Part V

V.

After a while, Harry raised his still trembling hand and brushed her hair.

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly.

She raised her head. 'What for?'

'I was ... too fast, wasn't I? I mean, you didn't enjoy it, did you?'

She smiled and kissed his jaw. 'If you mean by enjoy that I had another orgasm you're right, I didn't. But if you mean that I liked it, that it felt incredible and amazing and wonderful, and that I'd love to do it again, then yes, I did enjoy myself very much.'

Harry blinked. 'You did?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Yes. Honestly, what do you boys believe? Do you all think that just because girls are capable of multiple orgasms that you must make us come a half a dozen times?'

'Er ...' Yes, he had heard something similar.

Hermione propped herself up on one elbow. 'Well, of course we do want to have fun and ... well, have an orgasm. But it's not the number that counts, Harry. A girl wants to feel loved and cherished, and if a boy can make her feel that way, it doesn't matter if she comes once or seven times.'

Harry digested that silently. 'Hm,' he said, 'you're a girl, you ought to know, but that's not what I have heard.'

Hermione snorted. 'And who told you?'

Harry squirmed. 'Listen, Hermione, you're not going to go and rant at the poor guys, are you? I mean ...'

'No, but I might on occasion throw out a hint.'

Harry closed his eyes with a painful expression as he thought of Hermione throwing out hints. The poor guys would never know what hit them.

'Harry? Who?'

He shook his head. 'Not going to tell you.'

'What?'

'Nah, can't do that to my fellow men.'

'Humph. Just think of how thankful their girlfriends would be to you!'

'Hell, no!' He stared at her, horrified. 'No, Hermione! If they aren't satisfied, they can very well tell their blokes themselves. You're not going to drag me into this!'

Hermione rolled his eyes. 'Boys!'

'Yeah, whatever,' he agreed, lucky to have escaped. 'Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm getting cold down here.'

Hermione suddenly jumped up. 'Oh! It must be horribly late! Come one, Harry!'

She whirled around the classroom, gathering her clothes and piling his next to the desk. Harry sat up and watched her, and there was an appreciative stirring in his groin. He glanced down at his flaccid cock. It twitched. Harry decided he had better dress quickly.

'Hey, Hermione,' he called as he slid off the desk. She turned to look at him.

'What? Hurry, Harry!'

'Yeah, yeah.' He bent down and searched his clothes for his wand, then straightened when he had found it. 'Come here,' he gestured at her.

'What for?' she asked but came. He flicked his wand at her, and she blinked and looked down. 'What was that?'

Harry grinned and flicked the wand at himself. 'First spell you learn as a third-year, whether you need it or not. It's the male Prefect who teaches it. I suppose the girls have something similar.'

'Harry, that was nonverbal magic!'

'Yeah, well, that's the practise.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'What is it for? A cleaning spell, isn't it? What's the incantation? Why is it special?'

'Whoa, Hermione, slow down,' Harry said as he slipped on his boxers. 'I won't tell you the incantation, it's for boys only.' He grinned at her huff. 'It's for the cleaning up the morning mess.'

'Morning mess?'

Harry blushed a little and busied himself with zipping his jeans. 'Yeah, well, you know, boys ...'

He shot her a side-glance and saw that she had understood. She had blushed.

'Oh ... I never heard about something like this.'

Harry pulled his t-shirt over his head and watched her clasp her bra. His disobedient cock twitched again at the sight.

'Don't you girls have something similar?'

She shrugged into her blouse. 'No.' She paused buttoning up and frowned. 'Yes, of course, but it's for the blood stains–'

'Stop!' he yelled. 'No details!'

Hermione cast him an annoyed glance. 'Boys. Brave like what-not, but tell them about menstruation, and they become prissy.'

'It's all the blood, you know.'

'Honestly, it's not that much, Harry! It's–'

'No details!'

'Fine!'

They dressed in silence, and then looked at each other.

'Um ...'

'Well ...'

They laughed uneasily.

'Still friends?'

'Of course.'

'What about Ron?'

'I don't care about Won-Won.'

'Oh, come on, Hermione! Tone it down, will you.'

She sniffed, but didn't say anything. Harry went to the door and peered out.

'Seems empty,' he said over his shoulder.

'Let's hurry, then,' Hermione said next to him.

He half-turned to her and saw she was holding his rucksack out to him. He smiled. 'Thanks.'

She smiled back, a beautiful, radiant smile. 'Thank you, Harry.'

'Eh?'

'For this.' She gestured at the room behind her.

'Uh ...'

'Ill never forget it. Thank you for letting me practise ... and for making me a woman.'

'Hermione ...'

'Shh. It means a lot to me. Now I can, every time I despair over people treating me like an honorary-boy, remember there's someone who knows I'm a girl.'

Harry shook his head. He'd never understand her. She was speaking of Ron, he knew, but why this would make her cry now and smile that strange smile, he couldn't understand. 'I knew you were a girl before.'

She kissed him lightly on his cheek. 'I know.'

He frowned as he followed her into the corridor.

'I don't understand.'

She cast him a saucy smile. 'I know.'

He shook his head again, and then grinned. 'There, if that isn't the proof you're a girl! If you were a boy, I'd perfectly understand you!'

She poked his ribs with her elbow. 'Don't tell me, tell Ron.'

Harry was about to answer when he heard a distant cackle rapidly approaching.

'Peeves!'

They looked at each other.

'Run!'

Laughing and giggling, they dashed down the corridor, down one staircase and up another, down another corridor and then up the staircase to Gryffindor tower. Breathless and still laughing, they tumbled through the portrait into the almost empty common room.

'Oy, what's going on? Where have you been?'

They turned at the voice and saw a tall, red-headed figure rise from one sofa.

'Peeves, and we were studying,' said Harry, still holding Hermione's elbow which he had grabbed to help her steady.

'We were practising,' Hermione said at the same time.

Ron frowned. 'What?'

Harry and Hermione looked at each other and grinned.

'Studying and practising,' Harry explained. 'What we learned, you know.'

Hermione giggled. Ron looked between the two, confused. 'Oh, calm down,' he finally grunted. 'It took you that long? I've been waiting for hours for you, Harry. I, um, wanted to ask you something about homework.'

'The necessary information for the Potions essay is on page 355 of a useful little book called Anorganic Ingredients in Organic Potions,' Hermione said lightly. 'I'll go to bed. Night, Ron. Night, Harry.'

She walked through the room and disappeared up the staircase to the girls' dorm. Harry watched her bum appreciatively, while Ron gaped after her, his jaw dropped open. When she was out of sight, he rounded on his friend.

'What was that about?' Ron asked. 'Why's she suddenly talking to me again?'

Harry shrugged. 'Dunno. Guess she found out she can be happy without you considering her as a girl.'

'What?' Ron bellowed. He clenched his fists. 'Who is he?' he demanded imperiously. 'She's dating someone, isn't she? Who is it?'

Harry shook his head. 'Dunno, Ron. She didn't say anything about dating someone. She just said,' he added when Ron looked clearly not convinced, 'that she found someone who didn't treat her as an honorary boy.'

'Eh?'

'That's what we did, I suppose.' He shrugged again. 'It's kind of funny that we did, you know. With all her cryptic mumblings[,] we should have known. Had she been a boy, we would've understood her.'

Ron wrinkled his brow. 'What are you talking about, Harry?'

'Never mind, mate. I'm off to bed as well. You coming?'

'Yeah.'

Together, they mounted the steps to the boys' dorm and prepared to go to bed. As he lay in his large four-poster bed, hangings drawn around him, Harry allowed his mind to wander back to Hermione. For some reason, he didn't feel as bad about lying to Ron as he knew he ought to. He didn't feel bad about sleeping with Hermione, either. It had been mutual, just sex and nothing more. Practising, as Hermione had called it. They were friends. Who better to practise with? Whom else could they trust? He wouldn't tell Ron, however. Ron was incredibly touchy in some aspects, and he'd never understand it. He'd get it all wrong.

With a sigh, Harry snuggled deeper under his covers and let his hand trail down his body and under the waistband of his pyjama pants. His cock, half-attentive since he'd watched a naked Hermione run around an old classroom, sprang to life, and with a satisfied groan, Harry began to relive the evening.

The End