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.
If you want to see the commission Nikita did for me for my upcoming birthday, visit my profile. It's AMAZING. Pure magic!
It's the scene from chapter 4 where he shows her how to cover her scar if she so wished. I am SO IN LOVE with it.
Draco and Hermione arrived at the Manor promptly at eleven to find Narcissa waiting for them in the traveling room. After they'd shucked their cloaks and hung them on hooks, they followed her to the easternmost drawing-room. Draco got Hermione settled in a tall, leather wingback chair with a cup of tea; she discovered on her first sip that he'd fortified it with a bit of something extra.
In the center of the room, Draco drew symbols on the floor with his wand in a wide, perfect circle around an ancient table as Narcissa prepared different bowls of what she called "offerings." Two were herbs to be burned, one contained bread, one was empty still, but the last one contained a dark, viscous fluid and other things she didn't examine too closely.
When Draco finished, he helped his mother collect the bowls and place them at equidistant points just inside the circle. Narcissa collected a trunk that looked at least as old as the table from one side of the room and levitated it over. From there they took out a wide table runner with runes embroidered in silver all along the edges, placing it just so in the center of the table. Next came candles, another bowl with a bundle of herbs wrapped around something she couldn't make out, and a small, ornate wooden box that Narcissa pulled out of the trunk. She brought it over to Hermione and set it on the table between them as she sat down.
"What we're doing is invoking clarity and understanding for our reading. The circle Draco drew on the floor creates a focal point. The two bowls of herbs are specific: one blend for clarity, the other for understanding. Then there's a bowl of bread, a bowl with meat, and a bowl for wine, which Draco will pour in about half an hour when we get closer to time. You cannot ask for something without giving something in return." To this Hermione nodded; it made perfect sense. "Then after our request has been fulfilled, we'll do the reading. This deck is one that's been handed down the line in my family for generations. When I married Lucius, we blended our decks as a symbol of the merger of the two dynasties. One stays here for our use and one stays in my vault at Gringotts. When Draco gets married, he will inherit the unused deck, and when I pass, this one will go to him too but he will put it away for his own child."
"Why doesn't just one deck get passed and one remain in reserve in case something happens to the first?" Hermione asked.
"Well, when you blend a deck like we did, they're delicate. The magic takes time to redistribute and fuse itself back together because each deck contains some of the magic from the entirety of our lineages. Blending decks can be risky, like making a delicate and volatile potion. So it's best if only one user—or set of users if they're married— handles them at a time for at least a generation, if not two. It gives the deck an appropriate amount of time to settle itself between users."
Hermione nodded again and let her eyes wander over the ornamental box. "That's amazing."
She felt warm hands resting on her shoulders, and she looked up with a soft smile.
"Bit different than what that old Trelawney bat spewed at Hogwarts?" A hint of a smirk quirked Draco's lips.
"That old drunk is an actual Seer, strange as it may seem, but she doesn't have the ability to pull Sight at will. That's how it is for some people," Narcissa explained. "I'd wager she'd see a whole lot more if she stuck with what was inherent to her and taught everything else as knowledge-based instead of experienced-based with that gauche drama she coats everything in. Trying to force Sight will only push it further away. Seeing has been in both the Malfoy and the Black lines for over five hundred years. The Blacks had an affinity for Scrying while the Malfoys were more prone to Tarot. The Dark Lord was hoping to use Lucius as his own private Seer, but the gift is more of a recessive trait in his line and it had decided to skip two generations. Did Draco tell you he can do both?" Narcissa cast a proud look at her only child.
Hermione shook her head. "No, but before now I've never had any appreciation for or interest in it. It all seemed too wooly and unbelievable. I imagine it would be the same feeling that you would get if you were to go watch a Muggle magician. All fakeness and theater."
She knew it would take more than one instance of exposure for her to gain actual appreciation for the topic, but now that she'd seen a much more real approach to it, she could feel the seedling interest beginning to grow in earnest.
"I hope we can help you see the art for what it really is then," Narcissa said.
"That would be lovely." Hermione smiled at her.
She felt warm when Draco squeezed her shoulders appreciatively.
Mippy brought a tray of refreshments to go with the refilled teapot, of which Draco grazed from as he sipped his tea. Hermione was too busy listening, leaning forward in her seat as Narcissa talked about the different ways one can invoke the magic of the elements and of the earth to combine with spellwork along with things like events on the solstices and equinoxes, Samhain, and Beltane.
It was so fascinating, but a thought itched at the back of her mind. "Why isn't any of this taught at Hogwarts?"
Draco tensed in that slight way that would only be caught if one knew him, and her eyes slid from him to Narcissa.
"Well, many of the Old Magics involve shades of gray. This particular ritual involves blood magic, which is forbidden at Hogwarts outside of Defense lessons and what literature they do have there is confined to the Restricted section. Granted, many rituals and older magics have been exploited by Dark witches and wizards and it's tainted things a great deal." Narcissa paused to take a dainty sip of tea. "Many Muggle-borns and half-bloods have been victims from the outcomes of these rituals, so it's also tainted their views on them as well. It's often rejected by most except for those who think of magic like most pure-blooded families do, as well as those who are academically minded."
Hermione nodded. "It proves to be a difficult topic if you can't look at it objectively. Most spells can be used for ill or good and really, it should be portrayed that way. So many miss out on an incredible facet of magic because it's been abused; that's a shame. I've found this evening to be an amazing experience so far and it saddens me that had I not started seeing Draco, I probably wouldn't have learned about it any time soon, if ever. Surely there's some way to mend the situation," she said as she cradled her cup in her hands.
She saw Draco relax again, which he covered up by crossing his legs at the knee. "If anyone out there can figure it out, Granger, it'll be you." He shot her a wink.
Her incisor dented her lower lip as she bit it, a flush lighting up her cheeks that he would flirt so openly in front of his mother; the very mother who was watching him with a secret grin hidden behind her teacup.
"We'll see what I can do after I've been further instructed myself." She smiled demurely.
"Between Mother and I that will be taken care of."
"So shall it be," Hermione said.
The air seemed to shift as they both parroted it back to her and it was as if a pact had just formed. It felt right in an inexplicable way.
Narcissa looked at the delicate timepiece on her wrist and drained the rest of her cup with Draco following suit.
"Just stay here and relax dear," Narcissa requested as she picked up the box of Tarot cards.
Hermione took that to mean not to leave her chair, but she could see the wisdom in it. She had no idea what would happen, and she did have moments of self-preservation even if Draco didn't believe it.
He filled the bowl with wine from the outside of the circle then joined his mother at the edge. They linked hands and stepped as one into the circle, going to their respective seats and not stopping until they had sat.
They unlinked their hands, and Narcissa began to tap the table with her index finger, setting a beat and starting to chant in a language Hermione couldn't place. When she started at the beginning again, Draco joined in, tapping his foot against the hardwood floor to match the rhythm. While their volume didn't increase, the intensity did to the point where the air felt thick and hard to breathe until suddenly, they both stopped. The silence was deafening except for the excited thrumming of Hermione's heart behind her ribs.
Draco finally ran his hand over the bowl of herbs on the table, setting it aflame, and as he did, the other bowls lit up in blue fire. From the opened windows, a light breeze rustled the drapes, and as the fires burned, Hermione could feel the swell of magic in the room, circling mother and son until they were the eye of a hurricane of magical energy. Suddenly, as if the currents of magic were wind, the fires all disappeared and the magic settled into a calm, relaxed fog. It was then that the two within the circle began to move.
Narcissa opened the box of cards, shuffled thrice, and fanned them out. Draco selected three and she put them face down in the order he chose them in then put the deck to the side.
"The past." Narcissa flipped the first card over. "Ten of Wands. It represents accomplishment, burdens, and responsibility."
Draco said nothing but studied the card as if he'd never seen it before and was memorizing it as well as the meaning.
"The present." Narcissa flipped the middle card over. "Ten of Pentacles. It represents legacy, culmination, and inheritance."
A pensive look stole across his features for a moment before it was gone.
"The future." She flipped the final card over. "Six of Wands. It represents victory and success."
While that may have sounded good, Draco didn't seem convinced and neither was Hermione. It was never that simple. Victory and success for who, exactly?
"We shall do one more," Narcissa announced before sweeping the cards back into the deck at random and shuffling thrice again. She fanned the cards out and again, Draco selected three of them, and she put them down in a row in the order he picked. The rest of the cards were returned to their box.
"The past." She flipped the first card over. "The Tower. It represents sudden upheaval, broken pride, and disaster."
Draco paled at the card and his fingers twitched as if he wanted to clench them into fists. It was no secret that it was the card Trelawney kept coming across the night he let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and Hermione itched to comfort him. He took a moment to re-center himself and let out a slow breath before focusing back on his mother. Narcissa continued as if he'd never paused.
"The present." She flipped the middle card over. "Five of Wands. It represents competition, rivalry, and conflict."
He squinted at the card, and Hermione burned with the desire to know what he was thinking.
"The future." She flipped over the last card. "The Hanged Man. It represents sacrifice and martyrdom."
His eyes shot to her for the first time, and she could tell he wanted to storm over to her but couldn't yet. He did, however, stare at her with enough intensity to light the room on fire.
The magic in the room swirled once again into a hurricane before the candles on the table blew out and the energy dispersed again as if it had vanished back out into the night like a visiting guest.
After his mother scooped up the final cards and placed them back into their box with the others, they went in exact reverse of setting the room up, ending with Draco vanishing the markings on the floor one by one.
He stormed over to her as soon as he could and pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him. She felt the very faint tremor of his hands and clutched his waistcoat.
"Swear to me, Hermione, that you will not entertain your Gryffindor recklessness at any point until this whole investigation is over."
"Draco—"
"Swear it." There was an edge to his voice that hadn't been there since she tried using the stairs while her neck was still broken.
"I swear I will keep myself safe, and I won't jump headlong into anything without you." She slid her arms around his waist and squeezed.
That seemed to calm him down a fraction. Not enough to make him let her go, but enough to stop the faint trembling in his fingers.
She had to admit that he knew her well. She'd refused to break under the torture of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand or cursed knife. He knew she would do whatever it took to do the right thing, to fix the problem, to conquer the foe, to save the world unless someone thought to put something in her way—like an extracted promise.
"Draco dear, I'm going to bed. These are always so taxing for me, so I'll see you two later. Hermione, it was a pleasure. I look forward to discussing more with you. Goodnight, dears." Narcissa gave them a parting smile before heading to the door.
"Thank you again for having me. Goodnight!" Hermione called. It would have been superfluous to say that she looked forward to further conversation; all three of them knew she would soak it up like a sponge.
"Goodnight, Mother."
Draco looked around the room, his eyes lighting on the chest for a few moments before they returned to her. "Let's go home, yeah?"
She nodded. While tonight had been intriguing, thrilling, and a bit ominous, she was ready to end the day.
He led her back to the traveling room, and they crossed over in a flash of green fire directly into the sitting room. He spelled them clean before gesturing to the couch. "I'll go get us a drink, I'll be right back."
He hesitated before letting her go and gave her a lingering kiss on the forehead before finally departing towards the kitchen.
He could've had an elf do it but she had a feeling he wanted to calm himself back down in private a minute, and she couldn't blame him. Draco didn't wear his heart on his sleeve. She may have seen more than most people did but he was still very reserved.
She made her way to the couch and sat on the center cushion, letting her mind wander over the events of the night. She made mental notes to pick up notebooks and other supplies soon for her upcoming lessons. There was also her order from Flourish and Blotts to pick up, as well as her new DMLE robes from Madam Malkin's.
A glass of wine came into her vision, and she blinked before taking it from his fingers, taking a long, slow sip.
"Thank you." She watched him sit down in the corner.
She studied him for a moment, and for the most part, he seemed back to normal. He must have sorted whatever it was that had him all riled up, at least for the moment. He took a thoughtful sip of wine before his eyes cut over to her.
"We're going to have to do at least one more reading before we can really start exploring what the spreads tonight mean." He reached over and tugged on her belt loop.
She slid over until she was tucked against his side. "Do you have any thoughts as to what any of that meant tonight?"
He wobbled his head back and forth. "I have a few theories, but I need to think about them a bit more before I throw anything out there."
Hermione nodded; she'd been there herself more than once.
"Has your opinion changed at all on the subject?" His brows were set high over silvery eyes.
"It certainly seems like something worth looking into now. I don't trust it like you and your mother apparently do, but I don't outright think it's exactly a bunch of rubbish anymore. I'd like to think I've learned my lesson with the resurrection stone." She muttered the last bit.
"How do you know about that?"
"Because it was once a Horcrux and Dumbledore left it to Harry in the very first Snitch he ever caught. He said that it and the cloak were how he got through everything undetected to get to Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest."
While Draco didn't flinch, his eyes flitted away for a moment and that was all it took to tell her that both Dumbledore and Voldemort still haunted him greatly.
Then something about what she said seemed to connect in his brain, and he narrowed his eyes.
"Just how long did Potter have that invisibility cloak?"
"As far as I know, since around Christmas of First Year." A smirk pulled at her mouth.
He scowled, and she could almost envision the memory he was reliving involving a certain Shrieking Shack and some mud.
Her shoulders shook in her silent laughter, and it was all she could do not to spill her wine.
"Oh, think that's funny do you?" His brow hitched.
"Just as hilarious as when it happened."
"Retribution comes when you least expect it, Hermione," he sniffed, taking another sip of his wine.
She rolled her eyes and laid her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.
His fingers came up after a few moments to stroke her arm in a soothing rhythm, and she polished off her glass, letting him place it with his on the end table.
"After that nap earlier, it feels like it's been the longest day ever," she muttered.
He nodded in silent agreement, and she knew he'd been up for even longer than she had; how he slept so little and still functioned was a mystery.
"You should get some rest in a real bed, Hermione." His breath whispered across her scalp as he nuzzled her hair.
"Are you going to bed?"
"Not yet..."
She wondered if he was going to sleep at all that night.
"Will you come sit with me until I fall asleep?" she asked in a small voice. Her cheeks burned in humiliation over having to ask, but the idea of going into that dark room by herself after everything she'd recently learned was enough to make her stomach turn. She felt like a child all over again, asking it of him.
"Of course," he whispered.
He got off the couch and pulled her to her feet, then walked her to the door of her room. "I'm going to change into something comfortable while you get ready for bed, alright? I'll meet you there in a few minutes."
He watched her cross the threshold before he turned and went into his room to change. She made her way to the bathroom and changed back into her comfortable nightgown from earlier before brushing her teeth and washing her face. When she got back to the bedroom, he was sitting against the headboard with the blankets on her side already turned down. She slid in and wiggled about until she was comfortable, scooting over as close to him as she could get and gripping the edge of the blanket he'd pulled up around her shoulders.
"Thank you..."
"Shhhh, sleep," he murmured as he stroked her hair.
She didn't particularly want to, dreading what would come in dreams, but between the feel of his fingers and the safety his presence brought to her, she stood little chance of staying awake after the culmination of events from the day.
She recalled waking twice in the night. Both times Draco was there to calm her back down and soothe her back asleep. The second time had been from a dream about a dark figure standing over her in her bedroom in the middle of the night. She was screaming and struggling by the time Draco was able to wake her. and he'd gathered her against him and held her tight, rocking her while whispering soothing nonsense against her hair. Eventually, he'd taken to rubbing her back, and the last thing she remembered was him tucking her head under his chin where she fell asleep. When she woke the next morning, she found herself all but buried under her blankets and face down in her pillow with no Draco in sight. Not even where he'd sat was mussed, the pillow still neatly in place.
She could smell breakfast, and her stomach rumbled, practically demanding that she get up and greet the day, along with whatever bullshit it may bring. With great effort, she dragged herself out from her warm haven, then wrapped herself in a robe and stuffed her feet into her plush slippers before venturing out. She trudged to the breakfast table to find him sitting in his usual spot, dressed in a charcoal gray three-piece suit with a crisp white shirt and matching gray tie. Between the clothes and neatly coiffed hair, he looked like a model fresh off the fashion runway. All that pale skin and hair juxtaposed beautifully against the rich fabrics and deep color of the suit.
"Are you going to come have breakfast with me or are you going to stand there and stare all day?" He smeared butter and jam across his toast without looking up.
Hermione ignored the pseudo-snippy attitude he enjoyed using when he wanted to see if he could elicit a reaction and passed behind him to get to her seat. She sat without a word, and he took a good look at her, staring pointedly at her hair with a smirk curling his mouth. At that, she finally narrowed her eyes, lazily picking up her knife to point at him. "That's about enough of that."
His smirk widened as if he were convinced she wasn't going to fall apart like last night. She shut her brain down as it tried to conjure the thought more fully. Something nagged, but she refused to entertain it until after they'd eaten. Food hadn't been in the cards the day prior and getting some nourishment was the main focus.
While there were no more comments, she'd caught him stealing glances at what was likely a riotous mane around her head. When the last bite of bacon had been consumed, she picked up her spoon and examined her reflection. Curls were springing in every direction, and her eyes narrowed as they cut toward him. They typically only did that if her hair was brushed, if she'd ran her fingers through it while studying, or during humid potions lessons. He'd been stroking her hair when she'd fallen asleep, and at some point, he must have teased half the curls apart.
Draco's fingers twitched around his coffee cup when she drew her wand. Her stare didn't ease up as she performed a silent, complicated little charm that made her hair collapse back together in simple, slightly bushy curls. It made normal hair fall straight, but could only manage to calm her curls down enough to be barely presentable.
He pried the spoon from her grip and replaced it with his long fingers, his thumb stroking along the backs of her knuckles until her body relaxed.
"Cheating."
He winked. "I have something for you."
"What is it?"
"It'd ruin the surprise if I told."
She rolled her eyes with a scoff.
His shoulders trembled with his silent laughter as he pulled her to her feet. It wasn't worth asking where they were going; that would give her too much information. They wound through the house until they reached the small room off of the main greenhouse where they brewed potions and experimented with plants. He spun to face her and whipped a wide, green silk ribbon from his pocket. She eyed it as it dangled from between two pale fingers before turning around without fuss. It was the perfect opportunity to show him that she wasn't always difficult.
There was a pause before her vision was obscured by the soft fabric. After it was tied, he spun them both around, and she allowed him to steer her through the room. They came to a stop at last and the scrap of silk fell away. It took a couple of blinks before she realized exactly what was in front of her.
Under a glass cloche was an aglaophotis in perfect bloom. Her head whipped around to look at him with wide eyes. So many possibilities were now available, and a list as tall as Hogwarts fabricated itself in her mind of things they'd be able to improve.
"How…"
"Longbottom found a way to preserve them. I knew you'd want one but wouldn't say anything since they were being raised for medical research, and you'd never want to detract from that. The third successful crop bloomed a few days ago. I was going to give it to you yesterday, but everything went to hell in a—"
She flung her arms around his neck and shoved herself up onto her toes, silencing him with a fierce kiss. It only took a beat for him to react, and once he did, he was hoisting her by the waist to sit on the bench. He stepped between her thighs and dragged his fingertips up from her knees, the material catching on his wrists as he trailed them along her flesh. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, threading her fingers through his hair.
He pulled away only to press their foreheads together. "Most potions call for the petals. We'll pick them as we need them and can attempt growing our own set with the seeds if you wish."
"Please."
Gray eyes skated across her face, taking her in as if memorizing her features like he'd never see her again.
"What's wr—"
"Anything." His voice was low, almost ragged. "I'd give you anything in this world. You've but to ask and it's yours."
Before she could reply, he was kissing her again, fiercer than before as his hands moved up to grip her waist. It wouldn't surprise her if there were bruises in the shape of his fingertips later.
She knew what she wanted, and she mumbled, 'library,' against his mouth.
He picked her up, this time by the backs of her thighs, and spun. Suddenly, they were there. Request granted.
She unhooked her legs from around his waist and slid down his body with the help of gravity, breaking the kiss in the process. His lips were swollen, eyes glazed over.
"The books on potions are over—"
The clinking of his belt as she unbuckled it interrupted his directions. The leather sliding through the loops and the clink of metal on wood as it hit the floor were the only sounds for a moment until her robe slid down her shoulders and arms to puddle on the floor behind her. Her fingers deftly unbuttoned the waistcoat before she shoved it from his shoulders. A gentle push had him backing up with her following.
His pupils had blown wide as he watched her stroke her fingers along his tie, causing it to come to life and undo itself before slithering off of him entirely, joining the collection of clothes on the floor. He was so focused on her that he apparently didn't realize how close he was to the chair until the back of his calf bumped into it. His eyes flew wide as she gave him an easy push, sending him sprawling backward into it.
He looked at her in wonder as she mounted his lap, straddling him and running her hands down then back up his chest to unbutton his shirt.
"Off."
He complied with her quiet request, shucking it from his person. As soon as it was gone, she dragged her nails lightly down his chest, scraping his nipples and eliciting a hiss. He quivered under her touch, and she could feel his cock straining against his trousers as she ground against him. She snatched his hands and placed them on the hem of her nightgown. No encouragement was needed for him to all but rip the garment over her head, flinging it away. Her nipples tightened in the cool air and he looked as though he could eat her alive right there.
Hands gripped her hips again as he drank her in. She leaned forward and kissed his chin, tilting his head back and making her way down the column of his throat with open-mouthed kisses, over his clavicle, and then she slithered into the floor between his legs as she made her way down his body, exploring with her mouth and tongue what her hands had discovered prior. She took a moment while she was down there to divest him of his shoes and socks.
She looked up at him from her position on her knees as she unbuttoned his trousers. His eyes were hooded, his Adam's apple bobbing once as he watched her and attempted to control his breathing. The zipper dragged down, the only other sound outside of their increasingly harder breathing. She untucked him from his trousers and ran her fingers lightly along his stiff cock.
Warm fingers grasped her by the chin, and her eyes shot up to meet his.
"You don't have to."
"Please?"
She'd wanted to for months—she'd been dreaming about this moment—and a thrill shot up her spine as he gave the tiniest of nods and released her to do as she wished.
A ragged breath being sucked in was music to her ears as she grasped his cock firmly and licked a stripe with the flat of her tongue from his sac to his tip, kissing her way back down and repeating the process. Her wet tongue dragged across her lips, and his eyes were glued to the motion. Lowering her head, she enveloped the tip, swirling her tongue around it before sliding down a couple of inches and coming back up. Saliva dripped down him, and she collected it in her palm to work the base of his cock.
The leather squeaked as his hands became white-knuckled on the arms of the chair; that just wouldn't do, so she pried one away and buried it in her hair towards the nape of her neck. His fingers tightened reflexively but not painfully in the strands.
Their eyes met again, and she nudged him with a thought.
Teach me what you like.
His chin dipped, and he used the grip on her hair to show her the pace he preferred. It was similar to the handjobs she'd given him, and she was able to work further down his shaft as she went until he nearly hit the back of her throat. His fingers relaxed as she settled into the rhythm. His taste was unique, and his scent was concentrated there. It was better than anything she'd dreamed up as he slid thick and heavy across her tongue.
Her cheeks hollowed out as she suckled, and it delighted her to note his pinkened cheeks as he groaned from between clenched teeth. He throbbed in her mouth, and she moved to caress his balls with the lightest touch of her fingertips. His thighs and stomach clenched, trembling, and it was obvious that he was fighting to hang on.
That wouldn't do, either, so she slipped her fingers behind his balls to lightly massage his perineum; his fingers tightened almost painfully in her hair. "Fuck, Hermione, I'm about to—"
She refused to stop, pulling against his grip until he relented and a chorus of fuck, fuck, fuck was torn from his lips as his eyes squeezed tightly together. He came undone with a shout and coated her tongue and the back of her throat. She groaned at the taste of him, careful to swallow every last drop. When he gave a final shudder and went limp beneath her, she released his cock and leaned her head against his thigh. Her jaw ached pleasantly and she was triumphant over how intensely he came apart beneath her.
His fingers slid from her hair and loosely wrapped around her upper arm, giving a weak tug toward him. What he wanted was clear, so she climbed to her feet and then carefully back onto his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight to him as he caught his breath. She could feel his heart pound beneath her ear as she watched, enraptured, from beneath her lashes as he coasted along on the high an orgasm could give. It occurred to her often that he was beautiful, but the afterglow made him more so.
After his heart had settled back into its normal rhythm, and his strength had returned, he peeked down at her. "And they say women don't like receiving flowers anymore."
She smacked his chest lightly, but couldn't stop her lips from curling at the corners. "You can give me flowers like that any time you want."
"Noted. Now, let me return the favor."
It is something she has never done before, and she needed to roll it around in her head for a while. "Later."
A pout settled on his lips, but he nodded anyway and slid a hand between them instead, giving her a chance to object as he caressed the skin above her mound. When she didn't, he slid her knickers to the side and dragged two fingers through her folds. It was then that she discovered just how soaked she'd gotten during the previous act. He brought his fingertips to his mouth, looking her dead in the eye and sucking his fingers clean with a groan. Her teeth dug her lip so hard she almost bled; his thumb popped it loose before she could do any real damage.
He sat them up and ducked his head down, taking one taut nipple in his mouth and dragging his tongue across it. She whimpered as his hands grasped her hips, and then suddenly, her knickers disappeared. One hand slid around to grasp one of her cheeks as the other found its way back between her thighs. Her eyes squeezed closed and her mouth fell open as his fingers firmly circled her clit. If she were in her right mind, she might have been disconcerted at the sounds pouring from her, but all she could focus on was the impending explosion. She was already wet and throbbing from how worked up she'd gotten while sucking him off, so it took an embarrassingly short amount of time before she was screaming his name and trembling, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders to cling onto something, anything as she was sucked under a riptide of bliss.
Now, her heart pounded and she collapsed, boneless, on his chest as he reclined back again, holding her tight against him.
When they were both back on Earth, they relocated to the couch for a brief nap after a cleaning spell.
They spend the rest of the day half-naked. Hermione was still wearing her nightgown and he was dressed only in his trousers as they researched for what potion would be best to modify. Usually, he was content to sit close to her and was pleased when she leaned her head on his shoulder or cuddled into his side. Throughout the day, it was a rarity that his hands left her. Playing with her hair, rubbing along her back, or lacing their fingers together as they read their respective books. Sometimes she noticed he'd stopped reading and was watching her intently instead.
When she opened her mouth to ask if everything was all right, he beat her to it, asking, "Is it later yet?"
It took a minute, but she suddenly realized what he meant. Her stomach clenched, but she nodded anyway. He took her to the tables and sat in a chair, pulling her into his lap where he rubbed and caressed until she was loose and relaxed under his touch again. Her nightgown once again disappeared, and then she was on her back on the cool table, her legs spread wide. He took his time, drinking her in despite how pink she turned. With the way he sat in the chair at the head of the table, it was as if he'd sat down for dinner and she was the meal.
His hands held her thighs open as her shyness mounted. "You were unflappable earlier when you had my cock halfway down your throat. Now you look like you've been caught having your first naughty thought ever."
Her teeth sunk into her lip as she recalled the feel of him throbbing against her tongue as he emptied himself in her. She relaxed infinitesimally, and he took his first lick. It was unlike anything she'd ever thought it may be like, but as he tongued her clit she decided she enjoyed it. Her nipples were aching for attention, so she rolled them tightly between her fingers, pinching and plucking. He took his time as he explored and mapped her out, leaving her slick in his wake.
When he sucked her clit into his mouth, she gave a ragged cry as two fingers easily slipped inside her, pumping in and out. It wasn't until he gathered some of the moisture on his free hand and slipped it beneath the table that she noticed his forearm moving up and down as he wanked. Her eyes were glued to the motion, and she began to flutter around his fingers. He swirled his tongue against her as he gave another suckle. Fingers curling inwards, they hit that perfect spot that never failed to make her detonate with a scream.
When she came back down and pushed him away with what little strength she had left, he rested his head against her. His ragged breath ghosted over her sensitive, swollen flesh and made her shiver. He kissed her thigh before pressing his face against her soft skin as he tensed and came with a groan. She stroked his hair with trembling fingers while he laid half-collapsed against the table and her, silently lamenting that she had no strength to sit up and pull his hand to her mouth so she could lick him clean.
After what seemed like forever, they recovered a second time, and this time she performed the cleaning spell. They relocated back to the couch, books abandoned to curl up together.
"Where do you want lunch from tomorrow?" His breath ruffled her curls as he mumbled into her hair.
"Sandwich shop?"
He nodded. She was glad she didn't have to elaborate because he'd effectively shut off most of her thinking ability with that last experience. Now all she could focus on was the feel of his hands, body, and warmth as he clung to her, trapping her between him and the back of the couch.
Much later, she woke up in the dark, in her bed, and her heart pounded until he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him, sleepily shushing her as his hand stroked her side. She relaxed into the safety that is him, and then she was gone, back into dreams.
See you all next Saturday!