A/N
Warning! Warning! There lie smut ahead! To everyone who felt like we missed an opportunity for a little feel better loving after the angst of the last chapter, this is for you.
There is a tiny bit of plot hidden inside this lol.
Also, if I'm posting too much too fast, let me know. It would give me a good excuse to do my real job and write books and not just fan fiction lmao.
Chapter 40
Hermione
Dobby and Winky both pop out of our bedroom, leaving Harry and me alone. He stands up from his half-crouch, then reaches out a hand and hauls me to my feet.
"How are you feeling this morning?" I ask him.
We haven't been alone and awake this morning together until just this moment.
He slept like crap last night and was up at dawn sparring with the dummy in the training room that they've enchanted to fight them in hand-to-hand combat. I was already sitting at the dressing table with Winky braiding my hair by the time he came in, and Ron came up so soon afterwards; I'm willing to bet he was waiting for Harry to finish taking his frustration out in the attic before he knocked on our door.
"Okay," he responds with a shrug.
By which he means almost killing his best friend has added to the layer of guilt he constantly carries within him. He slept maybe two or three hours, broken up over five, and we didn't have nearly enough sex last night, because when he took me on my knees in the middle of our bed, it was hard and fast, and I collapsed in exhaustion as soon as I came.
"I'm sorry," I say with all the sincerity I can muster.
Harry gives me a soft smile and rubs his knuckle down my cheek.
"It wasn't your fault, love."
We can agree to disagree about that.
That's something else I've noticed, without the need of any stupid journal, thank you very much. The more sex we have, the better. And I don't mean just that Harry is a boy and boys are led around by their pricks. I mean that Harry has an almost intrinsic need to claim me. Once that barrier was breached, it became a key part of his equilibrium.
I hope Hogwarts is ready for kissing in the hallways, because at times the only thing that soothes his soul is the feel of his mouth against mine.
He leans in without any thought and plants a kiss on my lips, before turning towards the closet to get dressed. Breakfast has already started I'm sure. Thank Merlin Molly no longer expects us for breakfast. It was a painful transition for everyone, but Harry and Molly both have come to accept their roles. She stays out of his way, and he stays out of hers.
Then training is promptly at nine. It doesn't matter to Nate that this is Harry's house, and the main purpose of Nate's presence in it is to train Harry. If we're not there on time, we're punished the same as the others are.
Still, we'll have time. If we're quick. Harry looks awfully good in that towel. He's filled out nicely this summer, the constant food and exercise forcing bulk onto his frame years before it would have otherwise. Harry seems to be gaining all the weight Neville is losing. It's done well for him.
"You know, skin on skin contact helps," I say coyly.
It's the first thing we learned. If either of us were upset, just touching the other calmed us down. It's more than magic. It's a biological response. Like Draco said last night, the Bond is a living and breathing being. Even before we realized the Bond existed, we were touching each other as much as we could. That week we were apart at the beginning of the summer before we moved into the Townhouse was the closest to torture I've ever come, Malfoy Manor excluded.
Harry pauses halfway to the closet, turning carefully on his heel. He licks his lips slowly, unconsciously, and my muscles clench tight and deep in my belly. It takes all my considerable self-control not to allow my eyes to roll up into the back of my head at the way he looks at me right now.
Like I'm a buffet and he's a starving man.
"It does, you're right."
I want to mouth off that I'm always right, but maybe after last night, that isn't such a smart thing to do. With a tug of the cloth, his towel is on the ground.
Winky spent fifteen minutes this morning brushing and braiding back my hair. She'll be livid if I mess it up before I even leave the bedroom. Though I am her mistress, and in theory at least, I'm supposed to be in charge.
In reality, maybe I can avoid her until my afternoon shower after training this morning. I can blame the destruction of my hair on that, and not seducing my husband before breakfast.
Without another word, I grip the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head.
"Where do you want me?" I ask him, and Harry takes himself in hand, slowly stroking the thickening length.
"Edge of the bed," he says, tilting his head to the side. He plucks at one of his nipples, pulling and twisting until it's a hardened peak, and my knees almost buckle as the sensation of my nipples being tugged ghosts over my skin.
"Harrrry," I whine, already needy and desperate.
Fine. I admit it. Harry isn't the only one of us that functions better after sex. I'm not ashamed to concede to it. It's academic, after all. I seem to, to…breathe easier if that makes sense, the closer Harry is to me. When he's inside me? It's the only time day or night where I feel really at ease, even if I'm pulled tight as a live wire.
"Strip," he orders, not offering to help me; the prat.
I turn my back towards him and as slowly as I can, push my yoga pants down my legs. I've taken to wearing thongs almost exclusively when training. The wedgies are less that way, and Harry complained, loudly and with his hand smacking my arse, that he could see my panty line through my pants, and therefore so could every other man in the room. According to him, half of Britain has made a pastime of staring at my arse in yoga pants, even though I've never worn them out of the house.
Still, it's not that big of a bother, if every time Harry sees my bum outlined in satin and lace he makes that expression. And the way his eyes graze my body, scalding and probing all at once, memorizing yet always taking in something new? That is certainly worth the price of wearing a thong all day.
"Knickers on or off?" I ask, looking over my shoulder. Harry is leaning against my dressing table, slowly sliding his hand up and down his erect prick.
"Off," he says, octaves deeper than his normal pitch. I do that to him. I do. No one else.
I peel my knickers down my legs, having to pull them away from my quim, as I'm so freaking wet the material has started to stick to me. I'm not looking over my shoulder anymore, and I'm not paying attention to my surroundings, so I don't notice when Harry closes the distance between us and slides his fingers between my legs.
The sound I make is…yeah. I'd rather not think about that. I give up on pushing my knickers the rest of the way down my legs and instead lean forward on the bed, letting it take my weight onto my elbows.
With his foot, he pushes my knickers down to the floor, and I step out of the pooled material. He kicks my foot wider, and my stance adjusts so my legs are spread, and my arse is in the air.
Harry leans across my back, two of his fingers sliding through my folds and spreading my slick. His other hand grabs a palmful of my arse, squeezing it until just this side of pain before he runs the heel of his hand up the centre of my spine.
I arch into his touch like a cat desperate to be rubbed. No wonder Crookshanks never enters our bedroom anymore.
"Have I told you yet how much I love this bra?" he mumbles against my shoulder blade. He reaches around in front of me and grasps the zipper at the middle of my chest, dragging it down and freeing my breasts from their over-tight confines. "Such easy access."
With one hand in my quim, fingers moving painfully slow over my slit, he pulls the sports bra down my arms and off my body.
I stretch my back as much as I can and twist to the side, so I can kiss him over my shoulder. I love kissing Harry. It's like our joined soul solidifies between us every time I kiss him. It's deep and filthy and he wraps his hand around my throat and Merlin, it makes my stomach do things that should be illegal.
When his fingers finally dip inside me, I whine into his mouth in an altogether unattractive fashion, pushing back into his hand. He leans away and places a palm against the small of my back, pinning me how he wants me, and those damn teasing fingers ease in and out of my centre at a pace that could keep me strung out from here to eternity.
He pulls his hands from my skin, and I hear him sucking his fingers clean.
"On your back. Legs spread and bent at the knees," he orders, and I hasten to obey him. Only it's not the compulsion that makes others obey him as Lord Black or the sheer intimidation he flexes as Harry Potter, Chosen One and Boy Who Lived, that makes me skitter to do as he says.
No.
This is just Harry. My husband and Bonded and yeah, that's enough for me.
I climb onto the bed, then fall onto my belly, rolling over onto my back. With a hand under each of my knees, I spread my legs as wide as they'll go. Harry is already on his knees in front of me by the time I look forward again.
His hands grasp my thighs and spread my legs wider. Then he takes his thumbs and parts my labia, so every nook and cranny is open and on display for him. My core clenches around nothing, and I bite my lip and twist my head so as to not watch what Harry does to me.
This is not Harry performing under a deadline. I like that Harry. That Harry pounds me deep and fast and latches his teeth onto the back of my neck and rubs my clit in frenzied circles until I'm falling apart around him in two minutes flat.
This is Harry, ignoring all other responsibilities and just sitting back and preparing to spend the rest of the day making me scream his name as often as possible.
I don't have time to reconcile myself before his mouth is on me and his tongue is licking a stipe from my asshole to my clit. My entire body shudders under his touch. The nerve endings he exposed with his thumbs by parting my lower lips expand and contract in that magical way human bodies do to send euphoria coursing along all my limbs.
Harry runs his tongue over my clit, playfully flicking the delicate bundle of nerves. He tightens his tongue into an arrow and delves it into my quim, rubbing against my walls in short powerful licks that have me squirming on the bed. He trails his tongue down to my asshole and circles the little bud with his lazy teasing strokes.
My legs are already shaking, so Harry grabs one and throws it haphazardly across his shoulder blade and down his back. He then rests my other foot on his shoulder next to his throat. With a twist of his chin, he lays a butterfly kiss on the bottom of my foot, and magic shoots from where his lips touched my skin. My knee drops open and fuck, he runs his tongue up and over my clit again.
Then he trails kisses over my leg.
I love it when he sucks on my thighs. Nowhere in any of my books did it mention how good it felt when a tongue ghosts over the skin of your thighs. But it does. It feels so good. Harry dips two fingers into my centre, and sucks on the fingers of his other hand until they're dripping with his saliva. He then uses both hands on my holes before moving his mouth to my thigh.
"Touch yourself, but stop before you come," he orders me, then latches his lips around the crest of my thigh and sucks. His tongue twirls and licks against the sensitive flesh between my legs, pulling on the skin until just before I cry out, then moves an inch and starts again.
His hand roams up my left side and plucks at my nipple, and my hips start to thrust. He's touching me everywhere, and it's so, so, perfect. His fingers spear my quim, his thumb strums over my ass, his hand cups both of my breasts, pulling at my nipples one at a time over and over again.
My stomach starts to quiver, and I dig my heels into Harry's back. My walls squeeze around Harry's fingers, needing him harder, faster, just a little bit more. I'm so very close.
My fingers freeze on my clit.
That dirty, no good, antagonizing…
"Harry!" I whine, and tug against the magic holding me still. Achingly slow and against my wishes, my arms lift above my head and link themselves at the wrists, stretched out and pinned to the mattress.
The bastard has bound me with magic.
"I thought I told you to stop touching yourself before you came?" Harry asks, looking at me through lidded eyes with his lips still ghosting against my thigh.
"I forgot," I lie.
"Uh-huh," Harry says, placing kisses into the patch of hair over my mound. "Good thing I can read your mind. I was able to stop you in time."
The Bond is singing.
Content. Happy. Well-fed. It's glowing between us, so much so that if I had the use of my hands, I swear I could reach out and pluck it.
Harry climbs up from the floor and joins me on the bed, situating himself between my legs. He keeps my thighs wide, my knees pressed up to my chest. He runs his cock through my folds, collecting my juices on his tip and spreading it down his length, then he pushes inside me.
He collapses in a groan, catching himself with one arm by my head and the other on my leg. I moan at finally being filled by him. I break the magic binding my wrists together and surge up to meet him, tangling my lips with his.
He sets a punishing rhythm, succumbing to our need to merge. To be as one.
It's the only time we're ever really at peace.
I lean my shoulders forward, my hands on his face to keep him kissing me. But Harry makes that motion moot, when he crowds on top of me as much as he can, surrounding me with his body. His knees are under my arse, his hand on my thigh and breast, and his back is bowed to cover me. To protect me from anything that may try to take me from him.
"Fuck," I pant because I know he likes it when I swear in bed.
When he rises just enough to slip my leg up over his elbow, I slide my fingers down my front, strumming them across my clit. I clench around my Soul Mate, and Harry makes an anguished sound, speeding up his hips. His eyes are closed, and I can feel him like I feel myself. His need. His determination. How good he feels on top of me like this.
I keep my eyes open, and stare down the line of our bodies, and watch where Harry disappears inside me over and over and over again.
"Bloody, witch," Harry growls, then catches my lips in a kiss.
It doesn't take much after that. Harry's weight isn't heavy. It's comforting. The feel of him pressing into me, my body supporting all his bulk as his hands hold onto my thigh and rib cage. The way he sucks on my tongue in time with my fingers as they graze a feral path across my clit. I don't so much peak as tumble right over.
One minute I'm trembling from 10 stone of Harry pounding me into our mattress, the next I'm trembling because my orgasm burst at the base of my spine.
Harry comes with a guttural groan, kissing me throughout it. His hips stumble and his hand slips and suddenly I support all of Harry's weight across my chest, but I don't care, as he continues to spasm on top of me.
I "oomphf," at the impact, and Harry starts to laugh until suddenly we're both hysterical and Harry's cock twitches and squirms inside of me.
"Sorry," he pants through laughter, and rolls to the side with a sincere lack of coordination, pulling my legs with him.
Our laughter dies slowly, a random burst escaping every few seconds.
"What time is it?" he asks.
His back is towards the head of the bed, so I lift up on an elbow and look over his prone form.
"Eight forty," I tell him, before collapsing back onto the mattress. Harry throws an arm around my torso and hauls me in until he's basically laying on top of me again.
"I need another shower," he laughs through a huff.
"What you need is to skip the morning session and try to get some sleep."
I can feel it pulling at him, like weights in your shoes dragging you under the water. You can fight it all you want, but eventually, you're going to be dragged under the tide.
"I'll sleep when this is over," he says, and he doesn't mean training with Nate. "Ideas about the elves?" He asks.
Too many to sort through.
"Yes. My first thought was to have Draco summon Missy to him here so we can question her about everything she's overheard in the weeks since Draco's been with us. We'd have to adjust the wards to let her in, of course. But that's too big of a risk."
Harry tusks in acknowledgement and disappointment. He hasn't joined S.P.E.W. I think S.P.E.W. in its original form is out the window. But Harry has rather taken to the title of Defender of House-elves. If I'm not careful we're going to have a hundred of them all working for us.
Unlike other magical families apparently, elves can't simply wander in and out of the Townhouse whenever they want. We don't get deliveries. Our elves pick them up. We don't even allow for traditional mail delivery. There's a basket on the roof for letters not needing an immediate reply. Owls can reach the windows but aren't allowed in the residence. There are several perches that Kreacher keeps filled with water and owl treats for the Owls to wait if they need to carry back a response. The only owls that can come and go as they please are our own. Hedwig nips at Harry from time to time looking for a letter to deliver, but other than that, we've barely seen her this summer. She's as happy here as she is at the castle.
"Maybe," I continue, "Draco can summon her once we get to Hogwarts. I know it's not done often, but I've seen family house-elves pop up from time to time."
"What we need is a way to spy on Voldemort."
"We aren't using the elves, Harry James Potter-Black! Don't you even think about it!"
Harry runs his lips over my forehead, pushing back my hair.
"I didn't mean like that. Yes, we'd have to use the elves to get the devices into the manor, but I wouldn't do anything which would put Dobby at risk. Or Winky," he adds.
"Kreacher too!" I say, having grown rather fond of the abrasive elf.
"Kreacher too," he agrees.
We lay there in silence for several minutes, both of us lost to our thoughts. Harry's lips are running back and forth over my forehead, his fingers trailing lightly up and down my arm.
"Okay, let's go shower. Plus, I'm going to shag you one more time. Because I can, and I want to, and it's for the safety of our House that I'm not on the verge of snapping right?"
I cover my mouth so he can't hear me giggle.
"Makes perfect sense to me," I say, feeling a new round of wetness seep out between my legs.
"Take Draco and Sirius to a muggle shop this afternoon while Ron and I are going on our second round with Nate. I want you to pick up every spy movie you can find."
I startle at that announcement, and finally open my eyes. Harry is looking down at me with a grin.
"Whatever for?"
"I'm going to make the twins watch them on the VHS player. You're always saying Wizards rely too much on their magic. Let's see what the twins can come up with to allow us to spy on the other side with the help of muggle imaginations combined with magical ability."
A smile splits my face.
"You. Are. Brilliant!"
He kisses me slowly and deeply.
"It was your idea. Or it would have been. I just got there first."
Huh.
"You bastard!" I grunt as my orgasm, hovering right on the edge of my fingertips, peters into nothing.
Harry is perfectly still inside of me, his fingers linked with mine. My orgasm was going to be glorious, until Harry ripped my hand away from my clit.
"Try to break free this time, Witch."
With a pull so slow as to be excruciating, my arms are latched above my head again. Bound together at the wrists and pulled tight away from my body. Harry runs his hands down my arms, and the steam from the shower leaves a layer of perspiration on our skin that has nothing to do with our sweat dripping down my back.
He kicks my feet apart, pulls at my hips, then thrusts his dick inside me.
Technically, we've already cleaned off. But it feels like a wasted effort since my slick is dripping down my thighs again. The shower is still running; the steam is so thick I can barely see more than a few inches in front of my face. Harry moved us out of the stream of water though, and licked across the top of my ass where my stretched-out curls drip down my back.
"We're going to be late!" I whimper, as Harry pulls out of my quim and runs his head up and down my slit instead.
Harry kisses up and down over my shoulder.
"Ask me if I care."
My cheek is flat against the cool tile, my arse tipped out. There's just enough room between the wall and my body for Harry to cup my breasts and pluck at my nipples. My legs are trembling from the angle he has me pinned in and basically, the only thing keeping me on my feet at this point is magic and Harry.
I do pull at the bindings, but my arms go nowhere. I put my magic into it, and instead, it shocks my arms. I squeal in surprise, as tingles burn down my limbs. It adds to the pleasure in a way I was not expecting.
Neither was Harry, if his moan and the hard thrust of his hips is anything to go by.
"That's a nifty trick," I tell him breathily.
He runs his tongue over my neck, before latching onto my ear. He growls into my skin.
"The more you struggle, the more it'll sting. Try to get away hard enough, and it'll light you up from the inside out. Though I think you kinda liked it." Yes. I did. "Maybe I should use the spell on your quim."
My hips jerk backwards of their own accord, forcing his cock deep and hard into my pussy.
"Oh, Merlin," I moan, galvanized at the thought of those tingles on my most sensitive of areas.
Harry grunts into my ear, his fingers plucking at my breasts, the other sliding down between my legs.
"Oh, you do like that idea, don't you?"
His fingers pick up their pace against my clit, flicking and pinching the swollen knot, but his cock is still tortuously slow, filling me to the point of bursting before dragging against my walls until only the tip connects us.
"My good girl likes the thought of me pinning her hips with magic, does she?"
"Uh-huh," I moan, trying to shove myself down his cock. He's so much stronger than me, and with the way he has me frozen and on display, I'm completely at his mercy.
"Such a good girl," he says again.
They call it a praise kink, and I knew I had a praise kink even before I knew what a praise kink was. Isn't that why I'm the first to raise my hand in class and why I'm the first to finish an assignment? I like being told I'm a good girl.
When Harry says it, in a voice so deep he doesn't even sound like himself, and with an inflexion that says what makes me a good girl is how very bad I am…something inside me breaks, like a dam overflowing, every time Harry calls me his good girl.
"My good girl wants me to spread her legs and magic her quim so that every time she squirms with need and desperation, it feels like a million live wires sparking against her clit, does she?"
"Blihasbf," I garble incoherently.
Harry laughs against my back, licking and placing kisses up the top of my spine.
"Come now, Hermione. Is that the way you answer a question from the teacher? Ten points from Gryffindor. Try it again. Do you want me to pin you to the bed? And use magic on your quim until you scream?"
Yes. Yes. YES!
"Y-e-s," I say brokenly, the word chopped into three syllables. "Please!"
"Maybe not though. Maybe I magic you so that you're sitting on my face, and your hands are on the headboard. Or I position you on the couch so that I can fuck your quim with my tongue. I'd make you come over and over again, and every time you tried to squirm away, it would set your pussy on fire."
I whimper so loudly it echoes in the loo.
I think he's broken my brain.
His hand slips from my breasts and he fists it in my hair. He exposes the front and side of my neck, and if I didn't feel so bloody fantastic, the pull and twist of my back would hurt.
"You are so fucking lovely," he growls before running his teeth over my throat. The way he leans forward over me changes the angle of his hips, and I start to gasp in needy little yips every time his thick cock bluntly brushes against my g-spot. "So, fucking beautiful."
He releases my hair and I sigh as my body relaxes from its taught position but then he links his arm around my front and cups my chin in his hand, turning my head backwards again. His kiss is wild, and untamed and it's exactly what I needed. The sweet mixed with the sin as he tells me how much he loves me through the Bond.
His other hand leaves my clit and kneads my breasts instead.
I tighten my quim around him then mentally and physically prepare for him to pull me back from the metaphysical edge and make me build all over again. It's what he's been doing all morning after all. But Harry freezes my hips without warning me mid-thrust, and warm buzzy fire explodes over my clit when I keep pushing through.
My vision whites and all sense of coherence is thrown out the window. I scream, and the sound of my wail, which isn't swallowed by Harry's kiss, bounces around in the bathing chamber, drowning out the unrelenting slap of wet hips against wet arse.
My knees buckle, and Harry drops my chin to scoop his arm under my hips and continue pounding into me.
Harry roars behind me, his head dropping to my shoulder as he releases my breasts, supporting his weight against the wall with his fist. He pours his seed inside me, and aftershocks wrack through my body, milking his pulsing and throbbing length buried inside me.
It's coming easier to him, no pun intended, to release that punishing grip he has on his self-control. To willingly submit himself to that moment of vulnerability when your body, mind, and soul are all exposed at once. Especially since the night we were drunk. I'll have to remember to thank Remus one day.
"My arms," I whimper, and now that the pleasure has ebbed, I feel the pain for what it is. Harry hastens to release the magical bonds holding my arms in place and catches my limp body in his arms. He slides slowly to the ground, back spray from the water hitting the tile and sprinkling us in a gentle mist.
"Thank you," he whispers into my hair where I'm curled up into his lap. His arms are latched around me, and his thumb is running slowly up and down my arm.
Our hearts are pounding in our chests, though if I were to run a diagnostic on us, I bet my title as Lady Potter-Black I'd read our heartbeats have synched and are beating as one.
"For what?" I ask once I feel confident in my voice. It's a little scratchy truth be told.
"For loving me," he says honestly, and it breaks something inside me that he still feels the need to thank me for that.
"Always, Harry. Always."
We're going to be late.
Ask me if I care.