Anger wafted from Hermione as she apparated back to her apartment after the argument with Scabior.
"Ohhh, the nerve. How dare he think that he has some kind of control over what I do? And how did he know what I've been thinking?" she asked herself, as she tossed her robe on the bed and retreated to her bath.
Onyx flew around the bedroom. She looked through Hermione's closet, examined items on her dressing table and snooped as only a jealous six-inch fairy could. She saw Crookshanks' green eyes watching her from his corner of the room.
In the tub Hermione lay back and closed her eyes. "What's wrong with a little fantasy? It's not like I'm going to pop over to Bulgaria to see Viktor in the next two weeks. If anything, I'd wait for when he comes to England next month." (Yes, she knew his schedule.)
She got out of the tub and, wearing a terry cloth bathrobe, got milk and food for Crookshanks. "And who doesn't think about Shacklebolt?" she reasoned. "He's so much more…imposing and masculine than Fudge."
Crookshanks growled again and Hermione rolled her eyes. All that cat ever did anymore was growl or hiss at her. He was as bad as Gareth.
She stretched out on the couch in the living room. "Maybe I was too hard on him," she said, her voice taking on a lazy, sensuous note. She slowly moved around on the couch while opening her robe. "I'd hate to think of not having those eyes and hands on me again," she whispered, beginning to touch herself.
Onyx spit on her but Hermione didn't even notice.
"Mmm, he's just crazy about me. I shouldn't be mad at him for that."
Onyx looked for something she could use—something small and sharp—to cut Her-mine. Her eyes fell on Crookshanks.
"I told him I'd gotten more than I could've expected from my job when I got him—the best Azkaban had to offer," she said with a lascivious giggle.
"Man mine," Onyx communicated menacingly to Crookshanks, "not Her-mine. Her-mine come back, 'Nyx kill".
"It's not her fault," Crookshanks defended Hermione. "He made her think in ways that she never really has. She's changed." The cat drooped as he transmitted that thought to the black fairy.
"No, Man good," Onyx argued. "Love 'Nyx, 'cept for 'prior claim'".
"Ahhh, Gareth," Hermione purred from the other room. The fairy zipped in, enraged, with Crookshanks hurrying after her, advising restraint.
"Alright then," she said to him through their mental channels, "punish. Make Her-mine not want to come back to forest".
"How?" asked the cat, not anxious to harm his beloved mistress.
Stupid animal, thought Onyx to herself. To the cat she transmitted, "Her-mine hide bad thoughts in head. Make thoughts plain, not hidden."
Crookshanks considered a moment. "I can't do that to her."
Onyx persuaded him with a repeat of her threat, "Her-mine come back, 'Nyx kill". She didn't bother to tell him that only fairy chieftains were able to kill. She added lying to her list of transgressions on behalf of Scabior.
"Man mine," she said, hovering over a napping, euphoric Hermione with jealousy and resentment.
"Hermione," Krum squinted in the hazy afternoon light of his hotel room. "What are you doing here?" he asked, as he pulled off his quidditch uniform.
"I came to see you play," she said, slowly moving closer to him. "You were wonderful; you look wonderful," she added, eyes glued to his chest, until they dropped to the muscles of his thighs, on display with the shorts he was wearing.
"Thank you," he said, returning her gaze, "You're…beautiful".
Her smile made him feel sudden tension in his head and throughout his body. If she'd look at me like that vhen I first knew her…things vould've been very different.
She was almost close enough for him to touch. "Aren't you married to vun of the Veasley boys?"
"Yes," she conceded, dropping her eyes and running a hand over his arm, "is this the first time you've had a married woman in your room?"
"No, but…"
"…but what?" she prompted, within millimeters of pressing her body against his.
He looked at the new brazenness in her face. "You've changed."
She smiled. "Who hasn't?"
Krum grabbed her and pushed her down on the large sofa to his right. "Alright," he said, "but I vant you to leave your husband and come vith me."
"Of course," Hermione said, lowering his head to hers.
She gasped and sat up from her couch where she'd fallen asleep. "Where did that come from?" She'd never leave Ron, no matter how attractive Viktor looked. Subconsciously she began rhythmically scooping her pelvis. He wouldn't ask her to do that if she really saw him. He'd just be happy with…
At that moment Ron came through the door. Hermione jumped up from the couch and threw herself into his arms.
Ron returned her frantic kisses and followed her to the bedroom. He had no timidity in loving her now. He knew what she wanted. Today she needed him to hold her and move slowly.
She clutched him more tightly, clearing all other men from her mind. "I love you, Ron," she said between her gasps.
"I love you, my veela," he responded, with a final thrust and kiss.
He held her tightly and saw that she was crying. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," she answered, "I'm just…I dreamed we weren't together anymore".
He looked at her. "Well I don't know about you, but that would be a nightmare for me."
"It was awful," she answered in a small voice, laying her head on his chest.
Ron glanced over at the bedside table and clapped his hands. The table filled with the bounty of Hogwarts. He and Hermione had agreed to treat themselves once a week, usually Saturday, to dinner in bed, courtesy of their alma mater. They ate their fill then made the repast disappear.
Ron cuddled her again and noticed that she couldn't be still. "You're still pulsing," he said, his voice muffled by her hair. "Do you want more?"
Hermione didn't want to draw attention to her gyrations, which she hadn't been able to stop, or the reappearance of Viktor in her mind.
"Just trying to hold onto the feeling," she said with a little giggle. "But no, I don't think I could take more tonight."
"Are you sure?" he asked, biting her neck, "I'll be glad to oblige".
"No, Ron-chy," she said, turning away from him on her side to minimize the actions of her pelvis, "I'll let you know if I simply must have you again. Right now, why don't you go to sleep?"
He rubbed her back and said with a chuckle, "Alright, if you need me, I'm just a sexy moan away." He deluminated the room and was soon snoring in contentment.
Hermione lay with her eyes open, beginning to feel a little pain from all of her hip movements, thinking it must be because of the fantasies that kept playing in her head.
From Crookshanks' corner in the room, Onyx cackled. "Her-mine not hide thoughts," she said gleefully.
Crookshanks watched Hermione nervously. He agreed that she needed this lesson but still hated her suffering.
Hermione got out of bed to go to the bathroom. She moved slowly as her hips continued thrusting. What's wrong with me? she said to herself.
Her thoughts moved from Viktor to Shacklebolt then a big, blond man with green eyes. "Who is he?" she asked, imagining lying with him on a stone floor, in a room with stone walls and no windows.
Of course, she remembered his picture from the files on her desk of the latest Azkaban prisoners she was to evaluate that week.
"Heh," she said with a giggle, now with her face against the closed bathroom door and pressing into it, "maybe Gareth's not the best at Azkaban after all."
She performed Muffliato charm on the door so she wouldn't disturb Ron then let her fevered mind and body go, her fantasies becoming increasingly bizarre. She gasped and moaned over and over, expecting release at any moment but it never came.
All night she was on the verge of orgasm without achieving it and had no control to just stop.
"Hermione, can I come in?" asked Ron.
She looked around and realized it was morning.
She was lying on the plush throw rug on the floor. She tried to stand to open the door for him and discovered she couldn't move her legs. They were frozen in a bent and open position.
She removed the charms from the door so he could enter. He looked at her with confusion.
"I can't…move…my legs," she said through her cries and thrusts, "and…I…can't…stop." She laid her head on her arm and added tears to her uncontrolled functions. "What's….wrong….with me?"
Ron picked her up and carried her to the bed. He soon realized that he couldn't move her either. He threw a blanket over her and called "St. Mungo's".
"Keep punish," Onyx communicated to Crookshanks, just before she wished herself home.