Chapter 2
You Break It, You Buy It
Harry stared at Hermione as she levitated her luggage in front of her down the hallway. He was stunned… and confused. A part of him was outraged at Hermione's presumption and lack of discussion. Many times before she had interjected herself into a part of his life and pushed him into doing something that he was either against doing or hesitant about committing to.
Another part of him was rather touched at the amount she must care for him to go to this kind of length to fix what she saw as a problem. Harry could admit that perhaps his current lifestyle left some things to be desired, but it was just so… tedious to put in effort. After the Battle of Hogwarts everyone had just gone their own way. They'd thanked him, and talked to him, and asked him questions, but in the end they'd all just… moved on. It was something that Harry couldn't really figure out how to do properly on his own.
The most troubling reaction however was how shockingly sexy he'd found that conversation. He probably shouldn't be surprised, seeing as he hadn't had sex in over a year and had barely even been in the presence of an attractive woman, or really a woman at all, for a very long time. It certainly hadn't helped that Hermione had gotten so close to him, and that expression on her face, that smirk… he'd never noticed an expression like that on Hermione's face before, and it had been somewhat shocking to see it there. Shocking and completely fucking arousing.
That had to be at least somewhat expected, any bloke would probably feel that way if an attractive woman showed up one night and declared she would be living with him. But he had to dash those thoughts immediately if Hermione was going to be staying. Hermione was one of the few people left on the planet that seemed to like being around him, and on top of that, she had just broken up with the only other person that might actually want to be around him. Harry wasn't sure exactly what the rules would be for something like that, but he was certain that nothing good could come from being aroused by the woman living in his house that was surely completely off-limits.
He was pulled from his thoughts as Hermione came back down the hall with a determined look on her face. Ooohhhh… not good. Not good at all.
"Make us dinner, Harry," she told him. He wanted to be upset at how imperious she was being, but frustratingly it felt somewhat relaxing for Harry to simply be told what the next thing to do was. Often when he was sitting around his house, and not sleeping, he would spend time wondering what to spend time on. Eventually that always became disconcerting, but it was a cycle he seemed to fall into quite often.
"What should I make?" he asked.
"Something light," she answered, turning back to head to her room. Harry shook his head. No, that wasn't her room, it was his spare room that she had commandeered. "Have it ready in half an hour or so!" she called back over her shoulder.
Harry's eyes widened. A half hour? He needed to get moving!
He scrambled into the kitchen and began pulling out cookware before it really hit him how natural it had been to take what she said as 'the way it was going to be'. He supposed that had something to do with following her directions becoming a habit during school, but at this point there was nothing to be gained by making a fuss. No matter what his rather confused feelings were on what Hermione was doing, he would at least follow this direction.
Disappointingly, he didn't seem to have much food around the house that could be used to make 'something light', so he'd had to settle for a couple of dressed up salads which definitely were not his normal fare for a whole meal. He found himself getting into a sort of zone as he prepared the food, his mental acuity becoming sharp and focused on the task, and it was a feeling he hadn't experienced in a very long time. It felt… wonderful. Why didn't he feel this way more often?
"Ah… good work, Harry," Hermione said gently. Harry looked up at her startled. He hadn't even realized she was in the room, let alone that she was observing him. Though the praise made him feel… nice. As a child and teenager he'd experienced so few moments of genuine earned praise, and that made his unearned praise even more difficult to swallow. It had seemed while he was growing up that everything he actually did went unnoticed, while everything other people wished he had done was commented on perpetually.
Harry felt himself become a bit pink at the words and a warmth spread through him. It meant more, coming from Hermione. She didn't hand out praise casually, she really meant it when she said it, and it was always so enjoyable for Harry to experience an affirmation.
"Thanks, Hermione," he said, pushing her bowl forward. Hermione inspected the bowl carefully before looking up with a warm smile.
"Brilliant," she beamed. "You followed my directions perfectly."
"Oh," Harry mumbled, shifting a bit uncomfortably. They both picked up their forks and dug in. Harry glanced up, thinking perhaps they would talk while they ate, but Hermione had a book laid out on the counter and was reading intently as she carefully moved bites of food to her mouth. Harry couldn't help but stare for a few seconds as he watched her mouth open and a fork-full of salad ever so slowly move past her lips. Her mouth closed on the metal and her lips dragged just slightly as the fork was pulled back out.
Harry felt a much more intense blush color his cheeks as he looked back at his own food.
What the hell are you doing, Potter, he thought to himself. This is about ten different kinds of trouble. You absolutely cannot be thinking about Hermione like that right now. Ron will hate your very existence, Hermione will be frustrated because she just got out of a relationship, and you… you will do the same thing you did to Ginny. Drive her away.
Harry glanced up at Hermione again and saw her still engrossed in the text in front of her.
As odd as it is, you know that this last half hour has felt more vibrant than the last half year. Don't fuck this up.
Harry returned to his meal and made to finish it.
"Eat slower," Hermione's voice called out distractedly. Harry froze. "You're eating too fast, eat slower."
Harry glanced at Hermione again. She wasn't even looking at him… how had she…? He started moving the fork to his mouth much slower, keeping pace with her instead of setting his own.
"Good boy," she muttered, turning the page.
Harry flushed for a third time, his eyes locking on the bowl in front of him. Merlin, why was this meal feeling so… sexual to him? It was so foreign and fucked up, but so… exactly what he wanted at the same time. There was something that Hermione was doing that no other girl had ever done that was making it very difficult for him to keep his resolve about 'acting natural'.
"Er," Harry started unsure, "what's… next?" He pushed the last bite of his meal into his mouth and started chewing just as Hermione looked up. She glanced at his face then looked down to his bowl.
"Excellent, you ate everything." Hermione placed a bookmark in her dinner reading material and closed it before stepping to the side. "Go clean the living room and entryway. It was in a terrible state when I arrived."
Harry nodded and started to move towards the indicated room, but was stopped when Hermione spoke again.
"Harry," she said in a sing-song voice. "When you follow directions it's polite to acknowledge them."
"Oh, right," Harry replied, his brows furrowing. "I'll go… clean the living room then." He waited until he saw Hermione nod before continuing on his way.
Harry was absolutely baffled. It had been three days since Hermione had arrived at his door with a new apparent purpose to her life. Namely, to control his. But, Harry reasoned, seeing as he hadn't really been controlling it, he supposed it wasn't too bad for her to do so.
Truth be told, the whole situation had become more and more… confusing. He hadn't really noticed at first, but he had now come to realize that all of her instructions, her strict timetables, and her persistence were something his body apparently found… arousing. When she had first arrived, he had assumed that his arousal was due to him being a healthy, young bloke who hadn't been getting anything for ages… while she was an attractive, available young woman who was constantly in his close proximity. Then later on, he had thought it was simply because he'd known her for so long and knew her so well; that he was transferring his familiarity for sexual attraction.
Certainly those were both part of it. But over that first day he'd noticed that another part of it was how much he simply enjoyed being given direction. Not just by anyone, he didn't feel pleased when the Ministry tried to control him for instance. But when she did… it did something terrible and wonderful to him. This realization sent a fresh wave of shame and self-doubt through him that lingered the entire day after. What self-respecting person would get off in any way on being controlled like she was doing to him? In fact he was certain that a large part of her plan was for him to find it unpleasant, and in doing so find the motivation to take care of all these things himself.
He was going to have to disappoint her. Every time she had given him an instruction he'd felt more and more comfortable, more and more at ease. It was so simple, and it was so pleasant. It just felt right. He'd noticed moments of confusion from her about it. Moments where she had clearly been thinking something along the lines of 'but… that was supposed to upset him and make him take control of that part of his life'. For the second and third day she'd progressively gotten 'worse' about it, although Harry secretly found it more and more pleasing instead.
She'd sent him to bed at a specific time, then woken him up at another. On the second day she'd made him show her his closet and chosen what he would wear. When that hadn't gotten a rise out of him, or at least not the rise she had been anticipating, she'd timed him brushing his teeth. On the third day she'd taken to using more and more terms that one might use when training a dog, which Harry knew must be exactly what she was thinking. Instances of her telling him 'good boy' or 'speak, Harry' had risen considerably, but every escalation had only heightened Harry's experience of the situation, and now on the fourth day he found himself a bit stuck.
Clearly Hermione had been hoping to kick him into action, not for him to relax into her control over his life, and he desperately didn't want her to find out what exactly the reason was that he was behaving that was. Truly, he didn't really understand it himself. He could describe the feelings and sensations, but he couldn't describe why he was feeling them or why he wanted to keep feeling them. Even so, he felt an… unnaturalness to his reactions. It was the first time he'd ever really felt that way about himself, even though his Aunt and Uncle had declared it to be so many times as he was growing up.
Normal people didn't feel sexual arousal from being told what to do, did they? He'd never heard of that before, and it certainly didn't seem like the kind of thing that matched up with him being a man and all. Men weren't supposed to enjoy being controlled… hell, Harry hadn't enjoyed being controlled at all before. He'd resented the control other people had over him nearly his entire childhood, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what was different about it now.
All of this meant that he couldn't allow Hermione to figure out what was happening to him when she told him to do things. That was going to be a problem though, as Hermione was about the smartest person he had ever known, and he knew that she would eventually figure it out the same way he knew that the sky was blue and water was wet.
"Come, Harry," Hermione called out forcefully from the bottom of the stairs. He was moving towards her almost before she finished speaking. "We're going out to get some groceries."
Hermione glanced at the man walking in front of her in the supermarket every so often, her face filled with confusion. Something wasn't going according to her plan, and she couldn't figure out what. Everything she had ever learned about Harry told her that he should be angry and frustrated by now, taking control over his life if only to keep her from doing so. But he wasn't. If anything he was becoming more comfortable with following her orders.
At first she thought this had just been his apathy, but now she wasn't so sure. She'd pushed it a little far, using some techniques that she'd read about how to train dogs on him without any subtlety. But he hadn't shrunk from it, or fought it, or swelled with anger. He just seemed… content. Like she was making him happy.
Hermione glanced at Harry again, as if trying to find a post-it note stuck to him somewhere that might explain his behavior. But there was nothing in his appearance that gave her any clues to what was happening or why Harry was behaving so differently from what she expected.
They went down the isles of the market, and Hermione gave him instructions on what to put in the cart following behind. Each time she spoke he seemed to perk up slightly for a few moments, and each time her frown returned. By the time they were checking out with their food, Hermione was certain that there was something she was missing, and she was equally certain that Harry already knew what it was.
Her mind kept working on the issue as the apparated back to the house, and as she watched Harry happily put away the groceries, as she had instructed, she decided it was time to talk.
"Harry, stop," she said firmly. He immediately stopped putting the groceries away, his hands frozen in the air. "Turn around." He complied rapidly, setting the cans down on the counter before turning. She furrowed her brows again, looking him up and down. What was she missing? She looked back up to his face and noticed his face was red. "Are you alright?" she asked in a concerned voice. "You look a bit ill."
"Oh," he let out softly. "No, Hermione, I'm fine."
She frowned at his mumbled reply. It didn't sound like a lie, but it didn't sound like the truth either.
"What's going on, Harry?" she asked him earnestly. "You… I know that you understand what I'm doing. I expected you to be a storm of frustration by this point, but you're just… you're just going along with it." Her brows furrowed again. "I don't get it. You almost seem happy to do what I'm telling you."
Harry shifted uncomfortably.
"It's… it's simple, Hermione," he mumbled. "To just… do what you say. I don't really have a problem with doing things I just… I don't want to motivate myself to do them."
"Perhaps this was a mistake," Hermione said, her frown deepening. "You weren't supposed to become more comfortable with being unmotivated. Perhaps I should leave—"
"No!" Harry nearly shouted. He winced and lowered his voice. "Please don't leave, Hermione." He looked down at his feet for a few moments and Hermione saw a debate of some kind waging itself inside him. "Just… can we keep doing this? For now?"
"I don't know, Harry… it doesn't seem healthy." She watched as an expression of guilt or shame crossed his face. "Why do you want to keep doing this?"
"Look," Harry told her, looking up and fixing her with an intense stare. It made her heart flutter slightly. It had been such a long time since anyone had given her a look like that. "I… I know this isn't exactly…" He paused and seemed to lose his words for a few moments, running his hand through his hair. "I know that me enjoying this situation is… unnatural… but it's exactly what I needed. You weren't wrong, Hermione. You didn't do the wrong thing."
Harry shifted again, but there was something about the way he moved that caught Hermione's attention. It reminded her of something Ron did when… Hermione's eyes widened. Was Harry attracted to her? She supposed it was possible, they were both healthy, young, heterosexual people and they did care for each other deeply, but she hadn't ever seen any indication from him before that he might be interested.
Hermione's eyes flitted down towards his waist before she could stop them, and she thought she saw what might be evidence of his current state. She looked back at his face and his eyes were on her, so he had definitely seen her glance.
"Harry, am I… making you uncomfortable?"
A few seconds of silence passed between them before Harry frowned and glanced away.
"No, Hermione."
"Am I…" she paused and Harry looked back at her. The way he was looking at her, it was like he wanted something from her, like he needed something from her. She wet her lips with her tongue unconsciously, nervously. "Am I making you… too comfortable?"
She watched Harry's face light up in red and he looked away, and after several seconds it was apparent that he couldn't give her an answer. At least, a verbal answer. His actions had given her all the answer she needed.
"I don't understand," Hermione started softly, "what that would have to do with you being so compliant." She waited for him to look back at her, his face still rosy. "Does the fact that you find me attractive make you want to do whatever I say?"
"That's…" Harry struggled for several seconds. "It's… I think it's the other way around… perhaps."
The other way around? Hermione thought, confused. So… telling him what to do… is making him more attracted to me?
"I don't understand, Harry," she told him gently.
"I'm sorry Hermione, I know I'm a freak, can we just… forget about this? Go back to what we were doing?"
He looked so obviously uncomfortable, but it was the use of the word 'freak' that tipped Hermione off as to what may be happening. He's becoming sexually aroused because I'm being bossy? Hermione found herself at a loss. This wasn't something she'd ever heard of, but at the same time her parents had always expressed to her that there was no wrong way to express or experience sexuality as long as everyone agreed to it and no one was being hurt. She needed time to think, and she needed more information.
"Put the rest of the groceries away, Harry," she told him firmly. "I'm going to go investigate something. We'll talk about this tomorrow."
He turned around and returned to his task with a sigh, and the expression on his face tugged at Hermione's heart. He clearly thought that he had done something wrong, screwed something up. She wanted to comfort him, to let him know it was okay, but she felt lost and out of her depth right now, and Hermione had always had trouble making decisions in that state.
She grabbed her bag and walked out the front door. She was going to make a trip to the library. Perhaps one of the computers would have information? Or there might be a book on the subject? She needed to know what the path forward was, and what was happening, and the library was the place Hermione always started for that.
Harry heard the front door close and let out a large breath. He had completely fucked everything up. In the end, his relatives had been right, there was just something about him that was too unnatural for him to be around other people. Why had Hermione come into his little bubble of seclusion? Clearly he was too strange to be around people all the time, so it had been a good thing that he'd been withdrawn and adrift.
Harry finished with the groceries and turned around to ask what to do next, only to realize again that Hermione was gone. A deep feeling of self-loathing burned through him. Even now he was still craving that simplicity and comfort. Even though it had just fucked up one of the only relationships he still had with another person, he couldn't stop himself from wanting it, from expecting it.
He looked around the house, feeling lost. What was he going to do for the rest of the night? Having that prepared and firm direction suddenly removed was jarring, and he had no clue how to engage anything else around him without it. With another sigh, Harry walked up the stairs to his room and lay down in the bed.
For hours he rolled from side to side, his mind providing a constant stream of recrimination. At first it had simply been limited to his apparent destruction of his relationship with Hermione, but as the time passed it moved on to other things. To how he wasn't really a man for feeling this way, for enjoying it. That it made him less impressive as a person, or that it meant he didn't deserve as much out of life. Perhaps that was why he'd been wasting away in his house? That he had subconsciously understood it was how things should be?
Harry's thoughts were paused when he heard the front door close. She'd come back? He listened closely as she walked through the hallway, went into her room, and gently closed the door behind her.
She doesn't have anywhere else to go tonight, he realized. He heard that sound, the sound of her door closing behind her, echo in his mind over and over, and for the first time in years he felt himself begin to cry tears of sadness and loss.
Hermione laid down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. It had taken hours, and she'd had to ask the librarian several questions to be pointed in the right direction, but Hermione thought she understood what was going on with Harry now, and she was utterly baffled about what to do. Could she do what he wanted? Did she want to do what he wanted? Did he even understand what he wanted?
She was fairly certain the answer to that last question was 'no', but if that was the only problem it was easily solved. The more pertinent ones were the first two questions. Could she do what he wanted.
Well, yes, I suppose I could, she thought it over in her head. I've been controlling him almost like a Domme does for the last several days, haven't I? And I can't say I haven't enjoyed having someone be so… compliant?… obedient? She scrunched up her face. Have I been enjoying it in the same way though?
Hermione knew that she hadn't been exactly aroused by ordering Harry around, but after reading up on the subject all day, she wondered if maybe that was because she hadn't been in the right mindset. It also could have easily been because of how focused she was on what she had been trying to accomplish. That was another question though… would giving into what he wanted be healthy for him, or would it just exacerbate the problem she had originally seen?
The real problem he has is connection with other people, she reasoned. I don't think this would be harmful because it would definitely create a strong connection with another person, and that's the thing that he was lacking most of all. She felt herself blush slightly. A connection to me…
It ended up being a much more complicated subject than Hermione had anticipated, and she was still wondering at just how much effort and work she would have to put in if she decided to do this. But still… she felt her first question was answered. Yes, she could in fact do what he wanted. But did she want to?
He'll be worried about Ron, she quickly realized. But he hasn't contacted either of us in weeks, and honestly I've moved on. She scowled. I moved on months ago while we were still together, that was part of the problem. She considered her own feelings again. It could be… interesting. It would certainly be something I haven't done before, and I can't imagine doing it with someone I don't know as well as Harry.
But was it okay to start a relationship? Hermione wasn't certain that she was ready for that, and she wasn't certain that she wanted that either. So how would she be able to meet Harry's, er, sexual needs without starting a relationship?
I could focus just on the control for now, keep things platonic between us. She nodded her head, liking the idea. And it would help me figure out just how much of this 'bossiness' is something that I would… enjoy bringing into a relationship in the future.
So… yes, she did want to do those things. Or at least, some of them.
Her mind made up, Hermione turned over and settled in to sleep. She needed to be refreshed for the conversation they would be having tomorrow morning.
"Time to get up, Harry!" Hermione shouted next to his bed. Harry shot up, confused and disoriented, before reaching for his glasses. As he put them on he turned to face her and fixed her with a look of sorrow and guilt that Hermione was startled by. "Get dressed and come downstairs, Harry," she told him carefully. "We have to finish our discussion."
"Yes, Hermione," Harry muttered. Hermione frowned. Over the last several days his acknowledgments of her instructions had taken on a kind of exuberance that had been endearing, and now that Hermione had researched the subject, rather revealing. But that one had been so… apathetic. Like the way he had been before.
"Right…" she said, looking at him for a few more seconds before walking out of the room. She waited for him in the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee and taking a few sips. A few minutes later Harry shuffled into the kitchen looking more moody than he'd been the entire time she'd been staying there.
"What would you like for breakfast, Hermione," Harry asked. Her eyebrows shot up at the note of derision in his voice at her name. What exactly was going on?
"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked. Harry turned to the stove and started pulling some eggs out, an utterly humorless laugh escaping him.
"Oh, nothing," he said far more lightly than his demeanor warranted. "Just looking forward to getting back to my simple existence when you leave."
"Is that what you're on about?" Hermione asked him annoyed. "Harry, look at me."
Hermione stared at him with a bit of shock as for the first time since she'd arrive he ignored her. She felt a sense of loss inside her, and she immediately understood something she had been unsure of last night. Yes, she did in fact enjoy controlling him like this, and yes, she very much wanted that to continue. Her expression hardened.
"Harry. James. Potter," she said in a low voice that expressed just how dangerous it would be for him to ignore her again. She watched in satisfaction as he completely froze. "Turn. Around."
Harry set down the items in his hands and turned to face her with wide eyes. He was angry, and confused, and frustrated, but he couldn't help the fact that her demand had been unbearably arousing. He very much didn't want to be aroused right now, but he simply couldn't help it. She looked down at his waist and he knew she would easily see the effect it had on him once more. What he didn't expect is for a devious looking smile to spread on her face as she looked back up at him.
"Good boy." She studied him for several seconds. "Were you concerned I was just going to up and leave? Just because you're a sexual submissive?"
"Well I…" Harry stopped short. "A… a what?"
"A sexual submissive, Harry," she told him plainly. "You're getting turned on by the fact that I'm bossing you around, right?"
Harry didn't answer her, but he didn't need to. They both knew the answer to that question.
"It's not unnatural Harry, in fact it's so common that there's a whole section for it at the library." She watched as Harry's eyes widened. "Yes, that's where I went. Did you think I was running away? Does that at all match the girl you became friends with years ago?"
"No…" he mumbled, feeling a bit foolish now for ever thinking so.
"I went to the library, because Hermione Granger doesn't do anything without knowing what she is getting into," she told him. "And yes, it is a natural thing, there are many people that feel the way you feel." Hermione watched him shift uncomfortably, realizing what he was thinking. "Yes, even other men."
Harry's shoulders slumped. She had known exactly what was going through his head, but shouldn't he have expected that? She'd always been able to read him, sometimes even when he didn't really know what was going on.
"So then…" he gave her a searching look. "Where do we go from here?"
"Clearly what you need is some rules," Hermione told him. "Some more… appropriate rules for how you have been experiencing this whole thing."
Harry had a feeling like electricity run through him, like every cell in his body was suddenly paying attention to the words Hermione was saying.
"And what… rules would those be?"
Hermione paused for a moment. This was it, the point at which things would be… different. But she had never really been one to hesitate.
"When you want to have a wank," she said, having to stifle a giggle at his reaction to the word, "you will come and ask me for permission. Do you understand Harry?"
Harry's face was beet red, and it looked for several seconds like he was having trouble forming words.
"Yes, Hermione," he mumbled looking down.
"Good," she replied in a satisfied tone. "Now, get back to making us breakfast."
"Yes, Hermione," he replied, this time much more comfortably. For a few minutes she just watched him cook. Now that she had started down this path it was obvious to her that she… enjoyed it in the same way he did. And watching him work she began to appreciate things she hadn't noticed before, like how enticing his behind looked while he worked the stove. "I don't understand how I got this way," Harry's voice called out, startling her out of her blatant ogling. But he hadn't turned around, so he hadn't seen that she was staring.
"You mean how you became a sexual submissive?" she asked.
"Yes," he said.
"It's not really something that happens to you," Hermione explained. "All the literature on this was rather clear. It's just a preference that some people have. You don't question how you came to like treacle tart, do you? You just do."
"I suppose," Harry agreed cautiously. "But it's not something I've ever experienced with someone else." There were a few seconds of silence before he let out a soft chuckle and turned his head to glance at her. "Perhaps you damaged me sexually back in our first and second year with all your bossiness, Hermione."
"Is that so?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry's eyes widened and he turned back to the stove in a hurry. Hermione stood up from her chair and walked over until she was standing right behind him. She was certain that he knew she was there, she could see the tension all over his body. "Well," she said softly, watching him jump slightly at the sound of her voice with some satisfaction. "If I really damaged you like you claim, I suppose that just means that you're mine, doesn't it?"
Harry turned around slowly to look at Hermione, an expression of wonder and apprehension on his face. She couldn't help it… she smirked back up at him.
"You know what they say, Potter," she said in cheerful voice before dropping her tone into almost a whisper. "I broke it, I bought it."
Author's Note: Well I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Honestly, this is one of my favorite chapters I've ever written. Please leave me a comment about your thoughts as well, whatever, they may be.
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