Disc Hp belongs to Jkr. The storyline, new character development, new events, and new characters are my intellectual property.
A/n mature content- I needed to split the chapter, and this was the only way
Salazar's Date
She had never strayed, but she was strangely attracted to him. His formal speech was charming and put her at ease. It was just a dinner, Ron was leaving to accompany. Ginny to a Quidditch tournament and she wasn't invited, but the children were, Harry had to work, and she no longer felt hurt.
"Yes, but I can only do it today." Only this time, at least those were her wishes.
When she accepted his invitation, he nearly cried in gratitude. Salazar wished for more days but he had less than one day and didn't think this was the time, but fear was taking hold of him.
Besides his stash of scrolls, he'd read books about the human body, medicine, hygiene, clothing, eating trends, social habits, and even care of teeth. He didn't restrict his reading to magic books and studied Muggle books. He had used it to have a perfect smile and to blend without being too noticed. He avoiding reading history scrolls and books since he knew it limited the had been by Hogwarts but had not entered the rooms. He knew that he would change something; moreover, you should never enter rooms where your likeness was visible.
He also tried to read everything that he could find about his time, but there was little written about their lives. Albeit he had seen one textbook with his likeness, a wicked and evil looking, mean old wizard, sour and dark. Nothing much about their lives but of their legacy.
He'd read about the tortures that she had suffered under his kin, which further angered him, and all done on account of blood purity. What idiots, there was nobody on these times with her blood purity. He learned about her days in Hogwarts, the time when her long friendship with the weasel started, since she was a child, and with the other wizard as well…ah the valiant warrior, so why hadn't she wed him? They appeared well matched.
And why marry the weasel instead of the tall warrior she danced with when she looked like a princess, he had read all about it. He had observed and learned much and knew those who had to pay, and those he could trust. If she had married either, he would have more time, damn weasel.
When she arrived at the restaurant, he waited for her and his smile blinded her. She felt wanted and desirable, it was what she needed.
They dined on an establishment where he got to practice the sophisticated eating maneuvers that he'd practiced for months and chose a restaurant that served cuts of beef, lamb grilled on an open fire, all seasoned with fragrant herbs and many other delights, but he couldn't eat a bite.
This evening, she wore Muggle form-fitting clothes, like those worn by many others. They were short, and her legs were covered with dark tights. He was only aware of her; she was with him, and he was having trouble concentrating. Too soon they were getting done, "Albeit is cold, with a warming charm we could walk."
They walked along the Thames, this new world was so changed. He longed for his time, but mostly he wished that he had not left such a dark legacy. While they walked, he reached for her hand, and she allowed it. The contact made his heart accelerate; he wanted her and was sure she could feel it. He caressed her pulse with his thumb and could feel her heart beating faster. Her hand was small and so very soft, like a baby's.
After a while he was unable to walk, his prick was aching, contracting, pulsating with the rushes of blood, his seed dripping. Gods, he was more than ready to be inside her; he had never wanted anybody or anything like this. Desire made his body sensitive, he felt it all over.
They were no longer talking, his voice was thick, and words were difficult to form.
Hermione felt light-headed, her reaction to Lazarus was abnormal; it wasn't her, and all she wanted was to be in his arms, never had she broken her promises, even a few times when she had been tempted, but this was more than her.
He turned her around, didn't offer any explanations and went into the shadows of the gardens they had entered. She followed him, their arms now wrapped around each other's waists.
As soon as they were concealed by the shadows, he closed his arms around her, and rationality broke when he felt her lightly clad form next to his. His lips fell on hers like a bird of prey, his arousal took hold of him.
Albeit he had seen kissing, he hadn't done much of it himself. Tasting he had, but the art of kissing wasn't from his time. It wasn't a problem, her knowledge was vast, and he followed her lead; he was an adept student and wasn't ashamed to learn from those who knew best.
His body shuddered when her tongue went into his mouth, and groans escaped his mouth as his lips chased hers. Their tongues meshed, he loved her with his tongue as he wanted to do with his cock.
He caressed her tongue with his, moaning his need; his tongue tasted her, the best of delicacies, while her tongue touched his; his entire body clenched, and his cock felt alive.
She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her body against his, and he grounded his hips against her. His hips moving as if he was inside her. He was about to come. His blood rushing was deafening him; she was a wood nymph, of that he was sure.
His hands roamed her body learning her along the elegant curve of her smaller firm breasts. Her nipples were tight beads, and he hungered for one in his mouth. How he wished to suckle at her breast like a babe, gods. He caressed her slender torso, the dip of her waist, and finally had his hands on her bottom, so he squeezed the cheeks he had long admired.
What is she doing? He wondered.
She had climbed on him, her legs were around his hips, and her wet warmth above his cock which wept its seed for her. Through her light garments, he could feel her channel. He felt his aroused sex nearly penetrating her through the cloth. His cock's broad head was right at her heat; if he were naked, he surely would be entering her. He moaned quite loud not able to hide his need.
He held her bottom tightly against him to support her right above his cock and thrust his hips instinctively. Their mouths were all over the place, one hand aided by levitating her body, and the other caressing, squeezing her bum, her thighs. His hand had not gone all the way to her sex, so he moved his fingers seeking her warmth.
He wished to push in. The feeling of closeness after months of wanting, made his cock throb and his legs shake. His breathing was heavy and labored, how to ask?
She guided his hand over and inside her garments; his fingers reached and touched the warm slickness and gently opened her sex folds; he was about to free his cock and let it sink in.
The loneliness and pain of years had broken thru her defenses. He was a stranger, and she never would see again; "I'll be gone come tomorrow morning," were his earlier words. He was 'safe.'
He had to ask, "I must have you." There he had said it, "I know it is wrong, but would you consider it? Please," he pressed his sex harder and moving his hips faster asked, "Can't you feel my need? I need you more than breathing."
The Vortex was lost, what was happening. This was curious, so much feeling, It wondered, for once It had no idea what was going on.
