Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Folie a Deux	By : SalonKitty Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 206364 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 6

Seconds later, I had arrived in my kitchen with feet frozen upon touchdown of the tiled floor and arms straight out. I stood stock still for several minutes, my hearing attuned to the house for any disturbance. The only sound that greeted me was the drip drip of the faucet and deathly silence. I tightened it with a quick motion then slipped off my shoes into my hands while making my way to the hallway cupboard. I left them by the door before creeping my way up the stairs, mindful to avoid the creaky fourth one from the top. When I reached the landing I glanced around the lit hallway expecting to see Ron waiting for me. My bare feet swished on the carpet with my stomach doing flips all the while, paranoid that I’d be detected on my approach to the bedroom. On the way, I slipped into Rose’s room, leaving the door ajar just enough to give me some light as I tiptoed to her crib. A small glowing ball came from my wand point as I whispered a Lumos to cast over her, listening for her soft breaths. I could see her tiny, chubby fingers gripping the stuffed paw of her nighttime companion as she lay on her belly.

A sudden melancholy stole over me as I watched her. The adrenaline rush had pumped out of me already, leaving me deflated and morose. I moved my light above her head and she stirred a little, causing my guilt to flare even more. There was something so pure about her, as yet untouched by the lies and deceits that would eventually fill her life. The half-truths that she would not only tell those loved ones around her, but the lies she would constantly tell herself to keep the crushing disappointment at bay, banishing it to that encroaching darkness. What was I doing to her? What possible example was I setting for her at this moment? I wailed in my head all the things I wanted to scream aloud. Looking around the room, I felt that war inside me intensify, the sadness returning at such a failure of my morality and yet unable to deny that heat powering my nerves; the lingering touch of Harry’s hands still roaming over my body.

Once I’d made it to our bedroom, I paused a moment outside of the door to take a deep breath. Placing a silencing spell on it first, I pushed the door into the room a hair’s breadth, just enough space to squeeze through without letting too much light in. I turned midway and flicked my wrist at the light switch in the hall, plunging the house into darkness. Ron’s snores followed me into the en suite, but I was determined to get into the shower. I imagined that I still reeked of sex, Scourgify be damned. I used another silencing spell on the shower head before turning it on; only stepping into the bath once the water was hot enough. The cascade of heat battering against the muscles in my back revived those feelings of arousal again, the dull throbbing between my legs not letting me forget for a moment what had just occurred. I felt put through the wringer, but satiated in a way that I hadn’t been in a while, a contentment easing into my soreness. Then I was laughing in great hiccupping gulps, the sound as pathetic as I felt, and I raised my eyes to the ceiling as I pondered once again, what in the fuck was I doing?

This was madness. Completely and utterly.

But I somehow managed to make it to bed without disturbing Ron and I lay there for a good long while before sleep finally took me.

When I opened my eyes the next morning it was still dark in the room, the faintest light breaking through the cracks around the curtains. I could hear Ron’s heavy breathing behind me, a weight pressing on my hip where he had thrown his arm. Lifting his hand gently and then sliding my way out from under him, I was soon on the other side of the room, wrapping myself in my robe before making my way back to Rose. Looking back now, I think I was seeking comfort in the aftermath of what I’d done and Rose was the only presence that could provide it, really. I had needed to see a face that wouldn’t judge me, and in the months ahead, I would return to her again and again during my bleaker moments, finding stability in the simple act of just being her mother.

She was awake already when I stepped inside her room. She’d managed to roll herself onto her back and gave me the happiest gurgle when I came up to stand by the bars of her crib, her little hands and feet reaching out to me before deciding to play with her toes, instead. I beamed back at her; it was automatic, and yet I found myself breathless from the stab of pain that had returned to my breastbone. I closed my eyes for a moment to pull myself together before picking her up to move her to the changing pad, telling myself to focus on my family for the time being and I could fall apart over Harry later on. By the time Ron came downstairs to meet with us for breakfast, my rampaging guilt was under control and I was able to smile up at him easily as he strode into the kitchen.

            “Well, don’t you look much better, Miss Sunshine,” he grinned at me before placing a loud, wet kiss upon my forehead. “Everything go alright at your Mum’s, then?”

Even still I had to force my heart to slow down its maddening trot as I nodded. I hated having to extend lies to a full alibi.

            “What time did you get back, luv? I didn’t even hear you come into the room last night.”

            “Oh, well... I, uh, did a bit of reading downstairs when I got back. I didn’t come up until very late. I’m sorry about all that nonsense, Ron. I’ve just been having a… bad week. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

Ron only gave me another crook of his lips in a warm, understanding face.

            “Don’t worry about it, ‘Mione.”

Not for the first time, I felt that gnawing in my gut that said I didn’t deserve such a good man, certainly not as the father of my children. (Or child, at the time.) But what was done was done, I couldn’t go back and change it, I told myself, and that futility seemed to give me the momentum to keep up the façade that everything was normal, to somehow manage to throw my arms around Ron’s neck when we kissed each other goodbye for the morning as though I were desperate for his return already.

Perhaps I was.

Is it possible to feel so blindly compelled to do something that you virtually feel as though your will has been taken away? Or was that merely the onset of my delusion? I was like those Death Eaters after the first war, wretchedly holding on to their feeble claims that they were put under an Imperio curse and could not be held accountable for their actions. Oh, how easy that would be, to convince myself that Harry had somehow cast a spell on me, in this case a literal one, and that I was only feeling what I was programmed to feel, that I had no culpability in the matter. The ironic part about that, of course, was that Harry would be the first one to call me out on such crap. He was always the one who took the blame head on, who never attempted to rationalize any of his motivations or feelings. Or so I had thought.

I spent the morning going through some of my old case files that had never been closed; finalizing the leftover paperwork while Rose crawled around on her blanket on the floor. I had just put down my quill and was about to head out of my office for some tea when I heard my mobile buzzing on my desk, its body wriggling around as it vibrated. I snatched it up and flipped the top as I made my way to the kitchen, addressing Harry with a rather timid, Good morning.

            “Hey.”

His voice was so burly and grown up, it seemed silly to ever think of him as a boy anymore, especially after the previous night. I would often feel caught between those two Harry’s; the young man I’d spent months on the run with juxtaposed to the adult fully aware of the intense amount of responsibility and scrutiny he was under every minute of his day.

            “Obviously, since Ron didn’t greet me with an Avada Kedavra, I took it to mean he was dead asleep when you got back. This has been the first chance I’ve had to call you, sorry.”

            “Oh, it’s all right. I managed to get a lot of work done this morning while I was waiting. I suppose with my thoughts finally cleared of all of that infernal tension I was actually able to focus on something for a change.”

Harry gave me that slow, sexy chuckle I was getting used to hearing and my lower half seemed to light up like the grid of yellow bulbs over a fairground ride.

            “Yes, well, I’m feeling…rather relaxed myself. Last night was..um…intense.” He paused for a moment. “Are you… all right?” I caught the worried tone in his voice.

            “Well, other than feeling like a scarlet woman all through breakfast, I’m faring as well as I can, I expect. How about you? How’s…work going?”

There was another weighty pause. I thought I could hear the blare of a car horn in the background amidst some shouting.

            “Er, it’s fine. I’m out right now, so I didn’t spend a lot of time with him before I was headed to my post. But that wasn’t what I meant.”

            “Oh? What did you mean? And where are you?”

            “I’m somewhere in Hackney waiting for this bloke to leave his flat already. It’s incredibly boring here at the moment, other than watching the junkies yell at each other on the corner, but at least I get to sit in a car and listen to some music while I blend into the seat covers. And I get to think about you. But getting back to the original question—I was concerned about your well-being. I’m not usually that…pent up. I hope I didn’t hurt you or anything.”

I smiled shyly into the receiver, feeling my face heat up the way it usually did while talking to him.

            “I’m…fine, Harry. Although I will admit to being very sore in certain places, but you didn’t, uh, damage me,” I laughed self-consciously. “I somewhat expected you to be…well, kind of rough. You’ve only been preparing me for the last month, right?” Then I turned into a stammering idiot when I’d realized what I’d just implied. “Oh crap, not—not that—uh, I didn’t mean you were—sorry, that did NOT come out right.”

But he only laughed again, putting me at ease.

            “It’s okay, I get what you meant. I just wanted to be sure that you were doing alright, though. And to…” he went quiet again, thinking over his words. “Well, I’d like to invite you and Rose over for dinner tonight.”

            “You would?” I was surprised at the offer, sounding shocked to my own ears.

            “Yes, well, I know it’s pretty much counter to what I’ve been railing against for the last week, but… I think you were right and that we do need to talk. I know Ron will be busy this evening, since I’m the one that gave him the assignment, and Ginny’s at her mother’s again, so…I promise I won’t be such a prick this time if you agree to come over.”

            “Harry! You didn’t…you didn’t set things up so Ron would be out of the way, did you?”

            “No!” he squawked, “I’d never do that, Hermione. We’re all tied up at the moment watching this suspect every minute we can. It’s—it’s a nasty business, this one; I can’t really go into details. The whole squad is in rotations. I didn’t—that’s just the way it worked out.”

He was starting to sound agitated and I felt terribly embarrassed. I was being presumptuous and I didn’t want him believing that I thought so little of him.

            “I’m sorry,” I rushed. “That wasn’t…oh, shit; I’m not getting anything out right today.”

            “Hermione, you shouldn’t swear like that.”

I was about to protest his chastisement, considering the foul language both he and Ron engaged in consistently, but then his next sentence shut me up.



            “It turns me on when you do it.”

There was an awkward silence that followed for a few beats, my mouth working silently to come up with a response before I finally turned the topic back to his request.

            “Fine. I’ll join you for dinner and we can discuss what we’re going to do about this mess, alright?”

            “Good. I’ll see you about 6:30? I should be done here around—crap! I’ve got to go, Hermione. Till tonight.”

He hung up abruptly and I was sat there staring at the mobile again, wondering what danger he was embroiled in and who he was following. But the notion of talking things out with Harry and the resolution it might bring had settled snugly into my limbs quickly, relief flooding through me, and I fell back against the chair exhaling that last bit of tension as my arms dropped heavily to my sides. I could finally deal with this. I would be completely honest with Harry and this time we’d work something out. My day had suddenly turned hopeful.

To say that I was nervous while getting ready to head to Grimmauld Place was putting it mildly. My skin still tingled at the prospect of being close to him again, and I wasn’t sure who I was more worried about, Harry or myself. Could I realistically have a calm and reasoned discussion with him over dinner without wanting to jump in his lap and snog him senseless? It seemed absurd to think that I might not be able to manage it, that I’d lose control of myself around him, but it was still a pressing concern and I had to put my hands to my cheeks several times while I was dressing to cool my ardour. There was no fooling myself any longer. Regardless of how terrible I felt about cheating on Ron, it did nothing to mitigate the colossal desire I was now harbouring towards my best friend. I’d felt first-hand what Harry was capable of and had found it thrilling. Exhausting and manic, as well, but still thrilling, nonetheless. Again, I turned my concentration on Rose, getting her fitted for her outing while I nattered away about how Uncle Harry had promised to be a perfect gentleman and I would just have to behave myself and not give him any ideas. When we were ready to leave, I gave myself another once over in the full length mirror of my bedroom, obsessing over whether the blouse I had chosen was too tight or too low cut for a moment before I changed it again, finally making my way downstairs.

This time, I firecalled ahead to make sure Harry was home before I went through the Floo. I stepped into his kitchen with Rose secured in the wrap at my bosom; anxious, yet determined not to let it show. He was waiting for me, dressed comfortably in black jeans and a button-down of dark slate that really made his eyes pop. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone I noticed right away, before glancing immediately to the table with my cheeks feeling hot. The dinnerware had already been set and the smells of pan-fried fish, lemon, and jasmine rice surrounded me. I could see something still bubbling on the stove as I unstrapped Rose and settled her against my shoulder, Harry waltzing over to me and then standing awkwardly once he got close enough, obviously unsure how he was supposed to greet me. I took the initiative and reached up to kiss his cheek, if for no other reason than to promote a sense of normality while proving to myself I could do it without accosting the man. Harry bent down and let me, but when he went to press his own lips to my face, they got a bit too close to mine and we both jumped back a bit.

            “Uhhhhh… glad you came. I mean, that you’re here—I’m glad you’re here.” He shook his head with annoyance, but I was amused to see him so disarmed.

            “Yes, well, I could hardly turn down an invitation for conversation and a meal I didn’t have to cook, could I? I think I much prefer this to being ignored for weeks on end.”

Harry looked away with a smirk of his own.

            “Right, well, we saw where that ended up,” his gaze shifted back to me, “Reckoned I’d better try your approach this time.”

            “Hmm, wise move.”

We stood there grinning at each other like fools until Rose suddenly reached for him with a whine. He laughed and took her in his arms, bouncing her up and down as he coaxed her to smile with exaggerated faces. It felt so bizarre standing there watching them, knowing that this was Harry and that I’d had sex with him the night before. Had really great sex, mind you, whereabouts he had given me several orgasms that had caused my eyes to roll into the back of my head. I had shagged Harry Potter, my best mate, and here we were piddling around his kitchen as fine as you please pretending that everything was back to rights. I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around it.

            “I’m just finishing up, so why don’t you two go relax in the drawing room. It’s so warm in here. I thought we’d eat in the kitchen but perhaps I should move us upstairs? I can get Kreacher to bring out the good china.”

But I wouldn’t hear of it. The only reason I put up with Harry keeping Kreacher on was because the old house elf refused to leave what he considered his home. At least now he was receiving a pension.

            “Don’t go to all that bother, Harry. We’re fine down here. I’ll probably be putting Rose to bed in a short while, anyway, before we eat. I figured I’d better feed her before we sit down to dinner.”

Harry’s eyebrows slipped up toward his hairline, looking a little alarmed.

            “I’ve brought a bottle for her,” I quickly added and he gave a short, relieved nod.

Flustered again, I went searching through her bag to get her things ready for her feeding. Rose continued to screech in delight while Harry danced around the room with her. He really was exceptional with children, something that had surprised me when I first saw him with Teddy in the early days after the war. I suppose part of me felt that because he’d not had a loving family to take care of him he wouldn’t feel natural around the little ones, and I still had my memories of him as a rather reticent, shy adolescent, but I was glad to be proven wrong on that count.

I ended up giving Rose her bottle in the drawing room while Harry finished cooking. She was a bit fussy over the switch at first, but soon settled down, and by the time I had burped her and laid her down in the playpen Harry had set up for me, her eyelids were already fluttering closed. I was so relieved that she was finally sleeping on a schedule, as it was one less ordeal for me to contend with. I just had to figure out what to do about the rest of my screwed up life.

When I strolled back downstairs, Harry was in the middle of transferring crocks of food to the table with his hands in festive looking mitts. It was nice to see him so at ease in the kitchen. Sexual proclivities aside, he was certainly no he-man who insisted on women taking traditional roles. Ron was more in danger of perpetuating that stereotype than Harry ever was, it occurred to me. He smiled sweetly as he pulled out a chair for me and for just the briefest second I felt afraid. Afraid that accepting the seat was declaring some sort of implicit assignation, all of a sudden, and that whatever force had erupted between Harry and I was nowhere near done with us.

He quirked a lip at me curiously and I relented my post, finally moving over to where he stood. But once he’d sat across from me and took up the wine bottle to pour me a glass, I had another fresh zing in my belly at the intimacy of the scene. My field of vision narrowed to his hands, steady and even as he dished up the food. Unable to detect the slightest tremble, I’d intuited that Harry was a lot calmer than I could apparently manage, which left me thinking he was not the least bit worried about a repeat of the night before. But whether this relieved or upset me I couldn’t seem to determine, feeling off as I attempted another stab at pretending all was the norm.

            “So… Ginny’s spending the evening with her mum again? Is everything going alright with her?” I heard the edge in my voice and hoped it wasn’t noticeable to him.

            “Oh. Well, yeah, it’s not a big deal or anything. I think Gin just needs the… comfort of home, I guess. You know how Molly is. I… didn’t talk to her for long.”

His gaze turned up from his food and he looked guilty for an instant before his eyes cast down again. We ate in silence for a bit before I hesitantly made another bid for news on how things were going between him and his estranged wife.

“Do you feel like there’s been some progress, at all? She seemed… almost understanding when I spoke to her the other day.”

There was a loud clatter as Harry dropped his fork to his plate and my eyes shot up to his annoyed face.

            “Hermione, why the devil are we talking about Ginny? You’re playing games again. Let’s cut to the chase already. Ask me what you really want to ask.”

I was thrown for a second by his shift in tone, but his demand prompted me to spit out what I’d most been thinking.

            “Did you really want me that much? Or were you just—was it—because of what happened, that you were… you know—needing something and I was just there?”

Harry appeared dumbfounded for a moment before his expression hardened. He pushed his plate back and leaned his crossed arms down on the table.

            “You think I was just giving in to an urge?”

My eyes widened.

            “You weren’t?”

He made a disgusted noise as he turned away, shaking his head in wonder at the wall. When he faced me again, his eyes burned in his head like flames flickering through glass, but otherwise he seemed to be a study in control. I felt terribly nervous all of a sudden, like I’d said about the worst thing imaginable and was about to be flattened for it.

            “Not like you’re suggesting,” he told me coolly. “Do you really think that I would risk destroying the friendships of two of the most important people in my life because I had an itch to scratch? That I couldn’t have just found someone else if I was merely randy? Bloody hell, Hermione, I do have someone else, so what the fuck are you on about?” His voice had risen incrementally the more he talked. “How little do you think of me that you believe I could take such a step so lightly?”

I had put my knife and fork down, too, by then, my hands clasped to each other in my lap to keep them still. I swallowed hard before answering.

            “I’m sorry, Harry, you’re right, that’s not what I—it didn’t come out well. I’m just—I’m still surprised…or a bit in shock, I suppose. The things you said to me last night…I don’t know what to make of any of it. I’m—well, I never imagined that you’d ever held any sort of feelings like that for me.”

He calmed down a fraction as his eyes raked over me, making me blush all the more intensely, and he seemed to contemplate my words carefully before he spoke again.

            “Well, I do, okay? And it’s been a source of pure torture for me, in case you hadn’t noticed. I didn’t want for that to happen…I really didn’t. Even if it was incredible and I would love to be doing it with you again right now, but… that’s neither here nor there. It… it was wrong…very wrong of me to treat you the way I did, to take advantage of you like that. To abuse your trust in me—and Ron’s, too—is unforgivable. I was being selfish. Acting like I had a right to your—your body… but I don’t. I know that, Hermione, you’re not mine, you never were, and my feelings should have remained under wraps instead of taking them out on you the way I have these past few weeks. I wasn’t being fair to you and you had every right to be angry about it. So… for all that I deeply apologize.”

I sat there stunned while he paused momentarily to down a rather large gulp of his wine. His ire had folded into remorse, however, and as he resumed speaking his features took on a sadder appearance.

          “I still don’t know what to do about it, though, which is why I needed to clear the air between us. I don’t get the option of avoiding you, obviously, since you won’t stand for it. That leaves me in a… prickly position. I’m… I don’t know that what happened was enough.” He glared down at his cooling dinner in vexation. “This afternoon, you made it sound like it was something we just had to get out of our system and that now it’s gone. But… that’s not exactly accurate for me.” His voice softened till it was almost a whisper. “I think I might want you even more now.”

My mind was officially blown at such a confession. For maybe the second or third time in my life, I was literally speechless, and I could only stare back at him as though I were awaiting the master of all punchlines to drop. The silence loomed until he finally looked up at me full in the face, his expectation turning to puzzlement then turning to bemusement.

            “Wot, Kneazle got your tongue all of a sudden?”

I had no earthly idea how to respond to him, but I managed to force something out.

            “I—I—I—I don’t know what to say.” And then it just dropped out of my mouth. “I still want you, too.”

God, why couldn’t his eyes have been a muddy brown or something? The way they shone so brilliantly made my heart skip a beat.

            “You probably shouldn’t say things like that, luv.”

            “Well, I thought the whole point of this dinner was to be honest with each other.”

            “No, it was to figure out how to not let last night happen again.”

            “Well, then perhaps you shouldn’t go saying things like what you just did, either.” I had taken hold of my own wine glass and tipped it to my mouth, trying to allay the flush in my face again. I looked to the table as I set the glass down, running my fingers over the wood. “And how are we supposed to not do that? Not let this…thing get the better of us.”

            “I’m not the genius here. You are, remember? Surely you have some idea?”

            “Other than only being allowed in each other’s company with a chaperone present, no, not really.” My tone had gone flat as I swirled my fork in circles around the sauce congealing on my plate; this wasn’t going as I’d hoped. “Harry, this sole is just delicious, you must give me the recipe.”

Harry’s snort took me by surprise. I glanced up to catch the smirk on his face, looking amused in spite of the seriousness of the moment.

            “Sure, Hermione. Why don’t you just come over earlier next time and I’ll show you, yeah? We can cook together, get our hands right in it while I press up behind you and guide you through it. I’ll show you how to filet nice and proper, and you can thank me by throwing your legs over my shoulders and letting me wear you like a feedbag.”

There was a thick silence for a beat or two while we watched for each other’s reactions, my fanny apparently acting independently judging by the moistness between my legs.

            “That’s not helping, Harry.”

His eyes stayed fixed on my face, a slight hint of his mirth still evident in the corner of his mouth. But that stare… I couldn’t read what was going on in those depths.

            “No, it’s not, is it? And yet I’m compelled to say it anyway. Why is that, I wonder?”

            “I don’t know, Harry. Why don’t you tell me? Why are you so… ? What’s changed for you? Where did this dogged insistence that you can’t control yourself around me come from?” I tried to laugh to convey how the very idea of it was ludicrous, but what came out was rather choked up, sounding more disgusted than anything.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his midriff as he pondered my questions. Finally, he let out a lengthy sigh and then casually shrugged his shoulders before speaking.

            “You’re different now.”

I didn’t buy it, though. There was no way he could convince me the shift in my personality was in any way desirable. I’d turned as moody as him and it was driving all those around me to distraction; most of all, myself. He was going to have to do better than that.

            “I don’t think I’ve changed that much at all, Harry. I admit I’ve been going through a rough patch, but that’s hardly sexy unless you enjoy the company of an uber-bitch. I thought your preferences were for the reverse.” Which sounded logical to me at first based on his inclinations, but then thoughts of Ginny and Narcissa appeared and I started to wonder if I had been looking at this all wrong. Certainly there seemed to be a disconnect between Harry’s choices in women versus his sexual profile.

            “Perhaps. I do think you’ve changed a bit as you’ve got older—you’re a little less uptight—but it’s true, it’s not a massive switch or anything. I don’t know, maybe it’s just that I… notice things about you that I didn’t see before.” He was playing with the stem of his wine glass as he spoke but then he squint his eyes and peered at me as though he had, in fact, just noticed my presence at the table.

            “There’s something about you, Hermione. It sort of… calls to me. It was weird the first few times it happened; I thought I was imagining things. But then I started to think back… back to when we were kids and then to the times we were alone, especially when you and I were on the run after Ron bailed on us.”

He’d leant in closer again by then, his face all the way forward as he regarded me, still holding my gaze.

            “You get kind of nervous around me, do you realize that? Particularly when I’m pissed off…that really cranks up your…need to appease me, I guess.” His eyebrow flicked up on the word ‘appease’ and I felt like I’d been found out all of a sudden, which made for a curious sensation to my insides. “It’s like you have this imperative to keep me happy, or something. It actually used to annoy me at school and I decided a while back that you were just uncomfortable with confrontations, but that didn’t really go very far in explaining you and Ron, did it? And then… I started to see it come out in situations that were tense for other reasons, especially lately. It seemed to me that it was a behaviour you fell into specifically when you were with me. Like, this was something that was unique to the two of us.”

He paused for a moment, letting the full effect of his words sink in. While my brain scrabbled to come up with some sort of argument to negate what he was suggesting, I couldn’t help feeling as though he’d stumbled on to the explanation for why I’d been feeling the way I had around him recently. The cold, hard fact was...he was giving voice to a truth I couldn’t deny.

            “I really like that, Hermione. I mean, I really, really like the way you are around me. It sets me off rather powerfully, and you send my mind into places...” He let the thought hang in the air as his mouth twisted into that lascivious grin that had thrown me before. “Well, let’s just say that last night... it was really just a taste of the things I’d like to do to you.”

If I’d been another sort of person, perhaps I would have taken that moment to have leapt onto the table and then scooted over to drop myself into his lap, literally and figuratively, knocking dinnerware and glasses to the floor in my haste. But I wasn’t like that; I thought very hard and very long about my actions on most days, and yet in that instant I felt as impulsive as Harry. I wanted to give in to him, there was no question, but I felt frozen where I sat, my nipples so pointy I thought they might tear through my shirt.

The moment was disrupted the next second, however, when a loud rumbling came from my purse on the counter.

Both of our heads swivelled to the offending beacon currently emitting such a noise, and then Harry turned to me, his expression quizzical as he’d been under the impression he was the only one who ever called me, outside of my parents. This bell was potentially a cause for alarm. He stood up before I could clamber out of my seat and in two strides made it to the end of the counter where he scooped up the handles and swung the purse back towards the table, holding it out to me as he walked back to his chair. I grabbed it as soon as he was close enough and fumbled for my mobile. It was still vibrating obnoxiously when I turned it to see the numbers on the face of it, none of which identified the caller. I’d answered the phone immediately suspicious.

            “Hullo?” My brows were creased downward to the centre of my forehead and I saw Harry’s eyes widen with disquiet.

            “ ’Mione? Is that you?” I heard someone shouting, recognizing in the next second the voice of my telephone-shy husband.

            “Ron? What’s the matter? What’s happened?” I looked towards the stairs listening for Rose, as if something might have happened to her and Ron had somehow gleaned the news from wherever he was currently.

            “What?” He was still speaking excessively loud, although I knew he could hear me just fine. “Can you hear me, Hermione?”

            “Yes,” I all but shouted back. “What is it, Ron? Has something happened?”

            “Oh no, no; sorry. I wanted to tell you..” then I heard him mumble something away from the phone, to someone standing close by. “Hey, I wanted to let you know that I might be later than I expected. Parsons, here, leant me his fellytone (I never bothered to correct him, anymore) since we’re not anywhere near a Floo-powered fireplace. I know I told you I’d be back before midnight and I didn’t want you to worry.”

My mouth hung open at the inexplicable interruption, wondering rather nonsensically if Ron had felt something, as though the desire hovering between Harry and myself was shooting out its own force into the universe and it had pierced Ron’s cognizance. My God, I had started thinking like Luna, and I berated myself mentally while I shook my head in disbelief.

            “That’s fine, Ron. I’ll most likely be asleep, anyway.” But he seemed to feel the need to explain.

            “Right, it’s just that things have been wonky with this git from the get-go. We’ve been on the move all night. Might be early morning before I see you, luv.”

            “Okay, then. Well, thank you for letting me know.” By then, I was eager to be off the line, still rattled by the uncanny timing.

            “It’s so weird to talk to you without seeing you. Are you still at Harry’s?”

I looked sharply to Harry’s face. I hadn’t said anything to Ron about coming over. Harry looked in askance with an outward gesture of his hands but I shook my head again with a roll of my eyes. Harry’s guilt was thicker than mine, apparently.

            “Yes, we’re just finishing dinner. I’ll be leaving here soon, Rose is already passed out.”

            “Alright, luv. Tell Harry I’ve got some great news for him tomorrow.” Then there was more murmuring to his partner and a few random beeps before the line went dead. I stared at the mobile in my hand in consternation.

            “What was that all about?” Harry finally asked.

            “Um, Ron had to tell me that he’d be home sometime in the wee hours of the morning. I gather his partner is Muggleborn? Supposedly, their surveillance has been quite active this evening. He said he’d have some great news for you in the morning.”

I glared at him in silent accusation but he didn’t bother to acknowledge it, immediately focusing on the case, instead.

            “Yeah, he’s with Parsons, tonight. I wonder what they found out. Did he say where they were?”

            “No, Harry, he didn’t. Wot, did you ask him permission or something before you asked me over?” I couldn’t quite understand why I was annoyed by that detail, but heat bloomed throughout my body, nevertheless. I was behaving as though it were some kind of betrayal.

Harry seemed surprised by my sarcasm, his expression piqued.

            “Of course not; don’t be silly, Hermione. I simply mentioned that I planned on inviting you to dinner before we left the office. He was all for it.”

            “Oh, right, I’ll bet. I’m sure he’d have been thrilled if you’d told him why you were asking me over. Really, you’re not too bright when it comes to matters of deceit, are you, Harry?”

My tone had turned to flat-out contempt and I was a bit confused by it. But then the thought occurred to me that Harry had asked me over with absolutely no intention of shagging me to the point of delirium as he’d done the previous night. The disappointment was lodged in my chest like a brick and yet I was horrified that I’d been hoping for it since I got there. Harry watched me carefully. At first, his expression was beleaguered by my outburst, but then settled into something approaching curiosity.

            “Would you have preferred it if I’d lied?” he asked me softly. That seemed to set me off even more.

            “You didn’t have to lie, for God’s sake; you didn’t have to say a bloody thing. Honestly, you have heard of discretion before, have you not? How’d you even get Squad Leader if you don’t understand the simple concept of information on a need-to-know-basis.”

Once again, his reaction caught me off guard, his laugh ringing throughout the room.

            “Sure, luv. I’ve heard of that before. Are you done now, Snape?”

            “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

I felt white hot with my anger then but not so far gone that I didn’t notice the way his eyes darkened at my voice. He didn’t reply, however, but got up and began clearing the dirty dishes away, as though he hadn’t heard me. I watched him move about for a few minutes, to and from the kitchen to the sink, before I finally stood up with a huff and started helping. I was midway to the counter with the remains of dinner on its platter when he turned and pulled it out of my hand, setting it aside before moving to take hold of my waist and push me backwards to the emptied table. My bum hit the edge of it but he leaned over me, his nose inches from mine and my back straining as I dropped my hands to the table top to hold up my weight. My breath felt like it was trying to exit a pinprick in my throat as I imagined the sensation of his entire body pressed to mine. But Harry held himself above me just enough to tease me. When he spoke, his voice shot sparks to my bits.

            “What’s got you bothered, Hermione? Had you been hoping I’d fuck you again?”

I couldn’t say anything, but a whimper escaped me upon hearing the way he uttered the word ‘fuck’. He continued to talk to me in that low, dangerous rumble, and I was already sweating, feeling desperate and frazzled.

            “You know how much I want to. Why do you keep taunting me like this? God, I can smell it on you, what you need, and I want to give it to you so much.”

His head bowed until it leaned into my breasts and I heard his sharp intake of breath. He’d slipped his hand under the small of my back, to help keep me up, but I could still feel my legs shaking from the strain, as well as the nervous anticipation that had run its course through me. When his teeth closed around a nipple, through cloth and silk, my whole body seized up and reached towards him as I yelped. My crotch was near his but he pulled back just enough that again I was without relief, wanting to cling to him but afraid to ask for it.

            “If we do this,” again there was a hiss of breath as his lips moved closer to my neck, “it won’t be the end of it. You know this. It’s... it’s an invitation to disaster, Hermione. I need you to be the strong one right now.”

And there it was. He’d left the decision up to me, again. Harry just wasn’t going to let me take the easy route, to let me believe that I had been overtaken, that I was sexually bullied into an affair. He wanted me to be the one to say no, and I knew that I had to, that I should, that it was the right thing to do, but that mission statement was having a hard time penetrating the sheer overload on my senses, let alone my ability for critical thinking. At that moment, the only thought that managed to formulate in my muddled brain was that if Harry’s cock wasn’t inside of me in the next few minutes I was going to be quite devastated; possibly even hysterical.

So I reached up to take hold of his neck, my hand sliding around the back of it in a tight grasp. My body surged forward but by then it was all over.

Harry had grabbed hold of me with both hands wrapped behind my waist, pulling my legs apart as he pressed us together, finally. As soon as his lips brushed against mine my hand left the table and I gripped him so tightly behind his neck that I worried I might hurt him. Harry’s kiss wasn’t the wild, uninhibited attack from previously, but slower, deeper, more methodical, even. He breathed into my mouth to open it, his tongue exploring every inch, licking my teeth, sucking my bottom lip, in constant movement as one hand shifted to hold the back of my head. My legs were wrapped around him and I felt transported as I clung to Harry, revelled in the hardness of his body flush with mine. But I was eager for more and I groped him shamelessly, my hands trying to curve around his bum while our mouths were still fused. He was walking us backwards again, this time toward the sink, and I could feel one of his hands jerk out and fumble around for something. I realised he had regained his wand when I could feel him step into the familiar formation of the three D’s. I pulled back instantaneously, aware that there was another person in the house besides Kreacher.

            “Wait! I—I should check on Rose first. Make sure she’s still asleep.”

Harry took a moment to absorb what I was saying before nodding his head; dropping me to the floor to stand on my feet but I was rather ungainly in the landing. My legs still shook but I brushed my hands down my front to get hold of myself.

            “Meet me up in my room,” Harry murmured before he let me turn to the doorway leading upstairs. I heard him Apparate behind me as I made my through the arch, and once I was back in the drawing room I could already hear his footsteps overhead. I leaned over Rose’s makeshift crib to reapply her blanket, watching her breathe in and out as if the whole world had no effect on her whatsoever. For one single, solitary second, I had the sudden sense to leave, to pick her up and dash out of that house. But then I heard Harry clear his throat and the thud of a belt buckle being dropped to the floor. That had my feet moving to the stairs. I kicked off my flats before taking them two at a time, practically. Once I was near his bedroom door, though, I slowed down; nervous again by the feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wanted Harry so badly that it was painful, and yet the prospect of being with him again was terrifying. What path were we heading down? I had no idea what I was doing, a concept that was at once desirable and repugnant.

When I stepped through the doorway, he was waiting for me on the bed. He’d undressed, laying there nude with one arm casually slung over his head against the pillow. One leg was crooked, his foot flat on the cover, and I finally got in a good ogle at his body. It was much how I’d expected, having seen him shirtless, even down to his pants, in years past. But of course my attention was drawn to the one area I’d always been curious about. Bugger, I thought out of the blue, Harry’s cock would be gorgeous. My last hope that this wasn’t going to happen disappeared with a poof. He was perfect and beautiful and I wanted him utterly.

            “Are you going to stand there all night gaping at my knob, or were you planning on joining me at some point?”

I’m sure I looked like a cooked lobster if the instant burning in my face were any indication, but my embarrassment seemed to only endear me to him as I stumbled through an apology and made feeble attempts to not look upon the object in question. The heretofore noted sexy chuckle was back, leaving me breathing quite heavily before I’d even made it to the bed.

            “God, I love it when you blush. You’re, like, instantly fuckable when you get all shy like that, Hermione, no matter what’s going on in that moment.”

            “Ha-rry,” I intoned, trying to admonish him but not doing a very good job as I’m sure my cheeks reddened even more.

            “Makes things really difficult when we’re in public, I don’t mind telling you. You’ve been the catalyst of more than a few fevered, mid-day wanks in the loo.”

I had to look away to the wall from the heat suffusing every pore, feeling like an orchid in a greenhouse, but then his hand was taking hold of mine and pulling me to him, stretching me until I had to kneel on the bed and put my hands to either side of him. His hands were around my face, touching me, fingers stroking my eyebrows, the side of my nose, and then those lips were on mine again. I moaned into his mouth and the longing there surprised me. When he dragged his head back, he slipped off his glasses, tossing them cavalierly to the nightstand, and I could see his eyes were clouded with his want, mirroring my own, I expect. Yet, when he spoke it was with a clear demand.

            “Take off your clothes.”

I didn’t move right away, just the tone of his voice injecting a sharp thrill into my nerves. If possible, those eyes sans glasses were even more vivid as he beheld me, and I was transfixed by the sheer power within them. But then his gaze shifted to my body, scanning me, and I felt his urgency for me to start. I stood up, made one step away from the bed, and began to unbutton my slacks. They were loose fitting, quite elegant. I’d dressed up for him again, wanting to look my prettiest. I let them drop to the floor and then took a foot from each puddle of the legs, nudging the entire article off to the side with a toe. My blouse I tore over my head and dropped to the floor just as insouciantly. I stood a few moments and stared back at him in my bra and panties, probably sucking in my belly and aping a fearlessness that wasn’t there, my palms sliding down my hips like a model in those lingerie commercials. I felt shy under his watchfulness, but I wanted him to see me as... well, I don’t know what, actually. Some sort of sex kitten, perhaps, a woman who channelled men’s desire with a glance, like his wife. But the sudden insertion of Ginny into my thoughts had an immediate physical reaction, and my eyes cast down to the carpet while I dropped my arms as though I were an actor discarding a role.

            “Keep going,” I heard him murmur. Then his voice grew louder. “Come closer. I want to be able to see all of you.”

I did, my knees pressed against the edge of the bed as I reached behind me to undo the clasp of my bra, moving without thought. Before I even had it off, Harry was slipping his grasp behind one knee and bringing it forward so I had to get on the mattress with him, catching my other leg in his hand as I went to kneel and directing me to straddle his lap. Hands slid slowly over my bum as I let the straps from my garment fall down my arms, the inside of a bicep pressing against my breasts to keep the cups in place. I was still playing demure, but that didn’t stop him. Harry was already using his teeth again, this time to tug the silk away from my body and leave me uncovered. There was a slight growl in the back of his throat as he pulled the bra free, using one hand to throw it aside. Then he was licking and teasing me, hot breath over each nipple hardening them to stone, my head swimming in the sensation, and I arched my back in order to enjoy every bit of it, pressing my tit into his mouth.

He twisted us both then, dropping the weight of me to the bed before his body was on mine, that thick, rigid cock making its presence known with its heaviness resting on my pubic bone, my knickers just about soaked through at the feel of it. He was kissing my neck and shoulder while his hands stroked my skin all over, wherever they could reach. I kept making little cries, whimpers and groans, a detail that would embarrass the shit out of me the next day every time I reflected on the moment, but right then I couldn’t think about much else except how wonderful he felt.

            “Mmm, you feel so good,” he mumbled into my arm and I smiled into his hair, breathing in the scent of him as I began to relax a little more.

This was Harry, after all; there was no need for coyness. I had always been completely myself around him.

It seemed as though he had read my thoughts, because the next instant he was off the bed and taking my knickers with him. And then he was spreading my legs, moving me upward and rearranging me until I was perpendicular with the bed, demanding that I grab hold of the bars of his headboard.

I got out one breathless ‘whaaaa-t?’ before his fingers were deep inside me and then I was doing what he asked, my arms overhead as I fumbled to wrap my grip tightly around the wooden dowels. He plunged those fingers in and out of me, spreading them apart as they rubbed against slickened walls, his mouth once again enclosing over a tit, only this time he didn’t tease as much as torture—biting me, sucking on the skin painfully enough to leave marks, his tongue dancing around each nipple until I was breathless and writhing under him like I was caught in a Cruciatus. He used his teeth and the hard palate of his mouth to effectively gnaw on me, the suction he created leaving me raw, even more so than those first few weeks learning to breastfeed Rose. After one particularly painful gnash, I glanced up, my head off the bed as I gripped the headboard tighter, and saw him watching my response rather critically.

            “Does that hurt?” he asked, sounding dark and dangerous with eyes flashing.

I nodded my head.

            “Don’t stop,” I whispered.

            “Fuck,” he breathed before continuing, but now he had moved on to the soft flesh of my belly, one hand nudging my legs further apart and a thumb now rubbing circles on the swollen nub at the top of my sex as those fingers worked to ratchet up my arousal. By the time his mouth had arrived at my quim, it appeared he had another goal in mind, as he’d extended his left arm to my own. But I didn’t know what he wanted me to do and so I remained still.

            “Give me your hand, ‘Mione,” he commanded. There’s no other way to describe it, really. It certainly wasn’t a request.

As soon as I did, he was moving my hand to the space between my legs where he was busily engaged. Just as I was about to grow alarmed, he stopped long enough to put my fingers in his mouth, sucking on them wetly enough to coat them with spit, and then I felt his fingers removed from the depths of my twat as he directed the replacements. I froze.

            “Harry, what do you think you’re doing?” I croaked.

            “Put your fingers inside of yourself,” he insisted.

I was dumbfounded. This was not something I’d ever done in the presence of another human soul, not even my husband. In fact, I’d not done it much at all, only at my most fevered moments, preferring to stimulate my clitoris during masturbation rather than full-on penetration.

            “Please say you’re joking.”

Harry gave an amused snort.

            “I want to see you play with your pussy.”

I blinked a few times. I’d never even heard him say that word before.

            “I don’t really do that,” I finally replied, my voice small.

He tilted his head as he regarded me, a smile still curved on his face.

            “Really?” He sounded doubtful.

            “It’s—well, it’s rather silly. And—I don’t know how to describe it effectively, but...it feels weird to have a...a sense of touch while inside of your body.”

I’m not quite sure how I managed to be that articulate when I felt anything but. His smile didn’t leave, however, only broadened.

            “So you’ve tried it at least once, then? And it freaked you out? That’s...kind of hot. But I want you do to it anyway... for me.”

My skin felt warm again and I could do nothing but stare back at him until he tipped his head to the other side, looking quite earnest.

            “Please? We’ll do it together. I promise you’ll get in to it this time.” But I was still uncertain. He tried to coax me with another glib smile. “Come...on.”

I licked my lips; chewing on the bottom one before I eventually gave in. My arm went lax as I let him palm my hand to press down to my crotch. I stayed pliant as he singled out the middle finger and then rubbed it up and down the centre, pushing ever so slightly until I’d breached the gash. I sucked in my breath hard as he tucked it in deeper, everything feeling so hyper-intense it was like being turned inside out, or listening to nails scratching on chalkboard, at the very least. But when I could feel him slip his own finger alongside it, I jolted straight up into a sitting position.

            “Heyyyy, calm down, I’ve got you.”

One hand pushed me down until I was flat on my back again, my breaths harsh and panting as though I were getting ready to hyperventilate. He murmured more encouragements until I had relaxed somewhat, concentrating on the way Harry was sliding both digits back and forth so slowly, using another one of my fingers to explore and slide around the outside area. Then he was leaning his head down to nibble on my hip, making his way across my pelvis with succulent kisses. His tongue ran across my clitoris and my body jerked involuntarily again, but it felt good, I let my finger keep moving. When his mouth pulled away, I mewled in disappointment.

            “Let’s try another one, now,” he told me patiently, spreading my legs wider as he fit me with a third finger. I felt so full and attuned to every little sensation in my body that I couldn’t close my mouth, my pants getting louder and sounding desperate for a glass of water. It took me a moment to register that he’d removed his finger and that it was just me wanking furiously, but as soon as I comprehended that little detail I was also noticing the way he was swirling the pad of his thumb over the opening further down. I froze again.

            “Harry.” I was startled but I sounded dulled, my voice had gone deep.   I pulled up my head again to see what he was doing but he gave me that reassuring expression once more, as though he had it all under control.

            “Don’t worry, you’re doing great. It’ll feel even better this way. Just let me get you ready and it won’t even hurt. Promise.”

The next several minutes were an altogether new experience for me. I’d never imagined that one could find licking another person’s arsehole erotic, but his tongue knew exactly what spots to focus on and I had a hard time denying that it was extremely pleasurable once I’d taken a few calming breaths. He had to prompt me to continue wanking I was so caught up in what he was doing, my legs starting to ache as he ordered me to keep them spread wide. When he slid two fingers back into my cunt while my own were still buried inside, I almost choked, but then they were gone and he seemed to be using the wetness coating them to lubricate the other entrance. As soon as he was only partway in, I moaned so long and deep that I actually wondered who the hell was making that noise. It just sounded too wanton and raw to be coming from me.

But between his tongue and his fingers and his mutterings of approval, it didn’t take very long before I was being filled extensively at both ends. He was using one hand to hold on to mine, pushing me to fuck myself harder while the two that were snug in my rear kept in time. I wasn’t holding anything back by then and my screams and squeals of pleasure were shameless.    By the time he slipped his mouth around the engorged little nub of nerves demanding attention, I have to be honest, he got in one suck and I came in an instant. Explosively. I could see stars streaked across my vision as I opened my eyes and I think I might have been mashing my cunt to his face pretty hard.

It took me a fair amount of time to come down from the high after that and when I did, Harry was holding me tightly, his face above mine and the biggest grin plastered there.

            “Sweet Merlin, you’re incredible,” he declared. “You’re so fucking responsive, babe, you’re driving me crazy.”

I couldn’t answer because he was kissing me all over my torso again with wet smacks and whispers of what he wanted to do to me, his mouth doing some wonderful things. Plus, I was still reeling from being referred to as ‘babe’. As soon as he was shifting his body so that he could loom over me, I was overcome with desire for him again, knowing that he was getting ready to enter me and wanting more than just the orgasm it would bring, wanting to feel him moving in me, to be locked to him in the most intimate way possible.

And then he was holding tight to the outsides of my forearms, a few inches from my wrists, pressing them into the bed as he fucked me. He started off slow enough, but as soon as I was meeting his every thrust with my own his pace sped up until he was pumping hard enough to slam the bed back and forth. And he kept saying the dirtiest things to me. Things like...

            “God, Hermione, I want to fuck you until you cream all over my dick so much it runs down my thighs.”

Then he’d cajole me into talking like that, too, wanting to hear me use filthy language.

            “Tell me how much you want your cunt to get fucked, luv. Say it just like that. Say, ‘fuck my cunt, Harry’.”

I complied, of course, and the minute he dragged my legs up to hang over his shoulders, I was babbling like an idiot, telling him whatever he wanted to hear as long as he kept ploughing me like he was attempting to punch his cock into my chest. I really don’t know how Rose slept through it all, what with me practically shouting the walls down when I came again.

It was harder to float down the second time. I felt plundered. Harry was breathing heavy beside me after he’d rolled off, the back of his hand resting across his face, and I tipped my head far enough to the side that I could watch his chest move up and down. Once we’d both collected ourselves, though, he turned to me with an unexpected sadness. His hand reached out to stroke my cheek.

            “Well, that plan went tits up, didn’t it?”

He didn’t need to explain what he meant. I felt the shame course through me, as well.

            “I’m sorry,” I gasped, “I didn’t—I can’t seem to...”

            “I’m hardly the one that you need to apologize to, Hermione.”

My shame burned ever brighter and I was instantly consumed by it. Tears pricked my eyes as I turned away from him, feeling like the scum of the earth while Ron’s face hovered behind closed eyes.

            “Hey,” Harry was dragging my chin back to look at him, “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, honest. I don’t..” He looked miserable all of a sudden. “I don’t know what the fuck to do about this.”

Another complex sigh escaped him as he burrowed his nose into my neck. I could hear him mumbling from under my sweaty hair.

            “This is all so fucked. And the worst part is I want more. I want you again.”

I slipped my fingers into his soft locks, grabbing hold of the back of his head, already wanting him to take me as soon as he’d confessed it though I was loath to admit it. I was unhinged is all I can say in my defence. When Harry pulled himself up to look me in the face again, his eyes sparkled.

            “You know I love you, right?” I could only nod at him, not trusting myself to speak.

            “I would never want to do anything to hurt you, Hermione. Or Ron. Or Ginny, for that matter. Bugger, I don’t want to hurt anyone! I just,” and then his mouth was right above mine again, the emotion in those eyes piercing my heart, “I need you.”

I melted into the kiss. I always mock women who say that, but it’s really the only proper word to describe what it felt like. Kissing Harry was like tapping into some mystical power source. He was essentially feeding me the carnal equivalent of an electrical surge. Every nerve in my frame was pulsing, already primed for greater wattage.

I groaned his name aloud when he pulled away from me again, my arms still encircled around his neck.

            “You have to think of something, Hermione.” Each word was punctuated with a kiss to various parts of my body. I could hardly be expected to think of my full name, at the point. Harry wasn’t playing fair.

            “I—I should leave.” It was a tepid suggestion, lacking conviction.

            “No, not yet,” he moaned and I was powerless to move.

            “I want to bury my face between your legs for a few hours and make you come on my tongue again and again.”

I slapped him hard on the shoulder, trying to jar us both into sanity.

            “What the hell am I supposed to say to that?” I demanded. “You’re not making this any easier, you know.”

Harry laughed, probably realising how preposterous we were sounding.

            “You’re right, of course, but I can’t help it. You’re so... I don’t think you quite understand just how much you affect me.”

Then it was my turn to laugh, though it was mirthless. I felt he’d given me a pretty good idea.

            “Harry, we’re grown, responsible adults. We can’t let this continue to happen. It shouldn’t matter how affected we are. We need to learn some self-control.”

            “Says the woman who keeps coming on to me,” he quipped.

            “What? I—I wasn’t coming on to you!” I don’t know how I could have said that with a straight face, but did I mention I was slightly delusional?

The next second, he was pinning me down again, his body moulded against mine as it was flattened to the bed.

            “Are you sure about that, luv?”

I could feel his hard-on pressing into my thigh and my breasts instantly wanted attention. His lips were hard when they pressed against my mouth, but I reached for him just the same, my legs already quick to open and let him settle between them. His shifted so his cock was pressed into the nexus of my thighs, but when he looked down at me again, he appeared wistful instead of lust-driven.

            “You know the story about Ron saving my life at the lake, right? When we were in the forest?” His breathing was speeding up again.

            “Yes.” I wrinkled my nose at the odd introduction. Could the non-sequitur be any more inappropriate to the scene? “I’ve only heard it about a dozen times, Harry. You told him you thought of me as a sister, and he was so relieved, it’s when he realised he was in love with me, whatever. That’s hardly much of a consolation though, is it? Obviously, things are very different now.”

            “But that’s just it. I—I sort of lied at the time. Not that I didn’t feel platonic towards you,” he rushed, “but there had been times...before I even went out with Ginny...that I—had thoughts. My first stiffy was due to you, after all.”

I turned away from him, feeling awkward by the discussion. I didn’t really want to talk about Ron and yet I was curious all the same. When I spoke aloud I sounded annoyed. I had actually liked the idea of him going down on me for an hour.

            “What are you on about?”

            “When we rescued Sirius from the tower, remember? The two of us astride Buckbeak as we flew over the castle? I could feel how terrified you were.”

            “And that got you excited?” I asked him dully.

            “Well, not because you were terrified, exactly, but more that I got to take care of you, in a way. I mean, I had your burgeoning breasts pressed right into my back to contend with, so that certainly amplified everything I was feeling at the time, but it was mostly the way you clung to me. I wanted to protect you. And then all of a sudden I was aroused. Shouldn’t that mean something?”

But I remained droll.

            “I don’t know, Harry. Perhaps you have a fetish for Hippogriphs?

He slapped my thigh. Hard.

            “I’m being serious, Hermione. I think there’s more to this than what it seems on the surface.”

            “Oww! Well, I don’t think there’s much chance of us figuring it out tonight!”

            “Oh, aren’t you a feisty one? No need for shouting, young lady.”

            “You didn’t seem to mind it earlier when you were ‘fucking my cunt’,” I mocked.

He went still at the retort, a gleam in his eyes and his grin wicked.

            “Now, now, watch yourself...I might get the impression someone is begging for a spanking with cheek like that.”

            “Ah, so it finally comes out.” I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m surprised you managed to make it this long before bringing it up.”

            “Oh, so you were expecting it, were you? Is that why you wouldn’t leave me alone?” The distinctly unfeminine and rather graceless snort that came from me crudely suggested what I thought of that notion. “You don’t think you deserve it, then?”

I stared at him a few moments, utterly deadpan.

            “Cornish Pixies will fly out of my arse before I let you bend me over your knee bare-bottomed, Harry Potter.”

            “Oooh, really? I’d like to see that,” and he nudged my hip with the heel of his hand as if to turn me over. “Damn, you’re getting me all turned on again.” His hands were quick to spread my legs, the pads of his fingers sliding all over my skin invitingly.

            “Harry! I’ve got to go home! You can’t keep me here all night!” My protests were already breathy, however, as I let him roll me on to my belly so he could nestle his head in the crook of my thighs. His next words were quite muffled but I wasn’t paying much attention to them, anyway, at that point.

It was another hour before he was done with me. He’d propped me onto my knees while insisting I keep the side of my face pressed to the bed, and whatever delicate business he had performed down there for the remainder had me moaning and wailing like the most earnest of trollops. Truly shameless I was, on the verge of obscene, but I didn’t care, apparently. Whether it was his tongue or his fingers or his cock, I moved on them with avidity and need, my heart and my cunt feeling as though it were one organism.

And somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I suspected that Harry was right, that there was more to our infatuation with each other than merely the sexual taboo it represented. But I wasn’t interested in thinking that night. I wanted only to delve into the unflagging sensation he brought me to over and over, his salacity an unrelenting crash of waves pounding the shores of my body.

The sex was spectacular. The guilt after it was over was crippling.

It was so late by the time Rose and I arrived home that I was in a full panic as I leapt to the carpet of the sitting room. It was reckless and foolish of me; Ron’s plans could have changed at any point in the evening. But even as I rushed to get Rose into her crib, using a Mobilicorpus charm so I wouldn’t jostle and wake her, I felt my depression returning. Harry had been right about one thing: I was going to have to be the strong one. I should have taken heed of his avoidance solution and followed suit but I had been the proverbial cat with a problem keeping its nose out of things. And I would pay dearly if I didn’t stop. We both would.

So I lay there waiting for my husband to return home and promised myself I’d end this madness, regardless of what Harry had warned earlier. But my heart was heavy as I wondered what would become of our relationship in the aftermath. Would it be possible to even be around him without recalling the talent and dexterity of those implements of destruction he called a mouth and two hands? Would I have to cut him out of my life to stave off temptation? I couldn’t bear the thought of it. I didn’t think I could do it. Supposedly, though, according to a few people, I was pretty brilliant. I simply had to come up with a plan to keep me from wanting him.

I was doomed.

A/N: So, I had most of this written at the beginning of the week, but I had a hard time just capping off the chapter. I was in one of those moods where you go back to edit and feel like everything you've just written is utter shit. I suppose I struggled a bit with the dialog this time; I was worried it sounded too sporadic, too disjointed. I hope it made some sense.

Thanks to Daye for looking this over and keeping me British. (Oh, and for the Americans, Hermione's 'fanny' is slang for vagina.

I have a fest fic I need to write and I'll be going to New York in a few weeks to visit my son, so I can't promise that I'll have this updated in a timely manner, but I will be sure to make the next chapter chock full of action and smutty goodness for those of you who care to wait. Thanks so much for the reviews.
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