40 Days

November 22, 1997

November 22, 1997

I don't know what I expected to happen when I said it. Certainly not for him to kiss me sweetly and cuddle me close in the dark before going to sleep. Could I be so messed up that I wanted him to...

My mind shut down that line of thought.

Harry acted scarily normal as we went about our day, and that made me even jumpier. He smiled at me and touched me frequently as the hours passed, a hand on my hip. The caress of his hand down my arm. The press of his lips to my forehead.

I kept remembering the look on his face, the lazy satisfaction when he pressed my hand against his stomach as the faintly wet shirt rode up, streaks of red all over him. The images circled in my mind like vultures picking at me.

What had he done? Whose blood had he been covered in?

And yet I kept my mouth shut, watching him and waiting. After dinner, he turned on the wireless, flipping through the stations before finally settling on a song. As the slow beat drifted through the tent and he turned to me, holding out his hand.

"Dance with me?"

I grasped his hand, and he pulled me close, his head burying in the curve of my neck as we shuffled together. It could barely be called dancing as we rocked against each other gently. He was so warm against me; it was hard not to relax into his embrace. I could feel his soft breaths against my skin, with how close he pressed against me, it was almost like he wanted comfort from me.

When the song ended, his arms tightened uncomfortably around me, but I remained still in his embrace. He whispered to me so low that I had to strain to hear him over the music. "I don't want you to hate me, Hermione, but I don't think I can stop myself."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying desperately not to think of him smirking while wearing a bloodstained shirt. "I don't think I have it in me to hate you. But you need to let me help you."

"Mmm." He nuzzled my neck, and I felt his mouth open. He licked me then, like some dessert he planned to eat. I felt the wet glide of his tongue along my neck followed by the edge of his teeth. "I can't help myself, Hermione."

I flinched when he pressed harder against my neck with his mouth, his hands keeping me from moving. He sucked hard against my neck, like he was a vampire, like he was marking his territory, and I stood there in his arms, letting him do it.

Little tingles ran through my body at the noises he made against my throat, making me press my thighs together to try to ignore how wet it made me. His hand ran up my body to fist in my hair and keep my head tilted as he surveyed his mark.

"Let's go to bed, Hermione."

He walked me backward, not letting me turn around, relying on him to keep me from stumbling and falling. The lights flickered and went out as he moved me onto the bed, arranging me carefully. This was different from the previous nights, where he had wrapped around me tightly from behind. Tonight I was flat on my back and he was partially on top of me, one leg thrown between mine, and his hot hand wandered along my skin as he pressed kisses along my jaw.

I caught his hand as he slid it downward, just below my belly button. "Harry-"

But he cut me off with a deep kiss, his tongue slipping into my mouth and his hand pushed lower, cupping me above my pajama pants and I made this almost whining animalistic sound into his mouth. He broke the kiss, and I gasped for breath. He leaned even further into me, the shift in pressure causing me to try to close my legs but I couldn't. His leg was pinning me open for his hand. "Have you ever, Hermione?"

I couldn't speak and shook my head. When would I have done such things? And how does Harry even know-

His hand shifted again, pleasure short circuiting my brain, the palm of his hand grinding hard into me. I squirmed involuntarily from how intense it felt, being trapped under him while he touched me. "Spread your legs wider, sweetheart."

Harry stilled after he told me that, waiting for me to comply. I could try to lie to myself and pretend I didn't because he was probably barmy from the locket, or for some moral reason. But the truth was, there was no way I could force the muscles of my thighs to relax and open to give his hand more access to me. In fact, I was pretty sure if I tried to stand, my legs would be jelly and would collapse into a strange wiggly puddle on the floor.

"Hermione." He said in a wheedling tone, nuzzling me so I would lift my chin. "This is going to be more difficult if you don't let me move."

His hand shifted between my legs despite me clenching them together, subtly grinding against my core. With each shift of his hand, he ground his erection along my hip. His voice was deeper and huskier when he spoke again. "I'm going to be so careful with you, Hermione."

I moved against his warm hard body, not sure if I wanted to get away or beg him to go faster. He rocked his palm against me relentlessly, as if he was prepared to torment me all night. His other hand shifted, and he curled it around me, pulling me firmly against him.

I could hear the noises escaping my mouth, and feel his panting breath against me. I was so hot I was burning from the inside out. I just needed..

My leg that wasn't pinned by him shifted, my knee coming up, and his hand slid easier against me. I just needed...

"What do you need, Hermione?" As if he read my mind, his seductive voice sent me spiraling harder towards an unknown finish line. I just needed...

I babbled something, my brain blocking out everything but the rush of pleasure he was giving me. I was so close to something so amazing, something that was going to shatter me, and I wanted it so badly. I needed him to do it a little harder, faster, more..

I tensed, my hands grasping his arm as if to keep it from leaving me.

And.

He.

Fucking.

Stopped.

I shifted desperately, trying to chase it, my hips coming up against his hand. "Spread your legs wider for me, Hermione."

"Arsehole!" I clapped a hand over my mouth, unable to believe I had said it, and he laughed.

"Now, is that the polite way to ask to come? No wonder you're always so tense if you've never rubbed one out."

He shifted off me, reaching over for his wand, casting a cleaning charm on my fucking pants. "See how nice I am? I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

He didn't curl around me again, merely laid next to me, his hand behind his head facing me in the gloom. I thought up all manner of violence I wanted to do to him, the thrumming of my body almost painful.

The silence stretched as I tried to calm my breathing. Now that I wasn't so focused on what he was doing to me, I could feel the locket pressed near my arm. He didn't seem to have the same trouble as I did calming down. Had he just been playing with me?

There were plenty of things I should ask him. To give me that cursed locket. For an explanation of the blood on his shirt from the other night. But when I opened my mouth, I could only think of one. "Why did you stop?"