Chapter 44: Wherein a firm deadline is observed.

Summary: Someone needs to go consummate something, sharpish.

Neville caught Hermione's eye and she turned her attention to him, and away from Madam Tang Li, with whom she was having a fascinating conversation about ley lines and chi meridians.

"Please forgive me for interrupting," Neville said graciously, "Your Majesty, it is nearly time."

She smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Longbottom. Madam Tang, I have so enjoyed our conversation. I would very much like to know more about the Chinese observation and study of chi meridians. Would you be willing to put me in contact with a bilingual scholar or two?"

Madam Tang bowed very deeply. "The Advisors will happily grant you this, I think, Your Most Excellent Majesty. We shall be in contact very soon and you shall have your pick of scholars with which to study."

"Please convey my deep gratitude to the Advisors, and if you will, to the Golden Empire for being willing to share their wisdom with me."

Madam Tang bowed even more deeply. "Your Most Excellent Majesty is both humble and kind. May Heaven's favor be with you and your line forever. If it pleases you to consider it, Sweet Golden One of the Highest Heavens, the Golden Empire wishes to extend an invitation for Your Brightest Light of the Morning Sky to visit us during our new year festival, which occurs during the new moon of February."

"I would be delighted to join you," Hermione said quite sincerely, and thinking about Elizabeth's very reasonable request for a cultural translator during her time this weekend, continued. "But I do not wish to misstep, and our cultures are quite different. I hope you won't mind me asking for an advisor who will help me to understand the richness and nuance of the Golden Empire so I do not offer offence to anyone. Do that, and I'll come every year, if you invite me," she said spontaneously, not expecting Madam Tang's response.

Full prostration. Tears. Presumably of joy, given the fact that she was Chinese, and they were somewhat more reserved than most. But then, maybe not?

Hermione shared a slightly panicked look with Neville, who knelt down next to the Chinese Ambassador.

"Madam Tang," he said quietly to the woman who was sobbing in Mandarin. "Her Majesty is terribly sorry to have given you offence. Please accept her apologies or she will not be able to rest easy tonight."

Hermione thanked Neville with her eyes and waited as the Ambassador rose with a grace Hermione was certain she herself could not employ. Neville certainly didn't, when he got back on his feet.

"Heaven indeed smiles on her empire, Your Most Excellent Majesty, and the Golden Empire will flourish in Your Brilliant Presence. On behalf of the humble and antiquated Advisors, I shall presume to accept the most generous offer of Your Radiant Phoenix Self and we shall look for Your Brilliance to join us each new year. We shall dispatch upon Your Highest wishes an advisor to guide Your Excellency who shall be kindly and wise and not too harsh, for the Golden Empire knows the Queen Regent of All Avalon could never give offence with purpose."

This, Madam Tang said all from a deep bow, but at least she was on her feet.

Hermione was just a teensy bit overwhelmed. A deep breath helped. "Thank you again, Madam Tang. Please excuse me for rushing our conversation. I look forward to our further communications, and now I must depart. I hope you have a wonderful evening."

Hermione bowed and then began her retreat with Neville to where Viktor stood, across the garden in deep conversation. Very quietly she spoke to him, pulling him closer as he escorted her around and between people. "Someone needs to find out, for the love of Merlin, what is the Chinese Mandate of Heaven, and why it is so important," Hermione hissed.

"I got the impression that Luna understood perfectly," Neville responded, his voice also a whisper, but less hissy.

"Of course she did," Hermione muttered, but was definitely more relaxed. "Well, no point in worrying about it now, I suppose."

"I'll make a note of it," Neville assured her. "I'm keeping a notebook of such things so neither of us forget. I'll get all the lists of gifts from Luna, too, and the invitation lists from Gran. I know you want to write all the thank you notes, but it doesn't mean you have address them all, nor worry about sending all of them. Have you considered expanding and having an actual owlery? I mean, now that Greece has given you a parliament of owls?"

"Oh my God I have no memory of that. Right. Right. We'll probably need to, won't we? Make a note of that. And check in with the head elf of animals and farming on the state of all of the animals and plants we've received. I'll want to talk with you, Viktor, and him, maybe on the third once this is all over to consider an overarching plan. And possibly a zoo. I think Viktor is going to want to keep the cerberus and train it himself - it'll be not so much bigger than the dogs his father breeds, and he'll know how to handle it without having it eat us all - and I'd really like to keep the wampus kittens, but I for one have no idea how I'm meant to raise a pair of somethings that will get to be tiger sized, and I'm certain we can't leave them for four months when we return to school. A bit of expert help would be appreciated, and we'll probably need a visiting vet consult for them all, too. Luna might know the name of a magizoologist who does house calls, otherwise talk to Charlie, he might have a lead or two.

"Neville, I'm so glad you've decided to move in when we return in July. All the same, you should still consider your part-time mastery options. Lord knows I'm going to be studying half the time anyway."

"Don't worry, Ma'am. I'm on it."

"I hate that," Hermione pointed out.

"We're in public, and we agreed. Ma'am," he added, with a grin.

"So we are, Mr. Longbottom, so we are," she admitted.

"Master Harris, how lovely to see you," Hermione greeted. Neville let go of her arm and took a step back, but remained in case he was needed, possibly to expedite another conversation.

Her blood magic tutor bowed deeply and when he rose, he had a smile on his face. "Your Majesty. I was just speaking with His Highness about a prospective mastery. I'm very impressed with his grasp on the subject matter and would be happy to arrange a part-time mastery for him."

Hermione smiled back. "I look forward to hearing his thoughts on the matter," she said diplomatically.

"I would be honored to study under you, Master Harris. Thank you for your gracious offer."

"Think nothing of it, sir," the master replied. "It is a gift to find two such eager students in a subject that is so largely misunderstood in this country."

"Well, I'm afraid I must tear my husband away. Please forgive us," Hermione said with a smile.

"You may expect my owl after the holidays," Viktor said, inclining his head in what Hermione couldn't help but notice was an effortlessly regal fashion.

Dear God, he was beautiful. Hermione really needed to get him in a bed as quickly as possible. Preferably their own.

Neville, bless his heart, escorted them out the nearest crimson curtain, through a blissfully non-emotive orgy room and then past the milling crowds of people outside Concordia. Hermione could dimly hear that there was both a pick-up game of quidditch going on and that Wyrd Sisters was playing a longer set than they usually did if they were still playing two and a half hours after their start time, but then they passed through the much smaller groups of people in the Great Room of the Curtain, all resident guests of the couple. Neville left them at the foot of the stairs with a cheeky comment and Hermione's fingers pressed on Viktor's arm. Their room, now officially named The Monarch of Avalon's Suite but really just referred to as the Master Suite, and duly enlarged by the elves in ways neither one had really expected at first, was at the top of the grand staircase as it went up, curved around, and went up further still.

Hermione walked into the room, past the door that Viktor held open, only to see dozens of both white and red roses around the room. The scent was just stunning, calming and invigorating, both. She turned back to him and smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

He smiled and pulled his wand and removed the charm to help him maintain his gentleman's composure. Hermione watched as his eyes dilated and narrowed at the same time. It made him look predatory, and God help her, that turned her on so much.

"My dearest, most beautiful wife," he began, walking slowly closer, taking his cloak off and tossing it back toward the wall, where it just hung neatly. "You cannot know how radiant and exquisitely, heart-breakingly lovely you are tonight." He gently removed her cloak from around her shoulders and tossed it behind him, to receive the same treatment as his own. Hermione watched bemused, and still wanted to learn the charm. Maybe. Later.

Hermione smiled at him. "I will, if you tell me," she said.

He smirked, took her face in his hands and caressed her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. "You know," he began. "It was the one thing I regretted about that first year with you. The only thing, really. My heart was bursting with love and passion and longing to be only near you, to only know your smile, to bask in the warmth of your heart. Yes, I dreamed about more, but those were the foolish dreams of the young. My one regret was that though I would have died for you, or lived for you, though I would have risked censure and courted you even at fifteen, my English was so dreadful and I was so nervous around you that you never knew. You never knew. How could you have? So I left you, uncertain, with part of my heart unwittingly in your hand, and I spent every extra moment learning English. I practiced. I took tutors. I read books in English aloud for hours and hours. I spoke only English at home for the last two years, and yes, the wedding that summer was a disappointment, but my heart was assuaged in a way when the attack occurred, because then your actions made sense. I saw you. I saw you grab your friends and escape and I prayed then that you would survive, and that the war would end quickly. And for a war, it did. And throughout all of this, I practice English, and it becomes my beacon of hope that you will survive, that I will have a chance to tell you, Hermione. To say in words you can understand, and so this is my gift to you. You have received many gifts today, most of them beyond imagination. Gifts that I could never give you, even if I wished to. So I will give you what only I can.

"My gift to my Queen is my words. I will always tell you what you mean to me. I will always tell you the truth. I will never argue with you in public. Even when we disagree, I will continue to love you. I will never leave you."

Hermione sniffled a bit, but there were no tears as yet. "Thank you, Viktor. I'm honored to receive your words and your devotion alike. I love you so much. Thank you for marrying me."

He kissed her gently and she sighed into it, having craved this closeness on and off all day. The night before there had been no orgasms for either of them. She had been so nervous that Viktor had insisted she submit to a massage at his hands, and that was the last thing she remembered. At some point in the middle of the night she rolled over and snuggled into his warmth, and then there was nothing else until they woke with the sun, much later than either of them usually slept.

"So now I may tell you, my own Myon. I have seen the first glimmering of this beauty in you before, this quiet radiance, but now it blinds me and gives me new eyes to see you and all the world differently. The awe of it strikes me at my core and crumbles the false foundation on which I had built a castle of assumptions. I thought I knew what goodness was, what love was, but I bask in your presence and I am quietly taught another way. I do not have words for what is happening inside of me, but I know that it nurtures only more love for you. At seventeen I was bursting with love for you, but that was because my cup was too small. Now I am an ocean, a boundless sea filled with love and hope, peace and relief, and such happiness, such joy. The saints speak of divine union, of being able to see a vision of God in the other, and I know finally of what they speak. It is not romance, or a school boy crush of unrequited passion. It is all, and all in all, and it has changed me, as it has changed you. It has changed how I see others. It has changed everything, Myon. You have changed everything."

There were tears now.

"Thank you, Viktor," Hermione said, humbled. On one of Viktor's bad days she couldn't match his eloquence, and she certainly couldn't today. "Thank you," she whispered again.

He kissed her then, and she sighed. The feel of his lips and his hands was more soothing than inflaming after his beautiful words.

When he broke the kiss off and moved his hands away from her face, smoothing them down her arms, she moaned a little.

"Let us remove some of this formality, Myon," he said, gently pulling her toward her dressing table. She sat down on the little bench before it and he stood directly behind her, against her back, pressing firmly. He took her crown off and placed it gently to one side, and then took his own gold circlet off. They both removed the torcs they wore and put them on the other side of the table. Hermione took her earrings off, and then her bracelets and watch off. While she did so, Viktor ended the spells that had kept her braids in perfect condition for the last eight hours, which Narcissa had wandlessly recast for her after she took her Seat. He slowly unwound the braids, working his fingers through her hair and then massaging her scalp gently.

Hermione relaxed against him and when he stopped and took up her hands, removing all her rings and setting them one by one on the table in front of them, she stopped him.

Her breath caught nervously. "Aren't I supposed to wear them all the time?"

"No. Not for sleep. Not if they bother you. I cannot wear rings while I practice, or play, or train. You should not wear when you run. If you feel unsafe, keep your portkey set with you, but the hands swell, and even resizing rings are not always so good." While he said this, he massaged her fingers and something unwound in Hermione. She wasn't on the run anymore. Maybe she really was safe, now.

And somehow, knowing that Viktor was going to raise the most fearsome guard dog known to antiquity or modernity was deeply comforting to Hermione. The presence of magical tigers and full kneazles who would likely boss the dog around, the dog that was five to fifty times their size, was also such a comforting thought.

She smiled, realizing they were probably all snoozing in a giant pile in and around Crookshanks, whether he liked it or not, all five of them.

"Thank you for taking such good care of me, Viktor," Hermione said quietly.

He smiled, a small crooked thing. "This, too, I have longed to do. The quiet, domestic moments which are so intimate. We have had a taste of this already, yes. But until this last week, not entirely."

Hermione smiled again and took a deep breath. She turned and as she did so, Viktor took a step back so she could rise easily. His hands touched her bare skin at her throat, his fingers skimmed over her collarbone and followed the neckline down and around.

"What if we mess up the rituals tonight?" she asked, her hands rubbing gently on his sides, just above his hips.

"I am not worried about this," he stated plainly, leaning down to kiss her neck.

"No, really Viktor. It's been such a day and the clock is running and we can't use the time turner and I don't know if I can even unwind enough to manage a single orgasm, much less an extremely specifically timed one."

"Bath, then," he said, walking her slowly backwards, still kissing her neck.

"Viktor! Address the issue!" Hermione had moved her arms around his shoulders, but now she swatted at them.

He didn't pause his kissing, but he did speak in between kisses as he walked her backwards baby step at a time. "We have just done a very intense blood ritual." A pause for some licking and sucking and just a tiny bit of wriggling on Hermione's part. "And in it were the things that we had wanted to accomplish here, tonight. Essentially." More sucking. A bit of whining, but only a bit. "Safety. Peace." He released her belt and let it fall and then started inching her dress up her hips. "So, unless you have a burning desire to do a different version." He pulled the dress over her head and draped it on the dressing screen they were passing. "Which we could certainly discuss." He paused to pull his tunic off and toss it somewhere behind him. "While I bring you off in the bath." He kissed her mouth and she moaned into his, and it was possible he fumbled his arm holster off while his arms were around her. "It really isn't a problem." He shucked his trousers off and they were flung. Somewhere. "So I am not worried," he finished, stepping into the bath and sitting down, holding out a hand to her so she could join him and sit in front of him.

She stepped in and hissed. The water was deliciously hot and when she sunk down and sat, leaning back against Viktor's chest in the chest-high water her moan was long and drawn out.

"See? Hot water is good for all ills." His arms came around her and held her close to him.

"Ungh."

"That is exactly sound I wish to hear," he said, shifting again, and pulling her hair back into a quick and loose braid, possibly so it wouldn't go up his nose. Hermione couldn't blame him.

"Remind me of our other options? I mean, the nice ones?" she asked.

"Rampant fecundity, controlled fecundity, multiple births. Those are the only ones I think are within our reach tonight."

"The thought of giving birth six or seven or eight times makes me want to run away and hide," Hermione admitted. She could feel Viktor nodding behind her.

"The thought of you in the danger of childbirth six or seven or eight times makes me want to run away and hide," Viktor agreed.

"But we should probably have more than two, which was my previously considered number. I mean, there's a lot of legacy to continue on."

"How do you feel about twins, Myon?"

"As long as we don't dress them the same and name them cutsey matching names. Cutsey matching names are for pets, not children."

"Is that a yes to a few sets of twins, then?"

"I like it better than the alternative. What's the ritual like? I admit that I just skipped over all the fecundity ones."

Viktor tisked at her, but soothed her with his hands, which he had soaped, and started to wash bits of her.

"Is maybe easiest for us. One penetration, two orgasms. Only one of us needs to sing and draw the blood, and I can do that. Orgasm needs to be within moments of each other, and the closer together, the better. And the one penetration is my tongue, here," he said his no-longer-soapy fingers pressing past her lower lips and rubbing against her clit and into her fairly moist channel.

"Oh. Well. Yes, that does sound feasible," Hermione said, melting against him in the hot water as his finger worked some beautiful magic as it came back out toward her clit and said hello. She groaned and shifted around in slow motion in the water. "Oh, Viktor, oh, yes."

"Mm," he responded, satisfaction clear in his tone. "Added benefit of getting us both ready for a longer set of the forbidden dance," he said whispering in her ear and caressing her side, just beneath her breast, even as one hand was between her legs. "I know you've longed to hold me tight inside of you, squeezing down on me, riding me, screaming out your pleasure without holding back as you pull me deeper and deeper in. I know you've craved it, to have an orgasm with a part of me inside of you, loving you, part of you. It's a momentary magic all its own."

"Yes, yes, oh, yes. And, and, you? Tell me your fantasies."

He groaned. "I want to be inside of you so much, it's maddening. A hundred different positions. A thousand different ways. I could not use the charm during the ritual, and it was so overwhelming. I wanted to take you right then, the moment you took your Seat. I wanted to pull you down into the grass and devour you, rut inside of you, wrapped in the power of that ley line which is ours, now. And I can feel it, here. It runs through our chamber, through our bed. Can you feel it?"

"Oh my God, is that what that is? I thought it was just the flowers!"

"Mm," he confirmed, part way between a moan and a groan. "It is so strong we're twenty feet away and we can feel it. And when you orgasm around my tongue, lying on our bed and wrapped in its power, it will flare and everyone who is near it will feel it, Myon."

Hermione thrashed against his hand, and he held her tight, his finger moving fast.

"And when I pound into you," he whispered, still holding her tight as she whined and moaned, "finally, finally, my weight on yours, your legs wrapped around my waist, the power of the line caressing us as we join and reach for pleasure, our power will feed into it, and it into us, I wonder what it will be like to be in the courtyard of Concordia, all those dignitaries right on top of our ley line. Will they know why they feel so effervescent? So awake, so alive, so happy?"

Hermione mewed in discontent. "Less sexy," she complained. "Go back to the sexy."

Viktor chuckled and leaned around to nibble on her ear for a moment. "Did you want to hear," he whispered softly, so softly, "about my cock? In your pussy?"

"Yes," she moaned.

"Have you pictured it, Myon?"

"Yes," she hissed.

"On our couch in your study in the Pendragon Suite?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Are you riding me as I sit there?" he asked her quietly, gently, slowly, his hands and fingers rubbing and holding her. "Do I have you bent over one of the arms, standing behind you and holding your hips as I thrust? Am I eating you out as you half recline? Or am I pounding into you in that same position? Am I holding your hair back as you suck me off while I sit there? Are we all curled up together while I gently fuck you from behind? Are we curled a different way, my cock in your mouth and my tongue in your pussy? Am I just fingering you under a blanket as you're curled up in my lap? Are you sitting on my lap facing away from me and slowly grinding me into bliss? Are you kneeling face down on the cushions with me behind you slowly grinding into you, going deeper, deeper, deeper?"

"Ungh…"

"Do you want to know what it feels like, all those beautiful, strong muscles of yours, to squeeze my cock and milk it dry, dry until the next time, and the next, and the next, time after time, day after day? Not a day will go by I won't want you riding me, I won't want to thrust up into you, to hear you moan my name. Not a day has gone by since I met you at the World Cup that I haven't wrapped my fist around my cock and come, thinking of you. And the last three months have done nothing but increase my appetite. I want you all night long, Myon. All night. Every night. Forever."

Hermione's body, which had been tensing more and more, was now entirely stiff. She was panting, all her muscles engaged, and then she burst in relief and orgasm. After a very long moment she sagged against him and moaned.

A long time of quiet later and her head lolled on his shoulder. She moaned before she spoke, her voice somehow a little scratchy. "All of that, was all of that true, Vitya?"

"Always. Some truth in fantasy. Some truth in past. Some truth in desire."

She moaned again, arching her back and stretching, and then sighing as she settled back into him in the hot water that was so soothing she could just fall asleep right there. "I like it when you talk like that. Your voice. It's so deep, I can feel it inside of me. And... I love your accent," she admitted, and he smiled behind her. "The way your tongue curls around the vowels, your rolled 'r's, and sometimes your 'w's come out like 'v's instead. The occasional dropped pronoun."

"You know, I try very hard to speak exactly right. This is not a very fine compliment," he pointed out gamely.

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" She wiggled and scooted and hoisted herself up by the sides so she could turn around and kneel in front of him. She leaned in and kissed him, one hand braced on the side of the tub, one hand on his shoulder. "I love it. It's you. My God, Viktor, English is your fifth language!"

"And now my strongest, besides Bulgarian."

"Just, please don't lose your accent. That's all I'm saying. I can't spontaneously compose a sonnet to it, but I love it just as much as if I could. Which I can't. So just imagine I did and spouted off incredible eloquence concerning your voice, and now you're so impressed you'll just keep your accent."

He raised one eyebrow, slowly. He pulled her toward him and kissed her lightly, gently, and in between kisses he spoke. "I, too, love the sound of your voice. You have never pronounced my name properly, no British person can-"

She reared back in alarm. All this time she had focused on whether or not he could pronounce her name, and she'd been doing it wrong for him? All this time and he never said anything? "What do you mean?"

"Vik-tor," he said slowly, enunciating the short i, the hard k, most of the emphasis on the first syllable, then the sharp t, the long o, and the soft r.

She blinked. Had he slightly rolled the r? He did, didn't he? And he always had. He just rolls his r's, a bit.

"Say it again," she demanded, all seriousness.

"Viktor," he said at a more normal speed.

And Hermione realized that when he said his own name, it always came out sounding like VEEKtorr. It was the way his parents said it. But of course that just wasn't how you said the name Victor in English.

Hermione flushed in embarrassment. She started stammering out an apology, but a wet hand rose and brushed fingers across her lips to still them.

He shook his head and smiled. "You do not let me finish. The way you pronounce my name, is so soft, like a caress. No British person likes r's at the end of words. You make them go away. But when you speak my name, it is almost exactly the way people who love me call me Vitya."

"Viktor," Hermione said softly, pronouncing it as she usually would.

"Vitya," he echoed, staring into her eyes.

Yes, yes, she could hear the similarity. It was so obvious, now that he pointed it out.

"Viktor," she said again, smiling a little this time.

"Vitya," he confirmed, nodding slightly.

"So," Hermione began slowly, a small grin spreading across her face. "All this time, all these years, I've been calling you Viktor, and you've been hearing me speak endearments to you?"

"Yes," he replied, a little nod and a little smile. "I tell you my nickname and hope that you see the connection, but you never did." He quirked his eyebrows and his smile got a bit impish, just for a moment. "And sometimes you call me Vitya, but I always hear it in your voice, whichever way you say it."

"Would you prefer if I called you Viktor?" she asked, pronouncing it correctly for the first time.

"Mm, at this point, no. Not unless you are very unhappy with me."

Hermione laughed once. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you." After a moment she spoke again. "You know, your nickname, it's never really rolled off my tongue. I've wanted it to, because it's yours, but it doesn't, not the way Myon rolls off yours. But I love your name. That does roll of my tongue and somehow it feels like a caress down your back at the same time. Or soft kisses. Or very possibly, and I'll need several attempts to confirm this, but I suspect it might also feel like hard thrusts."

He wandlessly and wordlessly accio'd a towel into his hand and held it out to her, still folded.

She raised an eyebrow.

"What are you waiting for, Myon?"

Hermione stood up and wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out of the bath. She dried herself off quickly and hung up her towel, and then his. Viktor took her by the hand and led her to the bed and when the backs of her legs were pressed against it, he gracefully dropped to his knees, held his hand far out to the side and the handle of his ritual athame smacked into his palm.

He began singing softly, sweetly in Bulgarian, his face rubbing against her thighs. He sliced a shallow cut on the side of her calf, far away from major blood vessels, a cut along with his own which they would heal later once the ritual was complete. The smallest amount of blood on the knife, he cut his own calf in exactly the same place.

He pushed her slightly then, onto the bed and she sat with her legs wide apart and Viktor right between them. He coaxed one leg up onto his shoulder, and she put the other one there as well. He rubbed his face on the inside of her thighs, still singing, but likely coming to the end. The song didn't need to be long, and thank God it didn't have to last until the orgasm. That might be impossible. His free arm came up and around her hips and started massaging her mons and then rubbing not just the head of her clit, but the entire organ as it stretched beneath the skin around the entrance that would eventually stretch around him.

She moaned his name as his song finished. She hadn't wanted to distract him before - doing a ritual during foreplay was distracting enough - but now she was free to do so. And it was remarkably freeing, knowing she didn't have to use his nickname for him to know how much she cared about him.

It was also amazing, this whole doing blood magic on a ley line thing.

She groaned his name and threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair as the other played with her own breast.

He nuzzled into her, moaning and beginning to eat her out gently at first, but then in earnest.

"Oh, God, Viktor, I don't think this is going to take very long," she warned him.

He pulled away just a little, looking down to the floor. "Talk to me. Tell me when you're close. When you come, I want it loud. Scream my name."

"Got it," she confirmed, caressing the back of his head, and then she heard the knife clatter to the floor. It meant that he'd licked the knife and now had their blood on his tongue. He returned to her and she felt him stab his tongue inside of her, felt his thumb rubbing her clit, felt the buzz of the magic all around them, and inside of her, on his tongue.

"Oh, oh, that's so good." She whined his name and scratched at his scalp. "I can't think… I'm supposed to… But I… oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit… more, more, oh God, I think… I think… Viktor! Viktor! Oh, God, Viktor, now!" She screamed mindlessly and hoarsely and clutched at his head, but she was dimly aware of one of his shoulders shaking as he pumped himself into orgasm, and much more keenly aware of the way he was moaning into her while kissing her in the most intimate fashion yet.

She gasped as she came down, batting his head away from her too sensitive bits. "Mm, too much," she gasped out. "Viktor, stop, too much."

When he looked up, his eyes hooded, her moisture smeared all over his face, he was breathing heavily through his mouth and she had never, not ever seen him look sexier.

"Actually," she said, recalculating, "Get up here and fuck me."

He shifted backwards ever so slightly then sprung up, shifting her legs up and around his waist. He nuzzled her breasts and nipped underneath them, then suckled on one of Hermione's many, many categorized and cross-referenced erogenous zones. She writhed on the bed as he stood folded over her.

"I will not last long, Myon," he said between sucking one spot and another and caressing her hips.

"Do you want me to suck you off first?" she offered, breathlessly, her hands on his shoulders. Oh, God, his shoulders.

He groaned, but refused to move. "Yes. No. Later. Definitely. But later."

She nodded. "Mmm, okay. Still, your recovery time is impressive," she gasped. "How are you doing?"

"Almost there," he said, now latching onto one of Hermione's nipples and sucking.

Hermione gasped his name and then started chanting it, writhing beneath him and trying to get some sort of friction between her legs, and then, bliss. The head of his cock rubbed her moisture all over everywhere and then the head of his cock did a glorious little tango with the head of her clit, and she was making the most obscene, guttural noises in between chanting his name. Possibly she could come again, just from his mouth and his cock doing what they were doing, but…

"Inside," she begged. "Inside, I want to feel it. Oh, Viktor, please." It might not be quite as good as this, he had warned her that not all women could come easily from penetration alone, but she needed to know. She needed to feel it for herself. And besides, it would drive him out of his mind, if she squeezed him right, and that thought was appealing as well.

Slowly, in and out, in and out, he teased her out of her mind as he pushed himself inside of her then retreated only to push in a tiny bit more. Half way he stopped, gasping. She paused her caress of him and just lay her hands flat on his back in what she hoped was a soothing, orgasm halting manner.

And then he started again and she almost cried in relief.

She had known exactly how big he was, and lord above how big he could get, but she had perhaps underestimated how small she was. The stretch was a little uncomfortable and a lot amazing. "So big," she ended up gasping, and he stopped and looked at her with concern.

"Myon. Are you alright?"

She smiled in reassurance, and nodded. "You're a hell of a tease, Viktor Krum. Er, Pendragon."

He smirked at her. "Is not teasing. If I ram myself into you this first time, I would hurt you and I would do it while orgasming instantly. This is not a combination I wish to have. Slow is better," he said, pulling out and then pushing back in a bit more than before, to the sound of mutual gasps. "For now," he qualified, breathless.

"I like the way you stretch me," Hermione said on a whisper.

"Oh, God," Viktor groaned. "Oh, God, Myon," he said and this time only paused before pushing further in. Then paused, and pushed further in still.

Hermione gasped and he stopped, panting over her, one of his hands firmly on her hips, the other supporting him on the bed. He was almost all the way in and she was starting to really, really, really like the feeling of him being inside of her. It wasn't a pre-orgasmic feeling at the moment, but it might be in enough time. Without meaning to at all, her inner walls spasmed and she clenched down hard on him.

He cried out, his back bowing and his head thrown back and he stood tall above her and Hermione was about to apologize, but then he grabbed her hips a bit harder and with both hands and thrust all the way into her, the last inch or so, and he did it sharply, all at once. He cried out again and again as he pulled out of her and thrust back in once, twice, three times. He stayed like that, utterly bottomed out in her, as big as the world inside her, and she could feel him pulsing. And, wow. Wow. She shivered, the feeling was so nice. But she was fairly certain she'd accidentally triggered his orgasam (oops) and so he'd need a little break.

As Hermione was considering these things logically, Viktor all but fell on her, catching himself on his arms and grunted a little. "Mm, Myon. Let go. Have to lay down."

She unwound her legs and grunted a little at her hips, which had protested holding the position for so long. They both crawled up the bed and collapsed on the pillows, Hermione pulling up the covers over them and snuggling into Viktor's chest.

He moaned and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her. "Are you hurt? Even a little?" he asked gently.

"No, not even a little," she smiled into his chest. "I'm sorry about that toward the end. I know you wanted to try for longer, but it was starting to feel really, really good, and I think it was sort of involuntary."

"Mm," he replied and the sound of it was no less like pure sex than it had been before. "Never apologize for squeezing me like that. Practice using on purpose, yes. Apologize for using it however, no. My Myon, I have never come so hard in my life. All my fantasies will have to be rewritten, now. None of them measure up to actually coming inside of you."

Hermione grinned and shifted. It wasn't graceful, per se, but she got the job done. He rolled slightly to his back to accommodate her and she finished sitting on his hips, the sheet and blanket pushed off and down his legs a bit.

"So. That's two for me and two for you. Do you think if you orgasm twice more, you'll last a bit longer the fifth time, just naturally without having to try so hard?" she asked, her hands running over and around his chest, her fingertips catching on his nipples.

He shrugged and shoved another pillow behind his head, and then rested his hands on her thighs. "Either that, or you will have fucked me into unconsciousness, Myon," he said with a smirk.

Hermione almost tried to hide her smile. "Won't it be interesting to see who can do that to whom on which day?" she said leaning over him and beginning to lick. Really, he had done all the work in their last three encounters, and it was her turn.

He hissed as she got a good spot on his neck. "I had no idea you were so competitive, Myon." He arched his neck to give her space.

She released his skin with a popping sound and started in on the side of his ribs, which made him hiss more.

"In sport," she eventually replied, "never. In all the rest of life, always."

And then she rode him and paused many, many times, drawing out the pleasure and making him wait every time it looked like he was enjoying himself too much, and it felt so good having him stretch her and rub in and out. The next time she moved she added a little circular motion with her hips and it was so nice. Pleasure, pause. Pleasure, pause. Pleasure, pause, until she paused and he began whining. Begging. And she liked it so much. Maybe a bit too much. She leaned down and stared into his eyes.

"Do you really want to come this time?" she asked him in all seriousness.

His response was delayed as she looked into his widely dilated eyes full of sex and longing and finally he answered her. "No. More."

She raised a single eyebrow and a shiver went down her spine and she didn't try to hide it from him as she circled her hips around on his before lifting off of him and slamming back down. It was a bit of an athletic endeavor, and she was privately happy for the pauses, but Hermione figured that if she rode him often enough, both of their stamina would improve.

The thought filled her with a feeling like smugness. Or perhaps that was Viktor.

Hermione rode him again, letting her head sag back and feeling the tickle of hair on her back. Viktor was palming her breasts which she understood he was very fond of.

He groaned out a request for her to stop and she did so, looking at him languidly. His eyes were clenched tight.

"So beautiful," he ground out, now panting, his face contorted in what might have passed for pain, in other circumstances. He groaned and shivered. "Myon, oh…"

Hermione very carefully did not move, even though she had a puckish urge to clench her muscles around him. She refrained and took some deep breaths instead.

It was another two times before she decided to just fuck it. Or him, really. It was hard to keep up the momentum in her own orgasam, or the possibility thereof, but it was a surprising amount of fun, teasing Viktor mercilessly. This time when she started riding him again, moving her hips slowly back and forth, circling around on the downstroke, drawing out the agony on the upstroke before she slammed back down again, she just kept going when it looked like he was really starting to enjoy himself. It was quite nice, actually, on her own account not to stop, because damn he felt good.

"Myon," his eyes snapped open and she grinned at him, then squeezed him tightly inside of her.

Viktor reacted quite strongly. His hips shot up, bowing his body up like a thing of pure muscle and beauty, lifting Hermione up with him and he called out, something like a guttural scream, and not in a language with which Hermione herself was familiar.

She kept riding him, leaning over with her hands on his shoulders for stability, gasping because he was clearly about to come and he got just that tiny bit bigger when he was about to come, and fuck if she'd been a bit closer that last growth spurt of his might be able to tip her over the edge, because it was hot as hell, but alas, she was not nearly close enough. Still. It was a fun ride.

Meanwhile, Viktor was in the throes of some serious passion and the orgasm itself seemed to be lasting longer than last time. Hermione wondered if that was normal, for the second time around. Or, really, the third. And who knows if he'd masturbated in the morning, before she woke up. It was possible. Still, she would have to keep a mental record of this and see what sort of trends were normal, how big the standard deviation really was, and what she had to do to make it as good as possible for him. Well, for them both, really.

Hermione rode him out until he collapsed back on the bed, still astride him, and still she could feel him pulsing inside of her and she moaned a little. It would be nice to come again, to be honest, but she knew it would be like this certainly until he had a bit more stamina, or until he had a bit of stamina and they could manage to stimulate her and keep her stimulated enough to ride high through the lulls.

By all that was holy, he was so hot when he came, though. Almost entirely incoherent in his desire, but still calling her name? So hot. So hot.

"This isn't a judgment," she began, "because you are hot as anything when you come, and I loved riding you. And also, I really want to come, Viktor. Oh, God, I want to come so bad."

He opened his eyes slowly and Hermione shivered. He groaned and searched for her hand with his. "Cannot move," he said in the sexiest growl she'd ever heard from him. "You come here." He tapped the pillow next to his ear with his free hand, except it was less of a tap and more of a repeated flop of the hand. "Kneel here."

Hermione's eyes went wide. She swallowed hard. "Are you sure?" she asked. She was full of cum. He had to know that, as he had done the filling. But the thing, she had noticed, about being filled with cum was it didn't last long and mostly wanted out, which felt disturbingly like menstruating without a pad or tampon and was reflexively not a feeling she loved so far. But she couldn't do a wandless evanesco and her wand was somewhere over there. Also, there were no handy towels or any such thing. Not even the odd t-shirt or sock. But there was, at this point, the odd wet spot on the bed, which felt a bit awkward. So… he couldn't really… mean… that.

His look intensified and he pulled on her hand. "Come here," he said clearly, and yet still in that deep growl.

Hermione's eyes blew wide again, except this time she panted and ground herself on him. "I'm all… juicy," she warned one last time, about ready to do as he asked. Demanded.

"And I am thirsty. Come. Here. Myon."

She scrambled up his body without accidentally kneeing him and called it a win. It took a minute to figure out exactly how her knees should go and how many pillows should be under his head - one folded in half, as it turned out, and she shouldn't actually be kneeling on it - and she had a firm grip on the headboard as Viktor had a firm grip on her arse and was eating her out as one might go face first into a melon if one were truly dedicated to the task.

And he was.

He held her tight to him, and otherwise didn't move at all, from the neck down. But he ate her with verve, licking and sucking at her thighs, cleaning her of their combined fluids and groaning as he went. He sucked on the head of her clit and she keened and rocked on him.

This, this, this is what she wanted, what she needed.

She screamed in outrage when he moved on, then nearly died of pleasure when he continued licking other areas, cleaning her, drinking her. When he finally returned to the head of her clit and sucked she begged him to stay right there and go harder, harder, so much harder.

He did. She screamed his name. The most amazing pleasure coursed through her body as she came as hard as she ever remembered coming. This time she didn't want him to stop, and she wasn't over sensitive. This time she wanted him to keep going, and keep going harder.

More. Harder. More. Harder.

"Dammit, Viktor! Harder!"

And then Hermione found herself gently flung from his face and down the bed and then he was over her, twisting her around so she was on her hands and knees, rearing up behind her and plunging back into her, his cock hitting deeper places than before even just on the first thrust. He grabbed her hips hard and slammed himself into her over and over again and it felt amazing.

She screamed his name.

"Yes! Viktor! Yes! Yes! God, just like that! Oh, God, fuck me! Fuck me so hard!"

She had come with his tongue on her clit and thought it could keep going, but it dimmed a little until he slammed back into her and then she started coming all over again, and now she was finally coming down a bit again, but Viktor wasn't. He was still slamming into her, growling.

Which was really, so, so hot.

Hermione whined a bit and started pushing back again, pushing against his pounding. Then she was whispering. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, Oh, God, Viktor, I could, I could, I could come again, oh fuck, oh-my-God is this a multiple orgasm?"

"YES," he growled and shifted, holding onto her tightly around the abdomen and then rolling-oh-my-god and then they were on the edge of the bed again, a different edge, but who cared, and he was standing on the floor and still inside of her and her legs were folded up under her as he slammed up into her as hard as he possibly could. One hand was on her hip, one was just above where his cock was slamming into her, pressing into the head of her clit with what rhythm he was capable of.

She screamed his name.

She chanted the words, "FUCK!" and, "VIKTOR!" in her own private litany of devotion, slowly screaming herself hoarse as she peaked again and started begging him to come. His only response for a long moment was one hard thrust after another, both hands on her hips now, and the sound of his panting breath, and she thought he might say no, but then he shuddered and his pace shifted, a little harder even still, a little faster, manically fast now and one final strangled, "Myon…" He held himself still inside of her, only twitching and pulsing and she could feel him coming. Through this he groaned and panted and called her beautiful, and finally they crawled into bed, sideways, and couldn't be bothered to straighten themselves out for a very long time afterwards.

Perhaps even an hour.

They had sex again, and again, and again. Then they slept, and had sex twice more before sleeping another three hours before breakfast. Not even Viktor, as intuitive as he was concerning blood magic, and not even Hermione, as wary as she was concerning unintended consequences had figured out that a) this was not normal, not even for a young couple, not even for a horny couple, not even for a magical couple, not even mixing the roses, and b) this had begun during the ritual on the ley line, it had continued with another ritual on the same ley line, and it hadn't really stopped yet.

They had no way of knowing, as of yet, that each couple was making their home on their particular ley line, and that they were the last ones to consummate the ritual, for that was what they had done, and holding out much longer than the others who didn't even try to fight against the compulsion, and whose cultures put no impediments in their way.

Eventually they would discover that it wasn't really about sex, and yet it rather was. It was about living and breathing and eating, about making your home in a place, in community with the other three of your circle of four. And sex with your mate, on your line was the symbol of that.

Hermione's former ley line expert couldn't have told them that, and neither could her blood magic expert, as neither one of them had witnessed or heard tell of meddling on this grand of a scale.

Gelwyn, Firenze, or Mory could have told them, or any of their mates, but of course those would be the people Viktor and Hermione would be least likely to ask, which just went to show that they still had a lot to learn.