NOTE: This story was written sometime in 2012 - 2013 (I can't recall the exact dates I uploaded) and originally uploaded to FF, ADULTFF, grangerenchanted, and later A03. In the beginning it was a one shot called Masquerade and a sequel called Remembrances and Revelations. It was then combined under the title Slow Spinning Redemption. I later decided to pull it for personal reasons. I decided to re-upload this story for it to be enjoyed by all. This is the only place that this story will be uploaded. If you find this story, or any of its incarnations, anywhere else then they are there without my permission.

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Hermione was considered one of the cleverest witches of her age, and was often congratulated on her bravery. During situations that called for it, she was always able to pull out her Gryffindor courage and do what needed to be done. Hermione had proven she could duel with the best of them in the last battle against Voldemort, when Harry had finally defeated the dark wizard.

All of these accomplishments however, didn't lend themselves to a shining example of a social life. There had always seemed to be something else that needed her attention more, and her personal life had suffered as a result. Hermione didn't regret that she loved to study; in fact, her love of books and learning had brought her back to Hogwarts for her final year. Ron had decided not to return to finish his Hogwarts education.

She didn't blame him in the least, not very many of the students from her own year had returned after the death of Voldemort. The communication between Ron and Hermione became strained and the relationship, known for its ups and downs, had finally crashed and burned, and she hadn't tried to date again. As a result, she had thrown herself into her studies and was determined to get sterling N.E.W.T. scores; scores that had gotten her into the prestigious Graham's School of Witchcraft. The school boasted the first female Minister of Magic as one of its more well-known alum.

Hermione very much enjoyed the emphasis on scholarly excellence that seemed to fill the hallowed halls, but she was more than glad to return home for a much needed Christmas break.

Ginny had used the opportunity to invite her to what she said was going to be a small party at the Burrow. Hermione realized, once she arrived, that 'small' was a gross misrepresentation. The party seemed to have everyone from both Hermione's and Ginny's year. All those, within their house anyway, with the odd Ravenclaw and assorted Hufflepuffs in attendance. She could have groaned in frustration. She had hoped it would be low key, only a few of their friends. She didn't have the heart to hurt Ginny's feelings, but what she really wanted to be doing was sitting at home in her pajamas.

She was coming out of the small loo, when she heard an irritatingly familiar voice coming from a bedroom slightly down the hall, the door partially cracked.

As soon as she heard the giggles she rolled her eyes. Lavender Brown. She'd recognize that annoying titter anywhere. Hermione decided to tiptoe down the hall quietly to avoid the irritating girl. However, her curiosity got the better of her.

"Have you decided what you are going to take to wear yet, Lavender?" she heard Parvati ask.

"I was thinking about that red dress, you know the one. Ron likes me in red." Lavender giggled.

"I bet he does," Parvati laughed. "Does he talk about Hermione any?"

Lavender snorted. "Not really. He probably didn't have any fun with the frigid bitch. I think she'd marry her books if she could. I bet Hermione couldn't shag worth a damn, and probably wouldn't know fun if it bit her on the arse. Won-Won is just lucky I took him back. It was written in the stars that we were meant to be. And anyway, he's going to have much more fun with me than with that cardboard cutout of a former girlfriend."

Parvati burst into laughter. "I kind of feel sorry for the girl. It's like she's an old woman. I wonder when she is going to add about fifteen more cats to her collection to keep Crookshanks company."

Hermione was seething by this point. She would have pushed open the door and launched herself at either Parvati or Lavender, whichever was closest, but one thing stopped her: maybe they had a point. Discounting the obviously untrue comments. Hermione was not frigid in the least, and Ron knew that. That hadn't been the problem with their relationship. Really, it had been Ron's jealousy and the actual distance between them. Both had amicably decided to end the relationship. Hermione had known that Ron was back with Lavender, and even though she didn't like the girl, she had been prepared to treat her with civility. Hermione bit her lip. Maybe she didn't have enough fun.

Hermione grimaced and quietly strode down the hall. After apologizing to Ginny for leaving so early, she Apparated back home. Back at home, she contemplated her dilemma. She decided she would have to do something crazy, and possibly far out of character. She would do it for her own sense of accomplishment and not to prove anything to Lavender or anyone else. In fact, she would do it covertly. It would be something that she could remember later on and say to herself, "Yes, I did that."

It was the next afternoon, while flipping through an issue of Witch Weekly that she got her idea. It was like the ad jumped out at her. And in fact it had, so to speak. Only people with a certain level of magical ability and talent would be able to see the actual ad. Most people would see an advertisement for magical fishing rods.

Hermione saw:

MASQUERADE

Witches and wizards of a certain magical flair,

come and join this fantastical affair.

Identities known at your own discretion,

and will not remove you from our affection.

Your safety is assured while within our doors,

but be on guard as soon as you leave your protection is yours.

The revel ends at dawns first light,

and you are required to leave this site.

An r.s.v.p is needed to attend this fete;

this particular rule must be met.

Send anonymously to Antoine Duright,

to enjoy the pleasure of the night.

Hermione marveled at the advertisement. It was exactly the thing she needed. And of course, she also liked the thought that went into its creation. She determined that it was cast using a variation of the Disillusionment spell and only called to certain people.

Running to her room, she quickly wrote a reply and sent it off.

A few days later, she received a response. A metallic silver card that simply stated attendee in flowing script and included the time and date. The timing couldn't be more perfect. The masquerade was going to be held a few days into the Christmas break, so she wouldn't have to account for her whereabouts to her nosy roommate and it would give her time to search for a costume in the London shops.

It was the day of the masquerade and Hermione still hadn't found a costume. That morning, she set out to find something. She wasn't going to let not finding a costume keep her from the party. She realized that she was being picky, but the costume had to fit a few certain criteria. It had to be attractive, but still completely disguise her identity. She wanted it to be something original. It couldn't be anything too mundane, because although no one would know who she was, perceptions would be based solely on her costume, and since the party would be full of very powerful wizards and witches a boring costume would just fade into the crowd. It would be a delicate balance. A costume that would be seen as beautiful and clever, but not stand out so much that she would feel uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

At first, she looked at fairy costumes, but soon discarded that idea as too trite. She looked in shop after shop, and it seemed that there was only a few options regarding themes. There were sexy options like a French maid costume, sweet options like a shepherdess or an angel, or funny options like a big pretzel or a stop sign.

Hermione was getting discouraged by the time she found a small, out of the way shop called Tamblyn's Togs. Despite the kitschy name and it not being an actual costume shop, Hermione decided to go in.

After looking around, it seemed that the shop had many different types of clothing from around the world. Rich fabrics and quality tailoring abounded in the small shop that despite its size and contents, maintained an airy, organized, and welcoming air.

Hermione was beginning to doubt her ability to afford a single garment in the shop and was turning to leave when a voice rang out.

"Can I help you? I'm sure that I can find something within my shop that would suit you." The voice was followed by a small woman with dark sloe eyes. Her hair was looped up-swept into a style made of many complicated braids. The dark eyes stood out against creamy, smooth, white skin with a bloom of rose in the cheeks that seemed completely natural.

"Actually, I don't really know if I can afford a thing in here," Hermione said sheepishly.

The woman just smiled. "This place is not for profit really. Its more for my enjoyment, so sometimes if I feel inclined, I drop the prices for some people. What exactly is it that you are looking for?"

"Well, I'm planning to go to a masquerade, and I haven't found a costume that feels right. I want something sexy, but not slutty. Attractive, but not so much that I'd feel uncomfortable wearing it all night. I have to be able to dance and move quickly in it if I have to. Oh, and I know that this is not really a costuming shop," Hermione hastened to add.

"It is in a way," the woman replied. "I really just hope that my customers enjoy the garment, even if they just plan to display it." She looked at Hermione considerately, then snapped her fingers. "I think I have just the thing."

Hermione was finishing the last touches on her costume. It was something that she had never thought that she would ever wear. A harem dancer outfit. It wasn't one of the cheap off-the-rack kind that you found in large costuming shops, but instead, it was a beautifully made costume rich in detail that had set Hermione back almost three hundred fifty pounds, but she was sure that it could have easily been sold for thrice the amount. And even that would be a discount.

The skirt was a deep sapphire blue with delicate gold embroidery running up the split sides. It was held up with a gold belt beaded with what Hermione thought to be real polished lapis lazuli. The split sides ran almost up to the beaded belt, which rested low on Hermione's hips. Underneath, she wore blue lace boy shorts and a blue wand holder around her thigh that resembled a garter. On her feet were lovely gold sandals with straps and small pieces of lapis bejeweled upon them. The top was made of a chain necklace made with gold coins and pieces of lapis, under which was an almost transparent golden fabric that held the necklace in front of the bust and attached around the back. It was basically a halter that just managed to camouflage the goods.

Hermione used a good amount of Sleekeasy's to tame her curls. She pulled half of it up and let the rests tumble down in a riot of curls. She charmed the gold glitter she put in her hair to stay in place until she decided to shampoo it out. She made up her face almost neutrally, with her cheeks a rose color and her lips a dewy pink. Her eyes stood out the most. She had applied a smoky dark blue eyeshadow and dark blue eyeliner that made her brown eyes pop behind the gold mask that she used in place of the forehead chain.

Thank goodness her parents were out for the night and would be asleep by the time that she returned. They usually didn't pry into her activities overly much, but seeing her in an outfit like this would have been sure to make her father flip.

Since it was December, Hermione cast a warming charm, before grabbing a dark blue silk hooded cloak that she had spelled to disappear and reappear as a bangle on her arm when she removed it about her shoulders. With a deep breath, she pulled the hood over her head and Apparated to the party.

She appeared in an entry way. It was lit with a large crystal chandelier that sent light over a black marble floor shined to perfection. Against the walls were a few chairs and chaises that were decidedly Louis XIV.

Standing in front of her was a couple handing their silver invitations to a man that creepily resembled a Dementor in his flowing black robes. He had a plain domino upon his face. He spoke to the couple softly, too softly for Hermione to make out his words, and after glancing at the couples invitations, ushered them into the huge black double doors that dominated the entryway.

Hermione pulled her hood a bit lower and walked forward with her invitation held out. The man looked at her for a full minute with frosty blue eyes and stated softly, "no dueling will be permitted. If you must, you are required leave the premises and duel elsewhere. Not even on the grounds. By accepting this invitation you are in fact agreeing to a magical oath to do no harm while within this establishment. Harmful spells and potions will be rendered null. Disregarding these rules will result in...complications that neither the proprietor nor yourself would wish." He reached out with almost skeletal white hands and grasped her invitation with two fingers, which seemed longer than they should be, and ushered her through the doors.

Hermione gasped at the room. It was an almost perfect rendition of the Palace of Versailles famous Hall of Mirrors, but done in tones of black, smoky gray, and silver. Instead of looking out to stunning gardens, the windows reflected snowcapped mountains and a dark starry sky. The floor was more of that shining black marble. The room was huge, and Hermione could just make out the string quartet and a modern Muggle speaker system in the back of the room. The arches led to cozy sitting areas. The room should have seemed somber, but the mirrors lent it an open feeling and the gaiety warmed up the room considerably.

There were people costumed in almost everything imaginable. Hermione saw court jesters, Queen Elizabeth's, banshees, vampires real and imagined, mermaids in floating shells, and even Muggle costumes like Elvis, and Marilyn Monroe.

Hermione snickered at a person dressed as Harry Potter. Some of the women took the chance to dress up in scantily clad costumes that barely covered them and had none of the class that Hermione's costume had. Some people were simply dressed in dress robes and black dominoes.

Hermione gathered her courage and removed the cloak, which vanished into a midnight blue smoke that smelled of jasmine and reappeared on her wrist. Immediately she felt attention.

She looked past the dancing couples and finally spotted a man against the wall looking at her with snapping black eyes. He was dressed as a highway man, wearing a long black coat made of leather, black pants stuffed into tall black riding boots. Around his face was a black kerchief knotted in the back of his head and covering all but his black eyes and a strip of tanned bronze skin. On his head was a black tricorn with an elegant black plume. He moved a hand and pushed back part of the long black coat. Hermione saw that instead of a Muggle pistol, he instead had a saber in its sheath suspended from a black leather belt around his lean hips. His eyes seemed to challenge her.

For an instant she hesitated then remembered what this night was about and approached him. When she reached him, she could see the smile in his eyes and smell the sandalwood based cologne on his skin.

He pushed his lean form from the wall. He was much taller than she was. At least six foot. He looked her form up and down, but not in a leering fashion, and took her measure. Hermione placed a small hand on her hip and looked back with as much of a measuring stare that he had.

She could tell that he smiled behind the kerchief before raising his hand in what was obviously an invitation to dance.

Hermione placed her hand in his and was swept into a traditional waltz. She was so glad her mother had insisted that she learn.

"You're beautiful, you know," he finally said. His voice was a crisply British with a hint of another accent that Hermione could almost discern. He stated the compliment simply with no implied flattery.

Hermione laughed. "How would you know? You can't really see my face."

"It isn't your face...more like the you that shines from the inside. Like a passion that you rarely let loose."

Hermione was a bit stunned. "Thank you," she said breathlessly. "You cut quite a figure yourself."

He laughed and it was a thoroughly masculine sound that Hermione decided that she liked. "Thank you, milady," he said and spun her around then bowed. Hermione realized that it was the end of the dance and managed a slightly clumsy curtsey.

He held out a hand and Hermione placed hers back within his. He led her to one of the alcoves. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked.

"Yes, I would," she smiled. She made herself comfortable on a cushy black divan while he returned to the ballroom for drinks. She smiled again. She was relieved because she had thought for all her rebellion of attending a party like this that she wouldn't have fun, or that all the mystique of the ad and invitation wasn't going to amount to anything. Thankfully, she was proven wrong.

She was pulled from her reverie when he returned with the drinks. He handed her a crystal wineglass and she was surprised to find it filled with butterbeer instead of the expected wine. He settled in beside her and in noticing her surprised look at his beverage choice, simply said, "I never drink alcohol, but if you would prefer something more stout, I can go get it for you." There seemed to be something more weighty behind that statement, but because they didn't really know each other, Hermione pushed her curiosity away and didn't pry.

"Oh no," Hermione said. "This is fine. I'd rather not be intoxicated, so I can better remember the night. Besides, I Apparated here and who knows where I'll end up Dispparating in a drunken stupor," she said, laughing.

They talked for hours about many different topics. He didn't even get that glazed over look that Ron used to get when Hermione started to talk about Arithmancy, but gazed and listened to Hermione speak with an attentiveness that she found thrilling.

Finally, Hermione realized that she had run out of topics. "I'm so sorry, I haven't let you get a word in edgewise," she said sheepishly.

"Actually, it's been rather refreshing not to have to speak much. It is getting rather late though, and I am finding that another venue might be in order," he replied.

Hermione bit her lip. She could go the route that she usually would and bid him goodnight or...she could grab for the gusto. "What did you have in mind?" she asked saucily.

His smile reached his eyes. "I have a villa that is very nice." He stood and held out his hand.

"I'm game," she said, placing her much smaller hand into his.

They crossed the room seemingly oblivious to all, but in actuality very aware of their surroundings. Passing through the large double doors and reaching the Apparation point, Hermione suddenly blurted, "I just realized that we don't know each other's names."

He chuckled. "For our purposes, you may call me Noyes."

Hermione smirked. Giving her the name of the Muggle author Alfred Noyes, who had written The Highwayman. So that was the way of it. "Then you must call me Jeanette sir," she said, giving him a play on her middle name.

He wound both arms around her waist, and instinctively, she stood on tiptoe and looped her arms around his neck just before they Apparated.

When Hermione regained her equilibrium, she found that she was in front of Noyes' "Villa". As the morning light shone on it, she knew that the most apt description for the home would be mansion, perhaps even a palace. Just what kind of money did Noyes come from?

Noyes noticed her curiosity as they entered the large carved wooden door. "The home is Italian Renaissance. It has fifty-five rooms on four levels. There are ten bedrooms, not counting the house-elves quarters, and three kitchens. It rests on about thirty acres. It is one of the more modest homes that my father bequeathed to me as his heir." He laughed at her astonished expression.

"Heir to what?" She was taking in the what she was sure was stone set white marble tiles and muraled walnut ceilings in the entryway. There were bronzed wall sconces holding brightly lit candles, warding off the darkness of the entry. A tiny table by the door held a polished silver tray that would hold visitor cards.

He rolled his eyes. "Well...in Italy, I would be a Marquess by birth, but titles of nobility are not recognized here. As for England, I'm so far down the list of succession that it isn't even worth mentioning. Thank Merlin I'd never have to ride that particular broom. Too much pomp and circumstance for my tastes. I have enough on my plate trying to convince prejudiced wizards into investing with me. My youth plays against me much too often in the boardroom, but I'm a fair hand at investments and innovation, and that is what supplies the Galleons for all you see." He said all this while leading Hermione through arches and domed ceilings fraught with gold leaf and carved stone accents.

"So you don't buy into the pureblood sentiments?" Hermione asked.

He sighed. "I'm not going to pretend that I haven't said anything of that nature to get where I need to be, but at my core, I don't believe that Muggle-born's or half-blood's are inferior. I've seen a fair many of them with as much magical talent as any pureblood; but for my interests, I keep my private thoughts just that."

Hermione felt just a tiny stab of disappointment at his words, but pushed it aside. She knew that she couldn't always expect all pureblood's to throw out all of their learned prejudices overnight just because Voldemort was dead.

They had walked up a wide curving staircase and reached a small sitting room. The walls were papered in a striped sage green color that echoed on the upholstery of the chairs. A large mostly burgundy colored Persian rug dominated the warm brown wooden floor. One entire wall was windows and looked out onto a flowered formal garden with grass still glistening with morning dew.

Noyes pulled out his wand and conjured a small table with two comfortable chairs. He reached up and pulled his tricorn off of his head, revealing short dark curls, and set it on a nearby chaise. He began to remove the kerchief around the bottom of his face, but paused and looked at her before grasping his wand once more. He tapped his wand against the kerchief and it was transfigured into a plain black mask quickly giving her no glimpse of his entire face, but revealing full sensual lips and more of his bronzed skin. He began to unbutton the many buttons and finally removed the large enveloping leather coat. It soon joined the tricorn on the chaise. Finally, Hermione could see the whole of his form rather than just the broad shoulders, and was pleased. He had a lean ripped body that the white billowed shirt and black vest he wore couldn't disguise. His black pants covered muscular legs. He wasn't overly muscled, but looked more like a swimmer, a natural athletes body. He unbuckled the belt slung low on his hips and let the rapier hit the floor.

"Tips," he called.

A house-elf dressed in an pink pillowcase knotted over each shoulder appeared. She had a large pink bow attached over her right ear. "Oh sir, Tips didn't realize that master would be in today. Tips doesn't have a thing ready." The pink bow quivered in her anxiety.

"It's fine, Tips. I didn't think that I would be in today either. If you please, have some bangers, eggs, and chips delivered at once. I'd also like some toast and orange marmalade, a pot of stout tea, and whatever Miss Jeanette would like," Noyes said.

"I'll just have what you are having," Hermione said.

"Very well," the house-elf said, and with a pop disappeared.

"She didn't seem to notice our odd attire," Hermione said.

"She probably wouldn't. Tips has been here since before I can remember. She has rather decided choices in fashion herself. I buy different color pillowcases and leave them strategically when I visit for the house-elves. It's not exactly giving them clothes, because they make of them what they will, but I feel better for doing it."

Hermione was touched at his gesture. Not many people understood the plight of the house-elves. Hermione had finally resigned herself the notion that the house-elves liked their servitude, but she was still of the firm opinion that they weren't to be treated as slaves. As a result, S.P.E.W had been redirected, not into freeing the elves, but ensuring that they were fairly treated.

Noyes led her to the small table just as Tips, followed by a male elf, dressed in a waistcoat made from a dish towel, set the food on the table before seamlessly popping out of the room. Noyes pulled out her chair, waited until she was comfortably seated then pushed the chair near the table.

They proceeded to eat. Hermione noticed that Noyes had beautiful table manners, which made her a bit self-conscious about her own, but soon her growling tummy overruled her nervousness and she ate normally.

After eating, they moved over to the largest chaise. And after talking for a few minutes, Noyes said, "Jeanette, I'd really like to kiss you."

Hermione had been waiting for this and rather than wait for him to make the move, she leaned forward and softly kissed his lips.

Nudging her lips open, Noyes took over the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth. It was like the dam broke on their restraint and the sub-conscious desire that they both had held at bay, reared to the front line.

Noyes wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist and gathered her closer, further deepening the kiss. He picked her up effortlessly and settled her on his lap, letting her feel his hardness. Hermione broke the kiss and gazed into his eyes. They were so dark she felt as if she would fall into them. She wanted to pull her mask and his away and kiss him as Hermione. She wanted to shed the Jeanette exterior, but she was afraid that it would shatter the mystique and magic of the night. She knew instinctively that he had been more honest with her than he would normally have been without the facade.

She was going to have sex with a man she didn't even really know. Maybe that was what the entire night had been leading toward, she thought.

Hermione reached behind her head and undid the gold barrette keeping her hair restrained. She shook out the curly tendrils before applying herself to the task of unlacing Noyes's shirt. After the last lace was removed, she pulled at his shoulders. He raised, allowing her to remove the shirt. His chest was revealed and it was absolutely scrumptious. He had amazing abs and no chest hair to speak of. There wasn't a scar at all to mark the perfection of his bronze skin.

Hermione leaned down to kiss behind his ear, making her way down to his jaw and back to his lips.

Noyes's breath hitched and his arms slid down from her waist to her arse, grasping it firmly, pushing her against his heat and tearing a throaty moan from her. He reached under her hair and found the first catch of the halter behind her neck and it loosened. His hands ran down her back to the next catch and it soon popped free as well. In the next moment, he tossed the halter to the floor. Hermione's generous rose tipped breasts were exposed and Noyes wasted no time suckling one into his mouth.

Hermione arched and she ran her hands over his strong back feeling the muscles as he applied his attention to the other breast. Hermione slowly moved away from him and found her feet. She reached underneath the split blue skirt and pulled down the lace boy shorts. She unbuckled the encrusted belt and the skirt pooled around her feet. Kicking it aside, she dropped the belt on top and stood before Noyes wearing on only the blue silk wand holder around her thigh. Removing her wand, she aimed the tip at her abdomen and cast both a contraceptive, and STD protection non-verbal spells.

Sitting the wand on a close settee, she approached Noyes once again. He watched with hooded eyes when she placed her right foot in the spot between his legs. "Take it off," she said motioning to the wand holder.

Noyes lent forward and slowly rolled the elastic holder down, placing soft kisses against her leg as he went. Raising her foot, he removed the holder entirely, tossing it on the skirt with the belt.

Hermione placed her foot back on the floor and moved back when Noyes reached for her.

He looked at her with surprise, but Hermione was having much too much fun running the show to let him take over her next move. She pulled off both of his boots and socks before dropping down to her knees in front of him. She kissed his stomach and began to unbutton his pants, pausing only a moment when she realized that he wasn't wearing briefs or underwear of any kind. She pondered the sexiness of a wizard not afraid to go commando before reaching into the opening and grasping his cock in hand. He groaned when she stroked up and down, and ran her thumb across the sensitive head. He was much bigger than Ron had been and Hermione just hoped that she would be able to take him. Removing her hand from the opening, she started to remove his pants, grateful when he raised his lean hips to assist.

Noyes had had enough of being passive and rose from the chaise, grasping Hermione in his arms before lying her down on the cushy Persian rug. His lips captured hers again before running down her throat, then her stomach, even placing his tongue in her belly button before returning to her lips. His hand gently ran down her body, and upon reaching between her legs, he thrust two fingers into her slick channel. He removed them and thrust them in again and again while Hermione moaned and thrashed her head from side to side almost dislodging the golden mask that she still wore. Noyes gently rubbed his thumb against her clit and she came hard, convulsing around his fingers. It was the most erotic thing she had ever seen when he slowly removed his fingers and placed them into his mouth, licking them thoroughly, before leaning down to take her into another passionate kiss. Hermione's arousal, despite a stunning orgasm, swiftly built back up.

When the kiss slowed, he murmured against her lips, "Are you ready Cara?"

She moaned and he took that as a yes. Raising her right leg high up on his hip before surging deep inside her. He was large and she marveled at the complete fullness. The stab of pleasure was almost too keen to be borne and he hadn't even started moving. It was so far beyond what she had experienced with Ron that she almost felt as if she had never done it before. She shivered in the delicious sensation.

And that was when he began to move.

He moved with an almost graceful movement, like sex was an absolute true art form to him. Hermione's left leg slid up his hip and the sensation intensified. She raised herself for each thrust meeting him and pushing them both to the place they desperately wanted. Each slick stroke slid over a spot inside her that made her want to scream with pleasure and she grew hotter and hotter. Noyes 's glides had become less coordinated and he began to pump into her with hard short strokes, moving faster and faster.

Hermione felt herself getting closer, and his next stroke pushed her into an orgasm so strong that her eyes seemed to black for a moment. Her back was bowed with the pleasure and the contractions as a result, pushed Noyes into his release and he came hard, shooting his hot seed inside her. Withdrawing from her, he lay bonelessly against her side a moment before drawing her into his arms. With a wandless spell, he conjured a blanket over them and they both drifted into a sated sleep.

Hermione woke first, leaning over and carefully placing a soft kiss against his lips. She was careful not to wake him. She didn't want any awkward goodbyes.

Hermione dressed quietly and removed the bangle from her wrist, draping the re-transfigured cloak around her shoulders. She placed her wand back into its holder and was about to Disapparate before she paused.

What harm could it do if she removed his mask and saw who he really was? She would be gone before he woke and he probably wouldn't ever see her again. With those rationalizations giving her courage, she whispered a spell to remove his mask.

The face behind the mask shocked her so much that she Dispparated on the spot.

It was the pop of the Dispparation that woke him, and he reached over to touch the curvy witch that had previously been just beside him.

He wasn't exactly surprised that she was gone, but he had hoped that they could have repeat performance.

Blaise Zabini rose and ran a hand through his short dark curls. His sexy Jeanette was gone, and he didn't know if he would ever see her again.