113 Days Later (In Time Series 2)

BY : Dazzlious
Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 3156
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from JK Rowling’s fantastic books or films, I’m just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so.

A/N: This is the follow-up to ‘Seven Days’ and takes place, as the title suggests, one hundred and thirteen days after the events in the original story, so if you haven’t read it you might want to start there first. I hope you enjoy. Dx


Arthur was feeling restless.

He put down his screwdriver and glanced up at the calendar hanging above his workbench, his eyes taking in the thick black crosses that covered most of the dates, only eight remaining uncovered now until the end of the year. The current date and cross were surrounded by a box which signified that today was special. This morning, students from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, including his daughter Ginny and a family friend, Hermione Granger, had started the long journey home from Hogsmeade way up in the Highlands of Scotland for the Christmas holidays.

Arthur looked at his watch, his heartbeat increasing slightly as he realised the girls should almost be at the Burrow by now if they weren’t here already. He was slightly disconcerted at how excited he suddenly felt, but there was anxiety there too that caused a band of tightness in his chest, making breathing difficult.

He silently chided himself for being so pathetic. Hermione was definitely coming to the Burrow, that he already knew. Molly had confirmed it only this morning when she had laid out the entire family’s plans for the holidays so there was no need for him to be anxious. But Arthur knew his anxiety ran far deeper than whether Hermione was intending to stay with them for Christmas.

When he had last seen her, one hundred and thirteen days ago, Hermione had promised to return to him and to this shed which had, until the final week of the summer holidays, always been his solitary refuge of contemplation and calm. In one week she had turned the place into something completely different, and despite Arthur’s attempts to put the beautiful young woman out of his mind and return to what he once had he couldn’t wait for her to come back to the Burrow, and hopefully the shed, and start the games all over again.

In the immediate aftermath of their last morning together, which had seen Arthur completely shatter his marriage vows when and he and Hermione had finally had sex before anyone else had made it out of bed, he had been eager for the exquisite feeling that had been missing from his life for years to continue and he had, momentarily, considered trying to stop Hermione from leaving as he didn’t want to let go of her.

It was a stupid thought and one that had been discarded within seconds, especially when Hermione told him she was still part of his collection — the excuse she had initially provided him with to allow him to do whatever he wanted with her without fear of guilt ruining his long marriage to Molly. While the excuse had been a good one it hadn’t completely stopped the guilt, Arthur remembered, which was why it had taken a whole week for him to give in to that final temptation.

But he hadn’t exactly been faithful in the run-up with so much on offer. Hermione was both eager to please and extraordinarily open to suggestion, and Arthur had never felt enough guilt to stop completely or to hold back when it became clear that Hermione’s desires and his were perfectly aligned. She had made it so easy for him, with her unspoken rules that she clung to rigidly in her determination not to ruin his marriage. There was no intimacy of a romantic nature between them, only sexual, and the relationship had never once strayed outside of the shed, not even a single furtive glance.

At the end, before she had left him, Arthur felt the urge to break the rules; to pull Hermione to him and kiss her and admit to his intensified feelings for her. He hadn’t done it although he half suspected she felt the same way with the tender but chaste kiss she bestowed upon him. Instead, he had let her leave with a promise to be waiting, ready to examine her and make her one of his artefacts once more, and she had gone, leaving him counting off the days on the calendar until her return.

Now, here he was, sitting in his shed and worrying that Hermione might have changed her mind, that she might no longer want to be part of his collection. Although she had been adamant back in the summer, that had been almost four long months ago now and a lot could have happened in that time. While Arthur had spent his days in the same way he always had, with no excitement in the shed to break up the monotony, Hermione had fallen back into school life and the social whirlwind that went with it; she probably hadn’t even had time to think about him or the things they had done together.

Sweet Merlin, please let her not have changed her mind, Arthur begged silently, but then a momentary wave of revulsion washed over him, directed at himself. What on earth was wrong with him? He was a stupid old man sitting alone in a shed and hoping that a girl young enough to be his daughter was going to come to visit him and do . . . what, exactly? The truth was that he really shouldn’t be hoping that Hermione was going to want to pick up where they had left off. It wasn’t fair to her and it definitely wasn’t fair to Molly.

Arthur had battled with his guilt several times in the early days after Hermione left because she wasn’t there to help to force it away as she had always so effortlessly managed to do during the week they had spent together. He had even once almost come close to admitting to Molly what he had done because he could see the changes it had made to his relationship with his wife and was worried that she would realise, which in his mind was worse than him admitting his infidelity.

But by then a month had passed since Hermione had returned to school, and without her there to stoke his arousal Arthur found the guilt waning once more, retreating deep inside him as that little demon that had taken up residence in his soul congratulated him on staying strong and getting away with it. He had tried hard to forget about Hermione and return to his Muggle appliances but it had been almost impossible, probably not helped by the calendar and him counting down the days until she would return to him. But however hard he tried he couldn’t stop himself from doing it. 

While he could now change plugs like a pro and had built a crystal wireless radio receiver from scratch using parts he had acquired through contacts at the Ministry of Magic and with instructions from an old booklet that had been hiding in his pile of manuals — even though he still had absolutely no idea what it was used for — the manual labour hadn’t stopped him fantasising about Hermione and her perfect body.

Arthur had lost count of the number of times he had spent an evening remembering her tight young breasts that just begged to be played with, the nipples stiffening so easily and ripe for sucking. He thought of her pert bottom and of how it looked after he caned her, the rosy stripes showing clearly on the soft, creamy flesh, and he spent a lot of time remembering how she had tasted when he buried his face in the soft folds of her sex. He remembered, too, how she had felt when he was inside her; tight muscles gripping and squeezing as they clung to each other, giving their all in their determination to each give each other the ultimate satisfaction.

There were other fantasies too, which generally focussed on the things Arthur wanted to do with Hermione but had so far not had the opportunity. These last were wide-ranging and in some cases he knew completely perverse, but he was only imagining it, even if he did suspect that Hermione would agree to anything he suggested while they were in the shed.

But now the one hundred and thirteen days of waiting were over and as the day drew on Arthur  became more and more convinced that he was making a fool of himself. He had never understood why Hermione was interested in him in the first place. He wasn’t particularly handsome, he was middle-aged, balding, and even had a paunchy stomach although she hadn’t seemed to mind that when they had both finally got naked. He was hardly likely to be anyone’s idea of an ideal man, and no doubt now that she had got her infatuation over and done with, Hermione wouldn’t be interested in him any longer.

Arthur wondered whether he should break Hermione’s unspoken rules and have a word with her back in the house if she didn't come to the shed as promised; something quiet and non-judgemental to tell her that he understood her choice and didn’t hold any bad feelings against her for it. But deep inside he knew he wouldn’t say anything to her. If Hermione didn’t want to come back to the shed then he would let her slip away without a fuss, and maybe that would be for the best.

The rules had been in place but he had come close to breaking them last time. He couldn’t let himself do it now, not when they had got away with it. It was better for everyone that he keep as far away from Hermione as possible and then, once the holiday was over and she and Ginny returned to school, he could finally tuck away the fantasies for good and with any luck return the shed to its original purpose.

He opened the drawer in his workbench and pulled out the bottle of Firewhisky and glass he kept in there. Arthur didn’t drink much but he did occasionally enjoy a glass or two while he was out here in the evening, sitting quietly and contemplating problems and their possible solutions while he slowly sipped the amber liquid. Although it was a solitary pursuit he wasn’t doing it in secret. Molly knew he kept a bottle out here but was also savvy enough never to say anything about it.

Arthur took a mouthful of the whisky, then leant back in his seat and closed his eyes as he rolled the liquid around his mouth, enjoying the slight burning sensation. He would finish his drink and put away his equipment, then he would head back into the house, ready to greet his daughter and Hermione, who must surely be home by now.

 

 


 

 

Hermione stared nervously at the closed door.

It had been one hundred and thirteen days since she had last been inside Arthur’s shed, and it felt both like a lifetime and as if it was only yesterday. She had spent almost every free moment of her time at Hogwarts reminiscing about the week she had spent with her favourite Weasley, reliving in full and glorious detail the exquisite memories of the pleasure they had given each other.

When she had left the shed on the morning she was due to return to school Hermione had felt pleasantly sated, having finally achieved her aim of having sex with Arthur although it had taken her a full week to accomplish it. The sex itself had been phenomenal, so much better than she had ever fantasised it would be and made what she and Ron had done previously seem childish and clumsy by comparison.

But everything else that had taken place in the shed — the foreplay and even the caning Arthur had given her — were all equally magnificent and it had given Hermione a rich seam of memories to plunder that had kept her going during the barren days and long nights at school.

Although she had enjoyed her time in the shed more than she would ever admit, Hermione hadn’t found it particularly hard to leave as she knew she would be returning and was convinced the enforced separation would make both her and Arthur even more eager to resume where they had left off. She had imagined time and again about what their reconciliation would be like, and it had been every bit as charged as their previous encounters.

Now she was finally back at the Burrow, the day she had been dreaming about for almost four long months, and doubt had begun to creep into her mind, making her anxious and fretful, and her stomach was doing somersaults, making her feel queasy.

Hermione knew the problem was hers, that she had set unrealistic expectations for herself, and now she was worried the reality wouldn’t be able to match up. She knew Arthur had enjoyed their games in the summer every bit as much as she had, but she had no idea what his feelings were for her or whether he was as excited about her return as she had fantasised about him being — they had never discussed it.

Unfortunately, this lack of discussion was one of the rules Hermione had set herself when she first decided to initiate her plan.

The plan had been to become one of Arthur’s Muggle artefacts, just another piece of equipment to be played with and examined in whichever way he chose. From the outset Hermione had been adamant that whatever happened between them, and at that stage there was no guarantee that anything would, their ‘relationship’ would only ever take place in the confines of the shed, it would never spill over into everyday life.

Hermione hadn’t wanted to end Arthur’s long and happy marriage to Molly just because she had an unquenchable desire to get into his pants, so she had come up with the plan and the rules that governed it: contact would remain purely in the shed; no calling Arthur by anything other than Mr Weasley; no kissing on the mouth; no discussion about ‘feelings’ — in short, nothing that would increase their intimacy. She wanted only sexual fulfilment, not love and romance.  

Despite her growing cupidity for Arthur, Hermione had been successful in sticking to all of the rules although she had come close to breaking the kissing one on the morning she left for school, her fervour for Arthur so strong after finally having sex with him that she would have given anything to feel his lips on hers, even if only once. But she had succeeded in restraining herself, giving in to only a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth before she ran away, promising to return at Christmas.

Arthur had seemed keen to welcome her back at the time, joking about having to give her a full examination when she returned. But that was then and in the heat of the moment that had just seen them fucking each other’s brains out. One hundred and thirteen days had passed since then and it was eminently possible that by now he might have changed his mind.

Hermione had always known that Arthur harboured some guilt at what they were doing. It was unavoidable when he was essentially cheating on his wife after thirty-odd long years of marriage. Although she had done everything she could to make the encounters as unemotional as possible she hadn’t been able to erase the guilt. She was convinced that this was why it had taken a whole week for them to finally have sex.

During that week Hermione had been able to push at Arthur’s defences, had successfully forced away the guilt in order to achieve the outcome she had so desired. But with three months and more since she had last seen him, Arthur had had plenty of time to rediscover the guilt and feel the full force of it. If that was the case then any hope she had of resuming her place as one of his Muggle artefacts was about to be dashed.

Disappointment welled within her for a moment at the thought that she might be unable to rekindle what she’d had with Arthur, that she would have known such joy just for it to be taken away.

Hermione stared at the door again. Perhaps it would be for the best if she just returned to the house and didn’t go into the shed. That way she would never have to find out whether Arthur would have accepted her back or not. She would still have her fantasies, could still pretend. Nothing would change in the house and Arthur would never talk to her about it — he abided by the rules she had set even if they had never formally discussed them.

But Hermione knew that despite her fears she would enter the shed. She had no choice. Her desire for Arthur was every bit as strong as it had been in the summer, even stronger if she was being honest. She wanted him with every fibre of her being, so until he told her to her face that he didn’t want her to be one any longer, she would remain one of his artefacts.

Hermione looked around her to make sure no one was in the vicinity to see what she was about to do, took a deep breath, and opened the shed door. 

 

 


 

 

Arthur started as a slight creaking sound pulled him out of the doze he had fallen into. It seemed the Firewhisky had relaxed him rather more than he had expected, aided, no doubt, by the long hours he had been putting in at the Ministry recently. He put down his almost empty glass on the workbench and stared around him blearily, rubbing his eyes under his glasses as he did so.

Hermione was standing in front of the closed door. She looked anxious as if worried about disturbing him. Arthur erupted from the seat, his heart leaping for joy as a huge smile crossed his face.

‘Hermione! Welcome back.’

Hermione’s expression softened as she smiled too, the anxiety dropping away from her.

‘Hullo, Mr Weasley.’

Arthur hurried across the shed and wrapped his arms around Hermione to enfold her in a huge hug. His heart was still hammering at the realisation that she had come back to him.

‘God, I’ve missed you,’ Hermione said honestly.

‘I’ve missed you too,’ Arthur replied with another smile.

They stared at each other for a moment, seemingly unable to believe that they were finally back together.

‘I want you so much,’ Hermione whispered.

As her arms wrapped around Arthur in return, her mouth sought out his; at that moment she didn’t care that she was breaking one of her unspoken rules. All she could think was that Arthur still wanted her and she wanted to kiss him, wanted that forbidden fruit however dangerous it was. Arthur’s mouth found hers with equal fervour as still he held her close.

‘I’m sorry I was so late coming out here, but it was the first chance I had to get away,’ Hermione explained once there was a break in the kissing.

Arthur squeezed her tightly. ‘I’m just glad you’re here.’

‘Me too,’ she said happily as Arthur’s lips found hers once more.

It wasn’t long before his hands were roaming, working on opening her cardigan as they continued to kiss.

‘Not so easy at this time of year,’ he pointed out with a touch of amusement. ‘You’ve got too many clothes on.’

Hermione chuckled. ‘I can soon take them off.’

‘I’m not sure it’s warm enough in here at the moment, is it?’ he asked.

‘Oh, I’m feeling quite hot right now,’ Hermione admitted with a wicked grin.

‘You are hot,’ Arthur said as his mouth moved to plant whisper-soft kisses down Hermione’s throat, ‘but I don’t want you to catch a chill and be unwell.’

His hands slid under the jumper Hermione was wearing beneath her cardigan and stroked the soft, warm skin on her midriff before cupping and squeezing her breasts, enjoying the feel of the stiff nipples pressing through the lace of her bra and into his palms.

Hermione gave a small sigh of pleasure. ‘I’ve missed this so much.’ She kissed him again, seeming unable to stop now she had started.

Arthur followed suit, more than happy to indulge in this more intimate act even though he knew deep down that it would only complicate things in the long run. He held Hermione to him, his rock-hard erection pressed unapologetically against her, enjoying the taste of her mouth and the feel of her breasts and her soft body wrapped around his. He picked her up and carried her to the workbench, sitting her on it as they continued to kiss.

‘Gods, I want to fuck you,’ he admitted. ‘I know I told you I would give you a full examination when you returned but—’

‘Yes!’ Hermione cut him off with her fervent agreement. ‘Oh yes, please, Mr Weasley.’ Her hands were already pulling at his robe as she spoke.

‘Call me Arthur,’ he begged, not caring that another of the unspoken rules was being broken.

Hermione bit her bottom lip for a second, then gave a nod of agreement.

‘Arthur,’ she whispered with a smile.

Arthur’s lips captured hers again.

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he told her anxiously. ‘You might not be ready, or—’

Hermione cut him off with another kiss.

‘I’m definitely ready, don’t you worry about that,’ she admitted afterwards. ‘It’s all I’ve thought about all day — all week, actually.’

‘Are you sure?’ Arthur still sounded concerned but it didn’t stop him from removing Hermione’s boots.

‘Oh god, yes. Please, just fuck me, Arthur. I need it.’

Hermione moved her bottom off the workbench to assist in Arthur’s removal of her jeans and knickers, then she opened her legs, pulling him towards her once more. He had pulled down his underpants and the head of his erection brushed against her sex. She gave a small whimper of anticipation.

But still Arthur demurred, worried about hurting Hermione until eventually she growled in frustration.

‘Please, Arthur. I promise I’m ready. Just fuck me, will you? I want you inside me.’

That, it seemed, did the trick and Arthur thrust, savouring the almost unbearably perfect feeling as Hermione’s tight muscles wrapped around his erection and she gasped loudly. Despite her insistence at her readiness for penetration she wasn’t anywhere near as wet as he had expected and immediately he began to feel guilty for not following his instincts and ensuring she was better prepared.

But before he had a chance to vocalise this, wanting to apologise for hurting her, Hermione was already moaning and gasping, loudly crying out her appreciation as she clung to him, her body moving against his, the slow undulating movements causing his blood to tingle as the most exquisite feeling rose inside him.

‘Oh fuck, that feels so good,’ Hermione hissed, ‘Oh god . . . Arthur . . . Arthur!’

Arthur agreed entirely with the sentiment, his own thick moans of pleasure joining Hermione’s as he sped up, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer but also knowing it didn’t matter. From the sounds she was making Hermione was as close to orgasm as he was. He held her as tightly as she was holding him, whispering into her hair as the exquisite and almost excruciating feeling spread from his balls and up through his whole body, almost stopping him from both moving and breathing.

Hermione jerked her pelvis as she gave a long, low wail. The sudden sharp movement with the accompanying muscle spasm was enough to make Arthur erupt and he roared loudly and jubilantly as he emptied himself, joining the flood Hermione had already produced. Gasping for breath, their lips met again and again, frantic pecking kisses at first that gave way to deeper, more passionate ones as they continued to cling to each other, Arthur still buried inside Hermione and wanting never to leave. 

After a few minutes Arthur felt her start to move again and was amazed to discover that he was able to return the favour. Somehow he was hard again, and all he could think was how much he wanted to fuck. He wanted to make Hermione scream with joy, wanted to hear his name on her lips as she came for him. He wanted to cum for her too, wanted to fill her perfect body with his seed, wanted her to belong to him and no one else.

Arthur built up a steady rhythm, concentrating purely on Hermione and the sounds she was making in an attempt to ignore his own already rising climax. Her legs were wrapped around him, her heels digging into his buttocks, pushing him inside her as she told him again and again how much she was enjoying what he was doing to her.

Hermione was flushed, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow as Arthur continued to pound away, his own breath coming in short panting gasps as he savoured the feeling her tight muscles were causing in his cock. It was no good, he was going to cum again, and as much as he delighted in the feeling he wanted more. He wanted Hermione to cum too, wanted to hear those amazing noises she made, wanted her to experience what he was experiencing; to understand just how perfect this moment was — how extraordinary and exquisite it was.

‘Oh gods, I’m going to cum again,’ he warned, knowing he could hold on no longer.

Hermione’s lips found his once more, her eyes opening to stare into his as still they moved together, this small act somehow seeming to increase the intimacy between them even more. Then she was crying out Arthur’s name again, the sound as pitch-perfect as he could ever have hoped for, and he flooded her sex, giving her every last drop as a paean to her perfection, holding her tightly as Hermione shrieked in his arms, the feeling having overwhelmed her at last.

It was several minutes before they finally parted. Arthur performed a cleaning charm on both of them before pulling his underpants back up. He watched, still totally enraptured as Hermione redressed, the familiar feeling of disappointment as she covered herself giving way to a desire to take her in his arms and kiss her again.

Arthur looked at his watch. It was almost eight o’clock which meant it was nearly time for dinner. He and Hermione would need to return to the house before someone came looking for them. It would never do for Hermione to be caught in the shed. It was supposed to be his solitary place, and that misconception was what had stopped them from being caught in their perfidy previously. If they wanted any chance for this relationship to continue then the visits had to remain a secret.

‘That was amazing,’ Hermione said with a smile. She was breathing heavily. ‘Definitely the best gift I’m going to get this Christmas.’ She wrapped her arms around Arthur and gave him another hug, fighting the urge to kiss him once more.

She already knew the kissing had been a mistake. Now it had happened she didn’t want it to stop, and Hemione knew she would happily spend hours exploring Arthur’s mouth with her own if she had the opportunity. It seemed to elevate everything, to heighten the sensations she experienced until it was almost unbearable . . . yet oh so perfect. But it also intensified those feelings she knew she shouldn’t have, that she wasn’t allowed to have because Arthur was a married man who had no intention of leaving his wife.

‘There’s plenty more where that came from,’ Arthur assured her, pulling Hermione’s thoughts away from the uncomfortable territory they had been straying into. ‘My cock is yours whenever you want it.’

For a moment Arthur was hit by a touch of guilt at his words, knowing full well that he shouldn’t be telling Hermione this when he was married to Molly. By rights, his cock belonged to his wife if it belonged to anyone, even if she didn’t want it anywhere near as regularly as she once had. But with the feelings Hermione had stirred within him he couldn’t help himself, and he wanted it to be true. He wanted to belong to Hermione every bit as much as he wanted her to belong to him, and not just as an artefact in his shed, either.

The previously unspoken rules being broken hadn’t helped. The kissing had caused a problem, intensifying the emotions running between them and heightening the sensation. He had then compounded the problem by insisting Hermione call him by his first name rather than by the more formal title she had used during their interactions in the summer. Arthur had known it was wrong even as he asked for it, but he had so wanted that closeness and the added excitement that hearing her say his name during climax had brought.

He glanced at his gorgeous lover, wondering what she was thinking. Hermione was still flushed, her skin that beautiful shade of pink she always went when she was highly aroused. She was so stunning that it almost hurt to look at her. He still had absolutely no idea what she saw in him; why she was so happy to give herself to him time and again.

‘We should be getting back to the house. It’s almost dinner time,’ he said as he released her. He grinned. ‘You look a bit flushed. I hope no one’s going to realise what you’ve been up to.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that; no one else has ever seen me after an orgasm so they’ll just think it’s from walking in the cold,’ Hermione replied.

Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What about Ron? Surely you and he—?’

‘I don’t think he ever made me cum, and certainly not like you do.’ She blushed prettily and shrugged. ‘It was only a few times anyway. We soon realised that we’re much better as friends than lovers.’ Hermione paused for a moment as if she had said something she shouldn’t, then, ‘Thank you again, Arthur.’ With a wave, she opened the door and left the shed.

Arthur was surprised at how happy Hermione’s admission that she and his son weren’t a couple made him although he knew it should make no difference. He was married so it wasn’t as if he had a say in her life and who she let into it and it wasn’t as if he could become her boyfriend — not outside of the shed, anyway — and the whole point there was that Hermione was just another of his artefacts to be examined and played with as he saw fit. It wasn’t supposed to be a romantic entanglement.

His heart still hammering and with adrenalin racing through his system, Arthur picked up the long-forgotten glass, drained the last of the Firewhisky, then put it in his drawer. He spent a few minutes calming himself before following Hermione out of the shed and back into the house, fervently hoping Molly wasn’t going to notice the changes in him.



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