattered in every direction. Every low lying branch, individual blades of grass, the leaves on the shrubs and even intertwining coils of moss glowed as if a full moon was suspended in a cloudless night sky. Despite the precipitation that still fell, the silvered droplets adhered to the surfaces on which they landed. The combination of the snap and the vision that was now before him caught Harry off guard. He inhaled sharply. The quiet of the rain only amplified that ragged breath he drew into his body.

Harry froze.

He prayed that she did not hear him.

His prayer went unheeded - he knew that she had heard him when she stopped smoothing the creases in the newly settled blanket. I'm busted.

Pressing his left shoulder into the tree, he twisted to his right. Looking up and seeing wet bark and leaves drooping heavily with rainwater, he listened to his heart pound painfully in his chest as his mouth went dry. He had no choice but to do one of three things. One: he could remain absolutely still and hope for the best. Two: he could try to sneak away un-noticed and hope for the best. Or three: he could present himself and pray that the worst wouldn't happen. The story of Artemis and the hunter instantly came to mind. He couldn't think that being hunted, chased and killed by his own hounds could constitute as being a good thing.

Harry willed his legs not to fold as he pushed himself way from his tree. The next few moments passed quickly, but for Harry, it seemed like someone kept engaging a time-turner - every movement, exchange and inevitable spoken words were exaggerated and drawn out.

At the same time, his naiad drew herself to her full height and kept her gaze fixed on the lake. She gave no indication that there was anything amiss in her refuge.

Harry stepped completely clear of the foliage that had screened him for so long. He watched as she squared her body and began to adopt a defensive stance - she kept herself perpendicular to him and her right hand out of sight. The strategist in him congratulated her - clever girl.

Drawing a deep breath, it took the span of two more just like it for Harry to force himself to move forward. He was a lot closer to her than he thought. Even without his glasses, there would be nothing about her that would - or could - happen between them that would escape his notice.

She pulled her hip first and then her shoulder to the left so that she was facing him fully. Knowing that he was in the wrong for trespassing into her sanctuary, he tried to keep his eyes respectfully down cast as to not embarrass her or himself. He hurriedly thought of apologies and excuses, but his attempt at gentlemanly honour only lasted for a moment. His hormones turned out to be his undoing - he took in all the delights he knew her body possessed. His eyes reached the creamy expanse of her shoulders just as she brought that specific part of her body in alignment with her hips. His gaze rose to her neck as she tossed her hair down her back with a well-practised lift of her chin. His frantically rehearsed platitudes never got passed his lips when he looked at her face.

The naiad was HERMIONE!

Harry's jaw popped in its socket as his mouth opened and shut without a word being said. Recognition seared his mind. He knew no language that could translate the silvered water goddess into his best friend - best FEMALE friend - in the whole world.

For her part, from what Harry could see - Hermione relaxed her stance as soon as she realized exactly who challenged her solitude. A corner of her mouth pulled back in a grin Harry would bet a month's worth of Potions homework that he had NEVER seen before in all the years they had been in each other's company.

He however could not make himself move. He was firmly planted where he stood. He watched - mesmerized - as she strode the few steps necessary to stand directly in front of him. Hermione's eyes and her body language spoke volumes though her mouth never moved. Bringing her arms forward she encircled his wrists with her long fingers. Retracing her steps and moving backwards was the encouragement Harry needed to put one foot in front of another. He was acutely aware of everything: the rain that pattered softly on his face; the warmth of her hands on his captured wrists; the smell of... green... all around him.

Harry knew that his eyes and body asked so many questions in those first few moments that it would take years for Hermione to answer them all. For now, he was content to accept the replies she was giving him on the most urgent queries of the moment. The first of which she chose to answer by bringing the backside of her fingers to one of his temples and trace a path along the length of his jaw.

Taking his cue form her, he brought the backside of his fingers to one of her temples. The moment his skin touched hers - their eyes locked onto one another. Her cinnamon hued eyes met his emerald irises unflinchingly. He could not - would not - look anywhere else. And, for her part, she didn't look away but kept her gaze encouraging and even. He felt the slight protrusion of her cheekbone, the soft skin that was to the side of her mouth before coming to rest on her jaw as well. He knew that she could feel him work his jaw beneath her fingers as he struggled to rein in all the emotions that were competing for his attention.

Her turn.

Turning her hand so that her fingertips grazed the stubble that peppered his jaw and neck, Harry had to smile as she discovered and tested the different textures that at first gave her pause. He felt delicious shivers race along his spine as he felt her brush the area from every direction - marvelling at how with a flick of her wrist - he could feel so smooth and yet so very raspy in the same exact spot. As Hermione explored, he found it increasingly difficult to repress what he was physically feeling as she uncovered sensitive areas on his throat that he himself did not know he possessed until her questing fingers awakened dormant nerve endings.

His turn.

Keeping his gaze as steadily on her face as possible, his own fingertips grazed the underside of her jaw. A feeling of... he couldn't identify it but when she lifted her head to give him better access to the sensitive areas of her neck, the feeling surged. Breaking eye contact, Harry watched Hermione's heart beat at the hollow of her throat. Sensing that she was asking him another question, he brought his green gaze back to a set of orbs flecked with amber. His answered her question by lifting his arms away from his body. Hermione reached for the hem of his sodden shirt and pulled it over his head. He heard - rather than saw - it land on the moss-covered lakeshore. Then she did something he did not expect. She stepped back and withheld her next question.

It was his turn.

Not to do something to her - but to do something for himself.

The look on her face told that if he chose to walk way, there would be no permanent damage to their friendship. He had to decide - for himself - what he wanted - for himself. He had to make a decision about how he felt about the emergence of a 'them'. It was an astounding gift. He knew that at anytime she could seize control, envelope him in a passionate embrace and engage his sexuality. But that is not her style - she is not a Veela, Harry mused. Engage in tricks and ploys? That is not how Hermione thinks - unless she is defending those she loves. There was no denying that she was tapping into a reservoir of Hermio-courage. She was able to make it obvious to him that it was Harry - all of Harry - that Hermione wanted. It was equally important for her to know that he wanted her as well - but on the one condition that was even more vital if her gamble were to come to fruition. Harry would have to know that Harry wanted her - beyond an isolated sexual encounter. Realization and acceptance of what he wanted would elevate anything that may happen between them above and beyond the carnal level.

The moment stretched.

Thunder pealed and lightening flashed.

Rain fell on their bodies.

Harry saw her rib cage swell as she drew a deep steadying breath in preparation of stepping back and making the barest of amends.

Now, it truly was his turn.

Now it was his turn to pull back the corner of his mouth and mirror the same grin she gave him moments before.

Sliding his feet free of his slippers, he was surprised to find the wet moss springy and coolly refreshing between his toes. Using his thumbs, he hooked both his shorts and the waistband of his skivvies and simultaneously tugged them down so that they pooled around his ankles. Stepping free of the last of his clothes, he brought his gaze level with hers conveying the answer she was waiting for - yes, Hermione - I KNOW that you are the one that I want.

For the first time in a long time, he consciously lowered his guard and in return he was the first to receive complete access to all that Hermione was offering.

The feeling that he could not name surged again - more powerfully than before. She re-asked for the permission he had already granted. She answered his same question again.

A combination of curiosity and fascination fuelled the pads her fingers as she traced the length of his collarbone. She reached for his shoulders and stretched her hand around the corded muscle. She flicked her eyes back to his face and saw that he was focused on her facial expressions rather than what she was doing as she continued her journey around his triceps, down his forearm and back up to that tender spot on the inside of his elbow. She squeezed the bulk of his bicep and found no play in the muscle that resided there. Her fingers returned to his collarbone and confirmed that his other arm was just as sound.

Harry indulged in a moment of slyness - it would only be a matter of time before she knew the true extent of their capabilities.