A/N: This chapter has been edited/dulled down to adhere to the rating system of FFN. For the full chapter, check out the story on Archive of Our Own.

Chapter Ten

September 18th, 2006

"Should I . . ." Hermione said nervously when she stepped into her flat, followed shortly behind by Neville who closed the Floo at her silent request. She put down her bag that contained her new gifts, her mind lingering on the Bruise Removal Paste and Murtlap Essence within Hannah's lovely present. "Should I . . . go and . . ." She gestured to her bedroom, hand shaking.

Neville frowned and stepped closer, taking the hand into both of his and bringing it to his lips. "No," he said. "Can we . . . can we talk?"

Nodding, Hermione sat down on the sofa facing him. They sat in silence for a full minute before she looked up at him and realised he was waiting for her to calm down. He rubbed small circles on her palm that she found relaxing, and when she finally had settled, she let out an exhale and asked, "Will it hurt?"

Fully expecting the question, Neville gave her a sympathetic smile. "Not if you don't want it to."

Brows furrowed, she almost laughed. "Why would I want to be hurt?"

"There are different kinds of pain. They . . . pain can make things, pleasurable things, a bit more intense. But you know all this," he said. "We've talked a bit and I know you've already started researching," he said with a raised brow and Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded in confirmation. "So let's talk about everything. All your questions."

"What is the process? What happens?" she blurted out immediately.

"For . . . for when I spank you?" he asked. At her nod, he cleared his throat. "It umm . . . depends on the situation, play or punishment."

She scoffed. "You'd punish me? For what?"

"Breaking rules," he told her. "Rules that we set together. Rules that you want me to enforce to . . . well, for any number of reasons. I imagine, knowing you the way I do . . . er . . . did . . . that you'll want them there for something to accomplish. For praise." At her less than subtle expression of disbelief, he smiled. "Hermione, please be honest. What was your favourite part of Hogwarts? Aside from learning the magic."

She thought for a moment. "The . . . the friendships and—"

"I meant actual classes."

Pursing her lips, she quietly said, "Learning," she began but then stopped and cringed before admitting, "Being . . . being right and getting perfect scores."

He smiled. "And your job?"

She scoffed. "My job is . . . difficult. The things I'm required to do, to research, are messy and nothing ever comes out right the way it should because . . . well, things I'm not allowed to tell you," she said, thinking of about fifty different secrecy oaths she'd undergone when accepting the position. "And my co-workers are always on their own timetables and projects and my boss is . . . a prat," she said bitterly. "I love my work, I do, but it would be much more worthwhile I think if I got solid results from things, or got to choose my own projects."

"If you felt accomplished?" he suggested. "Like you'd done something good every day."

She nodded, catching his meaning. "So rules that we set together, that you enforce and . . . and do I get a shiny gold star when I behave properly?" she asked, a teasing smirk on her lips.

Neville moved closer to her, reaching up and brushing the pad of his thumb over her lips. "When you accomplish goals that we set and rules that you follow, I'll give you anything you desire. And if you break those rules, I'll punish you in a way that we both agree on. Something . . . it's hard to describe. I'm not very good at this," he said with a sigh. "It's different with you. You're going to be my . . ."

She smiled. "I think . . . I think you're doing just fine. If it makes you feel better, your worries kind of make me feel a bit at ease. I'd probably be annoyed if you just had a perfect answer for everything."

"I'm certainly not perfect." He kissed her hand. "It's different with you," he repeated. "You've never done this and . . . with the marriage law—"

"Not a law yet."

"—I don't want to screw this up, Hermione. If you don't want this . . ."

"I want to try," she admitted. "I want to . . . you want this, and if we're going to make this work, it's not fair of me to ask you to give up something that's become . . . a part of you. I'm willing to try. Maybe just . . . take it one step at a time?"

He nodded, taking in a long breath and regaining that look of composure that he'd had earlier. "Communication is the most important thing, Hermione. If you want me to stop . . . you say the safe word, and I stop immediately, no questions asked. You won't hurt my feelings, I will not be angry or disappointed with you. But . . . I'll insist that we talk. Make sure that I know exactly what went wrong and if I did something that . . . I will never do anything to purposely harm you. Physically or . . . or otherwise." He reached up, cupping her cheek with his hand and smiled when she leant into the touch.

She turned, nuzzling his palm and inhaling his scent. "I want to try," she repeated. "Can we . . . you said that for my birthday—"

"Stand up," he ordered her in a flirtatious tone, one much less demanding than when he'd demanded she cut apart all of her knickers.

When she did as she was told, Neville positioned her in front of him, hands on her hips. He pressed his forehead against her belly and breathed hot against the flowing material of her dress, down against the apex of her thighs that immediately clenched together. His hands ran down the outside of her legs, gently raking over the material before reaching the hem. Fingertips touching her skin, Hermione's heart began racing in excitement and anticipation, still needy from earlier that morning when Hannah had interrupted them.

Neville dragged his hands back up her thighs, pressing against her skin. Up and over her hips, letting his thumbs move over the delicate lines of her legs before he cupped her arse with both palms and pulled her closer against him. "How old are you, Hermione?" he asked her softly.

She swallowed. "Twenty . . . twenty-seven," she said, remembering how she'd always hoped it would be her perfect number. So far so good, she thought.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" he asked and then suddenly she was lifted into his arms and pulled onto the sofa with him, cradled against his chest. One large arm wrapped around her back, holding her still and safe.

"You're . . . you're going to spank me."

Neville nodded. "One for each year."

Dizzy and exhausted, she leant against his chest as he carried her in his arms to her bedroom, flicking his wand at her bag to Accio the Murtlap Essence. He set her down on the soft, cool sheets and snuggled in beside her after undressing, pressing his warm body against hers before applying some of the paste to her skin, all the while whispering praise and affection. She moaned blissfully as he tended to her, and he smiled as he watched the colour in her skin begin to shift from bright red to a paler tone.

"Are you in pain?" he asked.

"Mm mm," she mumbled, shaking her head lazily from side to side as she snuggled her face into a pillow. "So good."

"I was thinking the same thing," he said with a smile, putting the lid back on the container and setting the Murtlap Essence aside before pulling Hermione into his arms. "You did so well. Thank you, Hermione."

Eyes still closed, she reached between their bodies and grasped his length. "What about—"

"No," he told her, kissing her temple. "I want this right now," he said, stroking his fingers down her back and smiling when she rested her head against his chest. "I want this. Just this."