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Harry Potter was standing at the window in Sirius Black’s old bedroom of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, he was peering down at the square outside the house, and at the many cloaked men that stood on the opposite side of the street, staring at what they couldn’t see, but knowing that something was there. Since the trio had taken refuge here, Harry had been coming up here quite a lot – not just to stare out the window at the Death Eaters – but also to distance himself from Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger who were both downstairs and cautious of calling out for him.
He did not know why he was in such a foul mood or why he was removing himself from their presence, but he thought perhaps it was the guilt of knowing he had taken them away from their families, and that this suicide mission they had undertaken could end up being a one-way ticket, and that they may never see their loved ones again. Sure, whilst they had insisted on coming with him, he was still certain a part of them resented him, for they had infinitely more to lose than he did.
Now that they were planning to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic, everything was starting to feel that little bit scarier, and there was no doubt that their three minds were beginning to enter some very dark places indeed. There was a sudden wooden sound that jolted him to look around from his contemplation and search for the source of the noise.
“Harry?”
It was Hermione, knocking on the door. He turned back to look out the window and didn’t go to answer it. He was still in that foul mood. He heard the door click ajar nevertheless – sometimes he still managed to forget that magic existed – and then it creaked as Hermione pushed it open, spotted him, and stepped in over the threshold.
“I made you a sandwich,” she announced, closing the door behind herself, and carrying a serving tray over to the bed.
“I’m not hungry,” Harry said in reply, he remained unmoved from where he stood and continued staring out the window.
“You need to eat,” Hermione told him softly. She made her way around Sirius’ four-poster bed, joined Harry at the window, put her hand gently on the middle of his back, and then peered down into the square as well. “Oh goodness, there’s more of them now than there were yesterday. It’s so creepy that they are just standing there, watching.”
“I still don’t think they know we’re here, thankfully,” Harry said in an attempt to reassure her, “we’re just going to have to be more careful.”
Hermione reached for his hand. “Come on,” she said, pleading with him as she dragged him away from the window and sat him down on the bed, “at least take a bite, Harry.”
Harry picked up one half of the sandwich and studied it as Hermione quickly drew the curtains over the window and returned to his side. Hermione watched him take one bite, make a bit of a face, then drop the sandwich back onto the plate with a hint of disdain.
“You’ve been in such a foul mood these past few days,” Hermione told him, as Harry put the plate back on the tray and pushed it out of arms reached, “you’ve scarcely been out of this room—”
“I’ve just been contemplating things,” Harry said with a shrug of his shoulders, but Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.
“I don’t think that’s it,” she said, putting her hand on his arm, “I think you’re frustrated.”
“Of course, I am,” Harry admitted honestly, “we know where a Horcrux is, but we can’t get to it—!”
“That isn’t it, either,” Hermione shook her head, “I think, your frustration has built up in another way. One that you haven’t been able to fix on your own since the three of us started living in each other’s pockets.”
Harry blinked.
“What are you talking about?” He asked her, and in answer to his question, Hermione’s hand moved down to his knee and gently rubbed it, and Harry looked down at what she was doing in confusion, because she had never touched him like that before.
“If your mood is going to change and your head is going to be clear for when we execute our plan,” Hermione said, she was slowly beginning to run her hand up his leg, and it made him shift uncomfortably, “all of the blockage that has been accumulating needs to be removed.”
“Hermione,” Harry whispered with concern, as his friends hand moved dangerously higher up the inside of his leg, “what’re you—?”
Harry gasped when her hand reached his crotch and squeezed, making him jump backwards in alarm, and out of reach.
“Harry, please!” Hermione whispered with gritted teeth, she shifted her weight and closed the gap between them again, her hand reaching for his upper leg, but Harry intercepted it.
“This is silly, Hermione,” Harry said seriously, “you and I are friends—”
“We’re best friends,” Hermione corrected him, there was a seriousness about the look on her face that he hadn’t seen from her in quite some time, “and you know what best friends do? They help each other out, no matter what the favour, consequences be damned.”
“Perhaps we should consider the consequences,” Harry said quickly, he was still managing to hold Hermione’s hand at bay, despite her attempts at getting past his defences. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, Hermione, I don’t think it’s a very good idea. I don’t want it to ruin the friendship that we have—”
It took Harry by surprise when Hermione laughed.
“Harry,” she said, being just as serious as he had been, “there is nothing that could ruin the friendship that we have. Nothing. Now let me in.”
Harry swallowed hard as he moved his hand away, and allowed Hermione’s to move back up his leg, and find his crotch again, which she squeezed hungrily.
“What about Ron?”
“What about him?” Hermione asked with raised eyebrows. “He’s not here, Harry, he’s gone out and won’t be back until dinner—”
“No, I meant,” Harry cleared his throat, because Hermione had started fiddling with the front of his pants, “what about you and Ron?”
Hermione looked up at him and smiled. “What?” She asked with a bit of a laugh. “He’s not my boyfriend, Harry, there is no me and Ron—”
“I’m not your boyfriend either,” Harry said as a reminder, but she ignored him, she continued unzipping the front of his jeans, and then without comment, she withdrew his semi-erect penis from his boxer-briefs, and started stroking him as though she did it every single day.
At first, it was an awkward moment for Harry, he stared blankly at her and she glanced at him for the briefest of moments, before she focused her attention back on the job at hand. He thought that was all she was going to do, just hold him like that and wank him off, but then she caught him quite by surprise, when she lowered her head, and put him in her mouth.
“Blimey Hermione!” Harry said in alarm, his hips shifting naturally, sending his length deeper into her mouth than she had planned, so that his tip banged against the back of her throat, and it made her pull him back out of her mouth so she could cough and splutter. “Sorry.”
Hermione shook her head and put his penis back in her mouth. If Harry had to guess, she had never done this before, her technique wasn’t the most natural, but after a false start, she was now engulfing as much of his length as she could, until her nose became buried in his pubic hair, and he was swearing all sorts of obscenities in pleasure. It felt good, that was for sure, he put his hand on the back of her head, to hold her in place, but only for a moment, and then she resurfaced again.
“Bloody hell, Hermione,” he said somewhat breathlessly, as she came up for air, and threw her head back so that her hair wasn’t covering her face, “what has come over you?”
“I heard that deep throating feels really good for the guy,” Hermione said, her face was slightly flushed as she continued to stroke him, “did it not?”
“It felt brilliant, yes, but where would you hear about something like that?”
“Okay, I didn’t hear about it, I read about it in a book. Happy?”
Harry smirked at her. “I should have known.”
Hermione eyes flashed at him and then she leaned back down and took him in her mouth again. This time, she was able to get his whole length in much faster, Harry put both hands on the back of her head this time, and began to push down, understanding that it was, in a way, what she wanted, to try and take as much of him as possible.
“Fuuuuck!”
Harry grunted and groaned, but he did not come. Hermione resurfaced again, once again lifting her hair back from in front of her face, and taking large gulps of air. Harry could see that a build-up of saliva was escaping the sides of her mouth and her eyes were reddening and beginning to water, and her cheeks had become flushed with crimson.
“Are you close?” Hermione asked breathlessly, wiping the bottoms of her eyes before once again returning to stroke his penis.
“One more time should do it,” Harry said with a nod, he felt compelled to reach up and run a hand through Hermione’s hair, getting her attention, “only if you want to do it.”
Hermione smiled sweetly at him.
“I want too.”
Harry nodded and watched as Hermione lowered her head back down upon him again. Deeper and deeper it went this time, he could feel all of that so called build-up of frustration rising to the surface, and then before he had time to warn her that he was coming, all of it began to burst out of him at an incredible rate. Hermione had expected it, of course, but not so suddenly and not so fast, and it was all she could do to readjust and swallow as much of his load before it filled her throat to the brim.
She coughed and spluttered a bit, but by the time she had extracted his cock from her throat and pulled away, Harry had finished ejaculating. There was still some cleanup to be done, Hermione still had remnants of his semen across her face, some post-cum was dribbling out over her hand still wrapped around his cock, unwilling to let go before she had finished stroking and extracting every last drop of his seed.
When it appeared to be done, Harry watched, almost mesmerised by Hermione as she kept eye-contact with him and began to clean away all the excess with her fingers, dipping them into her mouth to clean it away, before wiping it away from her face as well, and licking her fingers like a cat. Her final act was to narrow her eyes at him, lean forwards, and kiss him on the mouth, meaning that he too got a taste of his own salty goodness.
“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry whispered to her shyly after she had pulled away from him, and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.
“You’re welcome, Harry,” Hermione said brightly, running a hand through her own sweaty hair, before looking down again, and biting her lip. “Here, let me help you with that.”
She reached for his penis again, but it was not to perform anymore sexual acts, instead she put him back inside his boxer-briefs, and zipped his pants back up into place, like nothing had ever happened. The two best friends then sat in silence on the bed together, looking at each other in satisfaction, and wondering what to do or say next. After a minute, Hermione got to her feet, put her hand on his shoulder, and smiled at him.
“I’m sorry that you didn’t like the sandwich,” she said, before picking up the serving tray, turning around, and making her way towards the bedroom door, “but I hope now that you’re feeling a little less frustrated, and will agree to come downstairs for dinner later?”
Harry nodded and turned to look towards her.
“Are you going to tell Ron what you did?”
“No, he doesn’t need to know,” Hermione said, pausing on the threshold of the room and turning back to look at him, a cheeky smile spreading across her lips, “but if he happens to notice the lingering smell of your salty-goodness on my breath and figures it out for himself, well…”
She trailed away, shrugged her shoulders, and winked. Harry raised his eyebrows at her, unable to believe the boldness that she had shown today, and then he watched as she opened the door, stepped out of the room, closed the door behind her, and was gone.