Chapter 4
My Motivation

Author's Note: I've been gone for quite a while, and for that I apologize. But as promised, this story won't be abandoned. If you'd like more information about my new update schedule, what I'm doing now, and how to keep up to date on my stories, please read the author's note at the end of the chapter.

Harry turned the page, realizing that he was very nearly finished with the last book from Hermione. It had been a few days since his, er, explosive experience with her, but afterward she'd simply given him the books he'd requested and told him to come to her with any questions.

There hadn't been a knowing smile, or an affectionate look, or any comment on what had happened… it had all been very business-like. Oh certainly, Hermione had given him instructions during the last few days, continuing to have him cook, and clean, and groom himself, but… nothing else. It was like that night had never happened.

Well it had happened for him! He wasn't willing to pretend it was nothing.

It was only now that he was nearly finished learning more about all of the possibilities this sort of life entailed that he knew how to say it. How to express his internal experience to her in a way that she might understand.

He had fallen in love with one of his oldest friends.

It wasn't the simple lust of last week, although if he were honest there hadn't been anything simple about that lust. It was… real. Real in a way that few emotions but rage ever had been for him.

Harry finished the last paragraph and closed the book, standing up with a sigh. He could do this. He was going to do this. As he left his room and made his way towards Hermione's door, he marveled at the improvement he was showing at Hermione's control. He was about to stand up for himself, for what he wanted, and for what he felt. Not to just anyone, but to one of the people he held dearest in his heart. And not just someone he held dear, but someone he had grown fond of obeying and being, well, submissive to.

But what he had to say right now wasn't about taking control back from her, it was about the truth. She would want that, he knew, even if it wasn't something she had instructed.

Harry knocked on her door.

"Come in," Hermione's voice called out. Harry took a deep breath and pushed the door open, his eyes catching on her comfy sweater, but as soon as he caught her eyes, he found himself looking at the floor, at a loss for words. Several seconds of silence passed. "Did you… need something Harry?"

"Yes—" Harry answered, his voice catching in his throat a bit. He cleared it and started again. "Yes, Hermione. I've finished with the books you gave me."

"I see," she said, eying him carefully. Harry waited several seconds for her to ask him about it, but she didn't seem to have any questions.

"Er, I was wondering how you feel about all this?" Harry said, his voice lifting up at the end as if it were a question. "About having me as your submissive."

"Oh," Hermione said softly, her eyes widening. Clearly she hadn't expected things to head in this direction. "I… enjoy it."

"How do you enjoy it?" Harry pressed forward, pulling on the courage he had long ago abandoned as a tool of his younger days.

She stared at him intently and for the first time since her dramatic entrance to his house weeks ago, Harry saw real uncertainty and hesitation on her face.

"I'm not really sure what you mean…" Hermione finally responded.

"Do you…" Harry shifted his weight. "Do you enjoy me, er, this I mean. Do you enjoy this as an… experiment? Or like a… fascinating assignment?"

Hermione looked down at her hands, a very serious expression filling her features.

"Harry," she started softly. "You… do you remember a few weeks ago when I first reached out?" She looked up at him and he nodded. "I was worried. I was so worried. Ron and I had both been caught up in our own little world, and in each other. It felt like… if either of us took even a moment away from our relationship, everything would fall apart. And it wasn't supposed to, Harry. Everyone was so happy for us, and both of us just knew that we should be together." Harry felt something cold grip him inside. He was being foolish, she was still getting over a relationship with his own best friend. This was a stupid idea. "But it fell apart anyway," Hermione whispered, tears coming to her eyes. "We fought, and fought. With each other, and for each other… and for nothing. We have nothing. He still won't return an owl to me."

Harry shifted again, feeling positively wretched. How could he have been so selfish? Why hadn't he considered what she was going through as well?

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry offered. "We don't have to talk about this." He turned to leave the room.

"Harry James Potter!" she called out, a mix between crying and anger in her voice. "I didn't just drag up all those things so that you could walk away before I even tell you what I meant to!" Harry froze at her tone despite himself and turned back to her. He shouldn't. He should not feel happy about her taking control like that right now. He felt the warm comfort pass through him, and it left nothing but self-hatred and disgust in its wake. "Sit," she said sharply, her brows furrowed as she pointed at the extra chair in her room.

"Yes, Hermione," Harry mumbled, moving as instructed.

"I need you to understand how… consumed with my own loss I was at that time, because I need you to understand the real impact of my answer," she said, continuing her story. She took a few calming but unsteady breaths, rocking back and forth a few times before straightening up a bit. "You terrified me Harry," she whispered, so softly he could barely hear it. She looked up into his eyes. "I have never been that terrified except for with my parents during the war. You were… gone. Someone else was wearing your face. I had just lost the last two years of my life, and the only other person in the world that I truly cared about was gone!" She shouted the last word, more tears forming, and Harry flinched back, eyes wide.

"I…" Harry didn't know what to say. That he was sorry? That he was better now?

"Let me finish, please," Hermione said, sniffing a few times and dabbing the corners of her eyes. Several seconds passed in tense silence as Hermione gathered herself once more. "Do you know what I did after meeting with you that first time?" she asked him, much more conversationally than she had been talking so far. Harry shook his head. "I thought not." A soft, almost wistful smile formed on her lips. "I went and talked to all the people we used to know. The people who might have kept in touch with you." She leaned back, a faraway look on her features. "I talked to George, and Neville, and Luna… I even talked to Ginny."

Harry took in a sharp breath involuntarily. Oh no. What had Ginny told her?

"You know what I asked all of them?" Hermione said rhetorically. "I asked, 'when did Harry get this way'." She looked directly into his eyes, determination shining fiercely, and Harry was taken aback for a moment. "Do you know what every single one of them responded? Even Ginny?" After several moments Harry realized that she wanted him to answer this question, so he shook his head jerkily. Her eyes softened as she sighed. "They shrugged, and told me 'that's how he's always been'."

"Hermione," he started, searching for words. "I'm… I don't…"

"It was like being stabbed in the heart," Hermione intoned. "The only person left on the planet that I care about that will talk to me, the fucking savior to every single one of them… and they didn't even think there was something wrong. They didn't care. Not like I did." Hermione's eyes flashed back to his, the fiery intensity back, and she stood up, walking towards him. "Do you see this Harry?" she asked, rolling up her sleeve. Harry knew what was there, and he didn't want to look. "The scar that creature carved into my arm!?" She held it out, and Harry couldn't help but look up and see the faint lines forming the word 'mudblood' on her skin. "I didn't endure this for the country, or for everyone at school… I took it for you, and for Ron."

Hermione's arms fell limp at her side and her sleeve rolled down, covering the scar. Harry looked up at her. She was barely a step away from him now.

"I could never see you… see this… as just an experiment, Harry," Hermione said in an almost pleading tone. She leaned forward and fell onto his chest, wrapping her arms around him, her tears making his shirt wet. "You're all I have left." She started to cry in earnest into his body, and Harry instinctively wrapped his arms around her. "Why am I the only one?" she asked, seemingly to herself. "Why am I the only one?"

"The only one what?" Harry asked gently, rubbing his hands on her back. She sniffed a few times before responding.

"Why am I the only one that cares if you're happy? You deserve so much more than that."

Harry stared at the sobbing woman in his arms, speechless. People had cared for him before, but he had never heard it expressed so sincerely. Through all of the pain, and loss, and difficulty that Hermione had experienced since her breakup with Ron, she cared about him so much that it hurt her to see him hurting. She had put the rest of her life on hold to help him… and he had asked if this was just an experiment to her?

Harry felt a brief bout of queasiness as he realized just how much that must have hurt Hermione to hear.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said soothingly. He continued running his hands along her back. Weeks ago, she had been there to comfort him, to be his point of stability, even though he didn't know he needed it. He could do the same for her right now. "I'm here, and I'm doing much better now, thanks to you." Hermione sniffed and pulled back, her eyes red and puffy.

"Are you?" she asked him seriously.

"Yes, Hermione," he said. A smile spread across his face, accompanied by a warmth of… belonging. Of place. "Don't worry about what everyone else thought," he continued, "I don't need everyone else. I just need you."

"Really?" Hermione responded, sounding startled. "But—I thought…" She trailed off, apparently not sure how to put what she thought into words.

"Hermione," Harry said earnestly, "I have been torn up inside for days, but it hasn't been because of that malaise I had when you first got here. It…" Harry paused, gathering his courage. "It's because you're my motivation."

Harry took a breath to continue, but Hermione cut in.

"I've been giving you orders to follow," she said, rolling her eyes. "Which you do. Like a good boy."

Harry smiled, then shook his head.

"No, Hermione. I mean that you're my motivation that there's something worth enjoying in my future." Harry stopped and studied Hermione's face to gauge her reaction. Her eyes widened, and she looked like she might start crying again. "I've been torn up inside because I… I want more than to just be a good boy. I want to be your good boy. I want… I want to continue what we've been doing, but not as just friends."

A silence permeated the room and they stared at each other. Hermione looked at him, searching for the truth, while Harry looked at her searching for hope. Finally, Hermione spoke up.

"Why?"

Harry was caught off guard. He hadn't expected to have to justify how he felt.

"Because I've never been as happy as I am when I'm with you, Hermione," Harry said, his thoughts flowing out through his mouth without a filter. "Nearly every happy memory I have includes you. You've always been able to deal with me at my worst, but you're the only one that does it from a place of… of caring. About me. You make me happy, Hermione, but it's not just because of the things that you do. You're funny, and smart, and seeing you happy just makes me feel… warm inside."

Another silence passed between them as a few silent tears fell from Hermione's eyes. Harry pressed on.

"Since you've moved in, we've discovered a new, er, facet of who I am. It's comfortable, and I enjoy it, and I want more of it. Some of the things I read about in those books… just thinking about them with you…" Harry blushed for a few moments, collecting himself once more. "I don't just enjoy it because of what it is, I enjoy it because of you. I wouldn't want that with anyone else." Harry looked away from her face, a look of indecision, before turning back to face her, determined. "Hermione… I love you. I don't have a better explanation than that."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, scooping him into her arms once more. "I love you too, and it terrifies me. As painful as it was to breakup with Ron… I can't imagine how devastating it would be to screw things up with you."

"Then we won't," Harry said confidently. "We can't if you're making all the decisions. Hermione is never wrong."

She broke into a giddy sort of half-laugh, half-cry, holding him tightly. After a few moments she pulled back, a smirk on her face.

"And don't you forget it," she whispered.

Harry moved around the kitchen with purpose, intent on making a meal that Hermione would enjoy. He'd slowly been figuring out what she liked and what she didn't since she'd arrived, and he wanted this meal to be special.

For the last two or so weeks he'd been figuring out what he liked as well, and the books he'd collected from Hermione were far more illuminating that he could have even imagined. Many of the things in those books were ideas that had never occurred to him, but having been made aware of them, he could now scarcely think of anything else.

Being a submissive, or hearing Hermione call him that at least, had been… unsettling. That didn't… well, it didn't sound very masculine. But one of the books had contained a short account from a male submissive about his own journey and struggle with this concept. The ideas in that story had been enthralling and thought provoking, but more importantly had called into question several things Harry took as a given.

What was masculinity, exactly?

Questions like that had rarely held his interest, but they seemed pivotal to his life at the moment, and he couldn't help but wonder. Harry had never really had any reason to question how 'masculine' or 'male' he was, until now. But he didn't feel less… like himself. If anything, this new side of him felt more like himself. It felt more free, and more natural. The only reason the idea of masculinity even entered his mind was because of what he imagined most of the public would think if they knew about this part of their 'savior'. Or what Ron might say, for that matter.

But what other people thought about him had rarely, if ever, truly bothered him. When he was younger it had been frustrating and unwelcome when people had thought he was opening the Chamber of Secrets. But it wasn't the fact that people had thought those things about him that had bothered him, it was what might happen because of it. What would happen because of this? Would people he trusted lose their respect for him?

Maybe, he thought. I can't even imagine how I could have a conversation about these feelings or thoughts with Ron, though he was never one to talk much about feelings anyway. Maybe Neville or Dean would be better at that kind of conversation.

He honestly wasn't sure about the answers to these questions. What he was sure about was that he'd never really been this happy or content. And no matter what others thought, it was what Hermione thought that mattered to him most.

She knows exactly what's going on with me, maybe even better than I do, and she loves me. Harry paused at that and a slow smile formed on his lips. She loves me, he kept thinking to himself over and over.

"Is dinner ready?" Hermione asked, walking into the room.

"Yes, Hermione."

Harry finished dishing her plate up and set it in front of her at the table before returning to grab his own portion. When he returned to his seat, he saw that she hadn't started eating yet. His smile faltered.

"Erm, should I have made something else?" he asked.

"No," Hermione replied with a smile. "I thought that we should eat together." She gave him a meaningful look. "At the proper speed."

"Yes, Hermione," he said with relief, sitting down. Harry picked up a bite with his fork then held it and waited for Hermione to do the same. She stared at him for several seconds, before nodding with a smirk.

"Good boy."

Harry made sure to keep pace with her, instead of rushing ahead. After the first few bites he got the hang of the rhythm that Hermione was using, and his mind drifted to later this evening.

"Hermione?" he started, making sure to swallow before talking. He was certain she would be cross about him talking with his mouth full.

"Yes Harry?"

"Would you…" Harry set his fork down, and furrowed his eyebrows. "Would you like to move out of the guest room? My bed is more comfy, and I figured, you know, given what we discussed earlier, and it seemed appropriate, but I don't know how you'd feel about that, and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, because we don't have to have sex or anything, it's just—"

"Harry!" Hermione snapped, interrupting his rambling. Harry closed his mouth, eyes wide, as he realized how scattered his speaking had become.

Merlin, she does something crazy to me, even when she's not trying.

"I'd…" Hermione paused, figuring out how to phrase her answer. "I think it's a good suggestion. To be honest, I think just… being close tonight would be helpful. But I don't think we should do anything together until we have a discussion about what exactly we both want, what we don't want, and what our expectations are." Harry nodded in agreement, and Hermione continued. "We can discuss all of that tomorrow morning. You know how I like to think through things, and have time to consider things before jumping into something important like this. I'd like to sleep on my thoughts before we talk about the future too much." She smiled at him warmly. "But sleeping with my arms wrapped around my very own 'good boy' sounds delightful."

Harry thought about her answer, and felt it was reasonable, but a part of him was absolutely begging for more. It had been days since she had watched him have a wank, and he was nearly bursting inside to experience that again.

"That sounds fantastic, Hermione," Harry said with a smile. "But, I understand being a submissive now, and I want more. That won't change tomorrow morning."

"Well, I'm glad you understand yourself better now, but like I said let's wait until tomorrow at least, and sleep on it."

Harry felt guilty about pushing, but at the same time, the feelings inside him had been steadily building, and a part of him felt ready to explode. Not just physically, either.

"Hermione, I…" Harry looked down at his plate, unable to hold eye contact. "I can't wait… you've been leaving me alone for days, and I miss it. I just… I miss you taking that control… I miss feeling like… putty in your hands."

"It's just one day, Harry," she said. Her voice sounded strained, and when he looked up she had a somewhat pained look on her face.

"Please, Hermione…"

Harry watched as her resolve seemed to crack, and her face shifted into an expression of annoyance and excitement.

"Fine," she said, her voice clipped. "You want me to control you?"

"Yes, Hermione."

"Sexually? Tonight?"

"Yes, Hermione."

"You want to know what I've been thinking about doing to you? What I've been curious and fantasizing about for days?" Her face looked slightly flushed as the passion in her voice grew with each question. Harry's eyes widened, wondering if perhaps he should have left it alone after all. Just the same, he nodded.

"I just… want to feel like I'm yours again," he said softly.

"Oh," Hermione said, a full smirk now on her face. "I think you won't be able to feel anything but that by the end of the night." She set her own fork down and pointed at his plate. "Finish your dinner. No more speaking, no more questions. When you are finished with dinner, go to our room, silently, remove your clothes and climb into bed. You will stay like that until I get there."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, before catching himself and nodding instead. He picked up his fork, his heart thumping wildly in his chest in anticipation. He glanced back up at Hermione who was simply sitting there watching him.

"Keep your eyes on your food," she commanded in tone that brooked no argument. "You are not to look up the rest of the night."

His eyes flicked back to his food and he gave a short nod. After a few moments, he heard Hermione begin to eat again, and the rest of dinner passed in silence except for the sounds of their meal. It was… maddening. He wanted to thank her, or beg her, or… he wanted to say something anyway. The silence felt full of tension to him, and a part of him wondered if maybe that was what Hermione wanted.

Regardless, she had made her instructions very clear. It felt like both an eternity and an instant before her was finished, as if different parts of his mind were disagreeing on the nature of the passing of time. But after setting his fork down for the last time, he waited. Should he just get up? She did tell him to go to his room… their room… after finishing, but it felt somehow wrong to leave without being excused.

"Do you remember the rest of your instructions?" Hermione voice suddenly cut through the silence, causing him to jump slightly. He nodded without looking up. "Good boy. Go ahead, I'll be up shortly."

Harry pushed his chair back and walked up the stairs to his room, keeping his eyes on the floor as he went. Closing the bedroom door behind him, he rapidly disrobed before crawling into his bed and laying on his back. Now he just had to wait. What was she going to do? She had been fantasizing about using him? How?

He could feel how excited his lower half was, and he was quite sure that he wouldn't be soft for quite some time unless he got some relief. Would she want to have sex? Somehow that felt unlikely. He might have pushed her, but he doubted that Hermione would go that far before they had the conversation she wanted to have tomorrow.

Time passed, but without anything to do or anything to keep track of, Harry wasn't sure how much time had passed when he finally heard the door open and close. Hermione was in the room.

"You may look at me," she said.

Harry's eyes instantly snapped towards the door and nearly doubled in size. Hermione was wearing a nightie that was sheer enough for him to make out the vague shapes of her nipples, and enough for him to tell that she had no panties on and had some hair down there. He couldn't make out any details, but it didn't matter. It was without question to most sexy thing he had ever seen in his life.

He watched as she walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to him. She laid down on her side, facing him, while he was laying on his back, his head turned to stare at her, utterly captivated.

"Like what you see?" she asked him, that sexy smirk back on her face. He nodded. "Good boy. Face away, you're the small spoon."

Harry turned onto his side, his erection bobbing as he did so, throbbing with hope. He felt her shift behind him, and couldn't help the whimper of appreciation that escaped his lips when he felt the silky material of her nightie start to press against his back. He could feel the soft pressure of her breasts, and hard points of her nipples… she pressed into him from behind until he could feel most of her body pressed against him.

"Remember, Harry," she whispered in his ear, her hot breath flowing across his skin and hair in an unbearably arousing way, "no speaking. You can make all the noise you want, but no speaking."

He felt her arms start to wrap around him, and one of her hands looped between his neck and the pillow, then started to travel down his chest. It reached his nipple, and her fingers stopped, before she gave it a flick.

"Oh Merlin!"

Her fingers closed and she pinched his nipple hard.

"I said no talking," she said in his ear, emphasizing her point with her fingers. Harry just whimpered, utterly at her mercy. She let go of his nipple about began flicking it again, sending intense and unfamiliar jolts of pleasure through his body that were causing him to jerk quite uncontrollably. "The only words you may say are to tell me when you are close," she said, her other hand gently wrapping around his cock. "You will tell me when you are close. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, his breathing ragged, as she started to slowly stroke him while continuing to lightly attack his nipples. Harry was in a completely other plane of existence. There was nothing but the total control Hermione had over his body and the sensations it was causing… she was playing him like an instrument, pushing sounds of pleasure and arousal out of him like the notes on a flute.

If he had been very aware of it, he might have been surprised at how… feminine his whines, and moans, and grunts sounded. But he was far too gone to notice or care.

"This was a great idea, Harry," she whispered in his ear. "I'm quite enjoying myself." She stopped stroking his cock and ran a finger over his tip, picking up some of the slimy pre-cum that had leaked out from her ministrations. She pulled her hand back and Harry heard her stick the finger into her mouth. "Hmmm, it seems you're enjoying yourself too."

She reached back around and ran her finger on the tip again, getting more. This time though Harry found her hand in front of his own face. He was a bit too hazy to understand what she wanted, but that wasn't much of a problem, as she pushed the wet finger into his mouth.

"Can you taste what I'm doing to you Harry?"

Her finger pulled out and her hand went back to its slow, regular stroking. He was getting close. He was close. He was supposed to do something when that happened.

"I'm—" Harry couldn't form more words than that, but it was enough it seemed. Hermione stopped playing with his nipples, and her hands let go of his cock, wrapping around his stomach instead.

The haze and confusion made it difficult for him to immediately understand what was going on, but as Hermione pulling him closer and snuggled up against him, he realized that she wasn't planning on finishing him off.

"Hermione, please—"

"I said no talking," she said sternly, pinching his nipple again, somewhat painfully. "You wanted me in control Harry, you wanted something tonight, before we had the chance to talk. And you get to experience the consequences of that. I've wanted to edge you so much over the last few days, and since you seem to enjoy being my plaything, that's what I decided to do.

"Now, hush. We're going to go to sleep, and your cock will be aching for release all night, and tomorrow if you're a good boy I'll give it to you." He felt her lift up slightly and kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, my submissive little boy."

Author's Note: I am aware that the 'mudblood' scar is a movie-only thing. In the books, Bellatrix slices her neck and leaves a scar there, but it's just a single line. However, in this story it is quite useful for me to have the movie scar, so I am.

Generally speaking, I try to keep to book canon only, but in this case I'm making an exception.

Apologies again for the gap in chapters. Going forward, this story will be updated on the second Saturday of every month. My new update schedule is explained here:

patr eon -dot- com (slash) posts (slash) update-schedule-24008341

(You'll have to remove the space in the domain name, FFN is shitty.)

Updates will be on Saturdays, with each story getting one chapter per month.

I'll be posting little updates on the above site and using it as something like a blog, so even if you don't want to or simply can't sign up for one of the subscriptions, you can still follow it for free and keep up to date on what's going on.

Another good place to keep up on things is on my Discord server, where I have been hanging out again since the beginning of the year. You can join it here:

Server Code: TQ25x5u

To all of those who are reading again after months of waiting, I love you. My most sincere appreciation goes out to you for finding something of value in the things that I write.

Special Thanks: A special thanks to Valter/Cormag, Therapist Maou, and MatrimKnotai over at my donation page who very generously signed up to support my work.