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"Woman" Series, HG/AW	By : Remarkable Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 45673 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to the Harry Potter fandom and make no money from the publication of this fiction.

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A Woman Scorned

Hermione sobbed her heart out into the faded armchair in the library at Grimmauld Place. That stupid arsehole git of a boyfriend Ron Weasley had just dumped her. Via owl. For Lavender Brown. Today was supposed to be her day to celebrate their graduation and victory over the Dark Lord. Instead, it was one of tripe and misery thanks to that good for nothing redhead, who would rather settle for that skank Lavender than the Know-It-All.

Everyone else seemed to be having a good time at her party except for her. Not one soul seemed to be missing her. In a fit of anger she lifted her wand and blasted a picture of her, Ron and Harry off the mantle. It disintegrated with a satisfying crack against the old timbers as a thousand slivers of glass twinkled obscenely in the firelight and down to cover the floor with their sharp dust. Smirking a bit to herself, Hermione waved her wand and the mess was gone along with the offending picture of her ex.

She stood up and walked to the other side of the room to open a cabinet there. Ah, yes! Good old Sirius had kept his best vintage in that cabinet and no one had bothered to touch it out of respect for his memory. Hermione snorted quietly to herself. She rather thought Sirius would have wanted his friends to have had a drink or two in his memory and not just let all the good spirits go to waste. With a blasé sweep of her hand, she lifted out the oldest bottle of Old Ogden’s she could find along with two crystal tumblers and sauntered back to the chair.

Then she stared in dismay at the second tumbler. Why in Circe’s name had she grabbed a second tumbler? Habit. That was it. She was used to grabbing drinks for two. With a small sob the tears began flowing again.

The sounds of the party became louder as the door to the library creaked open and Arthur Weasley poked his head in the door.

“Hermione? What are you doing in here?” When she didn’t answer he came all the way in and shut the door soundly behind him. Seeing the young girl crying, the patriarch of the family came to kneel down by her and embrace her lightly.

“Hermione! What’s the matter?”

Hermione simply sobbed into Arthur’s shoulder for a good long while as he held her, confused but used to the wailing of women that needed to be held and not chastised. He hadn’t lived with Molly Weasley for this many years without learning a thing or two about spirited women. After her tears had gone she simply clung to him for a time as if her life depended on it.

Slowly, she gratefully accepted the proffered handkerchief while drying her eyes and relating the story of his youngest son’s breakup and betrayal of her trust via owl post, no less. Arthur’s lips were set into a hard, thin line as his heart broke for the girl he considered a part of the family. His foolish son had no idea what he was giving up when he had dumped this bright, vivacious and gorgeous young witch. He could hardly believe that a child of his would be so stupid. Why, if he were twenty years younger himself….

 Oh bloody hell, what am I thinking? Arthur shook his head minutely to rid himself of the sudden image of Hermione and himself involved in a very compromising position. It was simply hard to avoid when he held her so close and her lips looked divine, her blouse pulled down just so and those lovely bosoms heaved against the fabric just so.

Oh, shite! He’d definitely had too much to drink already. Extricating himself gingerly from her arms, he rose and offered his arm so they could get back to the party.

Hermione shook her head and smiled sadly.

“I think I’ll just stay here for a bit. I’d rather not be around a lot of other people.”

He considered what she said before offering, “Do you want me to stay and keep you company?”

That made Hermione smile a bit more and she indicated the two tumblers. “If you don’t mind. It’s nice to just sit and talk without all the bother of other people wanting to see me be happy when all I want is to drink and be miserable.”

Arthur could understand that sentiment. He had felt that way many times before in his life. Settling into the opposite chair, he and Hermione poured drinks and chatted with one another about times gone by and what each of them wished for the future. Arthur was an ear for her troubles and she was a sounding board for his work. It was refreshing to have such a bright young mind to bounce ideas off of. He thought they should do that more often.

Hermione rose and excused herself to the loo. Upon her return, she noticed Arthur had poured another round of drinks.

“For the road!” he grinned, obviously feeling the effects of the evening. Besides, isn’t that what the Muggles always said?

Hermione giggled and accepted his toast. He stood and they clinked their glasses. In a move Hermione had once seen in a movie, she linked arms with Arthur and they each drained their glasses with their drink arms entwined at the elbow. Arthur almost spit out his drink at the absurd gesture that made finishing their last glass of alcohol nearly impossible to imbibe.

When the drinks were gone and Arthur had taken her glass and set it down on the table, he faced her once more and studied the look in her eyes. What he saw reflected there shocked and excited him in ways it never should have.

Desire darkened her pupils and she moved in to embrace him. Unsure as to what had suddenly changed he gave her a chaste hug, not daring to move lest he misunderstand the clear message he had seen there. It was impossible to say the least. He was married and had never thought of Hermione that way. But here she was in his arms, both hands clasped at the small of his back and her head pressed against his chest, eyes closed. She hummed lightly under her breath and squeezed a bit harder. He felt the soft press of her breasts against his stomach that sent an improper reaction to his groin.

Suppressing a groan, he wrapped his arms about her shoulders and rested his chin on top of her head.

“Mr. Weasley- Arthur,” she began, sounding slurred and tentative all at once. “Have you ever wondered what would have happened if circumstances were different than what they are now?”

His mind went blank. Was that a loaded question or what? He answered the only way he knew how. “Different like how, Hermione?”

“Well, if you could travel back in time and do things over, would you do things differently with your life? Do you regret not doing anything you wish you would have?”

She pulled her head back a bit and looked up at him earnestly, the desire still evident there but a bit more subdued. He could handle this question although her arms were still wrapped around his waist. In the back of his mind he noticed the sounds of the party had died down and no one had bothered to check on them. It wasn’t surprising with the amount of booze that had been flowing.

“There are a lot of things I wish I could go back and do over but hindsight is always twenty twenty. Does that make sense?”

She nodded and bit her lower lip, hesitant about her next question. “If there was one thing in the world you could do right now, what would it be?”

And there it was. This nineteen year old, nubile witch who until this very night had been his son’s girlfriend, was fishing to make a move. On him. Arthur Weasley. His head spun and the ground seemed to be giving way a little as he staggered backwards. Hermione was pulled with him and he landed heavily on the sofa at the back of the room. The young witch landed in his lap and suddenly she was pressed against him in an intimate way.

Before he had a chance to respond his lips were filled with soft, pliant skin and the moisture from the tip of her tongue seeking; no, demanding entrance into his mouth. In the alcohol-induced haze fueled by his aching libido that Molly didn’t see fit to satisfy more than once every couple of months these days he complied instantly, his tongue tangling dangerously for dominance against the one eagerly thrusting in and out of his mouth. Her hands were already unbuttoning his shirt with a deftness that belied the state of her well-lubed mind.

Arthur gasped against her mouth when his erection roared to life, pressing painfully against her belly. Every nerve ending in his body was alive as she pushed back his shirt to reveal his chest. Her fingers danced over his nipples and he groaned once more. The frustrated witch took his hands and pressed them against her breasts, the full mounds threatening to spill over the top of her blouse when he pushed against them firmly.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to take the initiative, Hermione pulled back from plundering his mouth and took off her top and bra in one fell swoop. She had an ache that needed to be filled and the man under her was the one that was going to give her the satisfaction she craved so desperately, his marriage be damned. Hermione always thought of Molly as a whining old harpy anyway. Arthur deserved a good hard screw, in her honest opinion, and she was going to give it to him.

Arthur tried to speak but she shut him up with her mouth again while her fingers deftly pried apart his button and zipper on his slacks. Even under their combined weight she wiggled them down his hips, freeing his ample erection to the heat of her skin. He moaned and thrust his hips against her in mindless abandon. He kept telling himself this was a dream he’d soon wake up from and no harm would be done. Oh bloody hell, who was he kidding. He was on the couch in Black’s library with Hermione Granger about to go down on his cock and it was the most fabulous thing he had felt in decades.

Leaving a bit of mystery, Hermione divested herself of only her knickers, leaving her skirt on for good measure. Arthur’s eyes were glazed with amazement as she smirked at him and lowered herself to the tip of his erection. His trembling hands lay gently on either of her hips as she deftly took his erection and swiped it back and forth across the cleft of her soaking pussy to lube it up. His mouth opened and a sound not unlike “Ahhhhh!” erupted from it as she lowered herself onto his cock in one fell swoop.

Instinct took over and he crushed her to his chest with a searing kiss. Her knees straddled either side of him, her hands placed on his broad shoulders as she raised and lowered herself up and down in rapid succession. Hermione let the mewls and soft cries escape from her throat as she rode Arthur’s hard cock with wild abandon. It felt so good to fuck a real man’s cock and she felt the ache in her shooting fire up her belly and into her chest with each downward stroke that hit her g-spot.

Arthur alternated between stroking and twisting her nipples lightly and guiding her hips down harder and harder over his whiskey-soaked cock. He was insanely hard for her but the old fella was a bit under the influence, so it was taking a bit of effort to bring him off. He could feel Hermione’s tight pussy begin to contract and flutter as her breaths came faster and faster. She was moaning in his ear and the sounds she was making drove him wild. Arthur began thrusting up inside of the hot, tight and wet young witch wrapped around his cock and felt his balls start to tighten in a most delicious way.

It was almost too much for him and he was now straining to make himself last. Hermione’s moans turned into a high keening as she threw her head back and gyrated against him, smearing her creamy love juice all over him as she continued to ride him wildly. Feeling her pussy grip his tool like a hot glove sent him careening over the edge and he spilled himself inside of her with a guttural cry, his hands gripping her hips tightly as the firelight gleamed off of her sweaty tits.

As they came down from their fleeting high Hermione collapsed against him, sated and feeling fuzzy and warm. The little tryst was exactly what she had needed to assuage the mournful hurt from earlier in the evening, and was a petty but satisfying revenge on her part. She lazily traded slow, languid kisses with Arthur until she felt his limp cock slide out of her.

“You were magnificent,” he whispered, tenderly cradling her head against his chest.

Hermione drew lazy circles with her index finger over the sparse hair on the center of his chest.

“Thank you Arthur, for everything,” she intoned softly.

Then she rose and waved the pair of them clean. Neither said a word as they regained their clothing save to steal a furtive glance at one other. When they had all of their divestments gathered from hither, she slipped her hand into his larger one one last time and whispered into his ear.

“Until next time.”

He shivered and stared after her as she left him standing alone amongst the deep shadows and dusty tomes of the Black library, wondering what the hell just happened.
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"Woman" Series, HG/AW