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
- 8
- 9
A/N: Didn't mean to take so long with this one. It's a hectic season. This chapter is not as long as my usual posts, but it's an in-betweener, as big stuff is looming ahead. I don't anticipate taking three months to get the next chapter up, though, so I hope this one's enough for now. The reviews are really great and keep me going, so thanks!

Chapter 9

My heartbeat had started a trot at his words, my mouth going dry, but I attempted to keep my composure in the face of Ron’s declaration, blinking back at him as if I’d just crawled out of a dark cave. I could only imagine what had prompted his notion of an intervention, and none of the scenarios that popped into my head at that moment were the least bit comforting.

            “What’s the meaning of this, Ron? Is Harry in some sort of trouble? Everyone thinks he’s brilliant at his post; how on earth could his job be in jeopardy?”

            “Well, he is brilliant, but at the rate he’s going, he’ll be burning all kinds of bridges with just about every supporter he’s got. Shacklebolt is about ready to kick his arse.”

I was taken aback by the news. Harry was a lot of things, but a sloppy Auror was not one of them.   This had to be his maddening rebel streak rearing its ugly head again.

            “I don’t understand. Why would he do that? You think he’s deliberately pissing Kingsley off?”

            “I have no bloody clue, Hermione; he doesn’t seem to want to discuss the matter with me, thinks that everyone is making it out to be a bigger deal than it is.”

Ron leaned forward then, looking straight into my eyes with all the intensity that deep azure gaze could impart, making my stomach twist once more. “He was called into Shacklebolt’s office today with a few other department heads from the Minister’s wing —after he’d gone missing for over three hours. We could hear him shouting over the top of the Silencing Spell, if you can believe it. I mean, did he think that he could just disappear like that and no one would question him?”

By then, all the air seemed to have evaporated out of my lungs. I continued to stare at Ron in something of a daze, my eyes burning, but I tried to pull myself together, nonetheless. I wouldn’t allow myself to consider that Ron suspected something; it couldn’t be possible. I kept my hands in my lap because they had started to tremble, but when I could find my voice again, I thought only of Rose upstairs and concentrated on the things I planned to do with her the next day. The redirection of my focus helped me to centre myself so that I sounded a lot calmer than I felt.

            “And you think this behaviour is due to his problems with Ginny?”

Ron gave me a shrug that indicated there was no doubt in his mind.

            ‘Well, yeah, what else would it be? He’s a bloody mess, in’he?

            “Did he tell you...where he went?” I could hear my pitch climb a little higher on the last few words, but I kept my mind on three o’clock feedings, picking up some steaks on sale at Tesco’s, where I might shop for some new bras.

Ron smirked, his disbelief still evident in his face.

            “He told me it was personal. I couldn’t fucking believe it. And sorry about my language, luv, but that’s exactly how I felt. ‘Are you shitting me, mate?’ I asked him, but he wouldn’t budge. What’s really pathetic is that he’d tried to sell me on the same shite he gave our superiors, at first. Said that he’d come across someone linked to our suspect unexpectedly and that he’d tailed him for a while hoping it would lead him to a break in the case. He told me this straight to my face, as if I wouldn’t be able to see right through it. He hadn’t even clocked his Patronus while supposedly following this mystery bloke. Harry has never been that shoddy, ever.”

As anxious as I was, at this point I became curious. What had Harry hoped to gain by giving Ron such a weak explanation?

            “So...what? You confronted him and then what happened?”

            “Not a whole lot,” Ron admitted. “He was conveniently needed elsewhere. I didn’t see him again before I left. But I don’t mind telling you, I’m bloody sick of his attitude. I don’t even know where his head is at, Hermione. He’s about to go arse over elbows in the most fantastic balls-up of his life unless we do something to straighten him out.”

Thoughts were scurrying about in my head as I processed all of this new information. No longer terrified that I was about to be found out, my nerves settled down and I could concentrate on the disturbing things Ron was telling me. Harry’s behaviour, while not exactly expected, didn’t surprise me. He was pushing everyone—testing us—to see just how much of his bullshit we’d be willing to take before finally coming down on him. He’d done it before and it was easy to recognize the signs, especially since I’d been given a taste of it that very afternoon. But what did surprise me was that he’d fallen into his old antics at a time when there was so much at stake. It wasn’t just his career that he was risking, but his marriage, as well. I had to believe that much of his rebellious side surfacing had to do with the fact that I had become a huge part of Harry’s problem. Did he want to get caught? And was the dangerous game I was playing with him about to unravel at the cost of my family? I didn’t know what was going on in his head any more than Ron did, and so I conceded that perhaps his idea was worth a try. I needed to talk to Harry—of that, there was no doubt—but what I really needed was to see him and Ginny together in the same room. I had to break this hold he had over me and get us both back on track. A healthy dose of reality was quite in order.

So it was decided that we’d have our little tea party on a night when Molly could take James, and Ron made his game plan to bully Harry and his sister into their reconciliation. I held my tongue at his suggestions and nodded agreeably, knowing invariably that it wouldn’t work, that Harry never responded well to demands or ultimatums—which was why he was in this current state of marital discord with Ginny to begin with. And Ron knew it, too, yet he seemed to be caught in some desperate bid to keep them together, as if he’d decided it was all on his shoulders to get his family on their way to recovery. My heart tugged for my husband; always meaning well but clueless all the same.

I had mixed feelings going into Thursday, believing on the one hand that the night’s outcome was hopelessly preordained, while worried on the other that I would be proven wrong. But when Harry came through the Floo, right behind Ron, my entire frame was energized, a buzz running through me as though my nerves were downed telephone wires snapping in the streets. Harry leaned over to kiss my cheek and I was practically trembling, my arms crossed before me as a shield. I had to get a grip on myself, and I kept screaming so in my head, but no one seemed to notice my struggle. All eyes moved to Ginny, sitting regally on the sofa and sipping from her cup like she couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge their entrance.

The meal saw timid conversation. It was all stolen glances and pregnant pauses while each of us carefully crafted something to say. Harry’s sight never strayed far from Ginny, even as she pretended to look at everywhere and everyone but him, her contributions to conversation terse and bemused. Ron kept widening his eyes at me as if cueing me for our hasty script. I just couldn’t get enthusiastic about the planned chatter for herding Harry into a corner, and my dull tone expressed as much. When I asked Harry about his case for the third time, his gaze shifted to Ron at the end of the table, appearing distrustful and standoffish as he answered.

            “Why do you keep asking me about work, Hermione? You live with an auror, you know we can’t discuss anything while the investigation is still on.”

I sighed. This was all such an obvious ploy.

            “Oh, I know that. I wasn’t asking about the details of the case so much as how things were working out with Kingsley. Ron commented that you’ve had a few run-ins with your bosses, lately.”

            “Has he now?”

At the mention of trouble, Ginny suddenly perked up, leaning forward over her plate with brows furrowed as she reached for Harry’s arm, the first intimate contact I’d seen her initiate in a while.

            “You’re not being difficult again, are you? We’ve talked about this before, Harry. Kingsley wants you to take over as Head Auror when he steps down, and you know it. Why do you keep trying to sabotage your career?”

            “I’m not,” Harry snapped. “But when I know I’m right about something, I fight for it.” He looked around the table at all of our faces before he went on. “What’s going on, anyway? Why is everyone talking to me like I’m slow?”

It was then that Ron made his grand case.

            “I think you’re depressed, Harry.”

Harry balked at the two of us, something dark in his eyes when he glanced at me.

            “Excuse me? Where the hell is this coming from?”

I kept my eyes to my plate to avoid Harry’s gaze as I recited the lines Ron and I had rehearsed.

            “We think the split has affected you worse than you let on, Harry. You should be talking to someone about this.” I looked over at Ginny and this time the words were genuine. “You both should. It would probably do you both good to be in counselling right now.”

Her body went stiff as she held up her glass of water, taking a delicate sip before she spoke.

            “That’s really mine and Harry’s business, don’t you think? I know you’re only trying to help, but you can’t—”

            “Gin, how long are you going to stay mad at him? Look at him, he’s falling apart! You need to stop this rubbish and get on with things. You’re about to have another child, for Merlin’s sake! Stop being such tossers, the pair of you!”

            “Hang about! Don’t call my wife a tosser!”

            “She’s my sister! I can call her whatever I like!”

And so it went for a while until all three of them were shouting at each other. I had no desire to play mediator, however, so I stood up and headed for the kitchen, intent on dishing out the summer pudding I’d made for dessert. By the time I’d returned, the shouting had ceased and there were merely glares and frowns all around. While I set down everyone’s bowls in front of them, the dirty plates sliding to the centre of the table and piling in a stack with a swish from my wand, Harry poured another fingerful of whiskey into his glass tumbler and downed it in one gulp. Before I could ask if anyone needed some coffee, the motoring cry of an awakened Rose could be heard coming from upstairs. I excused myself and quickly made my way up to the next floor.

I couldn’t have been up there more than five minutes, but as I exited her room, I was startled to find Harry standing outside of the doorway waiting for me. He quietly shut the door behind my back before pressing me up against it.

            “Are you behind this?” His voice was a low burr and I felt my body respond aggressively, nipples and cunt already traitors to my intellect. But I stuffed those urges into a locked box and levelled a hard look at him.

            “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. Ron thought this up all on his own.”

            “He said I was ‘depressed’, Hermione. That’s got your influence written all over it.”

I gave him a haughty shake of my head.

            “Just because he likes to parrot the things I’ve said, doesn’t mean I get him to do my bidding all the time. Ron is quite capable of performing and thinking independently, thank you. He’s worried the Minister is about to toss you out on your arse.”

Harry smirked at me as he moved his arm to lay it flat over my head, another hand curling around my hip with a squeeze.

            “The only way they’d ever consider tossing me out is if I strode into the Atrium with a dozen Muggle heads hanging from my belt. Now—you sure you’re not involved?”

I shook my head again—much more earnestly this time—but his creeping smile at my insistence turned wicked.

            “Do you think I’m depressed?” he asked, pressing himself closer.

            “P-perhaps.” I shrank into the door, uncomfortable with his bold show, even as a part of me still craved Harry’s touch, craved his breath on my neck.

            “Well, I guess you would know. Is it why you want me to fuck you, ‘Mione?” His hand left my hip and slid to the space between my legs, cradling it like he owned the flesh there. “Because you’re as much of a mess as I am?”

The stalwart front I had attempted to maintain disintegrated with a gasp. I grabbed at his wrists.

            “Harry, you’re mad!” My whispers were fervent. “They’re right downstairs! What are you playing at?”

            “Come and see me tonight, after Ron’s fallen asleep.”

But I gaped back at him as if he’d grown another head. “There’s no way, you’ve gone round the twist! How am I supposed to come up with a plausible excuse if he wakes up and finds me gone?”

            “You’re a clever girl, I’m sure you could think of something. Besides, you and I both know Ron sleeps like a stone.”

            “But Rose doesn’t, you knob! Forget it!” I was angry then. Harry was upping the stakes and his recklessness terrified me. “This can’t be happening here, Harry. Now, get your hands off of me and get back downstairs before someone comes looking for us.”

He held my gaze, however, holding on to me for another minute before eventually backing off. When he had some space between us he shot a look at the stairwell, his disinterest in rejoining the party in the dining room plain on his face. He eyed me curiously.

            “You only get two bites of the pudding,” he said at last.

            “I beg your pardon?” I grew more impatient with his nonsense, broadcasting my irritation with a rough sweep back of my hair.

            “The dessert. You’re allowed two bites, and that’s it. And no more wine for you tonight, I don’t care if you’ve stopped breastfeeding Rose.” He darted a look to the stairs again before adding in a hushed voice. “When Ron is asleep later, you’re going to get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen. You’re going to lie on the table in there and hike up your nightgown, no knickers on. I want you to spread your legs as far as they’ll go and then bury your fingers in that gorgeous fanny. You’re going to get yourself off twice for me before you go back up to bed. Bonus points if you manage to get a finger in your arse. Then the next time I see you alone, you can describe the entire experience to me in great detail. Understood?”

I stood there with my mouth dropped, having no idea how to reply. But Harry seemed to be waiting for an answer and all I could think to do was dumbly nod my head. As soon as I did, he traipsed down the hall and disappeared into the stairwell as if nothing had just occurred between us. I heard Ron call for us both and then a mumble as Harry strode into the room. I stood there listening to their much more amiable chatter for another few moments before Ron calling my name again snapped me back into focus. My steps felt staggered and awkward as I made my way to the group, a surreal quality settling into the rest of the evening as I sat with them all knowing full well that I was going to do everything that Harry had just asked of me.

A week later saw me out with my mother and Ginny for some shopping on a Saturday afternoon. Being so close to her due date, Ginny had been complaining that she desperately needed to remain active but was dead bored waiting around the house, so I invited her to stroll through the shops near my parent’s house on an outing with my mum and Rose.

We were in one of the department stores: Ginny completely caught up in the perfume counters, and my mother anxious to find a dress for an upcoming dentist awards assembly, while I was busy being lost in my thoughts as I reviewed the outcome of that calamitous dinner. I had done as Harry commanded, down to the bonus assignment, but I had staged my own rebellion by avoiding him since then. There had been a few heated telephone calls over it, but I still had managed to stick to my guns and not meet him in a tryst. I wasn’t sure what I was trying to prove—either to him or to myself—yet it was satisfying knowing that I still had a bit of fight in me, that Harry’s wilful demeanour hadn’t destroyed my backbone.

Ginny had been chattering about something James had done the day before while we sat outside of the dressing rooms waiting for my mum when she suddenly went quiet. I had only been half-listening, as my mind was still wandering while I jiggled Rose’s pram handle to get her to sleep, but I snapped up my head and turned to see why she had stopped speaking. I followed Ginny’s gaze and watched a couple in one of the aisles lean in to each other for a snog, their arms wrapping about each other even with handfuls of shopping bags. She didn’t bother resuming her story, just stared at her belly with a forlorn face. Carefully, I broached the topic that seemed to be dominating both our thoughts.

            “So ... barring that awful dinner we had at my place, how have things been progressing with your estranged husband?”

Ginny half-shrugged, her eyes still on her lap.

            “Alright, I guess. You know Harry.”

I frowned. “Well, yeah, I do, but what exactly is that supposed to mean, Ginny?”

            “It means that we’re doing as well as I had anticipated, just not as well as I’d hoped. I mean, I expected that Harry would put some effort into it. He is the one most determined to ‘fix us’, as he’s pointed out over and over. And we have ... talked a lot ... trying to figure out how we can work.” She smirked then, still not meeting my eyes. “It’s pretty obvious where Harry and I don’t have problems.”

I felt my gut tightening, like the cinching of a belt.

            “And where would that be?” I asked obtusely. “Would you rather we not talk about this? I feel like you’re being purposely vague with me.”

Ginny shook her head insistently, suddenly apologetic.

            “No, I don’t mind. Really. Sorry. It’s just ... he can be so maddening. Elusive. I can’t ever pin down how he really feels about something ... about me. Of course, the passion is there, that isn’t the issue. He’s ... when he’s ‘on’, no one can touch him. I don’t want anyone else; I can’t even entertain the idea. The sex—it’s still bloody fantastic. It’s been hard doing without it. But when he gives me that little lost boy look he tends to make ... I’m done for, Hermione.”

I swallowed thickly, having some difficulty breathing, and the churning in my stomach increasing until I felt queasy.

“At least—well, at least he’s cut back the power trip he’s usually on. It’s been ... different. Really great, actually. I just don’t know if I can believe it’s going to last.”

I wanted to walk away, just leave the store and apparate straight to Harry’s, but I was stuck to my seat. A sick part of me needed to hear the details. I opened my mouth to speak, not knowing what was about to come out of it yet feeling strangely fluid.

            “So ... when did you start sleeping with him again?” It felt practically impossible to play nonchalant, but somehow I managed, sounding almost bored with the question. Ginny’s expression turned guilty, a carnation bloom in her cheeks.

            “Oh, well, I, uh ... it’s just been ...”—she paused to cast her gaze down to her knees again—“about a fortnight. Maybe longer. Not quite a month. He’s been so—so honest with me. I had a moment of weakness.” She sighed. “And then kept repeating it.” When she looked up to search my face, there was a spark of something hopeful in her eyes. “I want it to be real, Hermione. I mean, I want him to have truly changed—more than anything—but I just can’t let go of this feeling that he’s going to—”

            “The two of you have been having sex for three weeks?” My voice was ghostly, hollow ... and accusing.

Ginny continued to blush, swiping her hair away from her face like a coy schoolgirl.

            “Yes, I suppose so.” Like the flip of a page in a book, her expression changed to one of defiance, a challenge held in her glare. “Don’t judge me, Hermione. I love him, I couldn’t help myself.” Her voice went low as a whisper. “And I was bloody randy as fuck.”

            “I’m not judging you. Stop being paranoid.” By then, I was desperately trying not to be sick. “So I gather he’s not tying you up anymore?”

Her eyes darted around the store and then behind her to the dressing rooms.

            “Criminy, keep your voice down. I should put up a Muffliato, yeah?”

            “Do whatever you want.” I was still talking in that dispassionate, robotic way, but my hands had started to shake and I clasped them together tightly in my lap.

Ginny used her bag as a shield while her arm made wand movements, but once she was satisfied her attention returned to my query.

            “He’s been perfect. No cuffs, no clamps, no collars, no demands that I get into ridiculous, uncomfortable positions to spark his fancy. He’s even curtailed the disgusting remarks during sex.” She scanned my face again and I wondered what the hell she was looking for. Approval? Or something else?

           “Harry still takes charge, of course, but ... not like he normally does, with that creepy voice he sometimes uses like I’m a naughty child and he’s Snape come to discipline me proper. Don’t get me wrong, I like him commanding—just not commanding me. Do you know what I mean?”

It took all of my strength not to laugh in her face—because it wouldn’t have been a very amusing laugh, and it might have gone on for quite a long time.

            “I think I can discern the difference in subtleties, yes,” I said wanly, a faint hint of mockery scraping an edge to my tone.

            “I’m as big as a house, but he can still make me feel sexy. I so needed that.” She laughed and the sound of her mirth was like a punch to my stomach. “And since he can’t do his usual tricks, he’s been much more ... imaginative.” She beamed wickedly. “I like it. He’s made things really fun.”

            “So how come you haven’t let him move back in then?”

I won’t lie to you; it was gratifying to see her expression fall.

            “I—I told you. It’s a start, but I can’t trust him. He’s showed promise before, and then he went right back to being an arse. I need to believe that he’s really changed this time.”

I stood up suddenly, fiddling with the straps my dress. I couldn’t stand to be near her, right then, and I felt panicked, eager to be anywhere else.

            “I’m going to check on my mum and see if she needs any help. Can you watch Rose for me? We should probably get going soon, anyway. I’ve got loads to do today.” I was almost to the rooms as I muttered away. I didn’t even look back at her, my eyes fixed on the passage of doors ahead even as they blurred with tears.

When I stood before my mother’s door, I knocked harshly, feeling like I was about to come undone. She opened it a crack, smiling when she saw me, but her face turning to one of concern the next second.

            “Sweetheart, are you alright? Whatever is the matter?

            “Can we leave when you’re done? I’m not feeling terribly well, and I need to get Rose home,” I lied. She hurriedly assured me she’d be done in another minute and I let out the long gust of breath I’d been holding in, apologizing to her while a wave of shame hit me forcefully. I must have looked ready to bawl, for I only got my mother more worried, and she pulled several dresses from their hooks to shove in my direction as she bade me to pick the best one. I chose a blue silk to match her eyes and quickly strode to the registers to pay for it, feeling as though every step was getting me closer to a truth I didn’t want to hear.

--------***-------

I didn’t even bother to use the Floo, but apparated right into his kitchen.

I had come straight from my mother’s house, after driving her home in her car; Ginny long gone. Mum had taken another hard look at me as I dropped her shopping bags on the settee and then insisted that she spend some more time with her granddaughter, pushing me through the front door and telling me to come back when I felt better. I didn’t hesitate. I ran to her backyard and twisted through space as soon as the arched, wooden gate snapped closed behind me.

It was silent in the house, but that didn’t deter me. The tears that had been threatening to fall had evaporated in the jump, replaced with the intensity of an emotion I could barely name—it wasn’t quite betrayal, and it wasn’t exactly jealousy, but some kind of mix of the two with about another dozen indescribable feelings tossed in—as I flew up the staircase calling for him in a voice already tinged with accusation. I was almost to the top of the third floor when I heard a thump from his room and then running steps. As I reached the landing, he was careening out of his doorway with his wand poised and his glasses only half on his face, the effect comical considering he was entirely nude. But I didn’t find the picture he made amusing at all. He stopped short when he saw me, straightening up and then adjusting his glasses, his expression one of complete confusion.

            “Hermione? What the devil ...? I thought we were under attack.”

            “Someone’s here? Is it Narcissa? Are you still fucking her, too?”

His eyes were slits as he stared at me stomping up to him, appearing befuddled, but then he poked his fingers under his black rims, rubbing at his eyelids tiredly.

            “What are you talking about, ‘Mione? And can you keep your voice down? We were at the park all morning and the boys are still wiped out. They’re both sleeping in the next room.”

Too worked up to feel even slightly embarrassed, I modulated my pitch but not my attack.

            “You lied to me, Harry. You’re a bloody liar. And I need to know, right now, who else are you shagging? Are you seeing Narcissa? You have to tell me the truth, or I swear, Harry, I’m going to bloody lose it.” I was getting squeakier the more I continued, until Harry put up a hand for me to stop, his face cross as he grabbed me by the wrist I had folded across my breast. He dragged me into his room, walking backwards as he tugged, but once we were inside, he moved behind me to close the door quietly. When he spoke, his voice was but a hiss in the sepulchral silence that was Grimmauld.

            “What, may I ask, has happened that’s got you so excitable? You’re acting mental. And what does Narcissa have to do with the price of fish in China?”

            “Are you sleeping with her again?”

            “No.”

            “But you’re sleeping with Ginny.”

He stilled, his expression inscrutable, but his grip around my wrist tightening painfully. The pause felt interminable and I opened my mouth to add more when he finally said something.

            “Do I need to remind you that Ginny is my wife, Hermione?”

            “The wife that you’re currently separated from, yes, I know who she is. In fact, we just had a lovely chat not more than an hour ago. It was quite informative.”

            “Oh, I’m sure it was. I bet it was as riveting as the discussion I had with your husband a few weeks ago, whereby he explicitly filled me in on how insatiable you’ve been lately. Apparently, you’re like a cat in heat. Do you see me being unreasonable about it?”

            “I’m being unreasonable? Why? Because I’m upset that you’re—you’re—”

            “Having sex with my wife? Yes, that’s a bit weird, Hermione. You know that we’re trying to get back together. What the fuck did you think we were up to when I go over there every night?”

I couldn’t contain my outburst and my voice rose to a shout across the room.

            “I thought you were eating supper with your family! Which is what—!”

Harry’s hand shot out and pressed against my mouth, pushing me back against the wall with the force of it.

            “I said keep it down!” His glare was frightful and I could see him grinding his teeth as his jaw clenched tightly. He exhaled a deep breath before he continued but his voice was chilly. “I’m not going to put up a Silencing spell, because I’m not really in the mood to hear you yelling at me. Now, you’ve got to calm down and get a grip on yourself before I do it for you, Hermione.”

He took his hand off my mouth but I wouldn’t be cowed, not able to help myself as I launched into another tirade.

            “Did you run right over to her every time you fucked me, Harry? She thinks you’re banner in the sack, lately. Is it because I’m the new repository for your fetishes? You work out your fucked up urges on me and then you can play loving, devoted stud with her? Is this your solution?”

            “Yesssss.”

He had me completely flattened to the wall by then, those eyes burning into mine as if he could reduce me to groveling with a look. He ground his crotch into my own, hands sliding under my thighs as he moved to lift them over his legs.

            “Let me explain something very carefully to you, Hermione. And you need to listen to every word.” He thrust up against me and I groaned, my fingernails digging into his shoulders as I attempted to push him away.

            “We ... are having ... an affair.” Each pause was the punctuation of another slow thrust. “That doesn’t mean ... we suddenly stop having sex with our spouses, luv. But what it does mean is that what we do together is because we can’t do it with them. You want me to do these things to you specifically because it’s me and not Ron.” His hands slithered up under my blouse to grab at my breasts, dragging the cup of my bra down so he could pinch hold of a nipple. “Don’t try and romanticise this. We’re selfish people, Hermione, and you need to stop rationalising it with your fancy psychobabble. Now get your clothes off and get on the bed.”

I was shaking, already aroused by what he was doing to my body, but I gave a start at his demand.

            “Wha—what? I’m not—I won’t do any such thing.”

I heard the smack of flesh before I felt it below my hip, my cry more from surprise than any kind of pain. In a flash, Harry had extended his arm to his left and I saw his wand shoot towards his hand. As soon as he gripped it, he touched the side of my mouth with it and whispered the spell that took away my voice.

            “I told you to be quiet. So let’s try this again. Kit. Off. Then you’re going to crawl across the floor and climb onto my fucking ... bed. Do I need to say it in another language or do you think you can follow my instructions this time?”

I didn’t even bother to answer, just set about kicking off my shoes angrily and then pulling my dress up over my head. Harry stepped back far enough to let me finish, his face dark as he watched me. As soon as I was naked, I gave him a haughty glare and strode towards the bed. I didn’t get two steps before Harry jerked me back, fingers curled around my elbow. He slapped my arse and when I reacted by twisting around to deflect another hit he pushed on the top of my head until I had to kneel, his hand maintaining the pressure while I got on all fours. I moved towards the bed once more, but again he spanked me.

            “I said crawl.”

I hesitated, unsure of what he actually expected me to do. I let the slinking curve of my back drop low, and then leaned my body forward until my forearms were flat on the carpet. My chest was almost to the floor, and when I heard no further complaints from Harry, I began to slide my knees up towards each breast, my hands reaching in front of me a grasp at a time. I was at the foot of the bed when he slapped my bum once more, the sting of it still catching me off-guard.

            “I want you to climb up from the corner.”

And so I shifted my body west until I reached the left side, grabbing the bed ruffle at the bottom to help hoist myself up. Just as one knee was about to land on the top of the bed, Harry was behind me, pushing me down so that the bed’s corner was driving into the vee between my legs. My feet dropped to the floor as I held onto the duvet, with him bucking lewdly against me a few times, his cock hard as it came up towards the crease of my bum. I could feel the stiff piping of the mattress pressed to my clit.

            “Stay right there. I think you need to learn a little lesson, dear. And maybe you won’t be so quick to jump down my throat next time.”

I was nervous at the mention of a lesson, but even more so when he pushed off of me and I heard the winching sound of a belt being snaked from its loops. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught Harry folding the belt in half then jerking it taut, his gaze on my bum appraising. When his eyes flicked up, whatever he saw on my face made him smirk.

            “Oh, come now, Hermione. You’re telling me you didn’t see this coming?” But then his expression turned hard, his voice flat. “You deserve this, after all. Now, face forward and hands pressed to the bed.”

Stunned at first, it took a few moments before I could turn away from him. I didn’t know how to react. I kept expecting to stand up and walk out of there, to end our little game and be done with it all, but that never happened. I stared at the wall, wondering how I got myself into this insanity, but the next second I practically leapt across the bed as the first hit landed on my buttocks. I snapped my head around to give him a wounded look, not able to stop myself, and when our eyes locked Harry hit me again, on my other side, the dark slivers in that green forest of a gaze gleaming wildly. The third time the belt came down, my mouth opened in a yelp, the pain registering at last. Harry stepped closer to me, his hand taking hold of my head to keep me still.

            “When I tell you to do something, you do it, luv,” he said breathlessly, a fourth strike making contact with my left thigh, just under my arse. “You come over here only when I give you permission, and when I direct you to, you find a way to make it happen. Is that clear?” He smacked me again, the hardest yet. I clutched the bed covers tightly as I tried to keep my balance and not tip over. I nodded my head vigorously, but still the belt came down on my flesh, now burning like fire.

            “You’re going to position yourself in the middle of the bed, dear,” he said hoarsely. “Put your face all the way down to the covers, but your arse in the air and your knees spread wide. As in, Grawp-is-about-to-fuck-you wide, got it??”

Again, I nodded my understanding but felt the lick of the leather across my backside anyway as I scrabbled to the centre of the bed, laying my head against the bronze duvet like a wilted flower while my legs above the knee were stanchions pointing my broiled bum skyward. Not only was I eager for him to stop his torturous punishment, but I’d grown less self-conscious about exposing myself in the manner he’d asked for. After all, Harry had explored every bloody inch of me and there was something a bit freeing in the pose. I felt completely open and vulnerable to him, a feeling which had only tripled in intensity now that he’d gone to new ground. Oh, I know you’ll question my frame of mind at such a thing, but the realisation that I might have been waiting for Harry to finally resort to this character, to fulfil the promise of what had been hinted at since the beginning of our affair, was a powerful thrill. The hurt I’d initially felt had turned to hunger—the spanking leaving me shaky not out of a sense of outrage, but of need. Harry may have been patching things up with his wife, but he still wanted me—still needed me—that much was clear. Enough to administer discipline like a loving parent pushed to their limit, and just the very idea of that had me in the grip of something I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

Two fingers slid to the opening I’d unveiled like a stage and Harry fit them inside of me with ease. He moved them slowly, taking his time to stroke the interior walls until I was panting—no sound coming from me, but my mouth widened against the duvet and my eyes shut tightly. The pain in my arse was still ringing like the clanging bells from a church belfry, and I squirmed under him fitfully, even while his touch turned to caresses. When a tongue flicked at the hard nub so swollen for attention, my nerves jumped, a seismic shift rippling through my body. And then the tongue came at me from another angle, above those dextrous fingers, and singled out the little knot of flesh that still made me turn my face into the sheets with shame. But my mortification was short lived, for in no time at all I was rutting against his mouth while he pumped my cunt harder. I could hear the squelches of my body’s lubrication amplified in the silence of the room and I wanted to scream to cover it up, but still no moans rang out in evidence of my presence; Harry’s heavy breathing the only other sound.

I barely noticed when the fingers slid from one entrance and pressed to the other. At first there was some resistance, but by the time my body registered the difference, Harry was gliding them through until I could feel both digits lodged into that tight space, stretching me wider. They worked like a piston while the rest of his fingers pressed into the cushion of my arse as leverage. As soon as I felt him kiss the folds of my sex, I startled at the sensation, but then he was sliding his tongue back inside of me, his hand still working diligently at the other opening, and I was already at an arousal overload. I clutched at the bed, my legs straining so badly they shook, and I raised my head to moan as loud as I could. The reality that no one could hear it was powerfully erotic.

I had been rendered to a daze when I suddenly felt Harry move around behind me, his mouth gone from my bits. More fingers were now filling me, and the slow dawning that I was being attended to in both passages had turned my brain to mush. I couldn’t even object when he started to drag me backwards, one pair of fingers exiting my rear end as Harry angled my body lower. The lack of talking on Harry’s part didn’t escape my notice, and I almost missed his explicit directions, but then I felt the head of his cock ready to replace those fingers and I grew anxious. Not being able to speak, I turned to look over my shoulder, needing to see the expression on his face as a way to reassure me. He appeared determined; resolute, his attention devoutly fixed to my arse. But there was a flash of brilliant green as he darted a glance at me, before returning to what his hands were doing to prepare me.

            “This arse is mine. I’m going to fuck your bum, you filthy girl, and you’re going to let me. You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you. Isn’t that right?” His eyes swept up to mine again.

I nodded back at him robotically, feeling caught in a trance. Of course I would let him, we both knew it. I reached an arm up towards him, intent on pulling him closer for a kiss, but then he was penetrating me and my back arched, the pressure so intense my mouth opened in a noiseless scream.

            “Shhh,” he soothed, rubbing the small of my back while his fingers continued to fuck me, his cock still pushing deeper into the aft. He twisted me some more, laying me half on my side as he took hold of one leg and pulled it up straight to rest against his shoulder. He pushed forward again and I could feel the last of inch his cock make way into my body, the sensation of it scraping along muscle making me grit my teeth. He paused for a minute, stroking my waist comfortingly, the other pair of fingers doggedly massaging my insides as if he’d made a sworn oath to get me off.

            “Fuck, look at you. Look at that mouth. You look like a proper slag, don’t you? My slag,” he growled. “’Cause that’s exactly what you are every time you come over here.”

He spoke in a low voice, not quite a whisper, while he drove into me with an excitement that secreted from his skin like vapours. His fingers felt tight and confined in that wet channel just one click over from where he was now eagerly fucking my arse and I twisted and squirmed beneath him in an attempt to minimize the compression. A brush of fingertips ran up my sternum soothingly but then I felt the painful twist of a nipple, followed by the sharp sting of a slap on my breast. I jolted from the impact but Harry didn’t stop, smacking his hand against the mons, then my other breast, back to my arse, where he spanked me a few times on a particularly deep thrust. I arched again while miming another scream, my tits raised higher in the hopes of more mistreatment.

            “Oh God. Oh shit. You’re so...” he sounded pained, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Then he was moving me, flipping me on my back and grabbing hold of my ankles to pull them up to his shoulders. His hands pressed down on the fleshy globes of my bum to spread them open and when he entered me again his thrusts were machine-rapid. He brought the fingers of his left hand up to his mouth and sucked on a few of them before returning them to my clit, his deft work quick to bring me to rush of an oncoming orgasm.

            “Fucking come, Hermione. I need you to come on me,” he whined. I arched my cunt into his hand just as his thrusts began to speed up into short bursts. In a flash, I felt the air around me charge and then Harry had something in his hand. Before I could even identify it, I felt the screaming pain in my breast, as his belt lashed across it. And then I was coming. I came so hard the whole room went into white space, while I clenched around his cock so fiercely that some last remnant of thought worried it would snap off.

            “Ahhhhhhhhhfuckinggawwwddd,” Harry groaned, his face in pure shock one moment, but then shot through with such bliss he looked transported, a seraph bathed in its divine light.

Then he ejaculated onto my stomach, the spell broken.

The splats of warmth felt so forceful hitting my skin that my body jerked under them like they were more blows from the belt. We both stayed still for a moment, his breathing harsh and panting, while my chest merely rose up and down like I was in the middle of hyperventilating. But my harsh breaths were all in my head and they echoed so loudly that I didn’t hear him at first. It wasn’t until Harry’s body went stiff and I saw his eyes widen in alarm that I tuned them out and let the quiet of the room settle around me once more.

            “Harry? What are you doing to that lady?”

My eyes went as big as Harry’s and we gaped at each other in utter terror for another second before he leaned over just enough to take hold of a pillow and nonchalantly drag it towards the side of my face.

            “Hey, Teddy”—he turned only his head to look back at the doorway—“wot, you up already?”

            “Something woke me up. A scary noise. W-what are you doing?” he asked, his pipsqueak of a voice hesitant.

Harry pulled away from me, one hand tucking his prick into the crease of his thighs while the other wrapped around my knee and pulled my body to the side, away from Teddy’s inquisitive stare. He shifted on the bed so he could turn his body more towards the boy yet still block mine.

            “We’re just, uh ... doing big people stuff. Why don’t you go and get some biscuits from the kitchen and I’ll make us some tea in just a moment, okay? Then you can tell me about this scary noise.” There was a pause. “My friend would like a bit of privacy. She’s kind of shy.”

            “Oh. Like me?”

            “Yeah, just like you, sport. So why don’t you be a good boy and head downstairs. I promise I’ll be there in a minute.”

            “Okay. Tell your friend it’s okay to be shy. Nana said so and she said that I don’t always have to talk if I don’t want to.”

            “I’ll tell her. Your Nana knows what she’s talking about. Now run along.”

I heard the shuffle of small feet leading into the hall and then soft footfalls begin their descent down the stairs. Harry’s body stayed twisted while he kept his eye to the doorway, but once the sound of his godson reaching the next landing hit our ears he leapt off the bed and ran to shut the door, locking it with the bolt. I rolled myself over the side of the bed and dropped into a crouch position, feverishly scanning the room for my wand so I could apparate the hell out of there. I was still shaking all over, my heart ready to beat out of my chest, but then Harry was standing in front of me and he also dropped to his haunches, my wand in his hand.

            “Hurry up and get dressed but don’t leave just yet,” he said quietly.

I took hold of my wand and he twisted around, gracefully and silently bounding to the other side of the room to retrieve my clothes, which he tossed towards me. They landed on the bed in a jumble, and before I’d even sorted through them he’d shucked on a pair of his jeans, pulling an inside-out tee over his head and summoning his glasses with a spell in one seemingly fluid motion. As he stood at the door he turned to face me, held up three fingers, and then flashed a palm to signify I wait. I gave him a curt nod while I pulled on my knickers, but he was already out the door and heading to the floor below.

By the time he returned, I had calmed down considerably. Sitting on his bed patiently, my wand gripped tightly in hand as I jiggled a knee, I thought about what I would say. I had reversed his spell on my voice, used a cleaning charm and an atomizer charm—the aroma of lilacs thick and cloying on my skin—and I felt mentally prepared for anything. But I wouldn’t put it past Harry to throw me for another loop. He locked the door again and then came to sit next to me, exhaling a great gust of breath as he dropped down.

            “Right. I think Teddy’s curiosity is satisfied, for the time being. We should be okay.”

            “What did you tell him?”

            “That you were a friend. That I was helping you with something and you didn’t want people to know about it.”

            “Harry, he may be eight, but he’s hardly an idiot. What if he repeats the conversation to his grandmother? How much do you think he saw?”

            “Hermione, I’ve got it covered,” he said brusquely.

I looked away to the wall, ready to stand up and leave, but then his hand cupped my cheek and he tugged my face towards him, his eyes softening. “You alright?”

I yanked my chin out of his grip and turned away again, arms crossed but my wand still poking out of one fist. I had half a mind to stab him with it; the humiliation from earlier had suddenly revisited me in spades.

            “Well, it was your fault for showing up here,” he accused, but his tone was light. When I looked back to glare at him, he leaned down to kiss my shoulder. “Look, I need to get back to Teddy. Can we please agree that if you need to come and yell at me about something, you’ll call me on the mobile first?”

I rolled my eyes so hard I think I may have stretched a nerve, but then he grabbed the back of my head and his lips were on my mouth and I was kissing him right back. When he pulled away, I sighed, a little horrified that it came out as dreamily as one might expect from Luna Lovegood in the throes of a good conspiracy theory.

            “Fine,” I said. “I will concede I acted a bit rashly this afternoon. Next time I’ll call. Just promise me you’ll answer.”

He kissed me again, mumbling his reply into my mouth. “Only if you’re a good girl.”

I kissed him back. “Shut up.”

            “Mmhmm. Too bad I don’t have time to kiss away those welts on your arse, luv. You’d better take care of those before Ron gets home.”

My tongue wound around his and then ran across his bottom lip. He still tasted of me.

            “I’ll have to soak in a nice, hot bath for hours to get rid of my aches and pains, you brute.”

            “Sounds lovely,” he breathed, before pulling away to curl his hands around the tops of my arms. “You still owe me, too; don’t forget.”

I shook my head. “And how do you figure that?”

            “I’ve been waiting for you to recount the midnight activities I assigned you the night we were over. Preferably a show and tell, I’m thinking.”

I couldn’t hold back my grin. Harry was still predictable on some things. “You know, you’re quite the industrious pervert, Harry Potter.”

            “So I’ve heard, dear—so I’ve heard.”

The drama continues.....
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Folie a Deux