Chapter

Harry

"Merlin!"

Hermione is already pulling books from the shelves, glancing at the backs, and flipping through pages. I scoot into her as close as I can, lowering my voice and looking over her shoulder.

"All of these books are about sex?" I whisper, my eyes wide at the sheer number of volumes.

"Those too," she says, pointing over my shoulder to a rack of shelves behind me without taking her eyes from the book in her hands.

"I—"

I have no idea what to say.

"Most bookstores have a small selection," she continues in her teacher voice. "In the back and out of the eyes of children. But this specific establishment caters to the seedier side of magic. Their collection is extensive."

I'd say so.

"How do you know all of this? Did you come here alone last time?" I hiss into her ear. I glance around the darkened interior, noticing faces hidden behind cloaks as patrons go about their purchases.

Here we are, in jeans and a sundress. I should have thought this through better. At least we don't look like ourselves. Mi is still short, only with blond hair, blue eyes, and skin as pale as skim milk.

When people look at me, they'd see a version closer to where I was. Six inches taller with no glasses. Hermione disillusioned them. She says that I look like a whole other person without them. With hair long enough to pull back in a tail and a full beard I don't even recognize myself.

Anger and fear for her safety rips through me, and I clench my fists and breathe through my nose, trying to get it under control.

"No!" she says in a distracted huff, beginning to form a pile. "I used their owl service. Last time I had about half Muggle books, half magic. But I don't see us getting out to a Waterstones any time soon, do you?"

She's so freaking casual, I can't decide whether to kiss her or scream at her. She's acting like she's studying for a test like she's simply researching any other subject she would in the library at Hogwarts.

Where here I am with sweaty palms and a dick that's making me dizzy with how often it twitches in my pants.

"What's BDsM stand for?" I ask, reading a title over her shoulder. BDsM for the submissive Witch. I scoff at that. Hermione is anything but submissive. She adds it to her pile. Then adds the second edition, The Master's Manual.

"Bondage, Dominance, submission, and Magic," she says conversationally, and I choke on my own tongue. "In the muggle world, it stands for Bondage, Dominance, submission, and masochism, but I had this book last time. It stands for magic here.

Bondage? Like, tying people up?

She's already read it?!

"What about this one, you think?" she asks and hands me a red-bound book titled The Wicked Witch. I open the book at random and come face to face with a witch on her knees, and her hand wrapped around a prick.

I slam it shut so fast the closest person turns to look at my outburst.

Magical pictures move.

Merlin! I pry it open again to a different page. In this onethe witch is on her back with her legs spread, the bloke's head between her thighs.

My eyes skate to Hermione, imagining her spread out on that massive bed, surrounded by green sheets with my head between her legs. I snap the book shut again, breathing through my nose and closing my eyes until I'm back under control.

Hermione is lost to the smorgasbord of paperbacked offerings in front of her, not paying me any mind at all.

I drop the book into her rapidly growing pile.

"I know I'm inexperienced in the practical application," she says, like we're talking about charms work instead of…well, sex. "But I'd like to think I have the theory under control."

I scoff at the embarrassment on her face.

"Like I know what I'm doing?" I ask. My cheeks flush with heat, awkwardness replacing my desire.

"Well, yeah," Mi says, giving a quick shake of her head. "I'm still a virgin, Harry. In both timelines."

Of that, I had no doubt. Apparently the same couldn't be said for her though.

"Me too!" I assure her with a sinking feeling in my gut.

"But—," she says, then stops with a dawning realization.

Mother fucker.

My stomach drops out through my knees, anger licking up my spine at what I know is going through her head. The confusion that pulses in her veins.

"Say it!" I demand, already positive about what she's going to say.

"Ginny," she whispers. "Ginny said that you'd had sex. A lot of sex."

Of course, she did. There's another person on my shit list. The fact that she hasn't said more than two words to us since she heard the news hasn't passed my notice either.

"We dated for like a month, Mi. I'm sure Ginny had a shit ton of sex, but it wasn't with me."

I know she can feel the truth in my words, but she looks like she's still trying to puzzle out the particulars. I run my hand through my hair in frustration, forgetting that it's pulled into a knot at the top of my head.

"The first time I kissed a girl she was crying, Mi." I don't mean to sound as sharp as I do. "It didn't inspire a lot of confidence. Buggering Ron's little sister in the back of some broom closet isn't exactly how I pictured my first time either."

Hermione steps into my space, and I put my hand on her hip out of habit. When it became a habit, I have no idea. But I can't stand the idea of her being near enough to touch and not closing the distance. She still has a book in her arm, plastered to her bodice, but she rests her open palm on my chest.

"But this morning..." she whispers, and just like that, the fire stokes back to life inside me. "This morning was so good. I came twice, Harry!"

I have to swallow down a groan at her saying it so baldly. Count on Hermione not to mince words.

Her skin is so pale with her glamour that her blush is overwhelming. She bites her lip and turns her head to hide her face, and I have to kiss her.

I have to.

It's like a compulsion.

I know she can feel my heart pounding through the thin layer of my shirt.

I cup her cheek in my palm and pull her face back to mine. Force her to meet my eye.

"That was all you, love. One hundred percent. That was the first time I'd—" Fuck. This is embarrassing. "This morning was the first time I'd held a girl like that. Kissed one like I kissed you." I drop my forehead to hers, so she can't see me as clearly. "I'm not saying that my hand hasn't gotten quite the workout since you started sleeping in my bed, Mi. But I am most assuredly a virgin," I tell her, and she bursts into awkward giggles.

"Har-ry," she hisses through laughter, and I bring my mouth to hers, silencing her with my lips.

"It wasn't because I had more experience than you. It's because it was with you."

"The bonds," she starts, eyes wide, but I cut her off.

"No," I say firmly, shaking my head. "I don't care about some stupid bonds. The bonds didn't make that happen. We were bonded last time too, remember?"

"Only one," she tries to fight, but I talk over her. My voice is still quiet, but I don't let her finish her thought. Because she's wrong.

"No," I say again. "Do you have any idea how many times I had to jerk off in the shower in that tent?" She makes a choking sound, but I'm past the point of embarrassment. "Why do you think I was showering two times a day? The only thing that kept this from happening then was because I knew how you felt about Ron. Or I thought I did, at least."

"That's what you get for assuming…" she sasses.

"I could say the same for you, Mi. The point stands. Bonds or no bonds, I don't care. I don't want you blaming them for anything that happens between us. It's not fate, or prophecy, or something that we have no control over. We made this choice. I choose you. The bonds make no difference. Stop using them to justify what I feel."

She looks around the bookstore, seeing that no one is paying us any mind. She takes a tiny step closer until we're standing chest to chest. Or chest to book, as the case may be. Hermione surges up on her toes and kisses me, and butterflies burst in my gut at the sensation.

"But Harry," she insists. She's so close I could kiss her again without moving an inch. "It does make a difference. Certainly, you see that." She lowers her voice even farther, tilting up her chin. Her eyes are bursting with feeling, earnestness pouring from her face. "I felt some of what you were feeling."

Merlin, me too. Thank fuck for that. For a while there I couldn't tell if it was her pleasure I was feeling or mine and fuck if that didn't feel better than her hips.

"If that were common in regular soulmates," she continues, "I'm sure it would be talked about! It's the twin bonds! It has to be."

I feel like we've gotten off subject here.

"Does that have any bearing on us picking out books on sex?" I ask point-blank.

She huffs a silent laugh.

"No," she agrees, lightly shaking her head. Her nose rubs against mine at the motion. "I guess not."

"Did you know the pictures in Magical books move?" I ask, and I'm sure she's close enough that she can feel my raging hard-on through my jeans.

"You don't say?" she taunts me, an evil smile on her face.

Wicked witch indeed.