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A Late Night Delivery	By : Padfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Blaise Views: 14443 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 1-A Late Night Delivery
- 1
A late Night Delivery

Hermione stood motionless in front of the mirror. She let her gaze drift to her face until she locked stares with her own eyes and tried to probe her soul for the answer to a question that had been plaguing her all day.

Was she doing the right thing?

She kept asking herself this question, yet in her heart she knew this wasn’t the sort of situation that could be classified into categories like right or wrong. Sure, if she were to tell other people, like Ginny, or Harry, or Ron, about what she was going to do tonight, they would surely disapprove.

“I can’t believe you did that,” they would say, and they would not mean it in a good way. Not that she would ever tell them. This was something that didn’t include them, and their judgemental views would only serve to make her feel bad to no purpose. Even though Hermione had made her peace with it, she still couldn’t really believe it had come to this. If someone had told her ten years ago that one day she would be here, in this situation, she would have laughed in disbelief. Ten years ago she had been a nineteen-year-old girl who was at the start of her Auror-training and whose future was still an unwritten book. Now, a big chunk of that book was written in, or more correctly dribbled in. Its pages spoiled and wasted on nothing but meaningless gibberish, penned down by a writer who had nothing to say.

Hermione dropped her gaze from the mirror and reached for the little black dress she had been saving for a special occasion. Her brown hair was still wild and curly, but her efforts in trying to tame it for tonight had made it look neater. She had put on a bit of lip-gloss, figuring that if she wore more make-up it would most likely become a bother. Although constant years of male obliviousness had given her doubt in her own beauty, Hermione really was an attractive witch, even though she wasn’t the kind of beauty that stood out in a crowd. Physically, she had been a bit of a late-bloomer, so she treasured the lush female curves she was now blessed with. For a while during her early teens she had been concerned that she might never grow breasts, until during her fifth year she underwent a growth spurt that was more out than up, finally developing breasts. Hermione still couldn’t keep herself from smirking when remembering that, starting her fifth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy didn’t seem to be able to restrain himself from talking to her breasts, something she had felt both revolted and delighted about.

For tonight, she had put on a set of sexy, purple lacy lingerie. They had been lying in her drawer for years, but she had never worn them before. Usually she preferred cotton underwear, as it felt more comfortable in her opinion. Not only had she physically been a late bloomer, but when it came to dating she had also been on the tardy side. She hadn’t really minded since she had only started to desire a boyfriend after leaving her teenage years behind. Before that, she honestly hadn’t known what she would gain by having one, except for snogging. Sure, she’d have liked someone to snog, but what was she supposed to do with him in-between the kissing? She had Harry and Ron for male companionship, so she really hadn’t felt like she was missing out on anything. Except the snogging, that is.

During her Auror-training, Hermione had known there had been rumours about her having a three-way relationship with Harry and Ron, something that she found more amusing than bothersome. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but in a way she had felt a bit wicked about the idea that people might consider her the kind of person that gets involved with two men at the same time. She enjoyed the idea that people were able to see her as someone who could lure two men into her bed, since she really had never felt like she could. Especially since no one had seen the inside of her bed sheets, full stop.

As a teenager, she just hadn’t felt ready to sate her body’s urges by having sex. Sex was a scary thought back then. She had still been too insecure about herself to let anyone else see her in such a vulnerable state. Even if she had tried it, her distrust for the physical would have resulted in being unable to let go and enjoy it. To let go and fall into the world of the senses, where logic and knowledge are of little use. By the time she had reached her twenties sex didn’t feel so scary anymore, yet she still had mixed feelings about losing her virginity. She had grown somewhat attached to it and liked the idea that the sexual part of her life was still an unwritten tale. The idea that one part of her was still a clean slate that wasn’t spoiled by past catastrophes made her feel safe.   It still had the possibility to become anything and Hermione liked possibilities. She had never really minded that she didn’t date like all her friends did; she had a busy life after all. As long as she still occasionally got coy looks from men as she walked by, she felt secure enough to know that in theory she could get a lover if she wanted to.

At least, she had felt like this until she had moved passed the phase in which she still clung to fairytale romanticism. When she had felt her mid-twenties approaching, Hermione simply wanted to have sex. She wanted to experience what it was like, what it felt like to undergo the joys the carnal urges could bring. At one point, she had caught herself starting to desire the chance to talk to someone, someone with whom she could be herself with and whom would be there for her. Finally, Hermione had to admit it to herself: she wanted a boyfriend. But how would she have to go about getting one? Hermione figured that if she had lived in the fifties, she would have been married and have two point five kids by now. Fifty years ago, everyone got married and had sex in wedlock. There was no other way. These days, it was different: how your life went, and what your sex-life was like had become a choice of your own. Young people of today have more choices, but this brought along a certain responsibility; everyone needs to show initiative or you don’t function in today’s society. People have to go out to make contacts and be clear about what it is you want. Whenever Hermione went out, it was mostly with her friends to get some drinks in a pub, which proved not to be a very effective way to meet a bloke. Yet most nights she just spent at home, too tired after work to go anywhere.

She would have loved to talk to her friends about this, but there was no possibility of them understanding. They don’t know what it’s like. They never have. She was carrying a secret that no one, not even her closest friends, knew about: Hermione was twenty-nine years old, had never had a relationship, had never had sex, and had never even kissed a boy or a man.

She had tried to find a reason why she was in this situation. For Gods sake, she was almost thirty years old and had never even kissed a bloke! She didn't know why, although she had certainly applied enough thought to the problem. She knew she wasn’t a stunner, but she definitely wasn’t ugly either. Hermione still noticed the double takes she got from men as she walked on the street, so she knew certain people could consider her physically appealing. Alright, so she wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but she also wasn’t a recluse! She went out, wasn’t afraid to talk to people... so why couldn’t she find someone who might be interested in her in any other way than friendship? It seemed like it had simply passed her by. Her job at the ministry was very demanding and often vexing and when she came home there was no one there, nor was she expecting anyone to arrive. She wasn’t desperately seeking a husband or a companion, she liked her self-sufficiency, but she still felt as if she missed something. Hermione felt embarrassed to admit it, but she was lonely. She had always regarded herself as a strong independent woman who didn’t need a man to make her feel good, but she couldn’t help but want someone to curl up behind her as she slept and hug her tight. The need for simple physical contact often felt so strong she would just break out into tears.

She was getting older and the market of single men was shrinking [except for divorced single fathers that is]. It wasn’t just about sex as she could take care of her own needs, but it was also about other things. Love, tenderness, intimacy: extremely painful having to miss all that. In previous generations, sex used to be taboo, but now not having sex was generally regarded as unthinkable. It had come to a point where Hermione just didn’t feel like a woman anymore. For her 25^th birthday, Luna had bought her a vibrator. Hermione would have taken it personally if it wasn’t for the fact that Luna seemed to buy them for basically everyone, claiming that every woman should own one. That was great, but Hermione couldn’t even use it because she was afraid that she might have to breach her hymen in the process. If she had perhaps taken her own virginity at an earlier age, she could have told herself that she had done it to avoid any discomfort during her first sexual intercourse. If she were to do it now, she knew in her heart that the sole reason why she would do it was because she had given up on the idea that anyone might ever have sex with her. And that was a scary thought.

Whenever she went out with her friends, she felt like a fifth wheel. Harry and Ginny had been dating since graduation and had gotten married two years ago. Ron had been going out with Pansy for two years, but once that relationship had run its course, he had started dating Luna Lovegood. Whenever the topic about Hermione’s single-status came up, she usually got bombarded with cliché-answers like ‘The right person will come along’ or ‘Enjoy life while you can...’. Hermione would love to talk about it, be able to vent about her frustrations, but they don’t even listen!   The one thing she absolutely detested was when someone dared to say: ‘A relationship isn’t everything, you know.’ Hermione would get really angry when someone would say that! Fine, perhaps it wasn’t everything, but just let her experience it! Even if the guy turned out to be wrong for her and it had all been a big mistake, let her at least make that big mistake so she would know what it was like! What it was like to be in love, to have someone who feels something for you in return, even if it was only for a little while. Then at least she would also know what it would be like to have sex.

And now, it was a week before Hermione’s thirtieth birthday and she felt less than elated about that fact. It wasn’t uncommon for people to feel slightly depressed about this, to mourn the passing of their twenties, yet Hermione felt like she was different.    She felt as if she was in exactly the same place as when she graduated from Hogwarts twelve years ago.

Five days ago, Hermione had decided that she was going to do something about her situation. As a result, she now found herself dressed in her sexiest underwear and her favourite black dress, pacing around her apartment trying to convince herself that she wasn’t nervous.



*****

“Don’t forget to turn on your alarm!” the chauffeur warned as he watched his passenger exit the limo.

“Have I ever forgotten? Besides, I doubt I’ll need it tonight.”

“That’s exactly what Jack said, half an hour before he had to go to the Emergency Room with a broken nose, cracked jaw and his arse fucked to shreds. Poor lad couldn’t sit for over a month.”

“See,” Blaise Zabini replied as he showed the man the little alarm on the inside of his jacket, pointing at the red light. “It’s on. I value my sitting-ability too much not to.”

“There’s a good lad,” the chauffeur said. “See you in a couple of hours. I’ll be parked right around the corner if you need me.”

Blaise nodded and took a step back as he watched the limo drive off, leaving him alone in the quiet darkness of the London suburbs. He ran his hand through his wavy black hair and turned his back to the street.

“Strange how things go,” he thought as he walked up to the house where he was required. Blaise had rolled into his current profession when one night a middle-aged woman approached him in a bar, offering him a job in her company. Officially, he was registered as a sales person (it was a company run by Muggles), in reality he was a male escort.   He had only been planning on doing this a little while to get himself back on his feet, then find a decent place to live and get a ‘respectable’ job.

Even though Blaise had never actively participated in the war, his parents’ participation in Voldemort’s ranks had successfully ruined his future. The short time he had planned to take in this profession had stretched, as he wasn't passionately committed to anything to the extent of enduring potential financial discomfort to achieve it, until he had been doing it for seven years now. The escort-business was something he was good at and gave him security. He could do what he was good at; living in shadows and going by virtually unnoticed. He slept during the day and lived during the night as ‘rescuer for the lonely and horny’.

Blaise had always thought the winning side of the war were happy and the losers had died or lived in misery. The last name he would ever have expected to show up on his list of clients was Hermione Granger’s. She was the epitome of the winners; someone of who you’d never think would have to buy love. Not only had she been on the frontline of the battle that won them the war, she had seemed to be born to succeed in everything she set her mind to. She wasn’t the kind of person you would share a class with and not notice. She was intelligent, clever, brave and beautiful. Blaise had always imagined that one day Potter or Weasley would get a clue and start dating her. Although, looking back, she would have been better off with someone more vibrant than either of them. The way she used to hide behind her books and knowledge led him to the conclusion that she needed a lover much more skilled than either of the two males of the Golden Trio to bring her passion to the surface. Someone whom could make her lose her mind so she couldn’t hide herself behind it to cover up her insecurities.

Blaise was led to the conclusion that whomever she was dating didn’t fit the bill. Or perhaps she hadn’t been able to find anyone able to see behind the Golden Girl who had saved the Wizarding World alongside The-Boy-Who-Lived. Or perhaps she simply felt lonely. Blaise’s experience told him it was often that nagging little emotion of loneliness, feeling unloved and unconnected with the world that made people decide to call a stranger for comfort.

         Blaise paused when he was about to reach out and press his finger against the doorbell. In his experience, you could tell a lot about peoples’ personalities through the sound of their doorbells. When the sound is boring, loud, and/or unpleasant, the people on the other side often are too. He doubted Hermione’s would be one of them. He could well imagine her spending hours on end Apparating to every shop across the country in search for the perfect bell. Blaise lifted his arm, lightly pressed his finger to the doorbell and smirked knowingly when he heard the light-hearted jingle on the other side of the door.

*****



Hermione jumped when she heard someone ring the doorbell.

         “Merlin, he’s here,” she thought nervously.

         She fretfully smoothed the nonexistent creases in her dress as she rushed towards the door. She reached for the door handle, took a deep breath and opened the door. The first thought that popped into her mind when seeing the man on the other side of her door, was ‘Thank Merlin, he wasn't ugly!’, which triggered a feeling of immense relief.

         “Hello,” she said almost automatically.



         “Evening,” the man replied, a sporty smile gracing his handsome features. He was tall, Hermione thought, noticing that the top of her head would barely reach his shoulders. He was wearing a black suit and a white shirt, which looked really good on him. On first glance, Hermione reckoned he was the kind of man who should always wear a suit, because that was what he looked best in. He wasn’t wearing a necktie though, which gave him a cute boyish look. His hair was dark, almost black, and somewhat curly. Unlike Hermione’s hair, his curls were tidy, but the tidiness seemed casual, as if it had occurred by accident rather than design. She guessed he had Italian roots, judging by his hair colour and the golden tan of his skin.

“So this is the man I’m giving my virginity to,” she thought, still not certain how she should feel about this.

         “Please, come in,” she stammered nervously.

         As she closed the door behind him, she forced herself to take steady breaths.

“For Gods sake, why am I so nervous?” she thought. “I'm not a shy little girl anymore. Right. I can do this. I know what to expect and how things are supposed to go. This man probably has more sexual experience than I can imagine, so if anyone would know how to do this right, it will be him.”

         “Would you like a drink, Mister...?”

         “Zabini. Blaise Zabini. But please, love, call me Blaise. And yes, I would like a drink.”

         Hermione nodded and went into the kitchen, glad to have something to do.



         “You don’t remember me, do you?” Blaise said, offhandedly leaning against the doorframe that separated the kitchen from the living room.

         “Should I?” Hermione asked as she poured them both a glass of white wine.

         “It’s not surprising that you don’t,” he answered. “I’ve never been a prominent presence. Besides, you always sat at the front during classes and I doubt you paid much attention to the people behind you, especially the ones way in the back.”

         “Wait a minute, you’re a Wizard?” asked Hermione in a high-pitched voice. “Damn!” she cursed inwardly. “I decided to contact a Muggle agency because I didn’t want to get into bed with someone who’d be shagging ‘Harry Potter’s Sidekick’ instead of me, Hermione Granger. And I'm with a man who is a Wizard AND someone who actually knows me? DAMN!”

         Hermione felt at a loss on what to do with this revelation. She didn’t enjoy the knowledge that she was to the spend a night of abandon with a Wizard, yet she felt equally reluctant to send him away. She had been a nervous wreck for an entire week and Hermione was aware that if she were to stop now, she probably wouldn’t find the courage to call the agency again. Was she willing to risk that? Did sleeping with someone who knew her repute bother her that much she would call it an early night after having gotten this far?

         “You went to Hogwarts? In one of my classes?” Hermione asked. “What house were you in?”

         “Slytherin.”

         Hermione blinked a couple of times, not really knowing how to reply to this.

         Blaise smirked.

         “Yes, I suppose that wouldn’t make me very popular with you, would it. If it’s a comfort, we weren’t all as nasty as we were made out to be.”

         “I know that,” Hermione said, knowing that the ‘All Slytherins are evil’-stigma had little truth to it. Heck, Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin Queen, had gone out with Ron for a period of two years. Hermione had seen a lot of the girl and granted, she was annoying, but she wasn’t evil. Except in the way that any plain, unintelligent but not stupid woman who mysteriously made herself attractive to men by giggling and fawning all over them was evil.



Hermione smiled shyly at Blaise as she handed him the glass of wine and motioned him to follow her into the living room. He didn’t seem very awestruck by the fact that he had ‘the’ Hermione Granger on his shagging-list, so she doubted it would be much a problem that he had recognised her. Even though she didn’t remember him, she couldn’t help but feel sad that someone she had gone to school with had been forced to resort to the oldest profession. But then again, she wasn’t the one to talk. What was sadder, becoming an escort or calling for the services of one?

“May I ask you something purely out of interest, about your work?” Hermione asked as they sat down on the sofa.

“Certainly.”

“Do you get a lot of girls as clients who want you to take their virginity?” she asked, trying to keep her voice as matter-of-fact as possible.

         “I can’t say I do,” Blaise answered. “It has happened twice before, but they weren’t female.”

         “Oh, so you also...”

         “Sleep with men?” he asked. “Yes. In this line of work, it pays to be versatile.”

“I see.”

“Is that a problem for you?” Blaise asked, knowing that she could be feeling a bit uncertain about sleeping with someone who has also slept with men.

“No, it’s not that,” Hermione said dismissively. After having witnessed Seamus and Dean spending their final two years of Hogwarts in one consecutive lip-lock, she really wasn’t prejudiced againstabout same-gender couples. She'd be lying if she said that she didn't find the sight of two men intimately touching each other arousing.

“It’s just...” she continued. “Would you know what to do if you would have to take a girl’s virginity?”

Hermione swallowed nervously when Blaise blankly stared at her for what seemed like ages. The cat’s amongst the pixies now, she reckoned. Yet she figured it was better that he’d find out now, than realise it later.

“I can’t promise you that it won’t hurt,” he answered, “but you have my word that I’ll try to make it as pleasurable for you as I can.”

“You’re not shocked?” Hermione asked.

“No,” he answered simply.

Hermione nodded, feeling a bit self-conscious. The fact that it would be a surprise to people if they heard she was still a virgin was bad enough. Now hearing that to some it wouldn’t be a surprise was even worse.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Blaise started. “I’m simply in a situation in which I get to see many forms of aloneness. It doesn’t really surprise me anymore. You’re a beautiful and enchanting young woman, Hermione,don't let anyone or anything about this situation make you believe otherwise.

She blushed lightly and gave a slight smile to indicate that she had accepted his clarification.

“Would you mind telling me what you are expecting of tonight?” Blaise asked, leaning forward and taking hold of her hand, making her look up at him.

“Nothing fancy or kinky or anything,” she answered shyly, looking away to break from his gaze. “I just... I want to know what it is like.”

Blaise nodded in understanding as he gave her hand a tighter squeeze. He didn’t know if he should pity this girl or envy her. He was quite certain he would be able to make her first time pleasurable, something most people were denied. Yet those people didn’t have to live with the thought that no one would touch them unless they were paid to.

It seemed a lifetime ago when Blaise had lost his own virginity, yet he could still remember it as if it had happened yesterday. It had been during Christmas break in his sixth year at Hogwarts. Blaise wasn’t very social, so at age sixteen, the prospect of having sex was something that didn’t seem likely to happen in the near future. It was still rather surreal in his opinion. Not only had he been completely caught off guard by being ushered into sex so suddenly, he also hadn’t expected his first time to have been with a boy. And mind you, this wasn’t just any boy. This was the boy virtually every teenage girl swooned over, Draco Malfoy.

After a quiet day of reading in the library, Blaise had gone down to the Slytherin dungeon to return some of his things. If anyone else had walked into the Slytherin boy’s dorm that day to see Draco Malfoy shedding tears of sorrow he would have been shocked. Anyone except for Blaise would have been shocked. However,Blaise was the kind of person who spends his time watching and observing, noticing things others didn’t because they were too busy chattering. He had known that hidden under the icy, loudmouth façade was a boy who was just as scared of the uncertain future as most other students were. Blaise hadn’t known why Draco was so upset, all he had known was that he couldn’t just turn around and leave.

Blaise hadn’t said anything as he walked up to sit down on the bed next to Draco. Draco had never been very friendly with Blaise, mostly because Draco was anoisy and high-flying presence while Blaise was known as the quiet one. It seemed Draco had always sensed that Blaise could see through himand this was why Draco had barely graced Blaise with two words during their entire time together at school.

He had just sat next to Draco, offering comfort simply by being there before he laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. Draco had lifted his head and looked at Blaise. One moment he had simply stared at Blaise with tearful eyes, next Draco leaned in and kissed him. At first, Blaise hadn’t quite known how to react. He had never kissed anyone yet, and hadn’t been quite sure if he enjoyed being kissed by a boy. It had been obvious to him Draco was simply seeking comfort and he wasn’t certain if this was the way to give it. Even though he hadn’t been certain about a lot of things, he had found himself reciprocating. Before Blaise had known it, he was pushed onto his back and was being undressed by the most sought after boy in school. Even though Draco was far from being a virgin, the sex that followed had been a bit clumsy. Both because Draco obviously had never shagged a bloke before and because it had seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind on what it was he wanted. Instead, he just did about everything; rough fucking to forget his pain, tender touching and caressing to find comfort and desperate clawing and passionate kissing to try to bury his ache with passion.

When they had finished, Draco simply got off Blaise, got himself dressed and left the room. During the days that followed, Draco had seemed very set on ignoring that it ever happened, except for the occasional angry glance in Blaise’s direction. Blaise wasn’t mournful about the manner in which he had lost his virginity, but it certainly could have been better. He had been used to observing the melodramas at school from a distance, not being a part of it, but he figured he could deal with them. Blaise was almost convinced the whole thing had blown over, until a week later he suddenly found himself aggressively shoved up against a wall.

“Did you tell anyone?” Draco growled.

“No,” Blaise calmly answered, which was the truth.

Blaise thought Draco was going to let go of him, huffily say something witty and then leave. Instead, he found himself engulfed in a forceful lip-lock. Blaise still hadn’t been sure if he was straight, Gay, Bi, or whatever. All he knew was that he didn’t mind Draco kissing or touching him, so he let himself melt into Draco’s embrace. From then on, they slept together on a regular basis. Blaise figured Draco found some sort of comfort in the fact that he could be himself with Blaise. Draco had already slipped up in a moment of weakness, so why would Draco not take advantage of that situation?

Blaise felt somewhat thankful he had been able to give Draco some sort of consolation and relief for the time he could. Draco had been sad and lonely for most of his life and he had found an equally sad and lonely death. If only Draco hadn’t felt the obligation to follow his father’s footsteps into the Death Eater ranks after graduation, he might still be alive. He had never been very nice to people, friend or foe, so there weren’t many who felt sorry for his loss. Yet Blaise couldn’t help but mourn when thinking back on that sad sixteen year old boy who had sought comfort Blaise's arms the day his father had died.

“Blaise?” Hermione said.

“Yes.”

“What exactly are the rules? I mean, are there limits? Things you don’t do?”

“In terms of...?” he asked, not quite following.

“Kissing.”

“Well, that depends, did you brush your teeth?” Blaise smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes, I brushed my teeth,” Hermione chuckled nervously, but her laugh faded when she caught the serious look in Blaise’s eyes. She swallowed when she locked eyes with him. She hadn’t noticed before this moment that his eyes were indigo, which was both extraordinary and unusual. It wasn’t just rare, it was beautiful. She felt like she could simply stare into his eyes for hours, drowning in them. She started, jolted out of her fascination and suddenly anxious as he reached out his hand and caressed a stray strand of hair out of her face.

“Has anyone ever kissed you, Hermione?” he whispered.

“No,” she answered, too mesmerised by his close proximity to be embarrassed about this admission. It had been so long since anyone had been this physically close to her.

Her heartbeat quickened when he leaned closer to her. Hermione tried not to whimper when she felt the warmth of his breath against her face. Oh Merlin, he was going to kiss her! Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, as much from excitement as from nervousness.

“Close your eyes, love,” he said soothingly.

Hermione did as told and quickly moistened her lips a bit, knowing this was an advisable thing to do before kissing someone. She was taking shallow breaths, anxiously waiting for her long postponed first kiss. She gasped lightly when she felt Blaise caressing her cheek. Almost immediately afterwards she felt a light pressure on her lips, a soft and gentle touch, almost like it wasn’t really there. Then the kiss intensified, the soft skin of Blaise’s lips pressing harder against hers, and she lost herself into the feeling. A soft whimper escaped her throat when she felt him gently nibbling on her bottom lip. His hand was still on her cheek, tenderly caressing her and making soothing circles with his thumb. She gasped when she felt his tongue lightly tracing her lips, which gave him the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

When she first felt his tongue brushing against hers she had felt a bit panicky, because she hadn’t known what to do. She felt silly and inexperienced. Hermione liked being the best at everything she did, but this was something she clearly didn’t excel in. She simply couldn’t help but feel like she was being compared to everyone else Blaise had kissed, and that would be a lot of people. Hermione tentatively tried reciprocating his caresses, but almost felt like pulling back out of uncertainty. Then she felt his arm snake around her waist, pressing her closer to him, which forced her to tilt her head backwards in order to keep kissing. Suddenly she felt as if she was in one of those cheesy romance novels, where the handsome stranger had just rescued the damsel in distress, had swept her of her feet and was snogging her to pieces. She hadn’t expected to feel like this and like it, let alone with someone she barely knew. Yet this feeling had started to make her feel more confident. She let Blaise make love to her mouth and eagerly returned his caresses, trying not to care if she was following the correct techniques or not. She just hoped that it felt as good to him as it did to her.

Their tongues were now intensely sliding against each other, exploring the nooks and crannies of each other’s mouths in a rhythm of advance and retreat. A tingly feeling was spreading throughout Hermione’s body as she felt herself melting more and more in Blaise’s embrace. She felt herself getting a bit light-headed due to lack of oxygen, but at that moment she’d rather pass out than stop kissing. Luckily, Blaise was a bit more sensible. With a few lingering kisses he broke their embrace and opened his eyes. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight before him.   Hermione seemed to be in a little bit of a daze; as if she hadn’t quite comprehended yet that the kiss had ended.

“Do you feel like moving this to the bedroom?” he asked, waking Hermione from her brief trance.

She opened her eyes and coughed, trying to find her voice again.

“Okay,” she said hoarsely as she got off the sofa and walked towards the stairs, which led to her bedroom. She occasionally looked behind her to make sure Blaise was following.

When they entered her bedroom, Blaise noted that Hermione looked like a trapped animal looking for another exit. She was excessively tense. He advanced on her, snuck around her waist and hugged her back against his front, which made her jump at the sudden, still unfamiliar, contact.

“You’re too tense, love,” he said, moving his hands to her shoulders to massage her muscles. “Do you mind lying down on the bed for me?”

Hermione didn’t bother answering and simply did as told, flipping her shoes off and lying down on her stomach. She became aware of a strange sensation when Blaise straddled her waist. It felt odd to be in such a close, intimate position with a man. It wasn’t a bad feeling, it was just strange, unfamiliar. She could smell him, Hermione noted, the scent of a man. It had been a long time since she had smelled it last.

Hermione felt his hand brushing her hair over her right shoulder, uncovering her back. She sighed contently when his hands touched her shoulders and started massaging them. She indeed was tense; she had been tense ever since she had made this appointment. Now she knew why people tended to say that sex is better when it’s spontaneous; when it’s planned it’s absolutely nerve-wracking.

As Blaise was massaging her shoulders, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat proud that he could be such a significant milestone in another person’s life. Mostly, he felt as if he was simply someone to pass the time with, a job he generally was perfectly okay with. But still, even though he felt sorry that Hermione had to call on a stranger, it made him feel good that he could mean something to someone, if only for a moment. This had also been the reason why he had kissed her. Her question about his limits had been a valid one. Usually, he didn’t let his clients kiss him. In Blaise’s opinion, kisses were signs of affection, a feeling that didn’t belong in a business transaction. In this case he didn’t feel like telling her about this rule. He didn’t want to deny her a kiss. For goodness sake, you couldn’t start having sex without first having kissed someone! Blaise only now realised that in this regard he wasn’t very experienced either. Besides Hermione, the only person who had ever kissed him had been Draco. Over the past fourteen years he had slept with a vast amount of people, yet only at age thirty had been the time he had first kissed a girl. If this wasn’t irony he didn’t know what was.

Strangely, Hermione didn’t feel jumpy when she felt Blaise unzipping the back of her dress. Perhaps this was because this wasn’t an action in which she had to partake in, and possibly feel inadequate. This was also a person she wouldn’t see again beyond tonight, so she didn’t really feel all too self-conscious about being naked in front of him. Hermione felt him pushing the fabric out of the way so he could massage her lower back. During the days leading up to this moment she had been troubled with the idea of sleeping with an unfamiliar person. Not just the concept itself, but also that she couldn’t comprehend the idea that she would be able to get aroused by someone she didn’t know. She had been sure that, when being intimate with a stranger, the coos and pleas she’d utter would undoubtedly be just for show. She might get physically aroused, but her head would most likely refuse to cooperate. Yet, if her kiss with Blaise was any indication, there would be little problem in that department. The fact that she hardly knew him didn’t bother her as much as she thought it would. It made him mysterious, an asset which his darker features, graceful movements and cortical attitude seemed to strengthen.

“Is this okay?” Blaise asked when he unclasped her bra and softly caressed the naked surface of her back, as if he was relishing the newly exposed nakedness.

She didn’t answer, but stirred instead. Blaise sat back when Hermione twisted herself around and went to sit on her knees before him. He didn’t know what she was planning to do, so instead he waited. He watched her pull her dress into place as much she could, which was rather difficult since it was still opened. She briefly looked up at him, before reaching out to smooth the slightly wrinkled collar of his shirt with a few strokes.

“Can I undress you?” she then asked him with a seemingly newfound confidence, her hands still resting on his shirt collar.

Blaise gave her a smile and a curt nod to give his consent. He found it endearing that she still bothered asking his permission. Most women simply resorted to ripping the clothes off his body.

She pushed his vest off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor, before moving on to remove his shirt, one button at the time. Hermione did all this in a bit of a trance, one of which she was immediately awoken from when she had successfully unbuttoned his shirt. The contrast between the white shirt and the golden bronze skin underneath it was simply breathtaking. He was slender, but he looked strong and his muscles were well defined. Hermione found herself simply mesmerised by the hills and valleys of his upper body. All she wanted to do was to reach out and let her hands glide across his smooth chest, but she didn’t know if she should. The man in front of her was being paid to shag her, clean and simple. She doubted he was going to let her touch him as if she was poking at some strange curiosity she had come across. She hesitantly let her hands drop to her sides, but gasped in surprise when Blaise swiftly took hold of them and brought them back up to gently place them on his chest.

“Don’t be afraid to touch me, Hermione,” he said, encouraging her by rubbing his hands against hers, pressing them closer against his chest.

When Blaise let go of her hands, Hermione didn’t know what she would dread most, removing her hands or leaving them there. She didn’t know what she was doing and felt self-conscious about it. Part of her simply wanted Blaise to push her on her back and to have his way with her, so she could lose her virginity without having to deal with her own noticeable inexperience. Even so, in-between her screams of self doubt, she couldn’t help but hear a little voice in her head, telling her how soft his skin felt underneath her fingertips. She indeed was surprised at its softness, with him being a man and all. It almost felt like silk.

Blaise watched her as she slowly started moving her hands in slow circles across his chest. Her touches were tentative at first, but he could feel that she was getting more confident. She softly traced his collarbone with her fingers and moved them over his shoulders to reach his upper arms. She did this with such reverence, as if she was touching a sculpture made out of glass and was afraid to break it if she rubbed it too harshly. She then moved her hands back up to his shoulders and traced them over his back.

A concerned frown appeared on Blaise’s brow when he noticed a feeling appear on Hermione’s face, an emotion somewhere in-between sadness and longing. Then suddenly she did something that made something inside of him twinge: she snaked her arms around his shoulders and hugged herself against him. It had been a long time since anyone had hugged him like this, without it being sexual. After a brief moment of shocked uncertainty, Blaise lifted his arms and enclosed them around her back to return the embrace.

Hermione couldn’t remember how long she had yearned for someone to hold her like this, in a simple, comforting hug. When she was younger, she would hug Harry and Ron on a regular basis. They were all just friends, so there really hadn’t been any awkwardness there, but ever since Harry and Ron had girlfriends they stopped showing their friendliness in a physical way. Hermione doubted that Ginny or Luna (she wasn’t too sure about Pansy) would feel threatened by her, but somehow the boundaries had shifted anyway. In truth, she was more saddened about this change than she had made herself believe. During the seven years Harry and Ron had been her best friends, they had become a part of her. Now, she felt as if they had become divided and had gone their separate ways, even though they still saw a lot each other. Not that she was angry with them, she was glad they had found someone to love and experience the passions with she had been craving for all these years. Still, she couldn’t help but feel dislodged somehow, to feel alone. No, not just alone; unwanted.

With her right arm still wrapped around his back, Hermione wriggled herself out of the straps of her dress and bra on her left. She switched arms and did the same to the other side, throwing her bra away and pulling her dress down to her waist, all the while not breaking contact with Blaise. Hermione almost felt like sobbing when she felt her naked breasts pressing against Blaise’s chest. There was something so immensely wholesome and comforting about having her naked upper body touching another. It felt pure, yet also carnal. Like she had returned to the core of her humanity, where she was naked, without boundaries and simply followed her carnal desires.

“You’re so beautiful,” Blaise said as they slightly parted, his hands still resting on her hips.

“You’re supposed to say that,” Hermione responded, a bit sorrowfully. She herself wasn’t all that unhappy about the way she looked, but she was quite aware that she wasn’t perfect. She was too short, a bit too curvy and her body definitely hadn’t remained scar free after the seven years of fighting Voldemort. Besides, if she really had been beautiful, surely someone would have told her by now. Being told so by a gigolo, who was being paid good money to please her, really wasn’t going to make her believe otherwise.

Blaise cast her a pleading look. It was true; he indeed was supposed to say that. No, not like it was part of the job description, but he did like to tell his clients they were beautiful. Even if he didn’t think they were especially attractive, Blaise figured that everyone had a certain beauty, one he could rarely see in the little time he got to spend with these people. He felt that telling them that he thought they were beautiful made them feel a bit more at ease. But with Hermione he didn’t just say that to make her feel at ease, he really did think she was beautiful. She was a package of softness and female curves. How could he not think she was beautiful? How could she not?

Hermione frowned when Blaise suddenly pulled her back against him and felt him placing his hand against the dip of her lower back and pushing her forward. She was about to ask him what he was planning, until she felt the lower half of her body coming into contact with his and...

She gasped suddenly, in reflex broke apart from Blaise, and looked down in-between them.

“Do you still think I’m lying?” Blaise asked.

“I... err, I guess... I mean...” she stammered, seemingly unable to divert her gaze from the bulge in Blaise’s pants.

Depending on the person he was with, for Blaise it often was a job by itself to get his cock upright. Luckily, the mind is a powerful thing that can often overcome these things with some stimulating images and fantasies. Even so, Blaise was grateful for occasions when he wasn’t forced to worry about an uncooperative erection, like tonight.

“It won’t bite, you know,” he said pointedly.

For a moment, Hermione looked at him incredulously, but swiftly she realised that his suggestion wasn’t all that crazy. She was quite curious actually, never having seen a penis before. She could help but find it both strange and fascinating how uninhibited this man seemed to be around someone he had just met, as if it was the most normal thing in the world if a stranger ripped his pants off. Hermione supposed that for Blaise, it indeed was the most normal thing in the world. She hesitantly reached out and undid Blaise’s belt, her gaze alternating between his pants and his face.

When she had unzipped his fly, they both shifted positions so they could take his pants off. Blaise lifted his hips so Hermione could remove his pants and throw them on the floor. She couldn’t help but blush at the sight of his erection, still covered by his black boxers. Its shape was much more distinct now, freed from the thick material of his pants, and Hermione could see nature had been kind to Blaise. She was a bit uncertain how she was supposed to remove his boxers while he was sporting a hard-on. She didn’t know how sensitive a penis was when it was like this, but she sure didn’t want to cause Blaise any discomfort by pulling them down in a painful angle, or something. She carefully took hold of the waistband of his boxers, lifted them up a bit and pulled them off without disturbing his erection.

She didn’t really know where she had let his boxers hit the floor, because her eyes had immediately been drawn to the newly exposed mass of pink flesh. The way his erection was standing up, all flushed and proud, Hermione had to admit that it looked somewhat intimidating. She had always thought a penis was a little scary. Not so much how it looked, but what it could do. With it, men could take as many women (and men) as they pleased, with or without their consent, while women had no equipment to do such a thing. During the war, Hermione had more than once come to face with the results of the Death Eater attacks, with their butchering and raping of innocent people. It was clear that rape had been a tactic of Voldemort’s to frighten and discourage the other team, one that had actually worked to an extent. Hermione had sobbed like an infant when learning of Lavender Brown’s rape during summer vacation before their sixth year. Lavender had been held captive in her own home for nine days and had been used like a fuck-puppet that entire time. Even Pansy Parkinson, a pureblood, had been savagely taken against her will because her family had decided to withdraw from the war. The poor thing hadn’t been able to let anyone touch her for months, the slightest physical contact sending her into a fit of hysteria. Never had Hermione been more surprised when, two months before graduation, she had caught Pansy crying her eyes out as she was clinging onto Ron as a life preserver. She still didn’t know what he had done to let Pansy in, but she didn’t think she’d ever been more proud of him. Out of necessity, Hermione had mentally prepared herself for the idea that she might one day find herself pushed on her back, have her knickers ripped off and be fucked to shreds by a band of Death Eaters. Luckily, it had never come to this.

Hermione reached out and softly ran her hand across the length of Blaise’s erection. The manner in which Blaise had submitted himself to her prying eyes and fingers told her that she didn’t have to be ill at ease. As she let her hand drift downwards and cupped his balls, she also noticed that he trimmed his pubic hair. She hadn’t been sure if men did that sort of thing, but wasn’t disappointed that some of them apparently did. Hermione liked a man who took care of his physique.

Blaise expertly closed his eyes to the pleasant feelings Hermione’s soft caresses were creating. His sexual stamina had come a long way since he had been a hormonal teenager who had just been introduced to sex, and couldn’t even last a full two minutes. Even though Blaise still was a hot-blooded male, he also was a professional who skilfully knew how to put his own desires aside to please his client; something he reckoned his current client was now ready for.

Hermione let out an, in her opinion, very unladylike yelp when suddenly Blaise leaned forward and, without a decent warning, latched his mouth onto her nipple and sucked on it. Almost in automatic response, she grabbed hold of Blaise’s head so he wouldn’t stop doing what he was doing. By Morgana’s Bane, this felt good! She could feel his tongue rolling around her areola as his other hand grabbed holds of her other breast and gently massaged it. She hadn’t known that having a mouth latched to her nipple would feel so different from pinching or caressing it. It tickled a bit, but not so much as to make her giggle. Her fingers tightened around the locks of his hair when his tongue gave long broad stokes up and down her nipple. Hermione could feel her body awakening to his touches. She felt such a strong yearning for more. Her core was throbbing and shouting out for attention, and she couldn’t help but want to feel what his talented mouth could do to her when it was occupied down there.

It seemed like her question would soon be answered when Blaise urged her to lie on her back. Just when she felt her back come in contact with the bed sheets, he snaked his fingers underneath the waistband of her knickers and Hermione lifted her hips so he could pull them down, along with her dress. She swallowed nervously when his hands slowly parted her legs. He started kissing her feet, her calves, her knees,... trailing a path upwards her legs. As his lips trailed a teasingly slow path over her thighs, she tried to relax by taking deep, calming breaths. No one had ever seen her in this position, except for her gynaecologist, and she couldn’t keep herself from being nervous about that fact.

She was certain he must have felt her shudder when his lips touched her clit, giving it a soft, chaste kiss. She couldn’t contain a strangled whimper from escaping her throat when Blaise’s tongue started to give her slow teasing licks. His tongue trailed a path over her clit, caressed her labia and started teasing her slit by moving it in and out of her. Hermione moaned in rapture when, Blaise cupped her right breast into his hand, pushing it up and tenderly kneading it. She felt his tongue being replaced by one of his fingers, as his mouth was suckling on the pulsing nub of her clit. He pulled his finger out and then pushed it back in, expertly locating her G-spot right behind her pubic bone, and aimed his thrusts on the responsive area. She was a little embarrassed by the squishy noises the friction between his fingers and her juices were emitting, but her rationality told her not to fret since it was a normal reaction.

She tilted her head so she could see. It was such a sexy sight, seeing a gorgeous man’s head between her thighs. She had always regarded oral sex as a tremendously sexy act, one person giving another pleasure without asking for any in return. She just hoped he wouldn’t find the taste of her too displeasing, since she was sure her cunt must be sopping wet by now.

Blaise snaked another finger inside of her, stretching her inner walls to prepare her for what was to come. Even though everything seemed to go alright, he did have one concern though: he didn’t know if he was going to be able to make her climax. Hermione was a virgin, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t done anything sexual. In contrast to the male orgasm, a female orgasm is something that usually comes with time and experience. Both mind and body need to get acquainted with the feeling of climaxing before it can be truly enjoyed. Sometimes this doesn’t take very long, in some cases it can take a lifetime. Sure, there was more than one woman Blaise had given her first orgasm, but all of them had had a sexual history. In truth, these women probably have had orgasms before, but they had been too small for them to feel them, due to psychological reasons, the wrong partner of sexual inexperience of said partner. If Hermione had never had any sexual experience before, it was unlikely, if not impossible, that she would experience an orgasm tonight.

“Hermione, I’m sorry, but I must ask you,” Blaise said, lifting his head, but keeping his fingers occupied with pumping in and out of her. “Have you ever masturbated?”

Blaise repressed a sigh of relief at seeing Hermione’s brief nod. He reburied his head in-between her thighs and resumed licking her. She gasped when he started licking her in earnest, long broad strokes caressing her clit with just the right amount of pressure. Hermione couldn’t do any more but to lay back and subject herself to the feelings coursing through her body. She noted that it felt just like when she would pleasure herself, yet at the same time it felt totally different. She didn’t need to produce sexy thoughts and images to arouse herself; what aroused her was right there, in-between her legs. Hermione moaned contently as Blaise kept on affectionately massaging her breast. His fingers were remained buried inside of her, his fingertips making circles against her G-spot. Her essence was dripping along the crease of her arse and was soaking the sheets. Her hips arched upwards to try to get his fingers deeper inside of her. Hermione felt as if her brain was ready to explode and would come leaking out of her ears. She was squirming under him, bucking and tensing under his touch. It was all too much, the licking and the massaging and his fingers circling inside of her. It only took a few more licks before she came, her fingers tangling in the sheets, her orgasm hitting her with such a force she feared it would blow her head off her shoulders.

Blaise had kept on lapping at her juices until she had fully come down from her orgasm, her body shuddering from the sudden immense release. Before she had managed to reopen her eyes, she felt Blaise’s body levelling with hers and his lips claiming hers in a possessive kiss. She eagerly opened her lips to him, granting him permission to slip his tongue inside and curl it alongside hers. A whimper escaped the back of her throat when he started sucking on her tongue. She could taste herself on him and wondered if it was some sort of obliged ritual to kiss the person you’ve just given oral sex. If this was the case, she quite liked the idea of it, sharing the experience through a kiss.

She closed her eyes again as Blaise trailed from her lips to kiss her cheek, her jaw, to find the sensitive spots on her neck. She wondered if he would mark her and leave a love bite. She knew love bites were a bit tacky, but she had always wondered what it would feel like to have one. A slight smile appeared on Hermione’s lips. This was it, she realised, what she had been waiting for, yearning for, all this time. This was what she had wanted. She had felt like she had spent ten years in a time loop, standing still, unable to move forward, and was now slowly breaking out of it. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy: you become what people expect you to be, in Hermione’s case a bookish, virginal know-it-all. She used to look down on people like her former roommates in secondary school, who used to mess around with glamour charms for hours and constantly giggled about boys. Yet sometimes she simply wanted to be the kind of girl who dyed her hair, used make-up, wore short skirts and high heels, knew how to flirt and occasionally got laid. Sometimes, she simply wanted to be normal.

She gasped when his mouth came across a surprisingly sensitive spot on her neck Hermione herself hadn’t even known about. Now alerted to its location, Blaise started attacking the responsive area with his lips, gently biting down to suck the blood up from the veins beneath the sensitive skin. Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as Blaise paid homage to her neck, and she let herself be swept away by the resurfacing feelings of arousal. She could feel his erection pressing flush against her pussy, causing slight friction against her clit when he moved. Hermione squirmed, unable to disregard the aching feeling burning in her core.

“Blaise?”

“Yes?” he replied, levelling his head with hers and looking down at her. His hands were on either side of her face, his arm supporting his weight, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel like an animal trapped by a predator who was about to devour her. Strange thing was that she actually enjoyed this feeling, the feeling of total surrender.

“Fuck me,” she said resolutely.

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to do this slowly or swiftly?” Blaise asked, feeling slightly nervous all of the sudden. He had no actual experience in taking a girl’s virginity and really didn’t want to hurt this girl. He knew what to do off course, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was entering uncharted territory.

“I- er, swiftly, I guess,” Hermione answered after thinking for a moment.

She didn’t know if this was the best choice. She supposed doing it quickly would hurt more, but it also would be over sooner. She shifted a bit, trying to find an as comfortable position as possible as Blaise positioned himself at her entrance. Her brow involuntarily knitted together as she felt him slowly starting to push into her, her arms tightly clamped around his back. The way they fitted together felt much tighter than she had expected it to feel. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t comfortable either. She gasped when she felt Blaise hitting an obstruction inside of her, her maiden barrier. She fixed her gaze on a smudge on her ceiling, concentrating on it with all her might because she knew what was to come. He pulled back a little and then thrust in with one swift push. Hermione felt something ‘pop’, and before she realised it he was fully sheathed inside of her. She let out a sigh of relief. She was surprised at the little amount of pain that was accompanied with it. The breaching of her barrier had given a bit of a sting, but didn’t emit the white hot pain Hermione had been expecting. She supposed her hymen had been damaged over the years, due to all the physical strain her body had been subjected to, or perhaps the foreplay had simply made it better.

“Did it hurt badly?” Blaise asked.

“No, I’m fine,” she answered, only now fully realising that she was physically connected with this man. It felt odd and slightly awkward, yet in a way also natural. Hermione gasped when he started moving, pulling back and pushing in again. He did this in a slow pace; in and out, in and out,... Blaise’s movements were gentle and caring, as if he was afraid to hurt her. Hermione circled her arms around his back, hugging him closer to her, feeling the heat of his body against hers. She wanted to memorise every touch, every sensation. Who knew how long it would be before she would do this again, if she would be doing this again. She couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes at realising that this might be the only sexual experience she’d ever get, that this might be it.

“Harder,” she said huskily.

Blaise complied and picked up the pace a bit.

“Harder!” she said again, her voice now coming out in a sob. Hermione wanted to stop the tears from flowing, but she couldn’t. She wanted to forget that the man who had just taken her virginity wasn’t someone who loved her, or cared about her, or even knew her. But she couldn’t.

To her sudden surprise, Blaise stopped moving, cupped her cheek and forced her to look up at him.

“You don’t want to hurt yourself,” he said seriously, his face only a few inches separated from hers, his indigo eyes mercilessly burning into hers.

Hermione looked away bitterly, tears leaking down her cheeks. Her entire body was shaking from the tension cramped inside of it. Blaise sighed, knowing what she was thinking, what she was living. He knew why she was crying, knew her pain. He wanted to make her forget and only knew one way how; pleasuring her to such an extent that she couldn’t think anymore. He snaked his hand in-between their bodies to where they joined, putting light pressure on her clit with his thumb.

For a moment it didn’t seem to Hermione like he was going to move again, but then he pulled back and slowly slid inside of her again. His movements were so slow they didn’t really do anything to quench her desires, but it made Hermione all the more aware of the intimate nature of their connection. She was much more aware that she was being filled, was being completed. His thumb followed the movements of his body; softly downwards as he pulled out of her, and up again, with more pressure, as he slid back in.

Her breathing was coming out in long shudders and muffled gasps, her hot breath continuously brushing against Blaise’s neck. The little whimpers she made and the hitching of her breath told Blaise she was close to release. He buried himself inside of her, stayed there and made the head of his thumb swiftly flicker over the swollen nub. He could feel her fingers digging in his shoulder blades and knew she was at the brink of release. Hermione came without a sound, her body aching ever so slightly against Blaise’s, her eyes remaining closed and her mouth slightly opened.

Before she had time to fully come down from her orgasm, Blaise pulled out of her, ignoring his own need for release, and bent down to lick her again. As he assaulted her clit with teasing little nips and licks, he could taste the sweetness of her juices combined with the saltiness of his pre-cum, a blend that wasn’t disagreeing with Blaise’s taste buds. Going down on a girl was one of Blaise’s favourite things during the job. Experience told him that in most cases women preferred oral sex to actual coitus and were often very grateful to him when he performed it. This wasn’t all that crazy, knowing that vaginal stimulation in most cases wasn’t enough, if not superfluous, to make a woman climax. Blaise was simply appalled by the amount of clients he had whose husbands were too old-fashioned to please their wives ‘that way’. And often these men weren’t too iffy about asking their wives for regular blowjobs.

Even though Blaise enjoyed sleeping with men as much as with women, he had to admit he did prefer sticking his head in-between a woman’s thighs. Going down on a woman is like French kissing her pussy, and kissing always felt nice. Going down on a man however, always went accompanied with its fair share of choking, gagging and an aching jaw. Blaise actively disliked it when they would grab his head and start bobbing it up and down their cock, choking him in the process. Why couldn’t they just lay back and enjoy what he was doing? Not that it was all bad, he reckoned. Even though it wasn’t his favourite thing, Blaise was good at giving blowjobs and was often complimented for them. He supposed he should be thanking Draco for this, his verbal instructions during their sessions in Hogwart’s broom cupboards always lingering in the back of his mind as he performed this act. But as he said; he still preferred women when he gave head. His tongue lapped at Hermione’s juices and quickly she exploded again, collapsing in a quivering mess.

Her head was spinning. Her body was so numb Hermione didn’t even feel Blaise entering her again. Suddenly she found herself twisted around and straddling Blaise’s waist. She suppressed the reflex to ask him what he was planning. It was obvious what he wanted; he wanted her to take charge.

Blaise noticed that it was a bit awkward for her at first. She started out by moving slowly and tentatively, her gaze fixed on where they were joined, as if she was terribly afraid that she would pull back too far and separate their connection. Hermione picked up the pace when she seemed to have gotten the hang of it. He smiled when he caught her blushing at noticing her breasts bouncing. Blaise reached out and covered them with his hands, kneading them.

With each thrust their pelvises grinded against each other. The bed squeaked under them. Hermione felt sweaty and hot. Finally, she thought exasperatedly, finally she knew what it was like. For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt like she was part of the human race again. This was what humans did; they fucked. As she rode him she let her eyes feast on the gorgeous man beneath her; from his handsome face, to the slopes and valleys of his naked chest, across his flat stomach, to the light trail of dark hair on his underbelly, leading to where they joined together. She briefly speculated on what it felt like for a man when he penetrates a woman, to impale her with his shaft and bring her to orgasm. She could very imagine the difference in experience it would be, filling another body instead of having another filling yours.

Patches of pink were erupting across her flesh, and Hermione could feel herself breaking out into a sweat. She felt the familiar pressure in her core building again. As she felt her pelvic bone grinding against Blaise’s while thrusting back in, Hermione wondered how long he would be able to last. She had already climaxed three times while Blaise was still as composed as he had been when they had started out. She ignored the urge to thrust faster, wanting to draw this out as long as possible. Hermione couldn’t help but feel sexy and uninhibited. She felt free. It was as if she had been liberated from a cage that had trapped her for ten years; a cage of her own unfulfilled desires. She moaned contently when Blaise pushed himself up and took her left nipple in his mouth. He answered her tender thrusts with his own, sending himself deeper inside of her. It felt like climbing a staircase that seemed to go on forever; she was exhausted, but couldn’t stop ascending for she knew she had almost made it to the top. Almost there... Just a little further. Yes, just there... Almost made it... Hermione threw her head back and orgasm slammed into her, its blackness consuming her body and pushing her mind into obscurity. She collapsed on top of Blaise and immediately felt his arms circling around her. She felt utterly exhausted and her heart was racing a hundred miles a minute, but she knew she wasn’t finished yet.

“Blaise?” she panted.

“Yes?”

She lifted her head and looked up at him. His voice had been much deeper than it was before. Even thought they were both panting heavily and their skin was equally damp from perspiration, Hermione’s body was sated to the core while Blaise’s was left at the peek of its passion. As Hermione looked at him she saw a hunger in Blaise’s stormy dark-blue eyes that was almost too overwhelming for her to keep watching. Still, she felt somewhat comforted that apparently a professional couldn’t keep himself fully composed to the end. She lifted her hips a bit, thrust back in, and said something she had read a dozen times in romance novels and had always wanted to say herself one day:

“Come for me.”

Hermione started riding him again, pushing him balls deep into her, their faces only inches apart from each other. Blaise started feeling the familiar tightening of his balls and gave himself over to the sensation. It didn’t take him very long to come. Every muscle in his body suddenly locked itself as he gave himself over to orgasm. Hermione was enthralled by Blaise’s face as he came apart and his body was trembling under hers. Suddenly he seemed so vulnerable, so innocent. It was a moving sight, really.

The sudden silence, in contrast to the previous groans, moans, thrusts and bed squeaks bouncing off the bedroom walls, was ear piercing. As she lay on top of him, Hermione could even hear Blaise’s heartbeat fluttering against his ribcage. She almost voiced this observation, but relented, deciding it would be a bit of a corny statement. She decided it was best to get off him now, before her weight became a bother to him. Hermione lifted her hips, let Blaise’s flaccid cock slide out of her and laid herself next to him. Merlin, she was tired. Every muscle in her body ached and all she wanted to do was sleep.



         “Will you stay with me until I’m asleep?” Hermione asked a bit sheepishly.

         “Of course,” Blaise answered in a tone as if her request was redundant, and tightly hugged her back against his front.

“The money’s in an envelope on the mantelpiece,” Hermione sighed contently as Blaise spooned behind her; one hand stroking her hair while the other hugged her across her waist, slightly pushing her breasts up. She closed her eyes and let the warm naked body behind her, the musky scent of sex filling the air, the pleasant numbness of her body and the other satisfying sensations around her guide her to sleep.

*****

“Everything alright, lad?”

“Of course,” Blaise answered his chauffeur as he sat down in the limo. “I can still sit, can’t I?”

As the car drove off, Blaise gave one last look at the house on his left, knowing he’d never visit it again. He hadn’t needed to be told that Hermione’d never call for his services again, he just knew. She had simply needed to sort some things out for herself, which he had helped her with, and that was that.

“Good for her,” he thought fondly, leaning back into his seat as he waited for the car to get him home.

*****

When Hermione woke up early in the morning, Blaise was gone, as expected. She couldn’t help but stare at the vacant space next to her. It looked odd to see the bed sheets ruffled up like that, like someone had slept next to her. Hermione winced slightly as she sat herself up in bed, only now feeling the soreness from losing her virginity. She got out of bed and walked straight to the full sized mirror on the inside of her cupboard. So this was what ‘having been thoroughly shagged’ looks like, she thought, observing the scrapes, bruises and love bites scattered across her body. She felt her and Blaise’s mixed release starting to trickle down her thighs, which made her decide to quickly take a shower.

As she was doing her habitual morning rituals, Hermione realised that her day was starting out like it was just any other day. She had taken a shower, brushed her teeth, got dressed, and was soon to Apparate to work. It was as if nothing extraordinary had happened, even though she knew better. It felt sad somehow, having experienced a life-changing event, yet being unable to tell anyone about it. She didn’t think anyone she knew wouldn’t be appalled by the idea that she had lost her virginity to a gigolo. Last thing she wanted was to feel ashamed. Knowing that she had waited ten years for her first sexual experience and as a last resort had had to pay someone to do it, had made her feel ashamed enough. Hermione sighed, mentally preparing herself for the boring workday that was awaiting her.

She picked up her briefcase and just when she was about to Disapparate to work, her attention was suddenly diverted elsewhere as she noticed an object that was out of place. She walked up to it and for a moment stared at it with disbelief. For a moment she wondered if he accidentally forgot, but then she figured that this couldn’t be. If he had wanted it, he would have taken it. Hermione didn’t really know what to think. She smiled suddenly, now realising what this changed for her and her self worth. She reached out and picked up the object that she knew shouldn’t be there anymore, that had remained untouched and purposefully ignored;

The envelope on the mantelpiece.

*****THE END*****
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A Late Night Delivery

A late Night Delivery