Harry x Hermione Short Stories

Weak, Wet, and Wild

It's just Harry's being so Harry recently. Same old sweet, caring, and adorable Harry but instead of the innocent little boy I first met on the Hogwarts Express years ago, this Harry who shared a private dorm with me was physically different. He was tall, all lean muscles, and constantly walked around our shared space without a shirt on. Seriously! It's like the bloke was parading his sexy body all over our dorm.

I couldn't even begin to describe how insanely gorgeous he looked in nothing but tight-fitted Quidditch trousers with his hair sticking out in all directions after an intense practice at the pitch. How in the world did Harry Potter grow up to be so damn sexy?

Eighteen-year-old Harry James Potter was dangerous for any faint-hearted witch's health. Ever since he defeated Voldemort, there's just something about Harry that I couldn't define. He was rippling with magic now which I associated with the removal of the Horcrux in his scar. He also seemed more relaxed and confident.

Harry Potter was oozing with sex appeal and the worst part, he didn't know it. It's as if he didn't see the longing stares the witches at Hogwarts were throwing at him. If he did, he never showed interest in anyone. With all the witches who would willingly throw their knickers at him, he just didn't care.

I'm honestly shocked that Harry never got back together with Ginny. I always thought that they were meant to be together. He was crazy about her in our sixth year and Ginny had always fancied Harry. To my surprise though, Ginny started dating Neville and Harry was sincerely happy for them.

I didn't know what's going on in Harry's head right now but I must admit that I'm very much impressed with the fact that he's not using his fame, looks, and money to pick up girls.

Speaking of Harry, where was he? We're supposed to be discussing our potions paper together. Oh, Potter! You are so gonna get it if you're late!

And then, as if I summoned the Man Who Conquered himself, Harry Potter entered the portrait hole, his new Firebolt slung over one shoulder, his hair glistening with sweat, and he had a lopsided grin on his face. I noticed the way his eyes lit up as he saw me sitting on the couch with my arms crossed.

"Hey, 'Mione! How's my favorite witch this fine afternoon?" Harry asked as he dropped his broomstick on the floor.

"You're late, Potter," I feigned annoyance.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. Our team captain is such a slave driver," Harry nonchalantly removed his Quidditch robe along with his jersey and dropped it on the floor. I fought the urge to fan myself since the temperature immediately kicked up because the wizard in front of me was just so damn hot.

I'm so thankful that I'm sitting on the couch. That way, Harry couldn't see that I'm getting so weak in the knees because he was just a few feet away from me. His six-pack abs and his happy trail were directly in my line of sight and I forced myself to look away. I could not allow myself to be caught ogling my best friend. That would just be too mortifying.

To make me even more nervous, Harry Potter plonked himself on my left, wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. He kissed me on the cheek, something that he'd been accustomed to do ever since we got back to school. That was another change I had noticed in Harry. He was very touchy-feely now. He was just too affectionate that I have to catch my breath to stop myself from swooning every single time he did something sweet – kissing my cheeks, holding my hand, wrapping me in his arms, those sort of things.

"Are you alright, 'Mione?" He asked and I nodded.

"Just lost in thought," I said and he chuckled.

"Shouldn't you put on a shirt or something?" I snorted.

"Why? Is it bothering you?" He smirked.

"I'm just worried you'll get sick," I rolled my eyes.