Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion and scenes of a sexual nature, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasleys, liberties taken with mythical history and the HP real-life timeline.

Additional Chapter warnings: This chapter is all about Harry and Hermione's wedding night, contains little plot and is merely a decadent, unashamed slice of Harmony SMUT! If this is okay with you, I hope you enjoy. But ... if you are of a delicate disposition, squeamish or prone to second-hand embarrassment when it come to sex or explicit scenes of a sexualnature, then DO NOTread this chapter and whinge about it to me afterwards. Just wait until the next chapter is posted and rejoin the story there. You have been forewarned.

The wedding Reception was beautiful, like something out of a fairytale. The large Banqueting Hall, which Hermione had somehow managed to miss on her many tours of the Palace (she still hadn't gotten used to calling it her Palace, yet) had been converted into an elaborate ballroom, awash with silver and gold, replete with ice fountains and crystal sculptures and live fairies twinkling away beneath the vaulted ceiling.

It was all very pretty, but Hermione didn't really have much of a mind for any of it ... for her thoughts were in a far different location altogether.

But she knew she had to play the diligent hostess first. Indeed, some sensible part of her brain knew that she'd regret not enjoying this later, even if she did want it to be over as quickly as possible. So she simpered and smiled, accepted the flow of adoration and congratulations that came her way, flashed her wedding ring to anyone who asked to see it, and was as gushing a bride as ever was seen.

Though all that was just a front, for she was gushing in a far different way, namely into a pool of dampness between her thighs.

For almost as soon as Hermione entered the Palace as Mrs Hermione Potter, she felt the air of the place had changed completely for her. It was charged, tinged with an electrifying static that pummelled into Hermione's pores as soon as she crossed the threshold. It was hot and sticky, stoking an immediate fire in her belly that soon rose to a feral sort of roar. It tinged her cheeks with the bashfulness of it.

And it didn't seem to want to go away. It followed Hermione wherever she went, and to whomever she spoke. It prickled away inappropriately at her skin, out of sight of her guests, tickling her at maddeningly teasing points on her body ... on her chest, at the apex of her cleavage; in the crease at the back of her inner thigh, where her bum curved towards her hips; and at the dead centre of her perineum, frustratingly too far away from either of those most sensitive and private parts of her body, no matter how hard she yearned for the tickles to move an inch or two in either direction.

As she looked over pleadingly at Harry, desperate to know what was happening to her, she found him smirking at her and realisation dawned ... he was responsible for all this ... he was doing it on purpose.

Hermione huffed as she began to understand. This was the culmination of Harry's sex magic, something now so potent it could permeate the very airwaves of the house if Harry wanted it to. Which he totally seemed to, reducing Hermione to a hot, quivering wreck as she tried to act the dutiful bride, all the while having every nerve ending she possessed sensitised by this secret and unique version of foreplay, one that Harry had invented just for her pleasure.

And Hermione couldn't wait to get this bloody Reception over with and finally consummate her union with Harry, which was something she was now beginning to physically ache for.

But Harry dragged out this delicious torture for the best part of three hours. There was something almost tantric about his technique; he would raise and lower the intensity of Hermione's tingles, to produce alternating waves of lusty sensation, followed by periods of respite that were almost a torment for his poor wife. She had been numb long enough, now she just wanted to be overloaded with as much pleasure as Harry could give her, which promised to be a lot.

Then, just as Hermione felt she was fit to burst, Harry stood up and brought the party to an end. He gave a long-winded speech, in which he purposely thanked every single person in attendance, just to ratchet up Hermione's burning anticipation as much as he could by using this delaying tactic. In the end, she subtly snapped.

"Right, enough of this," Hermione hissed, fire alight in her eyes. "I've waited long enough ... take me to bed, Harry."

"Anything you say ... Mrs Potter!"

Harry grinned deeply from behind his shawl. It was the weirdest thing for Hermione, because more and more she found that she could almost see his smiles, as though the fabric wasn't hiding the majority of them, as if her brain refused to accept that there was a barrier there at all. It was something to explore later, but for now she had more carnal issues to attend to.

And Hermione was awash with hot senselessness the closer the moment came. Not only that, but her body was being assaulted in the best sorts of ways the closer she got to Harry's bedroom ... or their bedroom, as she'd have to get used to calling it. Every floor of the Palace, each tormenting step on the Grand Staircase, seemed to ramp up the sexual tension, the air itself dense with humid dampness. Hermione could barely breathe with it, and by the time they reached the Sixth Floor her legs were too unsteady to function properly.

So Harry scooped her up in his strong arms ... and carried her over the Seventh Floor threshold.

"Might as well do the thing properly!" Harry grinned as he pulled Hermione close to him. "You're so light, did you know?"

"So I should be, I've only eaten a pear and an apple for two days!" Hermione complained. "I wanted to make sure I'd fit into my wedding dress."

"That's silly," Harry frowned. "You should have eaten. You must be starving!"

"I'm fine. Besides, I didn't want to ruin my appetite," Hermione purred, vampishly.

Harry shivered pleasantly at her tone. "Appetite for what?"

"Your cock," Hermione blurted out, filthily. "I intend to have that between my teeth a lot tonight, so I hope you have plenty of courses ready for me."

"Fuck me!" Harry laughed. "Your mouth!"

"Yes, we'll try it that way ... and several others besides!" Hermione promised in her sultry, sex kitten voice. Harry wildly wondered where she'd been hiding that for all these years, and what other saucy secrets she had in store for him. It made him rock hard without the need for any of the sex enchantments he had worked so diligently on.

But it was time to get to those. So Harry held Hermione close as he carefully carried her into the bedroom, kicking the door shut with his heel as soon as they were inside, sealing them in. A whoosh of sex magic accompanied the closing door, and Hermione let out her first throaty moan of the night as the spell crashed through her body.

It wouldn't be her last.

She looked up into Harry's face, wondering if she should be embarrassed or not. After all, she'd never made that sort of sound in front of him before and she wasn't sure how he would take it. Judging by the fire dancing in his eye, though, she thought she should probably make a lot more of those noises. Her breathy panting made Harry look like he wanted to devour every inch of her, starting with her heavily heaving breasts.

Hermione thrilled at that, dripping in anticipation for that moment. But there would be so many moments tonight, Hermione really couldn't decide which prospect excited her the most. In any case, when she considered it as a whole, it was quite simply the most mind-blowing proposition she'd ever been faced with.

Harry gently set her down on their bed, onto cool sheets that were soft and silky. Hermione sank down into the depths of a king-sized mattress, watching curiously as Harry drew his wand and conjured floating candles, which he lit at the four corners of the bed and set them there to hover, flicking out the main light as he did so.

And in the flickering candlelight, Hermione threw off any lingering sense of modesty she might have been clinging on to. For, however bizarrely, every single touch of Harry's magic in the room might as well have been a deft little lick on her most intimate skin. But more than that, she almost felt the effect inside herself, on sensitive areas that she hadn't known existed, or had simply forgotten about till now.

Whatever it was, the effect was certainly clear ... for with each spell that Harry cast, with each sweep of his magic that crossed the room with the heat of the candles, Hermione moaned like a brazen whore.

And the very sound ignited the animal in Harry like never before. His lusty energy spilled out of him, catching with the sex magic pulsating from the very walls. The air was tautening, congealing, and growing so hot that Hermione could see beads of sweat forming on Harry's brow. Her insides squirmed and wriggled, her breath halted somewhere between her lungs and lips and blood pumped hard between her legs, as Harry's magic swept out from him and enveloped her.

And then, as though he were some sort of sonic pulse, Harry practically exploded.

With a dim flash of light, magical energy erupted from Harry like a bomb. It rushed into all the runes and markings and totems, charging them with his potent sexual desire. It cracked his bedside table in two. The runes buzzed with sex power, the crystals flashed with light and the very air itself vibrated, as the waves of Harry's magic reverberated off the walls, intensifying like an echo with each cycle.

But Hermione hadn't noticed any of this. For the force of Harry's magical discharge had caused a wave of orgasms in her so powerful that she'd lost all coherency and clarity of thought. She simply puffed deeply, desperate for a clean lung of air, as she squeezed her tits and rode the ripples of her first of many wedding night climaxes.

Oh boy, how this night had so been worth waiting for!

Though Hermione was deeply concerned that it wouldn't last more than a few minutes if they dived right in, a worry she expressed to Harry as he unwrapped his shawl.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Harry replied, shifting nervously from foot to foot. "Some of the enchantments in here are designed to avoid that particular problem, and I also, er ... took care of that issue earlier, if you know what I mean."

"I do," Hermione purred like a vixen, curling seductively onto her front as her eyes clouded over dreamily. "I just wish you'd have let me watch. I've dreamt about what that looks like, you know ... and it really gets me going. One day, you will have to show me how you do it."

Harry swallowed hard at his wife's first demand of him of their marriage. He'd never really thought of that as a spectator sport before. But, then again ...

"Okay ... I'll show you how I do me, if you let me watch you first," Harry stuttered uncertainly. He wasn't used to being this out of control, of taking chances with his words ... it was far beyond the borders of his comfort zone.

But Hermione had all the incentive she needed to make up the shortfall and get this started at last. She rose on her knees and moved to Harry, where he was stood at the end of the bed, nervously kneading the shawl he still held in his hands. Hermione looked at Harry, her eyes like a dancing inferno.

"I thought you'd never ask," Hermione whispered breathily, causing Harry to shiver all over.

Hermione moved back from Harry's ear, her expression scorchingly hot. She reached up to the high collar of her wedding gown, brushed her hair back purposefully, then slowly unpicked the first button, revealing a tantalising flash of the moon-milky flesh of her kissable throat. Harry felt he ought to look away, before his eyeball melted from the pleasure, but Hermione took it as more shyness from him. She moved forward and eased his head back up firmly.

"No, Harry. You pay attention to me. You look at me, don't lose focus, just keep that beautiful eye of yours fixed on me. I want you to pay attention to me, to see everything I have to show you. You are allowed to now. I give you permission, so you can give yourself permission, too. There's nothing and no-one else for you to think about, just me ... so don't take your eye off me."

"Looking at you is all I want to do," Harry moaned. "I could stand here all night and just drink you in. But you are too beautiful ... I don't think my eye can take it. And I cant really afford to do without it, can I?!"

"I could always blindfold you, if you like," Hermione suggested, huskily. "That could be a lot of fun."

"Definitely another time," Harry grinned. "But tonight I want to be able to see you, if I can manage it. I've kept that sight as forbidden fruit for the longest time ... and tonight I want to gorge on it!"

"You can gorge on any part of me you like!" Hermione swooned. "So let me just show you your choices."

She lowered herself back to the bed, resuming the unbuttoning of her gown, which fastened in seven places down her left side. The first two buttons opened the dress to the top of her cleavage, which poked out temptingly over the top of the gown.

"You know, the first time I touched myself while thinking about you was when I was just fourteen," Hermione purred sexily. She smoothed her gown down tight over her breasts, accentuating their shape for Harry to see. He moistened his lips as he watched. "We'd not long flown on Buckbeak, and my little tits had been so sensitive that night. It might have been from the cold, or maybe from where they had been pressed so tightly into your hot body. Either way, I wanted them to feel that good again ... so I had to pinch them like this."

And Hermione undid another button, pulled the lacy garment down and took her exposed left breast in a firm hand. Harry bit his arid tongue as he watched his wife caress her soft flesh, rolling her firm, pink nipple between her fingers and moaning throatily as she arched her back. Harry held his hands steady, resisting the urge to take over for Hermione, or to grab his groin to offset the deep throb that had exploded there.

He felt he ought to wait for that. Hermione wanted to perform for him ... and he wanted nothing more than to watch.

"Soon, though, touching my boobs just wasn't enough," Hermione hushed in a low voice. "I needed so much more."

She unpicked another button and her hand left her breast and tracked downwards, while the other one exposed more of her flesh, as she slowly opened her dress. Harry's throat tightened as he saw Hermione's ribs, her belly button, the soft swell at the top of her hips. The lines of her pelvis shone like the guiding lights to a secret paradise ... and Harry had a ticket to enter.

Hermione undid the final buttons and let her wedding dress fall completely open ... and all Harry could do was stare in absolute wonder.

For Harry Potter had seen many sights in his life ... some beautiful, some ugly, some downright depraved and horrific ... but this was of a class never before visited by his gaze ... for this was divine. Hermione was completely naked now, her soft skin lit by the subdued light of the candles, flecked with the pinpricks of goosebumps, either from the cool air or her own modesty. It was a vision that defied worthy description.

Hermione let Harry gaze at her a moment, then her left hand returned to cup her breast, while the right scratched through the triangle of dark stubble between the tops of her thighs and found the astonishing moistness between the folds of her labia. Harry blinked at it, watched as the candlelight caught the glistening fluid as it coated Hermione's busy fingers. His expression was dark and wanton, and the possessive passion there turned Hermione's belly to a swirling torrent of liquid, one just dying to gush out.

And at the very thought, it did ... as Hermione rose and peaked and lost control again. She panted and groaned, clenching her shoulders tight as she braced against the tide pounding through her. Then she relaxed, sighed contently and closed her eyes in satisfaction. She felt as if she were floating.

Then the next thing she knew was that she was actually was.

For Harry had taken his wand and cast a silent spell, causing her to rise a full foot into the air.

"Good God, what's he going to do to me?" Hermione thought, vapidly. "Anything and everything please!"

Harry moved around slowly, admiring Hermione so intensely, and from every angle, that it felt to her as if he were actually trying to absorb the vision of her into his very being. She could see him thinking so many things ... so many wonderful things ... about her as he looked. She was shy about accepting his pure adoration of her form. How could he think all that about her? It was just the most incredible thing in the world.

That was, until, what Harry did next.

Moving closer, he gently pressed the cool tip of his wand to Hermione's skin, tickling her crazily as he began drawing tiny pictorial spells onto her belly. He eased some of his magic into them, and pushed them into her body, deep into her very ovaries. She had no choice but to cry out at the surge of pleasure they caused. It was breathtaking. Harry moved onto her breasts and did the same thing, causing Hermione's nipples to spring up and her boobs to swell with sensitivity that flirted with the painful as blood rushed into them. She thrust her chest out on reflex, begging Harry to give it attention with his own, hot skin.

But Harry just smiled wickedly at her and kept up with his casting. He moved to her inner thighs, her arse, and finally down between her legs ... where even the smallest touch of his wand caused her to orgasm again and again. Hermione couldn't be sure, she'd have to do some research on it, but she was reasonably convinced that no woman in the history of the human race had ever been in the throes of such intense sexual pleasure as she was right now.

She was so senseless against Harry's new magic that she didn't even know what planet she was on anymore.

And Harry wasn't even touching her! Though she was exhilarated to think of what it would be like when he did. For he had turned his wand on himself now, drawing yet more runes onto his hands and fingers, his tongue, even dipping his wand beneath his robe to draw on his cock. Hermione felt sure she was going to lose consciousness with the rabid anticipation, with the promise of what was about to slam into her.

She just knew she'd pass out when Harry eventually got around to fucking her.

But, first off, he was just going to taste every single inch of her it seemed. Hermione expected Harry to move in for a kiss, but he swerved away and started at her neck, nibbling at her skin and driving her crazy, before sucking on her earlobes and flicking his tongue against that absurdly sensitive piece of flesh just behind it. Hermione blinked at the rush of pleasure, desperate to stay cogent for this. But it was going to be a hard run thing.

Then Harry moved, finally, down to Hermione's chest, with a trail of hot little kisses across her collarbone. He licked up the outside of her right breast, which was so sexily ticklish that Hermione almost came again just from the contact there. Then Harry just let his mouth hover over her erect nipple, his hot breath against her skin sending her stupid a moment. He flicked his eye to hers, moistened his tongue in readiness, gave her a dirty little wink ... and moved in slowly.

Harry knew what was coming, what was about to happen. Hermione didn't. She was hopelessly unprepared.

For as soon as Harry's tongue touched her nipple, and the runic spells on each met, Hermione exploded in a screaming orgasm of such ferocious intensity that she caused the bookcase covering the door to the alchemy cell to completely shatter. Books and ripped pages cascaded to the floor, some flew out and smashed into the walls opposite, as raw magic and pleasure burst free from Hermione in pulsating waves. It was so overwhelming that she had to wandlessly push Harry's head away from her a moment, just to strive for a few lungfuls of clean air.

Hermione snapped her head around to stare at him.

"Are you f-fucking kidding me?" she panted out. "You could have warned me!"

"And missed that look on your face!" Harry chortled in reply. "You asked for a sex ritual as a wedding present ... I'm only doing what my wife told me to."

"You are, you are," Hermione agreed, gulping hard. "This is all my fault."

"More?"

"Oh fucking hell, yes!"

Harry clamped his mouth down onto Hermione's other breast, sucking her entire areola hungrily into his mouth and flicking her nipple deftly with the hot, wet, slightly contoured skin of his tongue. The change in texture sent Hermione into wild raptures yet again. There was a distant tinkle of breaking china in the Seventh Floor breakfast room, as Hermione's arousal spilled out of her once more, and Harry looked up in mild amusement. The wards and runes were clearly supposed to contain their passion for much longer than this. But it couldn't be helped.

They'd just have to face the consequences in the morning ... and hope they still had a Palace left to call home.

Harry moved away from Hermione's breasts and resumed his hot kisses on a downward trajectory. He took his time, too, moving diligently and methodically, left and right, driving her to the edge of a mental breakdown. She writhed and arched and made such filthy keening sounds that she hadn't thought herself capable of before. The delicious frustration at being restrained and under Harry's magical mercy was turning her feral.

Hermione hadn't expected to find this so hot. She felt racily naughty, like she was flirting with the forbidden by conceding control of her body to someone again, considering the life she'd led over the past few years. But she decided there and then that this was Harry she was with, and that she was so, so safe ... so fuck expectations.

She was intoxicated on her own arousal, breathless with pleasure, and the only movement she was interested in was Harry and his searing mouth, as it inched tantalisingly lower and lower down her body.

And her language was appalling. The torrent of utter filth coming out of her mouth, well ... if the others could see and hear her now! ... she wouldn't be able to look any of them in the face ever again. White Queen indeed! She was actually terrified of what would come out of her mouth when Harry eventually reached her cunt.

It wasn't the expected loss of consciousness, that would definitely happen, especially as Harry's runic-enhanced fingertips had joined forces against Hermione's runic-spelled nipples, teasing and pinching with devastating effects to her psyche ... not to mention the damage it was doing to the general vicinity around her. The bed had shifted at least three feet from its usual position and several of the slats under the mattress had snapped, due to the shaking vibrations Hermione was causing. And she was still hovering a good foot above it all.

She was sure, that when Harry eventually reached that moist spot between her legs, life would be lost somewhere in the palace. Maybe even her own. But, she reasoned cheerily, there were certainly worse ways to go ...

Hermione had thought earlier that this wasn't a night for foreplay. She just wanted Harry inside her, relentlessly pounding the restless urges from her with each fierce thrust of his hips, destroying the sexual frustrations she'd been bottling up for weeks now. There would be plenty of nights for love-making, after all ... but on this, her wedding night, Hermione just wanted Harry to fuck her until she couldn't see straight.

But then Harry's tongue dipped inside her, flicked teasingly at her clit, swirled through the wetness of her labia ... and instantly redefined the concept of pleasure in Hermione Potter's world.

Harry licked furiously, like a parched lion finding a watering hole in the arid Savannah, before he enveloped Hermione's entire crotch with mouth and began sucking hard. It was like he was trying to drink her. Little pinpricks of light popped before Hermione's eyes as the first joyful waves crashed through her wracked skull. Harry was ridiculously good at this. A natural at his first try.

Luckiest witch indeed! Hermione thought, dreamily.

Which was quite the miracle in itself, as thought was beyond any of her powers just now. She simply floated there, in and out of her body at once, dizzy but mindlessly contented. She noticed that sound had left the room, and motion, too. That swirling magic, like a fierce breeze, seemed to have dissipated into the background, and Hermione wondered idly where it had gone, but she was too light-headed to really be too bothered by it.

And then ...

"Rennervate!"

Hermione blinked her eyes open, getting her bearings slowly in her confusion. Harry was looming over her, looking fitfully concerned. She felt the cool of his sheets beneath her white-hot skin and a damp, icy towel across her forehead. What was going on?

"Hermione ... h-honey? ... a-are you okay?" Harry stammered. His voice was tiny. What was wrong ... and why was she back down on the bed? When did that happen?

Hermione blinked again, and sensation came rushing back. She throbbed and ached passionately between her legs, which were sticky with moisture; her heart was speeding at all her pulse points and she was manically exhilarated ... but Harry was fretfully dabbing that cold cloth to her sweaty brow. And he looked so fraught with worry for her that Hermione wildly thought that he was about to burst into tears.

"I'm so sorry," he was mumbling in that frightfully agonised tone. "I knew this was too much ... I'm so sorry, Hermione ... I just wanted it to be perfect for you, and now it's all gone wrong ..."

Harry was looking so overcome with guilt that Hermione's heart bled at his distress. Of all the things that she knew about him, of all the darkness and pain she knew that he carried inside, to think that he could be loathing himself for going to such lengths for her pleasure ... that he blamed himself for a mistake on their wedding night ... it was a thousand kinds of wrong in Hermione's world. She had to soothe his agitation fast, before it became another addition to his dark, mental plains. She had to pull him back quickly ... before she lost him to his misery. She reached up and cupped his head gently.

"Hey ... hey," Hermione cooed softly, smoothing Harry's shivery cheek. She pulled herself up sharply when he turned away from her in his guilt, not responding as Hermione had expected him to. She eased his head back to face her. "Hey ... look at me ... look at me, Harry! ... hey, I'm alright. You haven't done anything wrong, I promise."

"No, no, I'm so sorry ... this was far too much ... I was stupid, thoughtless ... I just tried ... I wanted to ..."

Harry looked pitiful, distraught beyond the telling of it. He couldn't even finish any of the broken sentences he was trying to convey.

"Hey, come here ... come here!" Hermione urged in a tender whisper, her concerned tone gossamer-soft and lyrical, genuinely, heartbreakingly surprised at how badly Harry was being affected by this. She drew him as tightly to her as she could, cradled his head against her neck and shoulder, and began threading her fingers rhythmically through his hair, soothing him as best she could. She gave him time to let his dark moment pass, hugging him close, whispering soft words of reassurance into his ear. Harry relaxed into her embrace, his body sagging against her arms, and, for a minute, he seemed content to just let Hermione hold him and soothe him.

However, once Hermione was satisfied that Harry had calmed again, she was stirred to sexual playfulness once more.

"Now ... don't you think you're getting off the hook that easily!" Hermione purred flirtatiously into Harry's ear. "You have husbandly duties to fulfil with me this evening. It is our wedding night, after all."

Harry pulled back, cautious and unsure. "What? A-are ... are you sure? What if you pass out again?"

"Then you just wake me up and we go again," Hermione grinned hotly. "We have so much lost time to make up for and I don't want to miss a second of it now. Besides, if you think I'm not seeing you naked tonight then you've clearly not been paying attention to me for the last couple of months!"

Harry grinned, warily and cheekily. "Okay, if you're really sure."

"I totally am ... but maybe we should lay off the crazy sex magic for a while," Hermione smirked. "We are both so wound up tonight we might blow up the whole building if we aren't careful!"

Harry guffawed deeply. "I agree. I've already taken the runes and sex spells off our skins."

"For now," Hermione hummed suggestively. "We are so revisiting that technique, Harry! Tomorrow you are going to explain to me how the hell you even came up with that one!"

"But for tonight?"

"Tonight you're going to fuck me until we feel like we are back at Hogwarts again."

And then they were kissing, and kissing, rolling around on the bed as they battled for dominance, his hands tangled in her hair, hers fiddled with the ties on his robe. They grabbed at breaths only when one of them was at the precipice of asphyxiation, both acting like severed electrical cables, with movements wild and random, their white-hot bodies sparking with raw energy.

Eventually, Hermione undid the final clasp on Harry's ceremonial robe ... and dragged it away in one, ferociously excited motion.

Hermione's eyes popped wide at her first vision of Harry naked. She was going to take a moment to drink this in, understanding immediately why he had done this with her. His body was just the most ... it was ... she gave up. Her stolen breath had taken away any words that might have described it adequately.

Harry was quite as tight and toned as Hermione remembered from during his Quidditch days at Hogwarts, and she'd seen that a couple of times since she'd been here, when Harry had stripped down to everything but the bare essentials for her. But, back in their school days, Hermione had never been allowed to wallow in the beauty of Harry's muscular legs, or to caress his flat stomach, or to nibble at the downy tufts of hair around his nipples, the only hairs on his otherwise bare, contoured chest. So she was in erotic heaven as she swooned at him now, as she reached out and touched Harry's private skin for the first time with his permission barriers down.

The thought actually made Hermione groan in triumph in her throat ... she had done it, she had broken down his walls ... and she felt a world closer to Harry as the notion consumed her.

But she wanted to get back to her sexual exploration of her new ... no, her true ... husband. For as well as his front side there was also his back, and that arse, firm as a peach. Hermione couldn't resist squeezing it, and Harry tensed his buttocks for her with a filthy little laugh.

Now it was Hermione's turn to take a spin at trembling. She ran her hands slowly up Harry's back, across the scar tissue of his old Triwizard dragon wounds, and over his shoulders to the burn that the locket Horcrux had left on his chest. There were other wounds, too, ones he hadn't told her about yet. She traced her fingertips over them delicately. Harry flinched a little at his wife's touch on his more tender injuries, but tried not to show that he did.

"It's alright," Hermione whispered gently, brushing a soft kiss to the undamaged corner of Harry's split-in-two mouth. "I wont hurt you ... I'll never hurt you. Your scars are my scars now."

Then she moved her eyes downwards, over Harry's stomach, dipping beneath his waistline for the first time in his nude state ... and she got her first look at Harry's cock ... and Hermione wildly wondered if it was some sort of late birthday present!

For what a present this was! Harry was well endowed, large but not obscenely so, was fully erect again after losing potency in his worry earlier, and the veins were popping out of the sides of his shaft with the intensity of his arousal. Hermione's own eyes popped as she blinked hard and licked her lips at the sight.

Then she flicked her burning eyes to Harry. "I know I said no more foreplay ... but I just have to ... try and hold on for me."

And then, without any greater warning than that, she slid down quickly ... and enveloped as much of Harry's swollen cock into her mouth as she could take.

Harry moaned at the sensation, bucking back at the warmth and wetness of Hermione's inner cheeks, her teeth, her bobbly tongue where it flowed around his throbbing, insanely sensitive other head ... it sent him into the stratosphere. He clutched fists into the bedsheets, messed up and damp with sweat already, and flung his head back as Hermione increased the tension on him with her pouting lips. She was driven crazily hot by the sounds he was making, as she continued to move her mouth up and down in a merciless, relentless motion.

Neither had noticed that the air had become so dense and hot that the glass in the window had actually cracked and melted. Or that the runes in the walls were genuinely smouldering from their passion.

Just then Harry's body began to tauten. His fisted grip in the sheets became firmer and firmer, until he was pulling so hard that it was turning his knuckles white. But Hermione didn't want to finish like this, not tonight. A quiet part of her brain silently hoped that by the end of this night Harry's seed would be quickening in her womb ... but that wouldn't happen if his seed was trickling across her tonsils and down the back of her throat.

So Hermione gently eased the pressure she was applying with her lips, slowly eased Harry's cock out of her mouth, gave the swollen purple end a little kiss, then dragged herself back up the bed to him, pulling him close as she lay flat, feeling his weight as a very real thing she moved him to settled down on top of her. Harry had never felt more alive to her as he did in that moment.

An electric charge flashed up Hermione's spine as Harry's cock, lithe and firm and springy, flicked and grazed against her soaked entrance for the first time, as he wrapped his arms under her shoulders, tugging her protectively tight. She reached behind his head and pulled his mouth back to hers. Harry simply moaned against her lips. She felt him increase in hardness as their tongues tangled together and it was a startling sensation, to feel him grow against her blazing crotch. It was a positive affirmation, too, for Hermione now knew she had the power to arouse Harry at will.

And that wasn't a magic she'd ever want to give up.

Harry's movements had brought them into a comfortable position and, with a slight readjustment of her hips, Hermione felt herself ready. She relaxed, waiting and eager, and Harry eased his head away as the realisation hit him, too. He looked at Hermione beneath him for a breathless moment, heartbeats paused between them, and Hermione could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. For a second she wildly thought that Harry might roll off of her at this final moment, afraid of the journey into her womanly abyss.

But he just smiled adoringly at her, brushed an errant, sweaty hair behind her ears and whispered down to her.

"I love you."

Hermione felt herself melt against him at his declaration, becoming fluid as Harry eased cautiously forward ... and slipped inside her in one smooth, surprisingly assured motion.

Hermione sighed breathily in utter contentment, Harry made a keening sound that was lost somewhere, as he buried his head back in the crook of Hermione's neck, his fingers pressing deep into the flesh of her shoulder blades. She reached up to grab the back of his neck, his clavicle, his waist ... anything tangible to drill this sensation into her consciousness, because she never wanted to forget this feeling. Ever.

For if she could accurately define completion in her life, this sense of this moment would be it for Hermione Jane Potter. Harry fit inside her perfectly, stretched her out and filled her up at the same time, as if his shape had been designed with hers in mind. She gasped at its symmetry, the sheer perfection of it. He touched her everywhere, on all her sides, causing her not an ounce of discomfort as she was sent into wondrous raptures as she clenched around him.

Hermione pulled Harry's head up then, to chance a look at him, to gauge his reaction to all this. His eye was wide with innocent surprise, all of these sensations brand new things to him. Hermione thought it was just the most insanely sweet thing, that she was able to give him these first experiences with herself ... the only one he'd ever really wanted to share them with anyway. She'd never felt so possessively covetous of anything in her whole life.

Hermione smiled up at her Harry, her husband, threading his damp hair between her fingers as he throbbed away powerfully inside of her, and feeling so obscenely in love that it pulsed warmly around her body, thrilling her as powerfully as any of her earth-shattering orgasms had.

But it was high time Hermione got back to those.

Hermione gave Harry a few moments to acclimatise, to get used to the feeling of being buried deep inside her warm folds, then encouraged him to move with her own motions, thrusting her hips up at him until they soon fell into a rhythm that suited them both. Hermione's mind disappeared to the Moon, swept away in the overpowering tempest of lust that now powered through her. She became a slave to sensation, narrowed her perception to just that space that she and Harry were occupying in the world. A space of ferocious, indefinable pleasure.

Then Hermione squeaked and giggled in surprise as Harry, emboldened by his performance, took control. He flipped her easily into different positions, demonstrating the strength of his physique as he moved her around, ruthlessly pounding her into the mattress with his lusty thrusts, as he drove into her like a human jack hammer.

Hermione could barely breathe, but she wouldn't dream of telling Harry to stop, not when he was stirring that dirty, sex kitten side of Hermione that he'd roused earlier, a side she had always hoped to indulge one day. So she found a way to just about survive, by inventing new gutter obscenities to scream to the heavens, and by biting into Harry's flesh to offset another blast of orgasmic pleasure, and by digging her fingernails into his arse to drive him deeper and deeper insider her with every relentless thrust.

Harry plunged into depths Hermione never knew she had. But it was like he belonged there, was built purely to find these new spots on her, born only to bring these new desires to her surface. The air in the bedroom was ridiculously dry and dense and Hermione needed something fresher. She could only imagine what the rest of the Palace must be like. Then, she got a slight clue, as she glanced over Harry's shoulder at the melted window, which was now little more than an amorphous blob of gooey glass oozing down the side of the house.

The sight made Hermione laugh out loud ... and she was hit with an idea.

She flipped Harry over, straddled him, and he laughed in surprise, himself. Hermione guided him back inside her and began to ride him expertly, rolling her lower back like a practiced lover, until she shuddered to another thundering orgasm that hit her like a stampede of wild hippogriffs and she collapsed atop him. This was getting obscene. Hermione thought pleasure like this should probably be illegal. Harry's magic, and the spells he'd cast on them both, had intensified the natural sensitivity of their bodies to such a fever pitch that he could make her come on command it seemed. A handful of thrusts and she was a mess all over again.

And she was loving it.

But Hermione still needed to breathe, so she slowly eased Harry out of her. She felt him go with a profound sense of loss so fierce and cold that she yelped at it, as though stabbed by a physical pain. She hopped up quickly, pulling Harry with her to the square gap where the window had been.

Harry hooted out a laugh as he saw the melted glass, and Hermione leant out into the cool, night air. It washed over her boiling hot skin in beautiful, breezy little tickles. Hermione turned her head over her shoulder, flicked her long hair down her back, and gave Harry a sultry, wanton look, beckoning him back to her.

And this time, Harry knew what to do.

Harry pressed close to Hermione's back, easing in gently as she parted her legs for him. She groaned gruffly as he brushed over her G-Spot from this angle, and he began moving in and out of her in a steady rhythm, sometimes drawing all the way back, seeing how far he could go, before driving back into her deeply again, savouring the filthy, throaty moans that the actions produced from his wife, till she writhed and screamed lustily again, causing the bottom two floors of the Palace to shake violently.

It was while using this little technique that Harry accidentally popped out fully, but when he went to move back in, the slipperiness of Hermione's body made Harry's cock slide upwards and between her pert arse cheeks.

When Harry's white-hot cock head touched the silky skin of Hermione's anus, she had to bite her lip in her astonishment. Her sensitivity there was incredible, not to mention unexpected. The merest touch from Harry had sent little electric pulses shooting all through her ... so she made a snap decision right there. Reaching around and taking Harry's rigid cock between her fingers she guided him away from her pussy ... and right up to the warm entrance of her arsehole.

Harry froze a moment, suddenly unsure of himself again. "What ... what are you doing?"

"I want to try it like this," Hermione breathed lustily. "I've never had it in there before ... so you'll be the first to fuck me like that ... and I'm just dying to feel your heat in my bum, Harry."

"But ... wont it hurt?" Harry asked warily, though he couldn't help but be tempted by the possibility of being somewhere that Hermione had never been explored before.

"We'll take it slow," Hermione soothed him. "I've liked my fingers up there before, and I just have to know what you'll feel like, instead. I know you wont hurt me ... and I don't want either of us to miss out on any potential sources of pleasure. Please, Harry ... fuck me like this ... I really want you to."

"If ... if you're sure," Harry mumbled, cautiously. "But the moment it starts to hurt ..."

"It wont ... trust me," Hermione cajoled. "Here, just let me do all of the work until I tell you that I'm relaxed enough for you to move. Okay?"

Harry nodded uncertainly, and Hermione began working him around in little circles against her anus, pushing back with increasing firmness on each rotation. Every cycle made her squirm and tingle with a thousand electric sparks at the contact, moaning like a seasoned whore until she was finally relaxed and stretched enough for the head of Harry's cock to fully disappear into her arse with a little pop of suction.

And the startling shock of pressure and deliciousness at the penetration made Hermione think that she'd just discovered a new favourite guilty pleasure.

Hermione tensed her hungry sphincter around Harry's cock and he moaned throatily at the tightness, at the tauten-then-relax rhythm that Hermione was using to adjust to the size and shape of Harry in this previously unbreached part of her body. The motion was driving him crazy, and Hermione was electrified by the new, guttural sounds Harry was making because of it.

And a curious thought sprang into Hermione's mind, as she listened to Harry moan against the back of her head, biting her hair, overcome by fresh surges of lust for her ...

Harry liked having sex this way ... which he'd likely never tell her, as he probably thought that he shouldn't, just in case she didn't ... but Hermione was more astonished by the fact that she was loving this, too. It was naughty and new, something a bit forbidden and taboo, and the fact that they were doing it ... and both enjoying it ... drove Hermione wild with new waves of arousal.

And the effect served to open her up a little more. She pushed back slowly, practically growling with every inch of Harry that she took into herself, until finally, with a jolt of surprise tinged with smug self-satisfaction, she felt his balls slap up against her open, throbbing cunt. For that's what it was called tonight. All its cutesy names had followed her head and her cogency out of the melted window. Hermione threw her head back like a half-feral cat, revelling at Harry being so cosily deep inside such an intimate part of her, resumed her stream of gutter verbiage like a bout of sexual tourettes, and looked out across the night, realising, with a sobering jerk, just how far down the ground was from the Seventh Floor of her Palace.

And then, her fear of heights kicked in and she recoiled sharply ... pushing back harder onto the heat of Harry's cock and causing every inch of her skin to prickle with tingly pleasure, sparking from the nerve endings of her arsehole as they caught fire from the friction, and igniting all over the rest of her body like a swarm of electric insects.

Hermione blinked in surprise as she realised something ... this action worked for her. Harry still wasn't sure if he was supposed to fuck Hermione anally or not, worried that movement might hurt her, and perhaps it was better to stay still and just let Hermione clamp and unclamp around him as she had been doing earlier. She would just have to take control for now and get back to reassuring him later, when she had remembered how to speak in a respectful manner.

So Harry stayed relatively motionless in his uncertainty. To communicate her encouragement to Harry as best she knew how, Hermione forced herself to look out of the window, then baulk back onto him in shots of fear, then repeat the process over and over. So they soon fell into a sort of grunting rhythm. Hermione made a mental note of this for the future ... it was a ridiculously intense way to get fucked. The contrasting stimulations were sending her wild, Harry's moans had gone up a sexy octave, and the surprising orgasm building in her loins promised to blow her head off her shoulders.

Whether it was the pressure, the tightness, the movement, the erotic naughtiness of fucking Hermione's arse or her own guttural noises, maybe a combination of the whole lot, but it proved far too much stimulus for poor, inexperienced Harry. He felt the surge coming from deep in his groin, gripped tightly to Hermione's waist to try and regain control, but he'd reached a natural finish point and there was no turning back. It was how Hermione wanted it for him, and if it meant finishing with anal sex, well ... there'd be plenty of other nights to make babies with him.

"Don't hold back," Hermione breathed encouragingly. "If you're ready to let go, just let go. I love you."

And it was this that made it too much for Harry. Hermione smiled to herself in utter, complete contentment, as Harry swelled and throbbed inside her, let her heartfelt declaration sweep through every particle of his being as it brought his orgasm slamming into his body, and he released inside Hermione with everything he had ... which was a lot.

Hermione had expected that, given that this was Harry's first time ... but what she hadn't expected was for him to roar like a lion when he climaxed, or that his sudden increase in size with every long spurt would send her so far over the pleasure precipice that the final remaining power crystals in the room shattered, the runes burnt out on the walls in fiery, hissing sizzles, and the bed cracked into three separate pieces, as Harry and Hermione simultaneously came, like a pair of out-of-control steam locomotives smashing into each other head-on in a collision of epic proportions.

But this is exactly what happened.

Harry hadn't transformed, which Hermione was pleased about, as that was just too weird a concept to process just now, but Harry had channelled all his inner animal into her. It was a good job he was grabbing on so tightly to her hips, Hermione considered, as Harry's explosive orgasm might have been enough to send her toppling out through the window frame.

Harry gasped hard as he rode the last waves of his orgasm, panting rapidly, before falling down on top of Hermione's slick body, nibbling her ear from behind as he huffed lustily into it, trying to gather his breath. That drove her senseless, too. They stayed like that for a few minutes, heaving lungfuls of air together as they calmed, until Harry lost the last of his firmness and slipped easily out of the supple moistness of Hermione's arse. She eased him back, picked up his wand from the wreckage of the bed and repaired the damage with a lazy little flick, before they laid down together in exhausted satisfaction.

"Well ... that was ... that was ... incredible!" Hermione mewled contentedly, snuggling into Harry and shaking her head with dizzy, wondrous astonishment.

"I have no frame of reference, obviously," Harry breathed back, still gulping for air. "But that was the single most amazing experience of my life! You're unbelievable at this!"

"Me!" Hermione cried incredulously. "You're the one who shagged me like a pro at the first time of asking! How typical is it that you should be naturally good at this, too? You have a habit of doing that ... of being good at things without really trying ... and if I didn't love you so much, I'd find it highly irritating!"

Harry laughed at that and pulled his wife close. "Look on the bright side, you get the benefits of my proficiency!"

"That's true ... I really do, don't I?" Hermione chuckled. "Just wait till I tell Ennie! She'll probably be so wild with jealousy that I really am the luckiest witch alive that she might not talk to me for a full month!But you being so good at sex without even practising is still a bit annoying!"

"Well, maybe I just had a great teacher," Harry suggested, honestly.

Hermione smiled deeply. That wasn't a compliment she had been expecting. She had hoped that she and Harry would be sexually compatible ... to compliment all of the other ways in which they were so perfectly suited ... but this flawlessness of symmetry was beyond even her wildest dreams. And for Harry to just come out and say how good she was for him, well ... it set her heart and loins to dreamy flutters.

Hermione reached over and lovingly brushed Harry's sweaty hair away from his clammy forehead. "How about we agree that we are amazing at this ... at doing it together? Harry - you've left me utterly breathless! It's better than even my dirtiest dreams about it might have been! I don't know what else to say!"

"Then let's not speak for a bit, just enjoy the moment," Harry cooed, wrapping his arms around Hermione's slender frame. "Or do you think we should go out and start repairing the damage we must have done to the Palace? I'm sure I can smell smoke coming from somewhere!"

"That's probably a good idea," Hermione nodded. "But, on second thoughts, maybe be should wait until we've finished breaking the Palace before we go out and start fixing it!"

Harry felt his belly stir at the suggestion. "Fancying a second round, are we?"

"Of course," Hermione replied, brightly. "We'll give ourselves half an hour, call Rhian for some water, and maybe some fruit and a bottle of wine or two, and try and get our heads around this incredible day. That way, if we want to get all soppy and emotional for a bit, or have a giggle about how destructive our love-making might be, we can ... to get it out of our systems before we are ready to go again."

"And then what?" Harry asked, mischievously.

Hermione's eyes flashed naughtily. "Oh, I really cant tell you that, sweetheart. You kept that bloody rune spell thing from me, now it's my turn to try and surprise you. See if I cant blow your mind ... or blow something else entirely!"

"Half an hour," Harry parroted with a little nod, shuddering deliciously at Hermione's promise. Then he looked around gravely, at the carnage that they'd already wreaked on their bedroom, and sighed deeply. "You call Rhian, then ... I'd better make a start on recharging these wards!"

"Make them doubly strong this time, honey," Hermione advised, vampishly. "Because if Nev and Ennie were able to cause an earthquake on their wedding night here, I don't think I'll be happy until we've caused a cataclysm of Biblical proportions on ours!"

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