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Hermione Granger knew what she was getting into from the start. Setting off into the world and on the run with two teenage boys, her privacy may as well have gone out the window that night of the wedding at the Burrow, when they had escaped the clutches of the converging Death Eaters, and promised never to leave one another’s side ever again.
The time spent at Grimmauld Place was only fleeting, it was then they found themselves pitching a tent out in the wilderness, and all of a sudden, there was nowhere to hide from prying eyes. When she had to shower or change, Hermione knew that they were looking at her, were watching her as she hopelessly attempted to hurry in order to cover herself.
She did not blame them. They were still just young boys curious about the female body – and she was just as curious about theirs – and with the amount of time they would now be spending in close quarters together, it was bound to keep happening more and more. The situation was never discussed, the hunt for the Horcruxes was more at the front of their minds that anything else, so Hermione thought nothing of it, and just focused on trying to survive.
Then the inevitable happened. One evening, when Ron had gone to fetch some firewood and Hermione had stripped to take a shower, she had completely forgotten about Harry laying on the bottom bunk bed, because she thought that he was asleep. As she was drying herself, she caught a glimpse of the sheet bunched up around his waist, and she realised, with horror, what it was he was doing to himself.
She turned her back on him, hoping that he had not noticed her noticing, forgetting that now she had presented her bare arse for him right in his line of sight. She panicked, she didn’t know what else to do besides just stand there awkwardly, continuing to dry herself, bending to collect her clothes from the floor, and giving him what he wanted, the perfect view.
She tried to delay facing him for as long as possible, but she figured after five minutes that was plenty of time, and so when she was finished dressing and had looked around, Harry had turned onto his side, was facing away, and appeared to be sleeping. Hermione cleared her throat lightly, her face slightly pink as she moved on, and went about starting to prepare their mushroom dinner. The thought of what she had seen Harry doing did not leave her mind, though, she herself couldn’t imagine the embarrassment she would feel if she had tried to masturbate with the two boys around her all the time, and one of them had caught her.
It took a day or two for Hermione to be able to look Harry in the eye again, that was only because she had reminded herself what she had told herself in the beginning – he was a teenage boy, they were all young and experimentative, things like that were bound to keep happening on their trip whilst in such close quarters – and besides, the chances of it being the first time either one of them had fantasised about her whilst masturbating was slim.
In fact, if she had to guess, particularly in Ron’s case, they had probably been doing it for a number of years already.
The idea of herself ever masturbating in their presence kept unintentionally cropping up in Hermione’s mind. She could never imagine herself doing it, of course, but then came the pang of guilt, when she realised that she herself had never masturbated to the thought of Harry or Ron. Yes, she was this bookworm who touched herself very rarely, but it usually happened when she was somewhere private – like when she was alone in her dormitory at Hogwarts or in her bedroom at home – and when her two best friends weren’t on her mind.
As she was the bookworm, she would in most cases be triggered by the erotic scenes in the novels she read, and she would find a specific passage that spoke to her, she would put that image inside her head, and she would touch herself. She had never, ever, in any circumstances put Harry or Ron it those situations ahead of the characters of the book, not because she didn’t find either one of them attractive, but because it had just seemed wrong.
In the days after she had seen Harry wanking underneath the blankets at the sight of her, she began to wonder if perhaps she should be seeing them in that light, after all. The next time each of them had pulled their shirts over their heads, Hermione made a point to look and stare, and she came to realise just how attractive they both were, in their own way.
Still, the thought of trying to sneak in a masturbation session with the two of them always around so much troubled her, it sounded mortifying really, so she continued to go without. It was becoming harder and harder not too, the more she thought about it, and even though she had read in a book once that it was supposed to be easier for girls to hold out than it was for boys, it seemed like, all of a sudden, she could not escape the sight of Harry and Ron taking their shirts off in front of her, or seeing the obvious bulges at the front of their pants.
Then, something happened that changed the status quo, and an opening revealed itself in an otherwise unfortunate situation. Ron showed his true colours to the both of them one night, he had grown tired of camping out everywhere, tired of eating nothing but mushrooms, tired of getting nowhere with the hopeless mission left to them by Dumbledore, and with the pulsating Horcrux necklace hanging around his neck, he flew into a rage, and left.
At first, Hermione was too upset to think about anything else other than her grief that one of her friends had betrayed them, and had abandoned them. For a while, everything seemed pointless, there was nothing that either Harry nor Hermione wanted to do, other than sit away from each other, and ignore any noise that came from the other, or from outside then tent.
Then after a week or so, when she had at last managed to stop crying, but still hadn’t yet managed to fall asleep, Hermione heard Harry’s footsteps for the first time that night, which made her turn over onto her other side in the bunk, and saw that he was standing on the other side of the tent.
She watched him pull his shirt up over his head, just like all those times before, and whilst she had expected him to pull a fresh on from her beaded handbag and put it on, he didn’t. Instead, his pants went next, then his shoes and then his socks, and she realised that he was about to shower.
When his boxer briefs hit the floor and his penis bobbled free, she felt her lip’s part, become dry, and she realised her time had come. One of her hands slipped gently downwards into her jeans, then into her underwear, and she touched herself with a small gasp. At first, she worried that the sound she had made was too loud and would give her away, but Harry didn’t react, he just folded his clothes neatly without even looking up.
He must have just assumed that she was still asleep, because he never looked over to see that she was staring intently at him as he stepped into the bear claw tub and began to wash himself. The water running down his immaculate, muscular body, the sight of his tight bum tensing from the cold, and the way that his penis reacted even from his own touch sent Hermione’s mind to places it had never been before.
At least, not with Harry involved.
After months of build-up, Hermione’s release was just what she needed. She did not care that she made a mess of her fingers and of her underwear, she only cared about who she had made the mess over.
This was Harry’s mess.
Despite reaching her orgasm, Hermione continued touching herself, her eyes remained fixated on Harry as he finished his shower and began drying himself with a towel. At no point did he catch on that she was watching him, he showed no decorum in the way that he dried himself, rubbing his crotch with vigour and bending over to dry his ankles and feet, showing her angles of himself that she had never seen before in the seven years of knowing him.
Hermione bit her lip and continued to rub her nub as he began to get dressed. She was a little saddened by losing the sight of his penis, but he did continue to shuffle around shirtless for a little while longer. When she saw him reach for a clean shirt, she figured that the show was over and that she should close her eyes and feign sleep.
Once she could no longer see, she just listened instead, and after a moment she could not hear his shuffling feet, either, and she guessed that maybe he had left the tent. Hermione was a heartbeat away from opening her eyes again when she heard something that stopped her.
“I hope you enjoyed the show, Hermione.”
Hermione felt her body tense at the sound of Harry’s voice, whispering sweetly into her ear, and she remained motionless as she felt one of his hands push a strain of hair out of her face. She had not expected it, she didn’t know how to react, and the resulting factor was she remained unmoved as his footsteps shuffled away again.
Right at the very last moment, she dared to open one eye, and she caught a brief glimpse of him disappearing out of the tent. She couldn’t help but smile, not just because she had managed to get one last look at his backside, but because their moment had arrived.
This whole time she had imagined the worst, that being caught masturbating would be the end of her, that she would never be able to look at or talk to whoever it was that had caught her ever again. But with Harry, that was not going to be the case.
Spying on Harry and masturbating over him had been enthralling enough, but now that she knew that he knew she had been spying on him and flicking the bean, she felt exhilarated. And so, given the right circumstances, and if they remained on their own for longer, she decided that she would very much like to do it again.