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Damn , it was cold, Hermione thought as she walked into the bar and out of the cold. London in the middle of January was unpleasant and even though it rarely snowed, small flakes were falling from the sky.
Hermione normally didn’t venture out to bars like this one. The inside was dark and dingy, and the stench of cigarettes assaulted her senses. Men always outnumbered women in these types of places, guaranteeing that she would have to say she was taken by some pretend boyfriend at least a dozen times. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but if she was lucky, only a handful of men would shoot their shot. And maybe one of them would be cute enough to take home.
Her closed-toed boots clicked against the uneven wood floor as she came to a stop at the bar. Divesting her person of her winter coat, she slid onto the barstool.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked.
Hermione tapped her neatly manicured fingertips of the countertop as she thought. It had been a long and challenging week at work. Normally, she’d opt for something strong like a Firewhisky, but in a muggle bar, that wasn’t an option.
“Whisky, on the rocks. The best you have.”
She wasn’t worried about the cost, and the bartender reached to the top shelf and pulled down a single malt scotch whisky.
Hermione slid the money across before the bartender even had to ask. “Keep the change.”
The bartender nodded her thanks and whisked off to the other side of the bar, leaving Hermione to her thoughts. She brought the glass to her mouth and savored the flavor of the whisky before letting it burn down her throat. Just what she needed.
Her thoughts were interrupted only moments later by a familiar voice, a voice she hadn’t heard since they left school a few years prior. “Granger?”
Hermione slowly turned her barstool to face the man who had called her name.
“Potter,” she replied, inclining her head in greeting.
He grinned, showing a perfect set of white teeth. Her parents would love them. Ohmygod , she thought, horrified. At least she didn’t say that out loud.
He didn’t hide that his eyes were roaming over her body from head to toe. And so Hermione took a chance to eye him up and down as well.
He looked a little older from how she remembered him…more mature. His hair was still messy and windswept as if he had just gotten off his broomstick. The muggle clothes he was wearing did little to hide his fit body. He was well-built and she was sure that if he turned around his—
She shook her head, ridding herself of those thoughts, not daring to think further about his arse. She couldn’t be thinking of Harry bloody Potter in that way. Before she could say anything, he was shedding his black leather jacket and settling onto the barstool next to hers.
He waved at the bartender and moments later, he had a beer placed in front of him. Only after he had taken a sip did he look her way again. “How are you?”
“Fine,” she replied. She wasn’t going to say more, but something inside nudged her forward. Curiosity perhaps. “How are you?”
“I’m alright.”
Hermione nodded her head in response, not entirely sure what to say. She brought her glass to her lips once more, averting her eyes.
“You’re a talkative one, aren’t you?”
Raising her eyes, he was grinning at her. Though she knew he was joking by the look in his eyes, Hermione couldn’t help but take the opening. “To be honest, I am confused about why you sought me out, or how I’ve run into you in this very muggle bar…we weren’t exactly friends at Hogwarts.”
His smile fell and he shrugged. “I promise that running into you at this bar was a total coincidence. I figured I’d join you since we’re both here. If that’s not okay…”
He moved as he was going to get off the barstool and Hermione laid her hand on his arm. “Please, stay.”
He smiled and nodded. “I know that we aren’t friends, but we aren’t not friends either?”
“Acquaintances,” Hermione said. “We’re acquaintances.”
“Seven years at Hogwarts and we’re acquaintances.” He laughed. “Sounds silly.”
“Why don’t we get to know each other then?” Hermione suggested. “Then we can be friends instead.”
“Only if you call me by my first name. I’ll call you by yours.”
Hermione held out her hand and introduced herself. “I’m Hermione.”
“Harry,” he said, shaking her hand.
The rest of the evening passed smoothly as Hermione learned more about Harry than what was printed in the gossip section of the newspaper and what she remembered from Hogwarts.
Despite being the same year, she had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and he into Gryffindor, and their paths didn’t cross very often. Harry was the popular quidditch heartthrob, and she, the studious bookworm.
After several drinks and feeling a bit of a buzz, Hermione decided to make a bold statement.
“You know, I can laugh about this now, but I had a crush on you in school,” she admitted, biting into her bottom lip after she revealed her secret.
Harry laughed. “You did? You’ll never believe this, but I had one on you too.”
Hermione’s mouth dropped and shook her head in disbelief. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
She spluttered. “How? What? How?”
He laughed again and signaled the bartender for the tab, picking up hers as well.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
After he signed the receipt, he looked back at her, his green eyes boring into her.
“Come with me?” He held out his hand and she didn’t even have to think about it before placing her hand in his.
The motorcycle rumbled underneath her thighs and Hermione gripped Harry tighter, slipping her fingers underneath his leather jacket. Thankfully, it had stopped snowing, but it was still bitterly cold. She buried her face into his back, trying to stay out of the wind.
“Almost there,” he yelled back.
When they pulled up to the parking lot of a fancy hotel, she frowned. He saw as he dismounted.
“I stay here on weekends occasionally to get away from the Wizarding World,” he explained. “No one knows me here.”
“I forget that you’re famous,” Hermione murmured, as he helped her off the bike. She attempted to run her fingers through her hair knowing it probably looked a mess, but it was a pointless venture. She’d deal with it later.
“I’d like to forget sometimes,” he replied. He laced his fingers through her own and led her into the hotel, past the front desk, and to the lift.
As they slowly rose to the top floor, Hermione looked up at him through her eyelashes and he seemed relaxed, happy. A cold chill passed over her and she shivered.
“Cold?” he asked, as the lift dinged and the doors opened.
She nodded and her teeth chattered a bit as they stepped out into the hallway. “Why are you riding a motorcycle in January?”
“Clears my head, I enjoy it. I don’t use it much since I apparate everywhere. So when I’m in the muggle world, it’s a good way to get around.”
Hermione nodded her head in understanding and held onto Harry as he pulled out his room key and pushed it into the slot, opening the door.
When the door closed behind them, Harry shed his jacket and threw it over a nearby chair. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Maybe just some water?” she asked. “I’m feeling a bit fuzzy still.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the room and Hermione gasped. They weren’t just in a room, they were in a massive suite complete with a kitchenette and a sitting area.
“Woah,” she said, as Harry flicked on the kitchenette light.
Harry didn’t say anything, but grabbed two bottles of water and led her back into the sitting room. He handed over the water and with a whispered thanks she lifted the bottle to her lips.
He sprawled out on the sofa, his arms falling onto the back. Hermione timidly made her way over and when he reached out and tugged her down, she found herself almost sitting in his lap.
When she looked up into his eyes, he was staring down at her, his green eyes a little darker than they had been earlier.
“May I?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.
Hermione nodded and tilted her head further back, inviting him to take what he wanted. Her heart seemed to beat faster and faster as he slowly lowered his lips to hers. His lips were soft and warm as they caressed her own. He wasn’t in a hurry to move things along and Hermione enjoyed the open mouth kisses he continued to give.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead on hers with his eyes closed as they caught their breath. When he opened his eyes, Hermione smiled and pulled him down to her, this time slipping her tongue in his mouth and moving her hands to play in his hair.
As she kissed him, Hermione moved from her place at his side and settled onto his lap, grinding down against him. He moaned into her mouth and moved his hands to grip her denim clad arse. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that but Hermione knew she didn’t want to come from dry humping like a couple of teenagers.
“Take me to bed,” she whispered, biting his earlobe. “Please.”
She didn’t have to ask again as Harry stood from the sofa with her still in his arms. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he carried her into the bedroom where he deposited her onto the bed. She sat up on her elbows and watched him as he slowly pulled his shirt over his head, revealing muscles that had her mouth-watering.
Harry smirked as she stared. “Like what you see?”
Hermione nodded and licked her lips. “Quidditch has been good to you.”
Harry didn’t respond as he shucked his jeans in one go, revealing that he was wearing nothing underneath. His cock jutted out, and Hermione couldn’t help admire it from afar, eager to touch.
Without another second of hesitation, Hermione sat up fully, quickly pulling her sweater over her head. She then shimmied out of her jeans, leaving her in a black bralette and matching lace undies.
Harry raised an eyebrow as he made his way to the bed and crawled so he was hovering above her. “Planned on getting laid tonight?” he asked.
“If the right one came along,” she replied.
Harry responded with a searing kiss, his hands beginning the exploration of her body. He kneaded her breasts through the thin fabric of her bralette before skimming down her stomach and cupping her mons.
Hermione moaned at his touch as he continued to tease her, his fingers running across her fabric-covered slit. “More,” she moaned. “Please.”
“You beg so prettily,” he told her. She lifted her arms above her head and he pulled off her bralette and slowly pushed down the lace underwear and threw them to the side.
Harry kissed his way up her legs before stopping at the junction of her thighs. He spread her inner lips and wrapped his lips around her clit, pressing his fingers into her. Her eyes slid shut in ecstasy, moans and pleas of more falling from her lips. Soon, with a combination of tongue and hands, Hermione convulsed with her orgasm.
Before she could recover, Harry was settling over her and sheathing himself inside of her, groaning as he did so. “Fuck, so tight.”
Hermione cried out as he withdrew and slid home again, hard. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he relentlessly moved his hips against her own.
She could feel the tension building inside of her once more and when he pressed two fingers against her curls, rubbing in time with his thrusts, she fell once more into a shattering climax, calling out his name.
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss against his lips as he continued to thrust into her, his pace slowing.
“I’m close,” he admitted, sweat starting to pool on his forehead.
“Come,” she told him.
“Not until you come again.”
Hermione knew it wouldn’t take much as she was sensitive and still riding the wave of her past two orgasms, but he needed to hit that spot inside of her to push her over the edge.
“Flip us over,” Hermione panted. “Put me on top.”
Harry did as she asked, expertly flipping them over without having to pull out of her. He settled his hands on her hips guiding her as she found her rhythm but then moved his hands to tweak her nipples.
Hermione rode him hard and fast and it didn’t take her long to fall once more over the edge. Harry once more flipped them over and thrust a few more times before finally filling her, her name falling from his lips.
He pressed a kiss to her lips before pulling out of her and falling to the side. “Fuck, that was amazing,” he said, his chest rising as he tried to catch his breath.
Hermione laughed and agreed. She turned to the side and propped her head up with her hand. “And the night isn’t over yet.”
“Damn woman, is three orgasms not enough for you?” he asked, grinning.
She laughed and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m greedy.”
Hermione leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips, entangling her tongue with his. When she pulled away, she snuggled against him and yawned.
After Harry cast a quick cleaning charm, he wrapped his arms around her and together they drifted off to sleep, but only for a few hours. Hermione woke Harry up with her head between his legs and he repaid the favor by taking her from behind, just as she’d asked. They fell asleep for good this time, completely and utterly exhausted, the worries and stress of the week forgotten.
When Hermione woke in the morning, Harry was still sound asleep, his glasses on the bedside table. She carefully slipped out from his arms and dressed in her clothes from the night before. Before she left, she placed a note on the bedside table.
With one last smile at the sleeping man that had brought her so much pleasure the night before, Hermione put on her jacket and slipped away.
When Harry woke, he was disappointed to find himself alone. Though a smile returned when he saw the note she left behind.
Owl me?
-H
She didn’t even need to ask.