Here's another fic from me. There are 20 chapters, and the story is complete. It is a mystery who the man is, and you don't know for sure until near the end which makes me really happy. The fic is meant to be humourous but also a mystery. There will be loads of characters mentioned throughout the fic, and sadly, I don't think I included the notes until the very end, I may try and spread them out to each chapter. I'll only list warnings this first chapter, so please note them moving forward.
Warnings: EWE?, BDSM, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Situations, Swordplay (literally), Humiliation, Dom/sub, Pirate Sex, Dubious Consent
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognise, which includes all the Harry Potter stuff and some Ally McBeal dialogue. Oh, and the title of this is from some song about obsession
Reviews make me happy and I'll totally do the ten reviews make me update the next day thing again. If not, I'll post the next chapter next Monday. Happy reading!

Monday Morning

He was everywhere. He had her up against the wall, kissing down her jaw. His scent was everywhere. They were still fully clothed, masks still on from the party. His mouth was on hers, tongues fighting for dominance, her nipping at his lips, he caressing her tongue. It was hot, it was steamy, and they weren't even fucking yet!

She had her legs wrapped around his torso, ankles locked around him beneath his cape. His hands were raising her short dress, slowly trailing up her thighs. With one hand he held onto her back and with the other he pushed aside her knickers and started fingering her cunt.

"You're so wet for me."

Hermione could barely hear him, let alone speak. All she could hear was the thud-thud-thud of her heart beating against her chest. She tries to grab at his clothes, pull off his mask, take off his belt, anything. The shadows downcast on him making him look like a dark avenger. She can't tell who he is and she almost doesn't care. She just wants the ache in her core to be taken care of. She makes to grab his belt but he quickly grabs both her wrists and holds them above her head.

His lips were nuzzling against her neck; he wants a response so he bites her ear. "I said, you're so wet for me," he rasps. Hermione is so focused on the feel of him that his voice doesn't register.

He grinds against her with every word, rubbing against her clit, and she isn't sure if she's ever felt this impatient before. She manages to gasp out "Y-yes. I'm wet for you." And then proceeds to buck against the thick rod she feels; not the sword that came with his Zorro costume, but the thick, delicious flesh in his dark trousers. She makes another attempt to reach for him, but his hold is strong and steady. She glares at him, "What are you going to do about it?"

Thrust – "Such insolence" – thrust – He nips at her collarbone, "Needs to be taught a lesson."

His mouth nips and sucks demandingly, back up to her lips and Hermione is slowly being driven mad. She bites at his jaw and tries to maneuver herself to a better angle to feel his cock.

Snappishly, he stops thrusting against her and scowls at her. "No, you don't deserve a reward."

Suddenly, he drops her to her feet, twists her around and throws her up against the wall with her arms barely softening the blow for her chest. His cock now nestles between her arse cheeks and she tries to rub against him.

With a hand splayed open between her shoulder blades, he pushes her further into the wall. "Stop that!"

–SMACK–

The sound of the impact was worse than the actual soft slap that he gives her bum, "I don't want to punish you… yet."

His words cause a shudder to go up her spine. Next thing she knows, he's pulling her dress up above her hips and pulling her drenched knickers down to her knees.

She hears a clatter in the distance and it's like a waterfall washes over her. She realizes where they are – a coat closet in an upscale hotel that one of her clients are hosting a Halloween Masquerade Ball in.

Her legs are bare, her arse and pussy are on display. Without the constant stimulation of his hardness against her, she starts to struggle. The situation is not to her liking, and suddenly she does not want to play this game anymore. She's Hermione Granger, and Hermione Granger only fucks in coat closets when it's on her terms and this is most definitely not the case now.

–SMACK–

He slaps her arse once more, but this time it really smarts. He starts to soothe the cheek he's marked until he's playing with her wet folds, spreading her juices. With his other hand, he slowly moves up her back to push aside her hair and licks at her neck.

"Is there a reason you're changing your mind?" He rasps.

She snorts at his question. "Of course there's a bloody reason!" She screeches. "We've been in this closet for half an hour and you still haven't FUCKED me." She bucks back to punctuate the statement.

While pulling his fingers away from her, he chuckles. He chuckles! She hears him licking his fingers and humming in pleasure.

"So very tasty. So very feisty." He brings one hand back down to hold her at her hip and starts trailing light kisses up her neck, dragging his tongue, tasting her. "Is that what you want? For me to FUCK," he pivots his hips, "you?"

She shrieks at the feel of his cock rubbing on her swollen pussy. She is slowly becoming delirious. His other hand is now between her and the wall and caressing her right breast, teasing her nipple. It's maddening.

–THRUST–

"What do you want?"

Through the daze, she quickly realises the game he's playing at. Her thoughts went from "fuck me, fuck me, just fuck me already," to "Oh, this is a power play if I ever saw one. Well, let me tell you buddy, I am the queen bee! Head bitch in charge, right here! I eat men like you for breakfast. I throw men like you out like yesterday's trash. I'll make a meal out of –"

THRUST– "I'm" –THRUST–"losing" –THRUST– "my" –THRUST– "patience."

The daze returns; his prick rubbing against her clit in such a delicious way. "I want you to FUCK me!"

"Good girl." He lines himself up to give it to her good and hard –

"Miss Granger, there's a Miss Allaway waiting to see you. She had a meeting scheduled for nine, and it's already a quarter past."

Hermione jumped up, startled by the intrusion. "Oh, right, thank you Roger." She stood there rigidly. "Also, I told you to call me Hermione." She shook her head trying to get rid of the sweet memory. "Please escort her to the conference room and offer her some tea. I'll be there in ten minutes. Oh, and notify Blaise as well, please."

"OK, Hermione." Roger quickly penned an inter-office memo and sent it on its way. "Are you alright? You seem kind of out of it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he assessed at her.

"Hmm? Oh yes, I'm fine Roger." Hermione tried to will the flush that she knew was creeping up her neck and cheeks. "Now go help Miss Allaway and make sure that I have the case notes for the Dunbar-Pritchard case by lunch."

After giving her assistant/secretary/bitch boy– Ron's words, not her own– instructions, she dashed down the hall to the lavatory to freshen up and splash some cold water on her flushed face. Since the Halloween party last weekend, the coat closet was never a far off thought.

When she was at the Burrow on Sunday she had overheard Fleur telling her children if they continued to misbehave, she would punish them. Hermione's inner muscles had instantly clenched upon hearing those words. She had to excuse herself from the table quickly and rush off to the loo.

She wasn't able to orgasm though – and not for a lack of trying either. She had stayed in the restroom for as long as she could get away with and tried to diddle herself to completion. She had tried for ten minutes! When she realised an orgasm was not forthcoming, she washed her hands and face off before returning to the kitchen and hurriedly made her excuses – I'm not feeling very well; Why yes, I do feel flushed; No Mrs Weasley, I should be fine after a kip – so that she could return to her flat and play with Spartacus, her 8" All American dildo, hoping that would get her off.

But no… even after an hour of frigging in the comfort of her own bed, bliss still eluded her. When she had finally given up and took a shower, she had even tried the old shower-head trick, and she had an–small, tiny, little, miniscule, it barely even registered– orgasm, but she hardly thought it should count!

And here she was, in the unisex loo of Madley & Baddock, staring at the mirror with the sink running, contemplating her sex life.

A cough sounded from her right, "Granger, you want to move out of the way and let a bloke get to the soap?" Draco Malfoy said, all the while smirking at her.

Hermione loathed that smirk, and normally would have responded with the typical hatred it mustered, but she was rather frustrated! Sexually frustrated! She ignored him and washed her hands and splashed some water on her face, grabbed her lip gloss from her bag to reapply it, and ran her fingers through her hair. When she felt she had adequately primped and hindered Malfoy, she strutted out the loo, down the hallway, to the conference room.