Chapter 50: Wherein things adjust to the New Normal.
Summary: Hermione and Viktor have a discussion and Dee hears things he simply doesn't understand.
Hermione lay panting on top of him. This was the third night of their marriage and in the brief break from having sex, Viktor was able to think about something else.
But only briefly.
"Never," he began softly, his hands still touching her, always touching her, he couldn't help himself but he had to be touching her if he could, "never in all my wildest fantasies did I imagine we would have this much sex for so many days in a row."
"Yeah," Hermione said on a sigh. "Mum never mentioned this. I mean, occasionally sex all night long, but that was like a rare treat or something. Or so she said."
"Are you sore?" he asked, knowing that she really ought to be, given their relative sizes, and the sheer quantity of penetrative sex they'd had in the last seventy-two hours. He ought to be as well, but he wasn't.
"Nope," she assured him, snuggling into his chest a bit and trying to reach the edge of the covers at the same time. She failed. "Maybe it's all the hot baths."
"Mm," he replied, unconvinced. "I think it's the ritual," he said softly.
Then Hermione was laughing. It was quiet and gentle at first, but quickly she was curled up into a ball next to him, snorting she was laughing so hard.
Whatever it was, Viktor missed the joke. But he did take the opportunity to sit up and pull the sheet and blankets a bit higher.
He folded his arms back and underneath his head and watched with a single eyebrow raised as his naked wife just rolled with laughter. He didn't get the joke, whatever it was, but he was glad to see her laugh so hard.
She was trying to say something, but that didn't seem to be working very well.
Viktor waited, with a little smile on his face.
Finally she managed to squeeze out words, but they were so distorted by laughter he didn't understand what she was trying to say. Eventually, three more tries later, he thought he understood the phrase, unintended consequences. Which made him sigh, not laugh.
"Yes, but Myon, it might not have been unintended," he left it there, until the laughter calmed. When it did, he continued. "The fact that we did not know it, or understand it at least, and did not rearrange our lives to ensure we could be largely uninterrupted for six weeks as Mory suggested, it does not mean that the others didn't know. It seems they did."
She was still smiling, though the laughter was entirely gone now. "Well, I'll have several delicate questions to ask Mory, come mid-February."
She was smiling, but he really wasn't. "How shall I endure all day without you until this effect is no longer so strong?" Even though she was there, beside him, he could already feel the loss of her, after the vacation was over when he would be working half days and she would be busy with school and studying all day and into the evenings.
She caught his eye and her smile was gone, a look of concern and love on her face once more. She crawled over him and sat down on his hips, letting him slip inside. She leaned back over his chest, pulling the covers up over her shoulders as she did so. Curled up on top of him, chest to chest and hip to hip, squeezing his length slightly, she made slow and gentle love to him.
From the area of his neck he felt her breathe as she spoke quietly. "My beautiful man. It seems clear to me that we will be having as much sex as possible. Perhaps this would be a good use for the time turner, just until mid-February? An extra hour after our run, before breakfast? An extra two hours after lunch before I return to classes and studying? And at least until mid-February, I promise to get all my studying done before dinner. And afterwards, as much as we both need. And neither one of us will have to go longer than four hours, okay?"
One problem solved, Viktor's anxieties shifted gears without a single pause.
He rolled them both over so that he was on top with the blankets once more shoved off. He really didn't need them anyway. He shifted his arms so that he rested on his elbows with his hands underneath her shoulders, his fingers curling over the tops of them. Her legs wrapped around him, one around his waist, and one around his leg, rubbing gently. He cast a single warming charm for her and heard her corresponding moan.
Even as he slowly moved within her - his love, his wife, his home - he had to hide his face lest she see his anguish. Because he had come so close to not having this. He'd been such a fool. He should have been at her side during the war. He should have been so much clearer with her so much earlier. She would never have doubted him. Distance would have meant nothing. A single word from her and he would have dropped everything, he would have come running.
And this desperate need to be with her, so much more intense than anything he could have imagined at seventeen, or nineteen, or four days ago, and her corresponding desire to meet him thrust for thrust?
That could have been with someone else. She could have been having this with that selfish asshole former friend of hers and it would be him she would be endlessly rutting with, him she'd be sharing sweet secrets and observations with, but he would still perhaps be a selfish asshole, and he would not try to be better, try to make a good and happy home for both of them…
Viktor accidentally let out a sob before he bit it back again, hiding his face in the pillow next to her as he thrust harder, trying to fuck his way through oblivion and the deep horror that he'd come so very close to not being with her after all.
He was not successful, but neither did he really want to talk about it. In fact he didn't want to have to say anything. He just wanted to make love enough to his wife that it finally felt real, and really his, in a way it did not yet feel.
And so shortly after his own orgasm, and sometime before his wife's, he shifted down her body, kissing and sucking and biting and rubbing as he went. He cherished the taste and smell of her, and tried to stay in the moment, tried to only remember tasting her like this over and over for the last three months.
But all he could think of was a certain redhead. Would he have cherished her? Would he have rather concerned himself only with his own satisfaction?
Viktor was torn between the agony of despair and a raging, fiery hatred that in this unaware moment, consumed him entirely.
He ate her out and felt satisfied, but it was a dark thing, a rageful thing. This, he was sure, the selfish ass would not enjoy as much as Viktor himself did.
Her thighs settled beautifully over his shoulders and one hand was at her hip, and with one he provided a gentle pressure to her lower abdomen. She liked it stronger, he knew, but it wouldn't do now. If she wasn't pregnant yet, she would be soon and the thought filled him with yet more dark satisfaction.
His child. Hermione would carry his children. Her children would be his as well, and not that selfish git's.
But pervasively, Viktor kept seeing himself on the outside. Reading newspaper articles about her getting married to someone else, perhaps, he might hope, only for a year and a day, but still, to someone else. Of getting her letters, friendly only, no flirting, no sexiness, no romance. Honest, but only to a certain extent. Raw, but only so raw.
Could she have healed so well with him only as a friend? Could she have confided in the selfish one so well as she did with him?
Would Viktor have the utter unmitigated gall to court a married woman, knowing she might choose not renew the marriage after a year and a day? Would he wait and miss yet another opportunity? Would she confide in him the difficulties of her marriage? Would he have the nerve to tell her in enough time that he'd always loved her?
Or would he have given up? Would he have finally just given in to the groupies and had just enough meaningless sex to break his own heart thoroughly enough that he wouldn't ever have to worry about it being whole again? Wouldn't ever worry about it belonging to anyone else?
Viktor silently cried as he ate her out, as he brought her to orgasm and it was so beautiful to him, so precious, and he'd come so very close to not having it at all.
The thought haunted him.
Hermione was vaguely aware that something was wrong with her husband. He wasn't angry at her. She'd come to know that feeling clearly enough. But he wasn't happy. Not that Viktor was often what some might call, 'bright and chipper,' though he could get excited about things. But he was usually flip-flopping between being both outwardly calm and inwardly thoughtful, and being outwardly intense and inwardly determined. That was the normal pendulum swing, as Hermione thought about it, for her Viktor. And this was something else.
He wasn't talking. Admittedly, she hadn't started pestering him and threatening to send him to his father, but he wasn't volunteering information yet.
And she hadn't been aware that someone could actively participate in consentual and quite good sex (hmm, excellent sex, actually), and still be… upset at the same time. She hadn't known something was wrong for a bit, but after the most recent round of him eating her out, she switched with him after her orgasm. She still couldn't deep-throat him at all, but he didn't seem to mind that she was sort of uninterested in trying. She was certainly very interested in giving him a somewhat standard, but still quite enjoyable blow job, and that seemed to work well for both of them. And she had always, even when it was just stamina drills, enjoyed looking at his face sometimes, just to watch him enjoy himself. It was flattering, really, knowing that this pleasure was being gotten at her hands.
And that was not the face of a man who was simply enjoying himself. Or even intensely enjoying himself. Sometimes, it was true, his face in the midst of intense pleasure was something like pain, but this was… different. And as the moments passed, Hermione began to trust her own intuition regarding her husband more and more.
Her logical brain kicked in. If what she was doing wasn't working, it was time to do something different. But how different? Hermione surveyed her options, gently cupping his balls and just sucking on the tip for now.
Something where she could talk. And he could talk.
Something that gave him comfort, and/or permission to talk. Which meant either… broomstick sex, or being tied to the bed. Maybe the broom, since he was already feeling bad and tying him up, while it might make him feel better, it would make Hermione feel worse, so that was a no-go.
Well, at least it would only be in the bedroom, and thus not very high off the ground.
She leaned in and gave his stomach a kiss. "I'll be right back," she murmured, but noticed that he didn't open his eyes.
Hermione didn't spend time analyzing him, but went to the corner of their bedroom and fetched her tandem broom. She thought for a moment and remembered the tandem spell, then padded back to her side of the bed to pick up her wand off the bedside table. As quietly as she could she murmured the tandem spell and glanced over to Viktor, but still he hadn't opened his eyes. But his fists were clenched and he looked maybe worse.
She walked back around to his side of the bed and it took three very quiet tries before she could make the broom turn on and hover where she wanted it, but she did manage it. 'You're going to stay right there and hover and like a good broom,' she told it firmly in her head as she carefully, so carefully mounted it. Naked. Her feet were firmly on the ground, her legs out wide. 'We are not going anywhere. You are not moving. I'm going to lean down and touch the handle and we are still not going to go anywhere,' she firmly informed the broom.
"Viktor," she called out softly. "Open your eyes," she asked him gently, or perhaps it was more of a gentle order.
He did, turning his head, and he smiled, but it was not the smile of a man who gets to live out one of his dearest fantasies. It was tiny and painful somehow. Bittersweet. But he was still hard. She could see that very clearly from her peripheral vision, without even looking directly. He still wanted to have sex with her, so this shouldn't be too much of an issue.
"Come here?" she beckoned him after a long moment of him just staring at her, looking bittersweet.
He did so, slowly rolling and standing up with a feline grace that made Hermione catch her breath. Even sad, he was magnificent.
"Take control of the broom?" she asked quietly as he approached. She was quite reasonably concerned about slamming herself into a wall. A rather unyielding stone wall. Both of them, really. Both of them slammed into a wall, all her fault, no more sex.
He nodded and mounted behind her, his body almost searingly hot against her back and her thighs. He leaned them both down so he could take the handle firmly in his left hand and whispered quietly, "I am in control," in her ear, but she wondered, really, when it came to everything but the broom, if he really was. He let go of the broom but curled his legs into the stirrups, forcing hers to do the same. He pulled her closer, deeper into his lap and she groaned. He wasn't inside of her, but if she leaned over some, it would be easy. But instead, he had his lovely, large and calloused hands rubbing gently from her stomach to just below her breasts. And then came the warming charms.
Oh dear God.
She could feel it everywhere, his magic enveloping her, pressing against her gently but firmly, and she was suddenly so cozy and warm, even her toes were warm, but his magic, oh, the effervescent feeling of it caressing her skin, it was momentarily overwhelming because it was just everywhere.
Hermione waited for him to start spontaneously talking, but he didn't. Instead his hands were working her over quite thoroughly as they sat upright, their legs curled underneath them. She loved his hands. They were always so hot and hard and they always felt so good on her skin. And eventually she came, which was not part of her plan at all, but his hands felt so good, and he had one buried in her pussy and one gently cupping her breast, the fingertips of that hand working much less gently on the nipple in question.
He held her quietly as she caught her breath, leaning heavily back on him, one of her hands still up and over her head and buried in his curling hair, fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp. When she had well and truly caught her breath she sank down in front of him, gripping the broomstick for balance and wiggled her arse.
He groaned and shifted, lining himself up to her entrance.
Hermione sank back on him and it was like coming home, but quickly she sat back up again, though she held her hips at a sharp angle to keep him inside of her. She could squeeze him within her, but he couldn't do much in the way of thrusting, she thought. A bit, but not much, which meant he couldn't easily take over.
Well, he probably could. But he might not.
She brought his hands to her breasts. She put both of hers above and behind her, in his hair. And then she spoke.
"Talk to me, Viktor. Tell me what's wrong," she said softly on a sigh.
"I can't," he said, his voice catching on a sob.
"You are safe," she assured him, as he often did her, "and I love you, and you can tell me anything. Anything, Viktor."
His arms shifted and he hugged her around her waist, sunk his head to her shoulder. She kept one hand on his head and the other she laid over his arms. She could just barely keep her posture with her hips to keep him inside her and she decided that she would until she couldn't anymore, and that would be okay.
And then he spoke. It all poured out of him, and Hermione was reminded yet again how deeply he worried about things and how much the inequality of their feelings for each other before they started dating again cut into him. When he was finally silent, she held him for a moment longer.
"Can I be reasonable and logical for a moment, or are you not ready yet?" she asked with great gentleness.
His laugh was harsh and humorless. "Please. Do. One of us should be and it's clearly not me."
"Okay, let's think about this, and let's think about this logically. The war ended in June, and that's when I kissed Ron for the first time. We hugged, we held hands, we kissed some more for the next week, but it didn't feel right. I'll grant you, anything remotely positive felt better than war, and that's probably why I went there with him for the entire week. But, and this is very important Viktor, so pay close attention to this. We called a halt to it after a week and promised to think about it over the summer, and then I went to Australia."
His arms tightened momentarily around her waist and he peppered some kisses on her neck, gentle things as she continued being as clear and logical as she could be under the circumstances.
"I didn't tell him. Both Harry and Ron knew about my parents at that point, but only Harry knew I was going to try and get them back. And while Harry was eloping, I was failing over and over again to get them to remember me and you know, it never even dawned on me to ask Ron for help. Or support. That's just… not what I get from him, or ever have, really."
"Selfish asshole," Viktor murmured.
Hermione smiled ruefully and continued speaking. "And then that whole summer, really, the whole summer Viktor, I was terribly depressed. I mean, not suicidally depressed. I was, in fact, quite happy to be alive, relatively speaking, and still quite surprised about it. But there was constant fatigue and lethargy because of the wound on my arm, I was wracked with guilt and depression, and while Harry and Ginny checked in on me about once every three days, Ron never did, not even as a friend. The horcrux had convinced me that you never cared for me as anything other than a vague friend and language expert, and as a potential partner, Ron's possibilities were getting more and more remote the worse I felt and the longer the silence from him."
Here, Viktor muttered something in Bulgarian which Hermione had to imagine was something somewhat harsher than 'selfish asshole'. Though selfish arsehole was pretty harsh.
"Kindly, I can say that I spent the summer thinking about whether or not to have a relationship with him, but honestly, I mean honestly, I spent the summer resenting everything in my life, including him, and wondering if I should try to give it a go anyway."
He grunted his dissatisfaction with that option, but at the same time, his cock pulsed inside of her and Hermione had to take a moment to have a few deep breaths after that.
"So that was my state of mind at the end of August when Harry and Ginny set me straight about your first courting letter. I mean, it was good to be with them, but when they weren't around, I was a mess. So let's say they hadn't set me straight. Let's say I didn't know you loved me so deeply. Even without the translation, I was so moved and comforted by your letter, Viktor. All of your letters. I reread them over the summer, over and over, along with my parents' letters. That's really all I did."
More butterfly kisses to the side of her neck.
"I cleaned myself up once every three days because I knew I had to see Harry and Ginny, but the rest of the time I slept, ate leftovers, lived in my pajamas, and read your letters without the horcrux around. And I didn't know you loved me. I know I had, well, I had what I considered at the time to be a rather silly little crush on you-"
A little huff of laughter from him. Perhaps she read too much into it, but he sounded rather satisfied with that idea.
"-still, after all these years-"
He grunted and it was definitely in satisfaction, because he also pulsed his cock three times in slow succession and it sort of scrambled Hermione's brain just briefly.
"-a-a-and the fact that in your latest picture in the newspaper you looked absolutely breathtaking didn't help my desire to be a good and proper friend to you without dissolving into a pit of lust and acting like a fangirl."
A little growl. Possibly of lust.
"But I knew our friendship, just as it was, meant more to me, actually, than any prospect of romance with anyone else, and most particularly, Ron."
"Really?" he whispered, and it was a broken sound. She rubbed his head a bit and then pulled her other arm down over his.
"Really," she confirmed. "It was a strange knowledge, and I was fighting it, but I could acknowledge it out loud to Harry when he asked at the end of August, and once I could do that, once I had gotten there, I knew I couldn't possibly be even a friend to Ron. And so I wrote him, too, and told him. Interestingly enough, when we finally spoke on the first, he asked if I was marrying you."
"I hate him a little less, now," Viktor admitted in a whisper.
She smiled, and continued. "Now, logically speaking, if I hadn't understood that you meant to court me, I still would have written to you before I went back to school. I'd been planning on it, just at least so the guilt of not writing would go away. And it would have been longer, because I wouldn't have started it at bedtime, while exhausted and still depressed. And if I'd done it on August 31st instead of the 30th, you know, I would have just discovered about all the Pendragon Scion stuff and I would have wanted to talk with you in person, if only because of that. So you might not have done a sexy photo shoot for me. And we might not have started trading orgasms via owl post with the full knowledge of it. But I would have asked you to come for my birthday, Viktor. Without my parents, it wasn't something I was looking forward to and you redeemed it for me. And maybe the jersey and the way you signed it for me was the way I began to know that you did love me. But Viktor, we still might have had that flying lesson and if we had, I still would have felt the exact same way, like we were preparing to have fully clothed sex and that I was going to die if we didn't-"
He thrust up into her and growled, but then paused. When her brain unscrambled, she continued.
"-and Viktor, the only, and I mean the only reason we got out of the orgy room without having several rounds of sex, I think, was because we had actually already talked about fantasy and dream and what exactly we wanted but how far we were willing to go, and because we were already courting and so I was feeling like a mature, responsible adult who needed to keep sane boundaries. But if none of that had happened? If I was still feeling reckless and out of control, shocked and thrilled to be alive? And suddenly you, you who had fueled my fantasy life for years, you who were just sex on a fucking stick and so kind and intelligent and powerful and good, you pulled me to you to kiss? Or been amenable to one I had initiated? Oh, Viktor. Oh, Viktor. "
He was pulsing in her steadily now, but at this point it only spurred her on in her story.
"Had you been remotely willing, I would have broken that gentleman's charm and fucked you six ways til Sunday. And it would have spilled out of the orgy room, Viktor, because it's not about a compulsion to have sex, that would have just been the first domino to go over. I would have fucked you in this room right here, and in the Winter Garden in Concordia, and you would have told me by then just how much you loved me, because that's who you are."
"Yes, so much," he breathed out. "So much I love you, Myon."
"And you would have asked me to marry you while you were inside me, bringing me to orgasm, or in between rounds, and I would have said yes."
He groaned, but she didn't stop.
"I would have screamed it to high heaven as you made me come and I would have been in heaven, Viktor, because never, never have I loved someone like I've loved you. After several years of the worsening nightmare of my life, this would have been a dream and we would have negotiated just how quickly we could get married. I'd put it at two weeks. And you still would have switched teams and probably to Ely. But you would have moved into Hogwarts a hell of a lot sooner. And we wouldn't have done blood magic on our wedding night, no, but we'd still have the seating ritual and all of its effects. And right now we'd still be having a magically-induced stamina for sexual encounters-"
More groaning.
"-and there would have been no way in hell I would have married Ron. Actually no way, not even in hell."
He murmured something in Bulgarian and his hips started moving, just tiny fractional movements, but after such stillness with only the occasional pulse, it drove Hermione just a little crazy. If her story hadn't turned entirely sexual in nature - where logic had gone, she wasn't sure, but neither did she care - she would have had to stop. As it was, she didn't. Her voice only got somewhat breathier.
"And I would have asked you to visit me on my birthday, Vitkor, because only your presence as my dearest and kindest friend could have made it better. And I would have shown you the Cottage and this Castle, and Viktor, oh, Viktor, we would have walked through one of the orgy rooms. And if you had so much as looked at me with longing in your eyes, I would have kissed you. One look would have given me courage enough to risk it. And I know you would have kissed me back-"
"Yes!" he growled, still with his tiny thrusts that made her gasp.
"-I would have kissed you and kissed you and kissed you, and you would have broken the charm or cancelled it, and Viktor, the very next thing I would have done would be to suck your cock."
One of his arms shifted over her torso scar so he could hold on to her opposite shoulder and steady her as he thrust up into her rather more strongly now, and growling rather more steadily.
Hermione gasped and sighed, but kept talking. "I would have led you to the bed there and pushed you down," she said gasping and loving both the sex and the story she was telling. "I would have unbuttoned your shirt because I would be dying to see your chest. And then on my knees in front of you, in my sassy red boots, I would have unbuckled your belt and watched your sexy, dark eyes go wide. I would have unbuttoned your trousers and pulled out your cock which I imagine would have been quite hard by then, and Viktor, I would have been salivating and rubbing my own thighs together. I might have said something just as sassy as my boots, but I would have kissed the tip, licked the length, and then sucked you down, Viktor, just as far as I could go, and when you came and the taste was bearable and even a bit okay, I would have realized just how easy it was, and just how often I wanted to be able to push you down, rip open your trousers, and suck you off."
His thrusts weren't deep, but they were strong and slow and somehow inexorable. He was still growling softly.
"And then," Hermione panted, "and then would you have pushed me gently back? Crawled off the bed and over to me?"
"Yes," he growled.
"And off goes the sweater and shirt, and then a seam split on my poor jeans and probably my panties too, all so you could eat me out with my sassy red boots on."
"Sexy!" he growled, thrusting up in his slow but strong rhythm. "Those boots are so fucking sexy, Myon," he said, and Hermione had to take several deep breaths before she could go on.
"It would be a dream come true, your tongue in my pussy, Viktor. I would have screamed. Right then. The first time. You would have made me come so good, so much better than when I tried myself, just thinking about you, remembering your smile, or thinking about your arms in the photoshoots you resent. And I would have said all sorts of silly things. I would have told you how much I dreamed about you fucking me, how I never knew you wanted to. There would be other things to say, about your mind, and your dedication, and your love, but possibly on the verge of orgasm I wouldn't have been thinking of them. Because your tongue would have been in my pussy Viktor, and that would have been the best experience I'd had since I'd gotten my wand, and just lately, by a long shot."
"Fuck yes, Myon," he said, his voice coming out a whispery growl, still slowly thrusting. "Tell me more. Tell me how it would have been."
"Well, eventually I would have looked down and wondered why you were still dressed. Would you have been saucy, Viktor? Two orgasms in, would you feel comfortable enough to tease me and tell me it was because I hadn't taken them off you yet?"
"Yes," he growled, and this time she could hear the smile in his voice.
"And then we'd just be crawling all over each other. I'd strip you down to your wand sheathe. But I'd want to touch you as I go. Kiss. Because this would have been the best birthday present I'd opened by far. And maybe we'd talk about birth control, and maybe we wouldn't."
"Yes, ve vould," he moaned. "I knew-" he gasped, and started again. "I knew the spell, if, if you didn't."
Hermione grinned and enjoyed the gentle fucking she was getting as she continued her story. "Being prepared has never been so sexy, Viktor," she purred. "And I might have told you that, too."
"Vould have begged," he growled out, his accent thicker. "Be the mother of my children. Marry me and never send me avay."
"I would have said yes. Without hesitation. I would have had a flash of realizing that I can have a life that isn't a nightmare, and I would have said yes," Hermione said, suddenly having much more sympathy for Harry eloping. "And we would have had sex - quick rounds for you, perhaps, but somewhat longer from my perspective - on the floor of the orgy room, against the column outside and toward the Winter Garden, and then on the grass, or on a bench in the garden, and then possibly in the middle of the standing stones-"
"Fuck, yes!" he shouted in agreement, but against her shoulder so it was somewhat muffled.
"-I'm asking you about that later, but then we probably would have christened the banquet table in the Great Hall, possibly the grand staircase-"
"I eat you on the banquet table, yes, yes, I have vanted this-" he groaned and then bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder. The bite wasn't hard, but the sucking was and it almost derailed Hermione entirely.
"And, and… um, and if we made it to this bed, which we might not have, actually, we might have missed dinner entirely and your return portkey as well."
"Always carry emergency portkey home," he reminded her, his voice still gravelly, before he went back to her neck, and the arm that had long been around her waist shifted until his hand was at the front of her pussy, one thick finger seeking out the head of her clit.
And quite suddenly Hermione was beyond logical thought, beyond telling stories, though she was still capable of the basic sort of encouragements that the situation called for.
"Oh, yes, Viktor, yes, oh, harder? Deeper? Please?"
He let go of her neck and eased his hold on her shoulder, though not her clit. "Bend over!" he ordered her in a growling tone of voice that at this point, almost got her the rest of the way to orgasm, especially as his cock throbbed when he used it.
She followed orders, and grabbed the broom with both hands, fully knowing that this, this was his primary fantasy, perhaps from day one. Except for the fact that they were utterly stationary. But other than that.
He shifted once and she could feel his free hand at her hip, flexing, his chest looming lightly over her back, and then the hand on her hip instead reached just beyond her and gripped the broom just above her hands, and she could see where all those callouses came from, and likewise the corded muscles of his forearm.
When Viktor gripped a broom, it did not go anywhere. At least, anywhere he didn't want it to.
The broom was utterly motionless as he hammered into her, his cock reaching such depths with absolutely perfect leverage (she knew, she'd already thought about the mechanics of it) between his feet in the stirrups and his legs coiled like springs, and his arm bracing on one side, and all the muscles he'd built playing Quidditch every day, all day, for years.
Hermione's breathing was coming in gasps as he pounded into her and she did her best not to go anywhere and just hold steady against his thrusts.
When he sucked on her neck again, every exhale became a little yell and when he finally, finally pounded her into an orgasm, tripping over into his own only moments later his heavy breathing was his own audible contribution to the sucking noises, and the slapping of skin and her own little screams.
And finally the broom moved, but slowly, so slowly and when it was over the middle of the bed, he rolled the broom, still holding on to her tightly as they hit the bed and he cancelled the broom entirely.
Hermione pushed the broom away, up to the top of the bed and away from them. He was still inside of her. Still hard, at least for now. His hand was still in her pussy, his tongue now licking the mark he had undoubtedly made.
"I love you, Hermione," he said, using her full name and carefully and somewhat exotically pronouncing every syllable, as he did.
"And I love you, Veektorr," she said, carefully pronouncing his name correctly as well.
A single snort of laughter came from him before they slept, but she took it and was content.
Fifteen minutes before six in the morning, running shoes on, Dee trotted down the stairs. There would be tea and croissants, he'd been told, and while croissants were absolutely not on his diet, the tea would be welcome, and he'd already downed an energy bar that was on his diet so that he wouldn't go running on an empty stomach.
But Harry had mentioned that a bunch of people went running at six am, some fast, some slow, and there in the Great Hall there were a number of various people stretching and lounging, eating and drinking, and all of them looked ready to go for a run in January. Not that there was snow on the ground, but it wasn't exactly warm, either.
"Morning, Dee," several people chorused as he walked up. Fleur was the only one he'd spent any significant time with, other than Harry, but she was deep in conversation with the Prince, so it looked like he was on his own.
A cup of tea would help, he considered. It usually did. When he poured it out it looked good and strong, so he put a dollop of cream in - ooh, it was real cream, not milk - and he blew on it as he walked over to a semi-empty area near someone he knew not at all, put his tea on the table nearby and started stretching. And making conversation.
"Morning," he greeted the unknown man of roughly his same age. "I'm Harry's cousin, Dee. What's your name?"
"Oh," said the other man happily. "Very nice to meet you, Dee. I'm Neville. Friends of all them with titles," he said, nodding backwards at everyone else as he reached out to shake Dee's hand.
"Right, right, so you're a wizard then?" Dee asked, starting to stretch his hamstrings. He thought he remembered a Neville from Fleur's story of the war, and if so… this was the young man, his own age, who ran an underground school during that horrid war.
"That I am, Dee," and then he changed the subject, but it was all still pleasantries. "So I hear you're going off with Draco after breakfast, then?"
Dudley grinned. "Yes, I can't wait. He's going to show me his vineyard and winery in Burgundy. I'll be interning there this summer. And then in a couple of days I'm going to do a language intensive in his Chateau in Champagne until University starts back up again. I think it's going to be brilliant."
Both men did quad stretches as they chatted about the ins and outs of learning second languages and Dee barely remembered to drink his tea before everyone started making their way to the giant oaken door that led to the outside.
Quickly as they began to run, groups formed. Up ahead was Prince Viktor and Harry's adopted mother, and damn they could run. Then it was Harry, Neville, and Dee, and the pace was a little much for Dee, but he'd maintain it for as long as he could, and hell, it would be good for him. And then in the slowest group was the Queen, Ginny, and his friend Fleur, who were, if he understood the situation, all sort of sister-in-laws.
Dee ran in silence for a bit and when there was conversation, it was like they had forgotten he was there, but honestly, Dee needed all his breath for the running, so that was just as well.
"So," Neville said to Harry. "You have parents again. Almost jealous."
"Whatever," Harry said in a tone that Dee thought was teasing, but wasn't entirely certain. "You've been able to hug yours all along."
Neville snorted. "Yeah, but half the time they don't recognize me. That's really giving with one hand and taking away with the other."
"Point. You gonna have them at the knighthood ceremony? Might be a lucid day for them, you know," Harry said and Dee wondered, really, what the fuck?
"Oh, please. How do you imagine that would work?" Neville scoffed and Dee was frankly glad he couldn't say anything anyway.
"Come on, Neville. Wheelchairs are a thing, even in the magical world. And I'm sure your Gran could strong arm or fund some orderlies to come along with them. You don't give yourself enough credit with that woman. I think she adores you, in her own way. Just write to her and tell her you really hope they can be there and see what she can do. The woman daunted Lucius Malfoy. I'm sure she can get this done for you," Harry pointed out.
"Huh. Yeah, I'll think about that. Thanks. So how are your cello lessons, yeah? I feel so out of it since this festival has been going on."
Cello? Like, the poncy classical instrument, cello?
Harry? His scruffy, wartorn cousin?
Since when?
"Ha!" Harry laughed, a little out of breath, but not nearly as much as Dee was, given that Harry could still talk. "Well, you know, I still squeak a bit, but my bow work is coming along, Mama Krum says. And the calluses on my left hand are coming along, and she says I'm lucky to have long fingers, and that it'll be easier for me than it was for Viktor, but I think she just says that because I can just barely play Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. But to hear Mum and Dad tell it, I'm a thwarted prodigy."
"You still going to church?" Neville asked and Dee marvelled. Church? Harry found religion, too?
"Yeah, I think I might join the choir, actually. Mama Krum already taught me how to read music, and Father Michael says they're always recruiting."
"Yeah, but… church?"
Dee couldn't have put it better.
Harry snorted. "Neville, I really like the idea that I'm not, in fact, the predestined savior of the world, and that it's not just because I fobbed it off on you, either. That's someone else's job, and he was better at it than either of us."
After a long moment, Neville replied. "Yeah, I guess I see your point. Thanks, by the way. Perfectly fine being a Badass with a Sword. No need to be the Boy Who Lived."
Harry groaned and Dee wondered what, and also what?
"Anyway, so I gather we're doing Christmas again in a few days? Like, second breakfast, but with Christmas?"
Wait, what?
"Yup," Harry replied. "Orthodox Christmas. January 6th. Everyone who's not an Orthodox Christian is just giving a little gift, but apparently Mama and Papa Krum and his whole family in Bulgaria have been waiting for this moment."
"So, are we going to church, then?"
"Yup," Harry replied again. "I guess there's a big vigil that lasts forever but most people are only really expected to drop in. Say some prayers, absorb the atmosphere, kind of thing. I guess it's very different from Church of England."
"Huh. Floo?"
What?
"Portkey," Harry corrected. Maybe. Hard to tell. "Sneaking suspicion we're actually going to their family church in Bulgaria, but you didn't hear it from me."
"Huh. Cool. Never been to Bulgaria," Neville pointed out, and Dee wasn't entirely sure he could point Bulgaria out on a map of Europe.
"Yeah, I guess the general idea is 'don't go in January', but Viktor is going to be training on the National Team in the summer, probably, Hermione says. Run up to the World Cup, you know? End of July, beginning of August, and then to the World Cup. Isn't that going to be held in Argentina this year? Anyway, we're all invited. Could be a fun way to spend our birthdays, you know? I hear the Rosary's nice and the dogs are amazing. And I've never been to South America. Or anywhere outside the UK, really."
"Argentina," Neville mused as Dee just listened intently. "I want to say they gave Hermione some extremely expensive cattle. Like, beef, not dairy, but I do think the herd has breeding capacity. I think. Maybe. Hell, I think I need to read a book on basic animal husbandry so I don't look like an idiot. I mean, I know where roast beef and steak comes from, but I never thought I'd have so many food animals around me, you know?"
"I'm looking forward to learning how to ride a horse. Now that Hermione has a bunch, I figure it's a good time. Not that there's room in Grimmauld Place for a stable in the back or anything, though I guess you do still see horses in Hyde Park sometimes, but I figure we'll spend a significant portion of the year hanging out with Hermione, or having her over as a guest, you and Luna and Draco, too. So I may as well make the most of it for my own sanity, you know? Loads of time on my hands now that Tom is dead and I'm not on a Quidditch team. Speaking of which, have you applied for your part-time mastery, yet?"
"Yep, all owled out the day before we left. Madam Sprout gave me a recommendation and pointed me in the direction of three likely masters. We'll see how well the part-time request goes over. What about you?"
"Meh. I just applied to Alexandria for now. I mean, it's likely they won't want me, but that will give me more time to learn more skills, you know? Maybe start learning Latin and Old Welsh. Gonna need that with the Pendragon Library, you know? And then I'll just look into other great libraries come next fall and try again. I mean, I've got plenty to read and practice on between now and then," Harry said, and Dee marvelled at how easy it was for his cousin to talk relatively normally and still run at speed.
Then they talked about the slow process of book binding and how much Harry was learning as he went.
"Well, when you get better at it and are ready to practice restoration on a magical codex, I've got some herbology ones that have been handed down that are in pretty rough shape. Couple hundred years old and they look every inch of it."
Harry audibly winced. "Yeah, let me keep practicing on used science fiction for a bit. I don't want to mess up your family heirlooms."
"You'll get there," Neville assured him. "Do you know which masteries Hermione's going for? Eventually, I mean?"
"Um, last count was arithmancy, ancient runes, ley lines, and blood magic, though I wouldn't be surprised if she slips sideways into a charms mastery as well."
"Five?" Neville ejaculated. "The woman's doing five bloody masteries?"
Harry laughed and where he got the lung capacity to do it Dee would really, really like to know. "If she had time she'd do transfiguration, too, but she had to draw the line at four. The sideways charms mastery is my own conclusion, by the way. Apparently she got bored one day from her regular load of classes, the independent study of world peace and prosperity, and her torrid love affair with Viktor and turned her trunk into a complete beachfront boutique hotel. She mixes transfiguration, charms, arithmancy, and ancient runes so it will all last, and I quote, a few thousand years."
"You're joking."
"Nope. We never would have won the war without her, Neville."
"No, I mean, you think she got bored of Viktor? Has she lost her mind entirely?"
"Figure of speech, mate. Maybe she just used the time turner. Doubt she actually got bored with Viktor."
"Oh. Right. Right."
Dudley was almost but not quite gasping for air. Shit, they ran fast. But he also didn't want to bust into the girls-only running group. It was hard to tell, but they'd definitely gone a mile already, and maybe more.
Meh, it was time to walk and have a nice long cool down.
God he had a long way to go before he was really in good shape. It was happening, but Dee really wasn't done yet.
Without a word, as he wasn't capable of any anyway, Dee slowed to a walk and neither his cousin nor his cousin's friend seemed to notice, but that was okay. He was keenly aware that he was a bit of an interloper in what was essentially now a private house party of extended family and a few close friends. Draco had said they would leave at eight, which meant that there was time for a wash and a brush, a proper breakfast, and one last goodbye to the TARDIS castle.
As Dee walked and gasped for air, making a beeline back toward the set of little magical structures, he was very aware of the fact that it was on a small hill that felt, presently, like a mountain in the middle of the meadow.
A flash of thought that was perhaps insight, or perhaps ancient memory, streaked across his brain. He saw an army approaching the castle, or trying. Running uphill toward the structure with siege engines before and behind should have been not that challenging, but it was like running through treacle with a rope around your waist on which someone was constantly hauling you backwards. In that same flash of something he thought, or perhaps imagined, a thick wall of yellow light streaking up like a column of protection from The Enclosure wall.
Dee blinked and shook his head and the thought was gone, replaced by the excitement of his coming morning in France and his ability to actually avoid his father until Easter break.
When Dee had gotten down to breakfast there were plenty of people around, just none of the runners as he had very clearly been the first one back. He'd decided to actually pack up all his things and take them down and pop them in the salon he'd been assigned to when he came down for breakfast. At the last minute he remembered to take an anti-nausea pill and checked his camera. Five pictures left on the roll, which meant he could take a few more before he left, or maybe save them for France. Not that he took great pictures, and pictures never could really capture the moment, but still.
Luna had beckoned him over once he had gotten his plate full of tomatoes, sausage, eggs, and one half piece of toast. They sat together and chatted amicably and he congratulated her again on her upcoming marriage with Draco.
"That's very kind of you, thank you, Dee," she responded, and Dudley was struck all over again at what a genuinely nice person she seemed to be.
Then the conversation shifted to journalism, magic, and the cross-over of fields in which magic is not actually much required. Like vitaculture. And journalism.
"It's truth, really, that's needed," Luna was saying. "Truth and love. People need them both. Grapes need them both. We can't flourish without either of them, and magic or no magic, we can't accept substitutes for what we need in this world. Without them, life turns sour, don't you think?"
Dee snorted. "Absolutely. I mean, I'm just coming to realize it, but yeah."
Truth and love. Without which, life turns sour.
Well that was his childhood in a nutshell.
And apparently, grapes needed truth and love, too. Maybe as much as he did.
Suddenly, Dee wasn't worried anymore, and with the lack of it he finally could acknowledge that he'd been anxious about making a good impression and generally not being stupid about things during the tour. Because the grapes needed truth and the grapes needed love and all he had to do was figure out what that meant in terms of grapes.
He took a deep breath and smiled and then thanked Luna from the bottom of his heart.
She smiled in return and then greeted her soon-to-be mother-in-law who approached with her breakfast bowl and joined the conversation.
The Countess Black was the most elegant and graceful person he'd ever met, even considering QEII, and was so beautiful she gave Fleur Weasley a run for her money. Dudley was a little tongue-tied and tried not to think that she might very well be his mother's age, though she really didn't look it. He participated in conversation to the best of his ability, which wasn't much and mainly he ate and drank tea so much so that a trip to the lav would be absolutely necessary before he left. Well, it would have been a good idea anyway, really.
By the time Draco came down it was nearly eight and they all but traded spaces, as Dee went off to refresh himself and get his luggage and Draco sat down to eat two croissants and an egg. When he came back, Harry met him at the bottom of the stairs and hailed him.
"Glad I caught you. Thought I'd walk out with you to the apparition zone, you know? You said goodbye to Hermione and Viktor yet?"
Dee shook his head. He knew he needed to, and yet he couldn't actually imagine interrupting them at breakfast, which they'd only just sat down for.
Happily, Harry took him over and started the ball rolling and the thanks and good-bying were blessedly brief.
"Come on," Harry said, ending what might have been an awkward moment of not knowing how to extract himself. "Draco said eight, and it's eight. He can bring the last croissant with him. It's a long walk."
Dee put his coat on and took his suitcase and Luke's cage back from Harry who also put his coat on as they approached along the long table. Fleur stood up and gave him a hug goodbye, and Bill gave him a handshake over the table and wished him well.
"Have a great time in Peru, and for God's sake be careful!" he said in response and Bill smiled while Fleur laughed.
Harry expedited Draco while Dee was farewelled by Luna and the Countess and soon they were off and out of the building.
"So, I got a letter from Alexandria. I made it past the first round of vetting, and I'm to send them a portfolio of my work by March 1st. 'Course, I don't have a portfolio, but I suppose I might by the end of February."
Dee congratulated him and then quizzed him on what the portfolio would entail.
"Well, I'll double check this of course when I get back to school, but I'm pretty sure it's about the books I've repaired, tamed, bound, and covered, but I'm going to try and figure out a way to put in there about my experience of being lost in time and space and not panicking. And you know, getting back to reality right quickly. Because I figure that's pertinent, you know? And maybe should be part of my portfolio, somehow. So, I guess there might be some essays, too. I mean, there's only a few really dangerous books I've ever had to deal with. One wanted to eat me, but I took care of that with my belt and could still use the book afterwards, so that's a win, I figure. The other was possessing Ginny and tried to feed me to a snake and take over the world, and I killed it, but I'm not sure that will go down well with the most famous library in the Western World."
Dee blinked as Draco asked for details that apparently he'd always been curious about. How did he kill the journal? Stabbed it with a basilisk fang full of venom. What? Why couldn't he just reason with it? It was two-hundred foot long and bent on murder, that's why. The book was two-hundred feet long? What? How did he kill the snake, anyway? Sword of Gryffindor, after it was blinded by Fawkes. Climbed up a bloody great statue and stabbed it in the head. Whoa, fuck. They couldn't have really been that close to death, could they? And then Harry pushed up the coat sleeve of his right arm, and took his jumper sleeve with it and showed them a scar that must have been the size of a two pence piece. Basilisk fang. Fawkes cried on him, whatever that meant, and sang to them both.
"How many scars do you have?" Dee asked in horrified wonder.
Harry snorted. "Enough. Enough for a lifetime. Hence my desire to live quietly with books."
"Wow. That was a hell of a year," Dee remarked and both men looked at him with different levels of question in their gaze as they walked.
"Nah, man. That was when I was twelve, and all things considered, a relatively easy year. Heck, that was the year we snuck into the Slytherin Common Room."
"You what?" yelled Draco.
Harry laughed, but Dee's brain was stuck on 'when I was twelve.'
"Bet you've never been in Gryffindor, have you?" Harry countered Draco, apparently not feeling the need to explain at all. "Lovely place, too. Not a sickly and cold green, nor under the lake. High, warm, red, lovely. Beautiful views out on the loch, really. Most beautiful views in the world. I miss it, sometimes. But I'm glad to be back this year, even if I'm not in Gryffindor Tower. It's nice to just… I don't know, have a single easy year, I guess."
"I can't believe you snuck into the Common Room and I didn't even know it," Draco groused.
Harry only laughed and would say no more about it. They walked much of the rest of the way in silence, Dee thinking all over again about the level of horror his cousin had to endure, and his own soft life in comparison.
Truth and love.
The words echoed in his mind, cutting through the guilt and shame. Truth and love. It's all anyone really needed. Everyone and everything (including grapes) needed truth and love and the rest were just details. What Harry and Draco and Dee needed now was just truth, and love. And if they got that, somehow, everything would be okay, no matter what kind of life they'd had before - hard, soft, or brutal.