Chapter Twenty-five: Wherein Viktor and Hermione do not invade France.
Summary: In the spirit of total honestly, they hadn't before. But they certainly don't in this chapter, either. Other chapters must see to themselves in regards to such tomfoolery.

November 22, 199_
Hogwarts Castle

Dear Mum & Dad,

Oh, the drama.

Narcissa and Minerva both are threatening to bring proceedings before the Wizengamot for libel because the idiots at the Daily Prophet have now started rumors that some will, of course, believe, that I have invaded France.

I know. It's patently ridiculous, but that's the old-school wizarding press in this country. If they can't find news, they'll just make it up.

Of course Viktor and I did go to France, but that was to go visit Grandmere. I don't know if I mentioned this before, but she's actually only a second generation semi-magical (I'm not calling them squibs anymore), which means you, Mum, are a third generation. And the magic sustains till the fourth generation, which means that even if you had married someone with no magical ancestry at all, potions would still work on us and anti-muggle warding charms wouldn't do all that much to us.

Anyway, we had a wonderful lunch with Granmere and told her about us and the wedding and everything and it turns out that her mother had told her stories of the magical world in France, but just stories and so she sort of knew magic existed but thought it was a very isolated thing and certainly not that it was as genetic as it is.

Viktor charmed her in his broken French and told her stories about growing up amid the roses and the dogs, and then she took us out into her garden and had Viktor render an opinion on why her roses aren't flourishing. (He reported that the roses were very unhappy and needed to be sung to, and also the soil needed more of something I can't remember.) So she went and got something from the kitchen, and a trowel, and Viktor dug in the dirt and sang softly in Bulgarian, I think, and I sat and watched, and really, it's a side of him I've never seen. It was lovely and peaceful, and it made me think of what our lives might have been like had Narcissa never written me that letter. We might have ended up in a little cottage in Provence, or somewhere in the countryside of some country in Europe, and we would have had more cats and dogs than children, our cottage stuffed to the brim with books, each of us consulting as masters in our field, and Viktor, tending our rose garden each evening as I look on with a glass of wine or lemonade or somesuch.

It was a nice thought. Not, as it turns out, the life we're going to lead, though there will be a cottage, and roses, and very likely dogs, cats, masteries, books, and children, as well as wine, lemonade, and somesuch. But it will all likely have quite a different configuration, you know?

Instead what we get is this: the press mobbed us at the Portkey Station, because International Portkeys are apparently public knowledge in France and I guess the paparazzi regularly go after famous figures, so much so that we were also met by two French Aurors to ensure our protection and safety, and to make sure that the destination to which we had booked a bespoke side-along apparition remained a private matter so that Grandmere wasn't hounded. One Auror stayed to make sure there were no bribes going on at the station and the other came with us and our guide to ensure all was well. And so now the story is that we were taken in for questioning and were never seen again. Of course Viktor showed up promptly at practice this morning, as he always does, but his hotel is incredibly discreet, and of course the Headmistress has scared the hell out of the staff reporters at the Daily Prophet. We had an elf take us back home from Provence, and thence to study at Black Cottage where we had dinner, and then returned to Hogwarts. So of course we weren't seen again.

Idiots.

Meanwhile Luna has suggested I do an interview with her for The Quibbler that could outline my thoughts about war, peace, diplomacy, and my hope for the future. I'll check in with the rest of the advisors, of course, but I'm inclined to do it. I think I might also start using the different terminology for the status of magic within people, for I can use it with you, but if I start calling squibs semi-magical people in public no one will know what I'm talking about. But I've got to begin somewhere.

And now I must go assure the Queen I'm not up to utter silliness. Stupid reporters. Stupid news outlet. Stupid fake news. Thank heavens she gets the Prophet a day late.

Thanks for letting me vent.

Love,
Hermione

November 22, 199_
Hogwarts Castle

Dear Elizabeth,

Just a quick note to assure you that I have not broken my vows of fealty to you, I have not invaded France, and the Daily Prophet is being threatened with a libel suit in the Wizengamot from both Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as well as the House of Black.

My Grandmother who lives in Provence, however, will be attending my wedding and coronation, and while I'm not entirely sure it was worth it, I am pleased about that at last. And she loves Viktor. But then, most people do.

Still in your service,
Hermione

November 23, 199_
Malfoy Manor

Dear Hermione,

I wanted to set your mind at ease and tell you what Augusta and I have accomplished in the last forty-eight hours. Augusta acted in her role as Convener of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts, and of course I as your Head of House. The Daily Prophet has agreed to certain concessions, in lieu of being brought before the Wizengamot in what would certainly be a very public trial and covered by the brand new Daily Quibble, a trial they will certainly lose and which will be far more wide-reaching then they could ever have imagined, for I retain proof that my former husband had bribed the editors to suppress some news and skew others and I would bring it to bear and so thoroughly wipe them from the face of the wizarding world and, alas, I shall save my proofs for another day.

First concession: remove Reginald Paltry from the position of reporter of any kind.

Second concession: revise the standard retraction policy immediately and apply it to the retraction they will print in this case; henceforth retractions must be in-kind, meaning that the size, position, and flair of the offending and incorrect article must be matched by the size, position, and flair of the retraction. No more retractions on the back page in tiny print and only vaguely and obliquely referencing the salient points of the mistaken reporting. Also, the retractions must include apologies to all parties offended, and must thoroughly address every single falsehood that was written. The retraction must also go to print within two days of receiving verification of the incorrectness of the original reporting.

Third concession: they acknowledge that the original article was intentionally malicious, full of misleading information and base supposition, and will print a full retraction in tomorrow's edition. I expect they will scapegoat that idiot Paltry when in fact he only interned in the reign of insanity made most obvious by Rita Skeeter's reporting style. They produced monsters and then were surprised when they turned out monstrous.

I will say, we have done excellent work these past two days, Augusta and I, and I honestly do not think we would have worked quite so well together had we not been brought together by you. Thank you for that, my dear. Thank you very much.

Yours,
Narcissa

RETRACTION: HRM HERMIONE JUST VISITING GRANDMOTHER
Scurrilous B.T. Whittering, Editor-in-Chief

It is with regret that the Daily Prophet informs its faithful reading public that the article entitled 'Hermione to Invade France?' that was accidentally printed in the 22 November issue of this august print media was sadly not to our sterling standard of excellence and truth in reporting. We at the Daily Prophet humbly apologize for any inconvenience this has produced for HRM Hermione, Mr. Krum, the Ely Inferi, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the House of Black, the House of Pendragon, the House of Windsor, the Bulgarian House of Krum, the House of Potter, the House of Weasley, the House of Longbottom, and the sovereign nation of France, both the non-magical government and the magical legislature and prime minister.

In the spirit of truth in reporting, the Daily Prophet would like to make clear several erroneous points that were made in the accidentally printed article so that our faithful reading public may be put fully in the know.

Mr. Krum is a fine, world class seeker, and the Inferi are lucky to have him. He did not lose the entire game previously referenced on his own, but rather followed the wise instruction of his head coach.

The host of new policies enacted by Hogwarts, that august institution we all hold fondly in our hearts, has been made to insure the safety and well-being of all who live therein. As the Castle herself was involved in the Final Battle, many, many efforts have been made by the tireless Board of Governors, Headmistress, and Deputy Headmistress to help the Castle and her inhabitants heal in safety, and can we not all agree that the children deserve to be protected? Many of our older children and very youngest adults are war veterans and deserve our respect and our forbearance, not our censure.

As the portkey travel system and those who use it is all public knowledge in France many style reporters and photojournalists often congregate when famous people are expected to travel through an area, and sometimes the French Aurors are kindly deployed to ensure peace is kept and the private lives of citizens remain private. HRM Hermione and Mr. Krum were not taken into custody as was accidentally assumed, but rather given a secure escort to their destination, the home of Her Majesty's grandmother.

It has been confirmed that Her Majesty is in possession of Excalibur, the legendary sword of King Arthur and all subsequent Pendragons. It has further been confirmed that in her role as Pendragon Regent, HRM Hermione has already and in private sworn oaths of fealty and service to HRM Elizabeth II, sovereign ruler of this blessed isle. Finally, we at the Daily Prophet are very clear that HRM Hermione has never had any intention to invade any country, up to and including the sovereign nation of France, and HRM Hermione did not do so on the 21st of November.

Good people, we are not at war, and we haven't been since Thomas Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort, was vanquished, in part due to the valor, heroism, and self-sacrifice of Her Royal Majesty Hermione, the Queen Regent of Avalon, the Viscountess Black, Order of Merlin (1st Class), for which we, as a nation, are profoundly grateful.

November 24, 199_
Hogwarts Castle

Dear Elizabeth,

Good evening! It's a lovely day in Scotland, considering that it is November, and I have had a delightful day. I get up at five for coffee and first breakfast, then go for a run with my suitemates, then a wash and a brush before second breakfast. Being Wednesday, I had an early meeting with my Parliamentarian Tutor (he sends his regards, and the enclosed), then it's NEWT level Charms and Transfiguration, studying, lunch, NEWT level Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, and a break before Dueling Club, which as it turns out Harry was dead set against restarting with me. He never wants to fight again. I don't blame him. I'm just not sure I'm going to have that luxury. And so Ginny and I have convinced our Charms professor to supervise our Dueling Club, which has been excellent. There is a small period of time when we pair off and practice dueling in a non-lethal fashion. But really, I'm most excited about the fact that we've convinced Professor Flitwick to teach us wandless, wordless magic, which is generally either something one picks up on one's own, something taught by one's parents, or something one gets a Charms or Transfiguration mastery in order to do.

Of course I could have just waited until after graduation and have Viktor teach me, but when have I ever waited to learn something tomorrow that I could possibly learn today? Never. Never, Elizabeth. Other things I will shove to the side, but not often my intellectual curiosity.

Of course I can do a single solitary charm in a wandless, wordless fashion, though I usually keep that quite to myself, for tactical advantage, and to refrain from showing off. But I can do an accio, that is, the summoning spell. Mostly because there is a spell to disarm one's appointment and I so abhorred the idea of being without my wand (which I was several times anyway last year, and then it was snapped, so oh well) that this one spell came to me easily. But that doesn't mean I understood the theory behind it, but I do now!

A wand allows a user of magic to follow the rules and get something like the expected outcome, depending on how well they've followed the rules, how well they are paired with their wands, and if their magic is present beyond a certain minimum. No simple spells require more than following the rules exactly, being a witch or wizard, and having a decently paired wand. But the more complex spells are not just complex in their rules, but also requiring a certain specific focus or concentration. The Patronus spell is a perfect example. To manifest a patronus, the caster has to hold on clearly and tightly to a memory or thought that brings them pure joy. A Patronus, properly cast, will hold off a Dementor, whom you may recall sucks all joy out of a person's mind and heart just by being near by, shortly before it leans in and sucks out a person's soul, leaving only a hollow shell that is technically alive. The Patronus is, if you will, the unbreakable joy, and it feeds us with calmness and more joy, in an upward spiral that contrasts the Dementor. Oh, but just try and cast one when the Dementor is already nearby and you may discover a new kind of hell.

Enter wandless, wordless magic. For even the simplest of spells you have to have absolute focus, a complete mesh of mind, will, and heart, which explains why magical children often manifest what we call accidental magic when they are hurt or scared. It seems accidental to us, but it was an explosion of focused magic following their absolute need. One has to reach into one's magical core and for a brief moment in time want only that. Often spells have to be learned with wands first so that one can get the feel of it, but after, any spell can be learned in this other manner, it's just about dedication and focus. In fact, one of the hardest transfiguration spells, after a lengthy ritual, must be performed, and for the first time, in an entirely wandless and wordless manner - the animagus spell, which is the one which turns the caster into an animal. Which animal, they don't get to choose, though there is a single solitary instance of a witch back in the twenties in America getting her choice, but apparently a year of metaphysical meditation was involved, and personally, I have no desire to discover that my inner animal is a cockroach or something, regardless of whether or not I end up learning to turn into one. Also, I'm not sure what the point is, exactly. It's not like becoming an animal will help me in my work, or to help support my friends. I have met animagi, of course. You may remember that Sirius Black was one. The Headmistress is one, as well.

Ah well. But I was saying about my lovely, lovely day. Dinner was amusing, as it always is when the two little Hufflepuff first years we befriended on the train come and join us. Their innocence is so beautiful, Elizabeth. And sometimes an unhelpful part of me wants to shake them and tell them to wake up and pay attention to the world, but at the same time I want to protect them from the horror of just how awful people can be when they cease caring about others. And wouldn't it be lovely if they could grow up without anyone trying to kill them? If they never had to dodge the killing curse, or block a curse that would eviscerate them, or worry that if they brought the wall down and killed the ones trying to kill them, if other people would get hurt, too?

And yet I would hate for them to be unprepared, should the need arise.

Well, despite this maudlin turn, it's been a lovely day. I studied all I needed to before dinner, I have now nearly finished this letter to you, and I shall go and join my friends before bath and bed where I will, God willing, sleep well in the arms of Morpheus.

Good night, and God bless.

Love,
Hermione

November 25, 199_
Buckingham Palace

Dear Hermione,

I am glad to hear that you had such a beautiful day, and I am glad to hear a little more about how magic works. How common is wandless, wordless magic practice, would you say?

I have been reading the books you sent. Thank you very much for them. I admit I opened the Quidditch book first, believing it to be perhaps somewhat of a light read and I am glad to see I was not wrong.

It has been a rather trying time for me, I will admit. Half the world is afraid all our computers will crash on January 1st, and the other half seems to be looking forward to the anarchy. I was convinced for various reasons not to have the length of time away with family in Balmoral that I normally do, usually from July to October, really, after a week or so in Holyroodhouse, but I'm feeling the lack of it and it's not yet December. I shall be glad to get away to Sandringham for the holidays, and Charles, Pembroke, and I have already put our heads together to consider the best way to explain our absence over the new year. At least it will not be a matter of leaving one of the official residences and having to make excuses to be unaccompanied by guards. Of course, Philip is another matter. Still. He said long ago he wanted to know nothing about state secrets he wasn't meant to know and I have taken him at his word. We shall see how well he manages, and if he has decided to change his mind.

Your friend,
Elizabeth

Hermione relaxed with a deep sigh, leaned back against Viktor in the hot, steamy water in the bathtub in the corner of their suite, and accioed her book. She was finished with Henry V and had moved on to a reread of Good Omens, written by two of her favorite authors. Viktor had moved on to Pride and Prejudice and had a small dictionary in English at hand which he sometimes paused to consult.

It had become an utterly beautiful moment in their days, this time to pause and read together. And Viktor had one rather distracting tendency during this time.

When he wasn't turning pages, when he wasn't looking up a word, his fingers idly stroked her. Not below the water. Dry books with dry pages required dry fingers and dry hands. But above the water, her shoulders, her arms, her neck. Sometimes he leaned in and nuzzled her head softly, still totally concentrating.

Not that she could at that point.

But it was better now, so much better than at first. Now she was almost, almost inured to it.

Of course, by the time they were in bed, she was also quite ready to play a bit before she slept.

And after the first time Viktor warmed the tub she knew they had about five minutes left. Thermodynamics were so predictable in that way. Hermione closed her book and held it on the side of the tub, Viktor following suit soon after.

"How's the book?" she asked.

He took hers and put it on the table on top of his own. "Good," he remarked. "I like Mr. Bennet. I do not like Mrs. Bennet, who seems quite an obtuse woman, and I find both the eldest and youngest daughters to be annoying."

Hermione raised an eyebrow he could not see, sinking her arms in the water and feeling his come around her, touching her.

"Really. Lydia I understand. I think she's meant to be annoying. Tell me why you find Jane Bennet annoying."

Viktor sighed. "It is small, perhaps, and I do understand it was a different time with different rules of behavior. But still I cannot like the way she does not allow herself to feel. It is clear she has emotions and preferences, but she is bound, as if she has to make up for the rudeness of her younger three sisters. And I understand why she might feel that way, but I cannot like it. It will make for an even harder life later than she has now, for she will keep doing it with those around her, wherever she is."

"Mmm, yes. I think she must feel a lot of pressure, as the eldest. Certainly it's something that Lizzie points out, though I don't know if you've gotten there, yet."

"Yes, I have.

"And also I do not like the idea that gentlewomen cannot work or be properly educated. Then it leaves few options for them and their families and before you know it we have a downward spiral of society as we focus on entirely the wrong things and keep our focus there." Viktor shook his head. "This annoys me greatly."

"Are you not liking the book, then?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"Mm, no. I do like it. I particularly appreciate Lizzie Bennet's lightness of being. She does not seem to take too much seriously, and this is a form of protective armor, I have found. While I am not at all like this, I appreciate it in others. She reminds me of your friend Luna, in that way. And you? How are you liking your book? You have read this one before, yes?"

Hermione suddenly wondered if Viktor would have an issue with her book. He was, as it turned out, extremely religious.

"Um, yes. I have. I quite like it. It's, um, narrated by God, and is the story, well, I suppose it's the story of how even though people may be stuck in a sense of their own roles and what they ought to do and so possibly make quite bad and quite disastrous decisions based on what they think they ought to do, they can, in fact, choose again. Choose differently. Choose based on love, really. And so it's a story about how a few handfuls of these sorts of people, and a dog, choose again, and better this time, and end up saving the world."

"Yes, this sounds very reasonable to me. After Wyrd Sisters and Dune, perhaps you will let me read your book?"

Hermione's eyes darted reflexively around her room. "You are always welcome to read any book I have, Viktor. This one… Well, I should warn you, perhaps. It, um, it plays heavily with some prominent Christian themes in ways that are not always palatable to… Christians with no sense of humor."

"Give me an example."

May as well plunge head first. "The two main characters are an angel and a demon who have been friends more or less since the Garden of Eden."

Viktor chuckled. "Well. All demons were once angels, and the mystics say they will be again, one day. This one, perhaps, takes the faster route. Good for him. Or her. Or it? Which would be best to say, Myon?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure gender is such a thing, but it presents as male, more or less, so let's go with him."

Hermione smiled as she stretched and accioed her towel. She stepped out of the tub and looked back at him, relishing the fact that he took her breath away.

She was staring, but then again, so was he. Their gazes held as he summoned his own towel, got out of the bath, toweled off, then flung it away to hang neatly on the wall.

She smirked. "I really want you to teach me that spell."

He smirked right back. "More than you want orgasm?"

Hermione grimaced and whined a bit. The thing was, she'd wanted to know that spell for a while. It was so damned cool.

Viktor could barely contain his laughter. "You do, don't you?" he asked, and the laughter leaked through his words.

"Ooh," she whinged a bit. "Ooh, its a really hard choice."

Widely grinning, Viktor circled around her and then pressed against her, his hands on her hips. Then he reached out, and his wand snapped into his left hand.

"First, you learn spell," he said, and she could tell he was still grinning. She could hear it. "Then you practice making it wordless. Then you practice making it wandless. This is how Mama teaches me, and this is how I will teach you."

Hermione scoffed. "I'm fairly certain this is not exactly how your mother taught you, Viktor," she said, arching her back and pushing her naked bum into his naked groin.

He laughed and then she felt his lips on her neck, his free arm around her waist. "Minor differences, only," he assured her.

"Coed naked spellcasting," Hermione murmured. "Well, it's one way to learn."

Viktor demonstrated the spell, hanging up the bathmat. He explained that it would be backwards for her, as he was left handed.

Hermione had him demonstrate the wand movement alone three more times as she watched intensely. "Is there a bit of a flick in the middle, there?"

"Yes, just before the smooth zig-zag upwards." He demonstrated it again.

"Right." She summoned her wand, but this wand never quite snapped properly into her hand, with the handle in her palm, and faced in the proper direction, not like her old wand. This time it came straight at her hand, handle first, blessedly, but she fumbled it and dropped it to the floor. She sighed and looked down at the recalcitrant thing.

"Do you need a new wand?" Viktor asked, his tone confused. "That was very strange."

Hermione sighed again. "I suppose I've been putting it off. I got this one through conquest, as mine was snapped. And it's been working well enough. Most of the time." Then she added on a whisper, "But not like my old wand."

"Myon, go get a new wand. Do it tomorrow."

Hermione sighed, again. "Yes, I know, but in the vault there was this whole trunkful of wands, and I wondered if one of those might work for me, but it's just such a chore, and I should probably make an appointment before I go in hauling a hundred wands into the shop, and I just-"

"Myon, stop. Please. You are making something so simple into something so complex."

"What do you mean?" she asked, leaving her wand on the floor.

Viktor accioed their robes, and put hers over her shoulders before he put his on. "Come," he said as he walked out into the suite's common room, picking up her time-turner from her dressing table, checking the clock and then putting the chain around her neck as well as his. He gave them a single extra hour and the room didn't shift much at all with the reversal of time as Hermione did up her robe properly. Viktor then led them back into Hermione's study.

"Mory," Viktor called, tucking the pendant into his robe.

"Yes, Master Krum?" the old elf said as he arrived.

"Do you know where the trunk full of wands is, at Pendragon Castle?"

"Yes, Master Krum."

"Will you please bring it here, for us?"

"Yes, Master Krum," the old elf said, grinning at his own little joke.

Mory snapped his fingers and it was there.

"Thank you very much. Have a good night, Mory," Viktor said.

"You as well, Master Krum, Mistress Pendragon," the old elf said with a smile, and then he was gone.

"Right." Viktor picked up the trunk and walked over to the Round Table, sat it on the surface and then opened the trunk, letting the lid rest hinged fully open. He moved a chair out of his way, hopped up next to the trunk and rested his feet on the chair. "Go on," he urged her. "Pick a wand."

"But how will I know for certain-"

"Myon! You did this at eleven! Knowing nothing! Just. Pick. Up. A. Wand. Hold it in your hand for ten seconds and see if it likes you. Do it over and over again until you find one that likes you, or run out of wands. If you break something, I fix it."

Hermione sighed. Well, this was one way to do it. Perhaps she didn't have to have all the wands weighed before she picked one. If she found one that liked her, she could take it in and have it weighed tomorrow, she supposed, and if she didn't find one she could go purchase one tomorrow, instead.

One wand after another, in the silence of her study with Viktor looking on and leaning one arm against the trunk, she held one wand after another, sometimes breaking things - those wands she put down immediately - sometimes sort of physically revolted, somehow, by the feel of the wood in her hand, and sometimes nothing at all would happen. All in all she didn't hold each one for as long as ten seconds. Often she didn't need to. It was nothing, and nothing, and nothing, until she picked up a rough-hewn wand that was sort of short but quite pleasant to the touch. And when she had it out of the trunk and fully in her grasp there was a soft light all around her, and a feeling that was like the warming charm, but without the muscles of her arm seizing up and the curse being activated again.

"Try your patronus," Viktor said quietly.

Hermione closed her eyes momentarily, pulling up the memory of Viktor laying on top of her, his eyes full of hope, full of love as he said, 'You will wear my ring, then?' "Expecto patronum," she breathed, holding tight to Viktor's love for her, his devotion.

The glow was so bright she winced.

Her dog galumphed around the room before going over to Viktor, rolling on her back, wriggling a bit and waiting as a dog would, for affection.

Hermione looked at Viktor and grinned, still basking in his love for her.

"Thank you, Viktor," she said, smiling.

"You're welcome, Myon."

They put all the wands back in the trunk and shut it, leaving it on the table. Her patronus was still going strong as he took her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly. It was still going strong when he stopped, looked over at it, then at her, he brow furrowed.

"I don't know whether to be impressed or insulted."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "My happy thought is how much you love me."

Viktor smirked. "That makes my decision easier." He kissed her again, nibbling at her lips. "I wonder," he said against her lips, "how long," another kiss, "you could keep that up," another kiss, "while we had sex," another kiss, "and if there would be," another kiss, "any difference," another kiss, "between maintaining it," another kiss, "during something gentle," another kiss, "or something," another kiss, "quite vigorous."

His hand was inside her robe now, his fingertips trailing up and down her sides as his lips kissed her neck.

Hermione smirked. "I bet I can keep it up for longer than you can," she said, her voice accidentally becoming sing-song toward the end of her taunt.

"So very competitive, Myon," he said just before he bit her neck.

Hermione gasped, but her patronus did not dim. "Well," she gasped. "Are you up for the challenge or not, Viktor? Perhaps we should just go to bed and snuggle."

"Mm," he said and when he straightened up his grin was unlike any she had quite seen before. One eyebrow quirked upwards and a crooked half-smile, and sweet Jesus if he had ever looked at her like that in former years she would have fallen into bed with him instantly.

Instantly.

He had her by the hand and was silently pulling her back to the bedroom as he walked backwards, her Patronus by his side as if it were, in fact, a faithful dog. He still had that look on his face, the devilish one. Finally when they were back in the bedroom he let go of her hands and cast his Patronus.

And now there were two gigantic glowing dogs in the room.

Still in her bathrobe, Hermione was maneuvered to the bed. When she went to take it off, he stopped her.

"And have you win when I stop to cast a warming charm for you? No, Myon. Keep it on until I make you so hot you can't stand it any longer."

Hermione grinned. It hadn't been her plan, per se, but she would have accepted that as a win regardless.

Still, now was not the time to let Viktor dictate what position they started in, as it would inevitably involve several orgasms for her while he held off. Totally unacceptable.

Hermione sunk to her knees on the fluffy white carpet next to her bed and pulled Viktor's robe open. She nuzzled her head into his thighs as her hands cupped his balls. He was half hard and getting firmer and at least at this point it was still so easy to keep a small part of her mind totally clear on how much Viktor loved her.

As she licked his cock and stroked his balls she idly wondered what would happen if they both held out.

A tie?

A rematch for another night?

Best two out of three?

Hermione grinned as Viktor groaned, "Oh, fuck, yes, Myon. Ungh, harder." She glanced up to see him with his head tipped back, his arm braced on the tall post at the corner of the bed.

"Mm, Myon. I can't wait to be inside of you," he whispered and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. He was clearly fighting back, and fighting dirty. At this point she was totally hung up on the idea of a penetrative orgasm. She could come practically just by thinking about it.

"I want us to come with my cock buried deep inside of your luscious garden," he gasped out. "And your tongue thrust between my lips. I want to make you come by sucking on your breasts, by sucking on your clit, sucking and biting and licking your neck with my fingers deep in your pussy."

Hermione was almost ready to give up the competition if it meant she could come. She thought about it for only half a second before stopping what she was doing and getting back on her feet. She pushed him toward the bed lightly.

"Lie down in the center, you sexy thing. I want to try something." They'd never tried a sixty-nine before, and clearly it was time.