40 Days

November 30, 1997

"Don't close your eyes, watch me."

My eyes shot open to meet his, and I felt the hot slide of his cock along my wet pussy, the pressure as he slowly pushed in. My breath caught as the pressure increased. This wasn't going to work. My legs squeezed as if I could stop him as his hips moved against mine.

"H-Harry, it h-hurts-"

"No, no." He froze half inside me, his hands coming to frame my face. "Don't hurt. Don't hurt, Hermione."

The curse leapt inside me, and the pain disappeared. I just felt almost unbearably stretched and overfull.

"Tell me what you feel."

His hips canted forward as he asked, and I couldn't help the small yelp that came from me as he pushed deeper still.

"I feel–unh–" I broke off my nails digging into his shoulders as he slowly pulled out, and then just as slowly split me apart again. "I feel you."

"Fucking hell." His eyes finally broke from mine, his head going to the curve of my shoulder as he started to move quicker. "You feel so fucking good around me."

It was my own moans that woke me up and I looked down to see my hands buried in Harry's hair as he licked me. I tugged, and he looked up, the bottom of his face gleaming as he grinned at me. "Morning, beautiful."

He moved up higher on me, and my legs and arms wrapped around him. "I love you." I whispered to him vehemently almost a threat. I was not going to accept a reality where Harry Potter didn't exist.

He kissed me at that, and I could taste myself on him.

"No matter what?" He asked, grabbing at my legs to spread them wider, his hand grasping his wand to cast a sticking charm to keep them spread before shoving it under the pillow I rested on. He sank deep inside me in one thrust, and I grunted as his hips slapped hard against mine.

I could feel the compulsion to answer, but it was hard to catch my breath, and I made unintelligible little mumbles as he reared back on his knees to pull me upwards to fuck me. Each time he withdrew and pushed back in, there was a wet slapping sound as our skin met.

There was a wildness in his pale eyes as he looked at me, yanking me upwards roughly to meet his downward thrusts.

"I want to ruin you." Harry growled at me as he shoved forward hard battering into me, his shoulders hunching forward, all I could see was the swift motion of his body over mine. His fingers dug into me harshly, as if I was trying to get away. But I couldn't get away even if I wanted to (I didn't), the sticking charm and his hands held me in place for his desperate fucking.

I kept trying to answer him, to say something, to calm him down–something. But the only sound that emerged was "unh, unh" each time he hit that place deep inside me, like it was burning away all my thoughts until the only thing that existed for me was Harry Potter fucking me like the world was going to end.

Harry with another snap of his hips he shoved his cock so deep inside me I thought I was going to choke. My thighs trembled and burned from the sticking charm keeping me stretched wide as he fucked me.

"Come on my cock, Hermione." Harry groaned, rotating his hips against me, and I felt the flood of his hot come filling me up. I shuddered as my orgasm rippled through me at his command. It felt different coming while he was moving inside me, filling me up. The pleasure was so much more intense.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Harry chanted against me as the last spasms of his orgasm rolled through him. I felt his sticking charm finally release me, and my legs immediately relaxed against his hips. He pulled out slowly, sitting back on his heels to look at me, I could feel his hot come dripping out of me.

My tummy rumbled, and he met my eyes with a satisfied smile. "I think I should feed you."

Harry reached over to grab his wand from under the pillow, cleaning us both and then healing the little bruises I had on me, little circles that were darkening on my hips and thighs where his fingers had dug into me. It was strange to see that look of concentration on his face while he did that for me, carefully making sure no marks remained on my body. It was the same look of concentration he wore while studying or learning complex spells.

Harry reached out to pet me when he was done, his hand briefly cupping my breast while his thumb circled my nipple. "Stay in bed and rest, okay? I'll bring you food."

He got up naked without embarrassment, swiping his glasses from the bedside table, then the locket from the chair as he passed on his way to the kitchen area. I watched him cook, my body boneless and exhausted from his lovemaking. Harry looked happy, his body relaxed, hair sticking up wildly, humming something familiar I couldn't quite place.

Good job, you fucked your mental best friend. Maybe for an encore you can cry and hyperventilate again–oh wait–probably not because he's fucking got you imperiused!

What did you think would happen when you slept with him? Your magical vagina would cure him? He's going to fucking kill himself, you know.

"No." I whispered to myself, clutching the sheet.

He's going to die because you can't even admit to yourself what it all means. Fucking pathetic.

"What's wrong?" He asked, making me look at him briefly before I turned away. "Hermione."

The command to tell him underlaid his voice as he said my name. The voice inside my head laughed at me—or maybe I was laughing at myself?

I wouldn't say it. It wasn't true.

It was stupid.

Stupid.

I should have paid attention because Harry was suddenly there in front of me, his hands on my face. I shook my head, dislodging his hands, refusing to look at him. "Tell me." Harry demanded.

The spell clutched at me, his magic burrowing into me to force out the answer. And for the first time, I fought against the curse. I wouldn't say it, I wouldn't let the words come from my mouth.

He's going to kill himself.

The voice inside me whispered to me again–taunting me.

That's why.

That's why he talks about dying.

That's why he speaks parseltongue.

That's why he's so connected to Voldemort.

That's why the locket's grasp is so deep inside him.

Harry's hands grasped my shoulders and he shook me, trying to get me to snap and give in. His scar seemed darker, and I squeezed my eyes shut so I didn't have to see it.

Never. I'd never admit it, not even to myself.