This story was written for the Hermione Smut Fest 2018. Thanks to the mods for organising this fest! It was a pleasure to participate :). It's crossposted from AO3 where it was revealed a couple of days ago, and will posted here in 3 chapters. Please see my original entry for the full aesthetic. My penname there is sarena.
Dear recipient, I hope you like what my brain decided to make of your prompt. For some weird reason, it became much longer than intended, but I really enjoyed writing it! It also became much filthier than I thought. In fact, I think this is the longest and most explicit smut I've ever written ;).
A huge THANK YOU to my fantastic alpha and betas HeartOfAspen and riptide. I wouldn't know what to do without the both of you 3! Especially HeartOfAspen has been and continues to be a constant source of encouragement and support. You are so precious!
Any remaining mistakes are mine, as I tend to make 5-minutes-before-deadline changes ;).
Please see the end notes for the detailed prompt :).
Warnings: Very explicit lemons
Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.
ooOoOoOoo
September 19th, 1996 - Hermione's 17th birthday
Face-down, Hermione sighed into the pillow. Strong hands kneaded her stiff back, working out the knots she had accumulated in her aching muscles from constant bowing over textbooks and essays. Turning her head to the side, she pushed her riotous hair away from her cheek and smiled at the relaxing scent of lavender and vanilla. She felt more massage oil dripping onto her back and skilled hands spreading it across her skin, just grazing the sides of her bare breasts. Her next sigh was more of a moan as his hands slid from her neck to her bum in one powerful stroke. Half-expecting him to grab her buttock, she momentarily tensed up, but he only skimmed it lightly before digging his thumbs into the muscles along her spine.
She heard him shift and settle onto the backs of her thighs. The massage oil must've been edible because a moment later, he was kissing from one shoulder to the next, moving his mouth to her neck, flicking his tongue out. Hermione squirmed under his weight, feeling her nipples tingle from the sound of his heavy breathing. He sucked on her neck, pressing his naked chest against the oily skin of her back as he murmured senseless endearments between kisses and nips. His hands caressed from her hips, massaging over her sides, to her shoulders, and she loved the feeling of complacency rising up in her. He snaked his palms over her arms and let them glide down until he held her wrists loosely in his hands. Eyes squeezed shut, Hermione smiled, cherishing the weight of his slim body and the velvety warmth of his cock nestled between her arse cheeks. She wiggled a little, grinning at the groan against her ear. Opening her eyes slightly, she caught a glimpse of light hair on his right arm. Moving to lift her head, she twisted her arms to free them from his hold on her wrists and looked over her—
"Happy birthday, Hermione!"
She jerked up with a gasp, focusing slowly on Ginny, who was holding a small cake with candles on it. The younger girl plopped down on the edge of the bed, grinning in obvious smugness at Hermione's early morning grumpiness.
"Come on, make a wish and blow them out! Then we both can have a piece before breakfast."
Hermione humoured her, wishing for good marks. As the dream didn't fade into nothingness, she wondered if the nondescript boy was based on anyone in particular or if her brain had made up its own ideal man.
ooOoOoOoo
September 19th, 1997 - Hermione's 18th birthday
Hermione threw her cover to the side. The heat incited by his roaming hands was becoming unbearable; stifling a loud moan, she spread her thighs wider. He kissed the crease between her leg and her torso, hands stroking over her damp skin. With every circle his fingers made over her hips and thighs, he trailed closer and closer to her core, then back to the insides of her upper thighs. He lightly teased the sensitive patch at the back of her left knee, just where her name was branded onto her skin in his handwriting. She arched her back at the electrifying sensation when he pressed his digits into the letters.
"Please," she whimpered, eliciting only a chuckle from him before he nibbled on her labia. Feeling the moisture pool between her legs, she lifted her head to get a glimpse of what he was doing, but threw it back when he suckled on her inner lips. His fingers continued to trace patterns over her skin until one moved to her cunt and circled her entrance with the lightest of touches. He said something she didn't understand, inching a finger into her while he flicked the tip of his tongue over her clit. Yelping at the unexpected surge of pleasure, she gripped the smooth linen beneath her as she buried her other hand in his soft hair. Desire wound up in her belly, ready to spring, when he did something with his mouth she couldn't describe. It wouldn't take long for her to finally—
Alarm blaring from her wand, Hermione slapped her hand against it to shut it off. She blinked her eyes open, shivering in the cold of the foggy morning. The rough canvas ceiling of their tent came into focus as she slowly found her bearings. Nearby, Ron snored softly, while Harry prepared tea for her turn of keeping watch. The water from his Aguamenti tinkled into the aluminium kettle he held in his left hand.
Pulling up her blanket from the end of the cot, she burrowed in again for just another five minutes, ignoring the slickness between her thighs and the lingering image of blond.
ooOoOoOoo
September 19th, 1998 - Hermione's 19th birthday
"For Godric's sake, go to bed, Hermione."
She looked up with burning eyes and shook her head.
Harry sat down next to her on the narrow bench of the rented room. Curling his arm around her back, he pulled her close to him. "Nightmares?"
Shoulders slumped, Hermione nodded but did not articulate the horrors she had relived on so many nights. Swallowing her longing for a good night's rest, just as she did nearly every other night, she explained, "Dreamless Sleep Potions have lost their efficacy."
"Shit." He raked his free hand through his dark hair, mussing it up even more than usual. "I can wake you when you get restless, if you like."
She freed herself from his soothing embrace with a glare. "Don't you think I've tried everything imaginable?"
"I—" Harry started and paused, pressing his lips together. "I'm sorry for dragging you into all this, Hermione. I—"
She cut him off with a hiss. "Don't. You didn't Crucio me. Bellatrix Lestrange did. And nobody was able to stop her."
"If Malfoy—"
She rubbed her left forearm. The foul word carved there was itchy and bothered her as it often did. "You told me yourself how terrified he was when he couldn't kill Professor Dumbledore. I don't know what he saw happening at his home, but the horror in his eyes—" She paused for a few moments, head down, while she toyed with a loose thread on her jacket. Looking back up to Harry's eyes, she continued, "I don't want to know what he saw. But I don't think he'd have managed to keep his wand straight, not to mention defeat his batshit-crazy bitch of an aunt."
He observed her closely, grabbing both of her shaking hands and squeezing them. "You need to talk at his trial."
She nodded, wiping a stray tear from her face.
ooOoOoOoo
September 19th, 1999 - Hermione's 20th birthday
Stumbling against the wall, Hermione giggled as she dragged Zacharias to the door.
"Are you sure?" he asked, running his fingertips along her cheekbone.
"Of course," she mumbled, pressing a too-sloppy kiss onto his lips.
The pain was much more than a sting; it felt like a rush of unpleasantness through her bones, lingering for hours when the dullness of her core had long since abated.
At least it kept her from dreaming.
ooOoOoOoo
September 17th, 2000 - prior to Hermione's 21st birthday
Hermione had dreaded her birthdays since she'd turned eighteen. Or, more specifically, since Ginny had spotted the mark on the back of Hermione's knee, which had led to her asking about the dreams. The younger girl had broken an unspoken taboo with her question, and Hermione supposed it only belied her eagerness to meet her own soulmate for the first time on the night of her own seventeenth birthday. After the uncomfortable encounter, Hermione made sure to keep her mark covered at all times.
Squaring her shoulders, she raised her hand to rap on the sturdy wooden door to Headmistress McGonagall's office. The headmistress had decided to relocate her office after she had been instated, allegedly having been heard mumbling some things about statue-nonsense, too many stairs, and new wallpapers. The door swung open at the older witch's spoken assent, to reveal a dark, meticulously tidy desk and a cosy settee. A low table was decked out in a tea set and sandwiches.
"Hermione, it's good to see you." Minerva accepted her hand with one brusque shake. "Please, take a seat, and we'll discuss your request."
"Thank you," Hermione replied, stuffing the pliable, tartan-patterned pillow behind her back as she sat down on the small sofa, reaching immediately for the teapot. She watched the amber liquid flowing into the thin-walled porcelain cups, careful to hold her hands steady to avoid spillage. "I'm aware that this is quite uncommon."
A couple of long moments passed where the headmistress seemed to appraise her while she steadily stirred the dollop of honey into her tea. Despite the vague familiarity the two women had built during her eighth year, Hermione's hands trembled, the sound of the clink of her cup on the saucer testament of her meticulously controlled emotions. "I've done research, a lot of it; worked through every book I could get my hands on. I've talked to bearers and experts. I've written letters to known and unknown wizards. This longing, Minerva, I—"
The older woman fidgeted, but where others would have reached their hand across the short distance of the table for a comforting gesture, she stiffened her back instead. Her voice hitched just a little, when she said, "I know."
Hermione looked at her and felt her eyes sting. She choked out, "Will it ever stop?"
"No," Minerva admitted. "But it's only one night per year, and it will get dimmer as time passes. Though, I do think you're still too young to give up hope. My soulmate," she paused, swallowing a deep breath, "is married with children."
Noting the pinch around Minerva's lips, Hermione asked, "You know who he is?"
"I know who she is. At least, I think so, but I don't know whether she knows. We never—" she paused again, whether she took a small sip to moisten her vocal chords or to cover her pain, Hermione couldn't fathom. "We never frequented the same circles. Hated each other, in fact, during school. And there are unbreakable pure-blood contracts amongst the old families, so even if we—" Minerva shook her head. "Needless to say, it never came to fruition."
Hermione sighed, her hopes crushed. "It really doesn't help that for the full effect of the bond, both have to acknowledge it and physically touch the other's mark."
Minerva shook her head once more, slowly, and poured them a second cup each. "It doesn't."
"It's not only one night," Hermione murmured as she observed the rising tendrils of steam off her freshly filled cup.
Lifting her head up from her spoon-stirring, the headmistress met her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I haven't dreamed on my birthday for two years."
"That's not healthy—"
Intercepting the other witch with a raised hand, Hermione added, "The bond is there, constantly, but out of reach. It's like my whole being is missing a vital part. I'm happy and sad like normal people are, I have… encounters, and I have a job which fulfills me. But there's a hole inside of me I can't fill with anything. The dreams occur without pattern, but while short, they're intense. It's driving me barmy."
"You need to dream on your birthday, child. Don't avoid it." Minerva took a bigger gulp of tea in lieu of her usual dainty sips before clearing her throat. "It is soon, if I remember correctly?"
"Yes."
She looked uncomfortable, but Minerva pushed on. "Do you need somebody to watch over you?"
Hermione blushed, remembering the still-present details of her two first souldreams. "I— no. No, I will be fine. I think."
The headmistress looked relieved, and Hermione hated her a little for it.
ooOoOoOoo
September 19th, 2000 - Hermione's 21st birthday
Hermione moaned, her eyelids pressed shut as he prodded her entrance with the head of his cock. Shifting in her position on her hands and knees, she pressed her arse a little backwards to spur him on, eager as she was to feel him fill her.
He slid inside of her and bottomed out with a feral sound, holding onto her hips with a vice-like grip as she clenched the silky sheets with both hands. Feeling him pull out slowly, she craved a forceful push, but all he did was rest the head inside of her just so, driving her to madness.
"Come on," she demanded. Yet, he only stroked his palms from her hips over the curve of her bum.
Hooking his thumbs under her cheeks, he pulled them a little apart. Dragging the pads of his fingers along her slick labia, he groaned, gritting out a string of curses. His hand smacked her arse, making her inhale sharply before he massaged over the sting, only to lean on her back and grab both of her breasts with spread fingers.
Hermione keened as he picked up his pace, hearing his moans from behind her every time her cunt closed up around him. Her nipples were fastly locked and pinched between his fingers, and whenever he kneaded her breasts, the sensation of it made her pant out loud. Kissing her neck, he lay his head between her damp shoulder-blades, fingers tugging and twisting at her nipples until the gentlest touch on her dark, rosy peaks would send a jolt of passion directly to her core.
She wondered if he knew who she was, and if he did, why he'd never sought her out. However, those dark thoughts were quickly banished to the back of her mind as she relished the feeling of him hitting the sweet spot inside of her over and over again. Her hand sneaked between her legs, rubbing frantically to reach her climax.
He bit into the flesh between her neck and her shoulder when she came, then expelled a slew of groans as he stilled and shivered behind her. Laying his weight on her, he made her puff and press flat onto the bed.
With a sated sigh, she smiled and stretched her arms above her head. His hands worked along her arms, moving slowly from the curves of her shoulders, over her elbows, and down to her wrists. Hermione opened her bleary eyes, content in the aftermath of an excellent orgasm, until she jerked up with a violent choke at the dreadful sight in front of her face. Her vision pinpointed in on the skull of the Dark Mark staring back at her, as if it was mocking her and everything she'd gone through.
Death Eater. Blond.
Malfoy.
Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism are very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.
Prompt: soulmate!au. It's Hermione's seventeenth birthday and when she goes to sleep she will dream of her soulmateb
Pairing(s): All Weasley's except Arthur, Percy, and Ron, Draco, Rodolphus, Sirius, Oliver Wood, Dolohov, Theo Nott
Kinks: wall sex, shower sex, semi-public, light bondage
Squicks: any really hardcore kinks e.g. blood play, breath play, scat, or watersports
Additional info: none