Huge thanks to my Alpha/Betas NuclearNik and Monica03, without them I would be a mess and this story would be a disaster. Also a huge thanks to my Omegas (pre-readers) MarshmallowMcGonagall, QuinTalon, and Weestarmeggie!
To everyone who reads, subscribes, bookmarks, comments/reviews, follows, reblogs, likes, etc: I appreciate you all SO VERY MUCH. With the length of my chapters and the editing process, it leaves little time to come back and interact (I'll still try, however!). I promise though, all of it makes me go starry eyed and flail about every single time.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
After the tenth time of Hermione taking things to Draco's office or calling him into hers, he decided that they would simply commandeer another, much larger office until the whole fiasco was over. Draco gave Robards notice, and just a couple corridors down from the DMLE there was an entire hallway of unused offices he led her to. If Hermione had a guess, they'd likely been empty for at least a decade if the amount of dust coating the furniture was any indicator.
Draco chose the office at the very end of the corridor, which also happened to be the largest by far of the entire set. It made Hermione suspect he'd been planning it a while before he came in after the department was rocked with its latest bout of loud ruckus and told her to start gathering her things; they were moving.
Thanks to magic, everything was cleaned and relocated within the hour. They'd dedicated an entire wall to sticking evidence on to rearrange at their leisure as the picture became clearer. Draco had brought in a couple of extra tables and some other supplies, but he wouldn't explain their purpose; no matter how many questions she asked. All good things to those who wait was the only thing he'd say about any of it, much to her consternation.
Hermione was just settling in to analyze some of the notes she'd taken when she'd interviewed Narcissa on both Emelia Macnair and their second victim, Astrea Yaxley, when Harry came bursting through the door, out of breath.
"There's been another incident in your case. I've got a Portkey for the both of you right here. Robards wants you there immediately, of course."
Draco cast a stasis charm over whatever he was brewing in the cauldron—that he still refused to tell her anything about—and turned his attention to their visitor. He strode over to take the handkerchief wrapped item from Harry, who went scurrying back whence he came, and deposited it on his desk. Before he unwrapped it, he sat, turned her chair with his foot, and rolled over until he was pressing the inside of his knees against the outside of hers, ensuring he had her undivided attention.
"We should discuss a few things before we go, I think." He looked as if he was choosing his words carefully, and she already knew it would likely not be a pleasant conversation.
She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her seat. She didn't know how, but she somehow knew he was about to make her angry.
He sighed at the motion but didn't hesitate. "When we go to the scene, you're going to have to stay close to me and do what I say. If I say 'stop,' you freeze. If I tell you to run, you don't question it."
It was instinctual for her to recoil and get her back up at those sorts of words. Who exactly did he think he was? Did he think for an instant she'd just comply like some brainless twit? She wasn't aware she'd made a face until he was stealing her hands and pulling her out of her defensive pose.
"Look, I know you're capable. And powerful. I just… I can't allow anything to happen to you again. We're two for two on this case with you getting severely injured, not to mention scaring the life out of me. I know you're a Gryffindor until your dying breath, but I'll do whatever I have to to keep you safe. I don't seek to control you, but I wouldn't be able to handle it if something— If you—" He exhaled swiftly. "You cannot go where I can't follow." His hands squeezed hers tight as he choked the last bit out, staring her in the eyes imploringly.
Oh. Oh!
He was afraid she was going to die, likely right in front of him, and now he would be responsible for that should it happen. It'd be something he'd never forget. He'd never live it down that she died in his care. It'd ruin him entirely; she could already see it. He wouldn't even have a career to bury himself in to try to escape the loss.
Maybe they shouldn't have been partnered together. It was a conflict of interest. There were no anti-fraternization rules except for managers and subordinates, but it was made clear that if anything should be going on between two coworkers, they should keep it as discreet as possible.
Her anger wilted in the face of his worry.
"I promise I'll be more careful. I don't want to get hurt again, and I don't want to put you through that again either." It was the best she could give him. She knew herself well enough to know better than to make any promises despite being secretly gun-shy after the last two incidents. Every time there had been commotion or someone came into their office unexpectedly, her hands would sweat and her heart took off at the thought of another scene she'd have to investigate. It was inevitable, but she refused to be a coward and quit. It was like waiting for the proverbial axe to fall.
Draco groaned and let his head fall back, his hands slipping from hers. She could tell he was making plans as he rolled back to his desk and began to gather his things.
Hermione took her cue from him, directing things into her bag with a wave of her wand as she donned her cloak, trying to ignore how trite her reply had been in comparison to what he'd confessed. Her heart contracted, but she refused to lie to him, and she had no better reassurances to offer.
He extended a hand to her, his eyes still on his desk. She knew there were bound to be some things they'd fight over and now they were going to see just how well they could handle a disagreement of this magnitude. She'd have to make a conscientious effort to use her brain rather than running on reactions and instinct. She'd have to show him, rather than make promises.
Slipping her hand into his, she squeezed his fingers and closed her eyes as he picked up the golf ball. Then they were whisked away, and moments later they were at the scene. She cursed under her breath as her left knee buckled on the hard landing, and she stumbled. Instantly, his hands were at her waist, stabilizing her.
"Thank you," she said, peeking over her shoulder.
He nodded and let go once he was sure she wouldn't fall. She began to examine the scene, putting everything else out of her mind—especially her unease. They'd deal with it later. Now was the time to work on catching a killer.
They were in a glen with hills rising sharply on either side of them. It stretched out far, but she caught sight of it opening up to what looked like a field on one end. At the other was a smaller waterfall that fed a pool and a steady moving stream traveling about halfway down one side, disappearing into the base of the hill. The trees were thick on the hillsides and ridges, contributing to the feeling of being penned in. Magic was heavy in the air, even with the ozone-like presence of Dark Magic. It differed from the last two scenes in that the majority of the magic seemed to be uncollected, or perhaps there'd been an overwhelming amount that'd been tapped. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end from the sensation.
A multicolored carpet of leaves crunched underfoot. Hermione noticed that there was no barrier here; although, if she had to guess, she would say that they were far, far away from anyone that may contaminate anything. The other Ministry workers present were all bunched together, far from where the scene would have officially begun.
"How are they even finding these places?" Hermione muttered, eyebrows scrunched.
"Who?"
"The Ministry. How do they even know these sites have been disturbed? There's no telling how far away the closest house even is unless you're thinking as the Thestral flies. And even then..."
"Best way I can explain it is there are charms that function sort of like how Muggles detect radiation with a, erm…" Draco huffed as he hunted for the word.
"Geiger counter?" What on Earth did Draco Malfoy know about radiation?
"Yes, those. Anyway, when high concentrations of magic are released at a protected location, it sets off a charm and alerts the Ministry."
"Then why is it we've yet to catch anyone?"
"Not sure. There seems to be a delay between when the charm is triggered and when it actually notifies. The theory I've heard is that the sheer amount of magic being released is overwhelming the charm and what's left of it after the magic has been mostly depleted is what sends the alert. By the time anyone arrives, the perpetrators are long gone. This time there was so much that it set off the charms at a magical lake not even half a mile away. Likely destroyed the charm here entirely."
The charm being eaten up by the sheer force of magic being expelled made sense. The analogy made sense as well, seeing as it was probably like a bomb going off whenever the magic was liberated.
She heard clicking and looked up, noting Colin circling overhead on his broom, snapping pictures to gain an aerial composition of the scene. There were fewer people than normal, and Hermione would bet that it had something to do with the explosion that happened at the first scene she investigated.
The altar at this scene was located near the waterfall at the end of the glen. Hermione began to wave her wand back and forth as they walked, avoiding obvious trails and highlighting others, causing Colin to speed around the area, catching the freshly lit pathways on film. As they approached, Hermione noticed a shimmer in the air. Someone had erected a glamor, almost like a wall. Draco led her through it, and it felt like passing through a cool mist.
It was immediately apparent why it had been erected once they were on the other side. Unlike the last two scenes, the dead, naked body of a woman was still on the slab. Her eyes were wide and lifeless, and some of the blood vessels in her eyes had burst. If the emerging pattern held, she was likely the wife of a former Death Eater who'd given herself as a sacrifice in a dark ritual. What were these women sacrificing themselves for?
Hermione blinked and froze. It was obvious, wasn't it? The Death Eaters fought to the death for Voldemort. It only made sense that if their surviving wives were sacrificing themselves, then it would be in service of another up-and-coming Dark Lord—a convoluted way of avenging their fallen husbands.
"Granger?"
She ignored Draco's voice and kept chasing after the thread of thought.
Voldemort may have died, but his Death Eaters were not so easily defeated. This wouldn't be over until every last one was stamped out like cockroaches. Why else would so many people flee the country and society at large?
"What is it? What's wrong?" Warm hands cupped her cheeks, and she blinked. "Where did you go?"
"I think I know why we keep seeing these specific women being sacrificed." Her voice trembled as she forced the answer out.
Blond brows rose in askance.
"They're raising a new Dark Lord. The Death Eaters and sympathizers that got away lived to fight another day. And now that day has come."
As if her system finally caught up to the realization, her heart began to pound in her chest in earnest. A new Dark Lord meant another war. Another war meant their current period of peace was just a lull in the nightmare.
"Hermione!"
She noticed a ripple of magic through the air as he spun her around. Arms wrapped around her, and he tucked her against his warm, firm body. Lips were moving against the shell of her ear as fingers tapped out a rhythm on the back of the hand that was now laced with his. After many minutes, sound filtered back in, much like the first time she'd ever panicked in front of him at the Greengrass party.
Hermione began to exert conscious control over her breathing and attempted to synch with him in that old familiar pattern. It took longer than she cared to think about, but finally, she was able to turn her head and meet his gaze with heated cheeks before looking away.
She'd done so well—hadn't had a panic attack in months. Now, this realization she really ought to have seen coming had her breaking down as if they'd never gone to France in the first place.
"Hey, this is nothing to be ashamed of. Did you think that you'd never have another one? That's highly improbable, statistically speaking." He turned her to face him, and before she could tuck her face into his chest, he caught her chin, tilting her head back so he could look her in the eye again. "Do you want to know a secret?"
She nodded. Why not?
"Just because you've never seen them doesn't mean I haven't experienced them since France. And it's alright. As long as they're not ruling our lives, it's a normal thing to experience. We're war survivors; it's not exactly thrilling to learn that we're likely about to have to deal with it all again."
She blinked twice. When? And why? Not that he owed her any sort of explanation, but it made her yearn to be there for him in the way he always seemed to be for her. She ended up nodding in agreement after coming up with a lack of unintrusive questions.
He moveded back, and it was as if they stepped out of a dimensional rip and back into reality. They continued on their way to the altar. He was walking close enough that he was able to sneak his pinky around hers and still conceal it in the folds of their cloaks. Not for the first time, she noticed the comfort that emanated from his touch; it had become stronger after staying with him. She'd noted it in her journal along with the comment Fawley had made about how she was inordinately lucky to have regained her mobility and range entirely. It was another mystery she'd been ruminating on in private.
They arrived at the grisly scene, and she tucked those thoughts away for later.
She examined the body where it lay, noting where the blood spray had fallen, and more importantly, where it was not. This altar was one solid piece and had cracked straight down the center. Apparently they'd been unaware of the geyser of power before they uncorked the bottle. It made her wonder if any of them came away unscathed. She made a note to submit an inquiry to St. Mungo's about anyone that had recently been treated for trauma, perhaps under the guise of an exploding cauldron or something similar.
It also made her wonder if there were any repercussions from being exposed to so much raw magic. A visit to Draco's library was in order to research the effects.
She examined the altar all the way around, casting spells to gain rubbings of the runes, collect blood samples, and illuminate any hand or smudge prints. Colin waved his camera at her from a distance, letting her know he was leaving to get film and she waved back in acknowledgement.
As she was turning back to the altar, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. The sunlight dancing through the remaining leaves had caught on something shiny; nothing out here should be shiny. Maybe it was a ceremonial weapon or perhaps a piece of jewelry? Whatever it was, a wave of curiosity crashed over her at the sight of it, and she turned, taking a step in its direction before she was pulled to a stop. Looking down to see what stopped her, she found her pinky still linked with Draco's.
Her eyes traveled up the length of his arm and came to rest on his face. His long scarf was wrapped securely around his neck and stopped just underneath his chin, his pale coloring standing out in stark contrast to both the darkness of his cloak and scarf as well as the brightly colored foliage. A wild thought interjected itself with a conjecture that he would look at home in either a wintry or summery scene. Green and silver had always looked good on him, after all.
"Where are you going?" He glanced in the direction she'd tried to head towards, and his brows furrowed.
Her head whipped around back towards where she'd seen the glinting of gold in the leaves. She had an unexplainable desire to go find it, to pick it up. Something nudged at the back of her mind, but she waved it off as if it were an irksome fly.
"I saw something."
She could feel the intensity of his gaze as he studied her, but she paid it little mind. The rest of his fingers slipped across the backs of hers, wrapping her securely in his grasp. "Where?"
She pointed to the area and felt his eyes leave her for but a moment before returning squarely on her.
"We'll look, but let's take it slow just in case there are other things between here and there that are hidden in the leaves."
Hermione had a strong suspicion that there wasn't, but there was no logical argument to be had against it.
"Alright."
They set off across the glen at a leisurely pace. About halfway through, Draco pulled out his wand, and she had the bizarre notion to take it from him but shoved it away as he began to blow through the carpet of leaves to create a clear path on the forest floor. Something itched at the back of her mind again, but she couldn't focus on it.
There were two things holding her attention at that moment. One was the warm, yet firm grip of his hand and the other was the location of what she'd spied from afar.
She tried to step ahead the closer they got to it, which made him pull their hands backwards in an attempt to keep her even with him. It was just a few steps away, and she had to have it.
It was for her.
It was hers, and he wasn't going to take it from her! Hermione made to dart forward but Draco was apparently a step ahead of her and elegant as a dancer, he used her momentum against her and spun her towards him. He twisted her in his hold to where her back was against his chest with his arm like a vice around her waist.
"No!"
She struggled against him almost instantly, wriggling hard and using any means to get out of his hold.
She had to have it.
Have to have it have to have it have to have it have to—
A twirl of his wrist sent all the leaves within a fifteen-foot radius of them tumbling away in a brilliant swirl.
There on the forest floor was a single golden Galleon, winking in the shifting rays of sunlight that were let in as the unnatural wind blew about the remaining leaves overhead. She picked up her left foot and moved to bring it back hard against Draco's knee, but he straightened and brought her off the ground entirely, causing her to miss by mere inches. She growled low in her throat.
How dare he?!
The ringing in her ears was deafening as she honed in on the coin, leaning forward and straining against his arm as she reached, hands outstretched. She summoned magic from deep inside herself, calling the coin to her. It wiggled and began to slide towards them when Draco turned them and broke her line of sight, dragging them a few feet away.
She threw her head back and howled her rage to the forest canopy. Before she could attempt any more violence, he pulled her face towards his and caught her lips in a bruising kiss, and suddenly, all there was left on Earth was him.
It felt like a band snapping as its hold broke from around her mind. Her body relaxed back against his, and the death grip she had on his arm with both hands loosened. The earth became solid under her feet when it was clear she wasn't going to fight him. He pulled away for a moment as if testing the waters when the whole incident came crashing back into her mind.
She'd fought him, actually fought against him and was even going to break his knee to make him put her down. Her mouth dropped open with a gasp, her eyes wide. Steady hands turned her, and he engulfed her in his arms again, this time in a soothing embrace.
"I don't know what came over me… I'm so fucking sorry." Her throat closed up before she could get anything else out.
He shushed her as his hands drifted across her back, and she went lax against his chest. "It's not your fault you were bewitched. Although, after the last two incidents and then this, it's pretty clear you're a target."
If she hadn't had her realization crash down around her ears earlier, she may not have believed it was aimed towards her but more towards the DMLE. Now, however, it gave a fresh perspective. It was no secret that Harry had succeeded because of her and Ron. Now that forces were gathering, it only made sense that they wanted retribution, and she was Mudblood enemy number one.
She felt him shift and peeked up to see him looking back over his shoulder. As she remembered that the Galleon was there, the tug made itself known again. This time she was ready for it and clenched his suit coat in her fingers as she buried her face against him, inhaling his scent and grounding herself in the moment.
"Hermione?"
The urge to go to it again built, and she shook as she fought it off. It was like fighting off the Imperius Curse, but worse.
"Fuck."
His wand hand left her, and she whimpered, squashing herself until there was no space at all left between them as she ground her molars together.
The feel of the coin moving was visceral, as if it were an extension of her, and only the tightening of his arm around her waist kept her from darting around him to go after it again. Then suddenly, it was as if the connection between her and the coin were gone entirely.
She leaned to the side to take a peek, her fingers still crumpling his coat in their grip. He'd summoned a jar and inside lay the Galleon; the tightly shut lid was all that separated her from it. Hermione stepped around him to go to examine the jar and Draco walked beside her, hands linked. She took only a few steps before the coin began to rattle violently against the glass. Before Draco could blink, she was pulling him backwards. The further she got from it, the more it settled in its jar.
Before she could drag him further, he waved his wand and suddenly it vanished entirely, transported back to the DMLE somewhere. She clenched her eyes shut, squeezing them as she worked through counted breaths. The pressure of his fingertips along the backs of her metacarpals was comforting, even if she wasn't wrapped up in him. After a few moments, once the world felt like it wasn't about to fall from under her feet, she opened her eyes again.
"Let's head back to the office. Colin's about to finish up photographing the scene." Draco was watching the younger man as he was floating in their direction, fiddling with his camera settings.
"We've some things yet to examine." She looked towards the pool at the base of the waterfall.
"We can come back tomorrow. I've some ideas I want to read up on anyway. We'll have them set impenetrable wards."
"Do you trust them to set them correctly?" She didn't. Not if they couldn't come up with something better than the flimsy little notification charms.
He let out a nearly silent sigh. "We can stop by and set our own after everyone else has returned to the office." He cut his eyes over towards her.
"What ideas did you have in mind?"
"I will tell you everything if you come back with me."
"Cheating!"
He was entirely unrepentant as he shrugged. She couldn't say she wanted to stay there, however. Not after whatever bit of nastiness that had been with the Galleon. Something in her gut told her it was a Portkey, but her mind was trying to shy from it. After last time, it was too close a call. If she'd been with anyone else, she'd have been gone or cursed or dead. Perhaps even all three.
"Shall we?"
"Fine, let me collect the rest of the samples before we go."
He stayed close as she transferred the blood and viscera in the grass and on the rocks to a set of vials. After tucking them away she took his proffered hand.
They landed back in their office with a thud, and this time she had no problem staying upright.
The afternoon was spent with them split between their tasks. Draco had resumed making the potion he'd been working on and began reading some ancient-looking books. Hermione had set upon the task of sorting out the blood, dividing it out by owner. Apparently the woman hadn't been the only one to bleed, but that could have been a mishap when the magic had been set loose. Afterward, she started translating the runes from the altar. It wasn't until Draco stole the quill from between her stained fingers that she realized it was nearing time to go home.
"By the time we finish at the glen, the elves will have dinner made. That is if you want to come over."
Of course, she did. "That'd be lovely, thank you."
Perhaps she should be embarrassed by the frequency at which she desired his company, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She had lunch with Harry and Ginny twice a week on Mondays and Fridays. On Wednesdays, she occasionally lunched with other friends or ran errands in Diagon with them but more often than not, she found herself spending that time with Narcisssa, getting to know her. Tuesdays and Thursdays belonged to Draco, who refused to negotiate with anyone else who may have wanted those days. Every other evening they had dinner together. On Sunday afternoons, they had tea with Narcissa and Andromeda before one of the older women invariably sent Draco off with some task or other, and the three witches would spend the rest of the time cutting flowers or herbs in the conservatory as they chatted. It had been surprisingly lovely getting to know Narcissa. Hermione had expected the woman to be a total ice queen but once they'd found their footing, she found her to be much like Andromeda in demeanor.
The trip to the glen was quick. A spell showed no further entities had intruded in the space, and they each added to the wards set on the area, and then they were off to Appledale.
After dinner, they retreated to the library and Hermione gave Draco time to get settled in his favored corner of the couch while she wasted time under the guise of searching for a specific book. She already knew where it was, having put it back just days prior, but really she was using the time to scheme. She'd had the loveliest dream the night before of sitting on his lap and jerking him off until he'd thrown his head back with a growl, right before his come coated her fingers. That morning she promised herself that she'd finally act on the desire, and so she had come prepared. Swapping out her plain knickers for a red satin pair, she transfigured her trousers into a loose, flouncy skirt. She slipped on a pair of lace topped thigh highs and put her heels back on before returning to him. After the stress of the day, they both sorely needed a release.
When she made her way back, he was engrossed in whatever tome he'd chosen. She plucked it from his fingers, setting it aside on the end table as she climbed onto his lap, her skirts bunching around them. She ran her hands from just above his belt buckle to his shoulders, and his gray eyes gleamed in the dimness, pupils slowly blowing wide.
He captured one of her hands in his own, pressing gentle kisses to her palm as he stared at her reverently.
"May I kiss you?" he asked hoarsely. He still asked occasionally and it sent just as much of a thrill through her as the first time.
She nodded faintly, his other hand slipping around to cup the back of her neck, pulling him to her. His mouth caressed hers gently before pressing them together firmly, pulling back only to return to her over and over again. He let her other hand go to pull her back against him before running his hand down to the small of her back. She rocked her hips against him, feeling him hard underneath her and taking advantage of his gasp to slip her tongue in his mouth, tasting him and teasing him. When he began to meet her in earnest, she continued the gentle rocking of her hips as she sucked on his tongue, reveling in the haggard groan that was wrenched from his throat.
His hand began to slide up her stockinged thigh, and she was glad she'd made the decision to wear them. Breath hitching in his throat, he caressed the material reverently and pulled back enough to gauge her reaction. Her hands went to the buttons of the cream blouse she'd put on that morning, undoing them with a languid slowness. With a wave of her hand, she vanished her bra and watched his eyes darken in desire as she bared her breasts to him. Cupping herself with both hands, she flicked her nipples and gasped as he watched hungrily.
His fingertips caressed her inner thigh when he looked to her, asking permission.
"Please don't stop," she said hoarsely.
His hands left her thigh highs to cup her mound through the satin knickers. She ground herself against his palm with a groan twice before he vanished them entirely. He traced along her lips, taking his time to explore the feel of her before dipping a finger between her folds, collecting the gathered moisture at her slit, then finding her clit. He started off in languid circles, watching as a flush bloomed on her chest, moving up her neck as her eyes glazed over and gasps and whines fell from her lips. She squeezed her breasts, pinching the nipples tightly before letting out a hiss as the blood rushed back.
His fingers picked up the pace, rubbing tighter, firmer circles as his eyes flickered between her face and her hands as she handled her breasts. Her panting mouth was what his eyes lingered on as they traveled between the two, and she wondered if he would let her suck his cock. Releasing her thigh, he brought his hand to her face to caress her lips then cheek with his fingertips, another groan ripped from his throat as she caught his thumb in her mouth to suckle on it, eyes meeting his. Her tongue trailed along the digit before she popped it from her mouth to throw her head back, keening his name as lights exploded behind her eyes while her orgasm rocked her.
He slowed more to a languid pace as she came back to Earth, catching her breath before pulling away from his fingers with a whine about being sensitive. After she got her breathing back under control, she rocked forward, devouring his mouth and placing tiny kisses all along his face. He captured her lips as his hands went back to caressing her thighs, dragging his fingers against the silky material.
Her hands went to his belt, managing to get it undone before he caught her wrists. "You don't have to," he whispered.
Her desires had changed from earlier, and she felt bold enough to say what she wanted. "I want to. I want you in my mouth so badly."
She was concerned that he was going to object entirely until he finally spoke.
"Can you use your hands this time? I want to be able to feel you," he said, squeezing her stocking covered thighs, his eyes pausing on her breasts before they returned to hers. "See you."
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. The way he was now handling her stocking covered thighs and how he had in the past made her wonder if he had a hosiery fetish. Her brain began to make lists of things to purchase as her fingers unbuttoned his trousers and pulled the zipper down, freeing his rigid cock. He lifted his hips and she dragged them down far enough to access all of him. She turned her attention to his shirt, running one finger down the line of buttons, watching as they all came loose under her touch.
She explored his chest, dragging her fingernails along his nipples and filing away the way he shivered before slowly descending down his abdomen, along his pubic bone and past where he desperately wanted her attention to slide along his thighs. His muscles clenched underneath her touch, eliciting a shudder from him as she trailed the tips of her nails along his inner thighs and made the return trip back up, her thumbs brushing along his sac as he sucked in a ragged breath.
She ran her hand along his shaft before lifting it to her mouth, coating the palm with her tongue, and his gray eyes glued to the motion as he squeezed her thighs. She dropped her hand back between them, gripping him firmly at the base and curling her fingers around him. Slowly, she began to work her hand up and down.
"Tell me what you like."
"Tighter," he rasped, and so she did until he'd started nodding his head.
She worked his cock at a moderate pace, twisting her hand when it neared the head, brushing the frenulum with her thumb on the way up. The fingers of her other hand weren't idle, lightly dragging the tips of her digits along his sac, thrilling at the hiss that came from between his clenched teeth. "Fuck, just like that. It's like you already know what to do."
She watched his face as she experimented with changing speeds, changing pressures, paying special attention to his head sometimes on the upstroke. His hands continued to stroke along her legs, occasionally squeezing her calf or thigh, already knowing to stay away from her knee after the previous incident. She'd caught him looking at her legs before, more than once when she'd worn dark hosiery but hadn't paid it much more mind than recognizing it as an appreciative look.
His eyes were hazy, pupils blown wide and jaw clenched tightly. Gasps and quiet groans erupted from his throat as he stared alternatively at her breasts and her hands as they worked him over steadily.
"Hermione, I'm about to— going to—" He was cut off by his orgasm rocking him, splintering him into a thousand pieces as he came in hot spurts with force down her hands, on her skirts, and his trousers. She watched in rapt fascination as he threw his head back against the couch, exposing an expanse of his neck to her as he cried out. She'd never seen anything more beautiful. It made her soul sing, filling her chest with warmth.
She slowed her pace as he came back down until he finally pulled her hands away with one of his own. He picked his wand up from next to them and with a simple spell, they were both clean again. He held onto her hip with one hand as he lifted himself, pulling his trousers back up with the other with her help until he was righted and gently tucked back inside. He shifted, twisting them until she was tucked against the back of the couch, curled up tightly against him in his arms. He buried his face in her wild curls as his hands stroked her back. She felt safe and secure, knowing he wouldn't have come like that had he not enjoyed it, but she still had to know for sure.
"Was it okay?"
She felt the rumble of the chuckle more than heard it, felt his lips curl against her. "It was bloody fantastic. You were perfect."
Her blood sang in her veins at the praise and with a satisfied smirk, she snuggled closer against him. She wasn't sure when she fell asleep but the next morning when she awoke in the bedroom she'd mentally claimed as her own. It was the best night's sleep she'd had since she'd returned home. The blankets were still warm beside her, and she couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face as she got ready for the day. To her delight, she found an outfit in the bathroom that one of the elves must have retrieved from her closet at home.
That day at work was the first time it became obvious that Harry suspected things were progressing in their relationship. It was almost as entertaining as the morning she'd showed him her ring and then watched as he'd turned a variety of colors before storming off in a swirl of nearly uncontrolled magic.
And it was a notably better day than the one prior.
See you all next Saturday!