AN:

Chapter Specific Content Warning with Minor Spoilers

The beginning of this chapter features nightmares associated with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. While not overly graphic, Hermione will relive the trauma of her torture under Bellatrix - I will be using movie canon over book canon - through a distorted reality in which Marcus is the one committing the act.


Chapter Eighteen


There had been a time when Hermione slept peacefully the whole night through. A time when her mind could rest and her dreams weren't plagued with the remembrance of the horrific things she had borne witness to. Or worse, the warping of her memories that made her slumbering self think that those she loved and trusted were the ones turning their wands on her. At one point or another she had seen them all in Bellatrix's place, carving into her or standing where Dolohov had, vibrant and malevolent purple curse whipping through the air as it lashed against her chest and began to liquify her internal organs and raise her blood to boiling. Harry, Viktor, Theo, Luna; they had all taken starring roles in her nightmares and most recently Marcus. Though the traumatic night terrors of what she had experienced had lessened over the years, she no longer slumbered with the heavy innocence she once had.

Back on the floor of Malfoy Manor with her blood, sweat, vomit, and urine soiling the beautifully veined marble floors, she screamed and bucked against the hellish version of her wizard's hold as he pinned her down. Through the thunderous beat of her heart as it struggled to either go on living or give out, she was distantly aware of someone calling her name, reaching out to her. But for the life of her, she couldn't place it or grasp the life line they were throwing her way as she wept and struggled against the cruel man who looked so much like her Marcus but lacked his loving gaze as he reveled in her fight.

The enormous hands that she ordinarily loved so much, shoved her face to the side, exposing her neck. With a laugh and twisted sneer that was a blasphemous mockery of reality, he licked up the stretched column of her neck, biting her just as Bellatrix had while Greyback watched with lust filled eyes that had her silently praying to die under him before the savage beast in the corner could have her. Then, reaching into his boot, he slowly extracted the blade and glided it along the inside of her arm, whispering, "You look so pretty when you cry and sound so lovely when you beg. Almost makes me want to keep you. Tell me mudblood, would you be a good little pet if I stop? Would you tell me what I want to know?"

Scrunching her face up as she braced for what was coming, Hermione again shook her head as she had done when the true event had happened. And as it had been in reality under Bellatrix, so it was in the dream with Marcus, the blade slicing into her skin causing her to scream and writhe as her blood endlessly wept from the fresh wound. The second piercing of her flesh had her stomach turning sour and her throat opening. However unlike the actual events of her torture where she had choked on the bile of her stomach acid because she had been unable to turn her face to let it out, she came awake with a start.

She briefly saw the helpless panic of Marcus's green eyes and vaguely registered the whimpering whines of Darya before she rolled out of the bed and expelled the empty contents of her stomach onto the hotel room's floor. Gagging as she felt the color leech from her face and a cold sweat ripple over her body, she held her hand up to stop him as he went to hold back her hair.

"Don't," she croaked out, bending her shoulder towards the floor to remove his hand from her back. Reaching up to the nightstand for her wand, she blindly patted around and silently cursed herself for becoming so complacent in his presence when she couldn't find it. Holding out her trembling hand, she muttered, "Where the hell is my wand?" Trying and failing to summon it towards her as her magic sputtered.

"Let me," he insisted, quietly saying the incantation as he waved his own over her mess. "Can you stand?"

Feeling his fingers trace a burn she had received while in the Lestrange vault and realizing at least some of her glamours had fallen, she snarled, "I don't need your help, Marcus," snatching the sheet off the bed as she stumbled trying to stand.

Catching her as her legs wobbled and threatened to give out, weak from the twisted memory and her flaring nerves thanks to her prolonged exposure to the Crucatious, he scooped her up in his arms and gently corrected, "No, you don't want my help but you do need it," carrying her to the en-suite. Setting her on the counter, he asked, "Where can I find that cream you carry and rub on? It's for your tremors, right?"

Tightly pulling the sheet around herself and staring blankly at the tiled floor, she nodded her head and mumbled, "In my purse. It's called Quiver Quench if you have to summon it." Sighing in defeat at having to accept his help, she asked, "Will you find my wand and bring my toothbrush and toothpaste?"

Smoothing her hair back, he kissed her forehead, replying, "Of course," before stepping out.

With him gone, she turned to face the mirror and pried the sheet open to see how much of what she kept hidden had been revealed. Blessedly the worst of the bunch - the scar down her chest from where the healers and Professor Snape had cracked her open to combat Dolohov's curse and the slur that mutilated the inside of her arm - had remained camouflaged. However, most everything else had been exposed to some extent. The litter of discolored or gnarled burns from the vault; the divet where Bellatrix had pressed her blade into her neck before they escaped; the puncture of the mad witch's teeth from where she had bitten her like an animal; the road map of silver lines from the curses and hexes she hadn't been able to block during the final battle. All of it was out in the open for Marcus to have seen and examined and no doubt be ready to question.

While part of her motivation in keeping herself concealed came from vanity and insecurity borne of being told to cover up even when she was still healing and her skin too sensitive for clothes, it wasn't the driving force behind her actions. It was a simple truth that her scars made people uncomfortable; made them forget themselves as they stared with morbid curiosity and asked tactless questions about what had happened to her. Even more so, it unsettled people who had remained neutral or had toed Voldemort's line in effort to spare their families and themselves from the fate of others. She didn't begrudge them their decisions though they themselves couldn't look at her through their shame. After all, there had been many cold, unending nights in the dead of winter when she herself had wished that her and Harry had been afforded those same choices. Ultimately it was just easier to keep it hidden. No one wanted to see the glaring reminder of what had happened during the war and she didn't want people to view her as being broken and pitiable. She had survived and while it hadn't happened without her shattering when the dust settled and having to be pieced back together multiple times, she had come out on the other side with her life when there were so many who hadn't.

So distracted by her maudlin thoughts and the specter presence of Ron asking her to cover herself so he didn't have to remember that day at Malfoy Manor, and Ginny carelessly telling her that at least she didn't need to be pretty to still be considered the Brightest Witch of the Age, she was startled by Marcus's soft touch on her shoulder. Fisting the ends of the sheet, she hurriedly brought it back around her and rushed out, "If you give me a minute to layer the charms, it'll all be glamoured again."

Keeping her eye in the mirror, he swept her hair aside, and leaned down to press a kiss to the burn he had been caressing earlier. Following it to another, he kissed it too before continuing down her arm, peppering butterfly-like kisses to every imperfection he passed. Reaching her hand that permanently wore the neat, looping words, I will respect my betters, he laced his fingers through hers and brought them both up to his lips, kissing each word as he wrapped his other arm around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"If you're comfortable with it, I'd much rather see you as you truly are, e taku ipo."

"People don't like seeing it and being reminded of the war."

"I'm not people."

Looking away, she whispered, "I want you to still like how I look."

"There are so many things I love about you beyond your pretty face, Hermione," he said, releasing her to run both his hands up her arms, over her shoulders, and down to her chest to touch every visible scar. "But this is you, the real you. Not who you show the world to let them know everything is okay and that You-Know-Who is gone." Moving to her other shoulder, he kissed the scars on her neck and brushed his fingers over her nipples while gliding his hand down her body, drifting off to her inner thigh just as he reached her mound, murmuring, "This is who I want to be with and who I want to see when I finally have you under me with your thighs hooked over my arms while I pump myself into you, feeling your nails rake up my back and your body arch and rise into me. I want the intelligent, compassionate, courageous witch who is more beautiful and enthralling than any one person has a right to be.

"I always assumed you had physical scars to go with mental and emotional ones you exhibited the first time I came into your office - you confirmed that when you showed me your hand at the clambake. I've just been waiting for you to feel comfortable and safe enough with me to drop the others. It's the only way I want and will have you. That's why I stopped us earlier and why I will continue to. Not because I don't find you attractive and desirable because Merlin knows I do - I mean the amount of times I've wanked over the thought is down right mortifying - but because I want to know that you trust me with yourself beyond a shadow of a doubt."

Plucking her nipple in such a way that a short sigh left her, he banded his arm under her chest and raising his other to her lower abdomen, his lulling tone matched his possessive hold as he purred, "I told you, I'm a selfish man who wants to know all of you belongs to me. That there's nothing of yourself that you give to others that you don't give to me as well. I want everything with you Hermione and am prepared to wait until I've earned the privilege of having that."

For a brief moment, Marcus's hold around her tightened as he kissed her shoulder, neck, and cheek before releasing her. With a final kiss to the crown of her head, he murmured into her hair, "Now, I'm going to once again be grateful to Tayn and Auntie for showing me how to exist without magic and use the phone to order breakfast up to our room. After that, I'm going to look over the notes about the new players. With Hannaway bought out by Montrose last week, Richmond and I need to find someone quickly so we can spend the majority of training camp becoming a uniformed trio. You take your time doing what you need to, e taku ipo. I'll wait."

Watching him leave through the mirror, his final words weren't lost on Hermione. While, I'll wait, could have easily meant while she freshened up, she knew double meaning when she heard it. They were two words he seemed to say with regularity in regards to her habitual hesitancy while examining things through a rational eye. Why she still did it, she didn't know because wherever Marcus was concerned, she had a new tendency of throwing her characteristic caution and reserved nature to the wind.

Though it currently couldn't be seen or felt, she traced the thin tail of the scar from Dolohov's curse, it having ended less than a centimeter from severing one of her Fallopian tubes. He hadn't starred or asked a single question about the stories her body told. He hadn't even exhibited the useless shame Ron had when he saw her directly after her torture and later when he couldn't stand to be around her while she healed unless she covered herself up. All Marcus had shown was the blinding panic and concern upon her dreaming and lack of waking. No doubt because her words and whimpers from the memory were vocalized while she was still asleep, possibly even the utterance of his name and the sudden failing of her magic.

What he saw didn't matter to him; didn't change anything for him. He had suspected and known but only asked that she be emotionally naked with him. Trust in him the same way she did Harry and Theo. Offer him her vulnerability, knowing that she was safe with him. And ultimately she did know that otherwise she wouldn't have taken the chance at becoming so exposed before they had fallen asleep.

With her mind made up - or rather on the same page as her heart - Hermione hopped off the counter. Her hands still held a tremor as she flicked her wand at the sheet to send it back to the bed but knowing she needed to shower, she opted against applying Professor Snape's Cruciatus cream until after. Quickly brushing the sick from her mouth and casting a breath freshening charm to be doubly sure, she took off her knickers, her stomach somersaulting as she lifted the rest of glamours. The relief to her magic was instantaneous; it seeming to sigh as she released it from its continued strain, having left them on near round the clock since spending every night of the week with Marcus.

Peeking out to check if he was off the phone, she took a deep breath and shyly asked, "We don't have to talk about it do we? At least not right now."

"We never have to talk about anything you don't want to," he confirmed, closing the notes he was reading. "If that's a time in your life you wish to never discuss, I will never ask. If you do, then I'll listen. In the respect of the war, you guide us in how you wish to proceed and I will follow."

Chewing the inside of her cheek, she nodded her head several times. Then with her left arm clutched between her breasts to hide the hideous words and the worst of Dolohov's curse for a few seconds longer, she stepped fully into the doorway and asked, "Then would you be interested in showering with me?"

"Yes," he quickly replied, bumping into the table in his haste to stand up.

Giggling as his large, normally graceful body seemed to lumber about as his brain short circuited, she stepped out of the bathroom that had gone unused and made her way through the adjoining doors to the other room. It didn't take long for him to right himself though. She had only just crossed between the two rooms when he had caught up, closing the door behind him to keep Darya from interrupting them, and was pulling her back into his chest.

"Gods," he said quietly, his hands caressing up her stomach until they engulfed her breasts. "I love you."

Reaching behind her to cup his face as his nose ran along her neck, she murmured, "I love you too, very much."

Turning into him, she brought her lips to his and with them slightly off center, began to kiss him. Every roll, pinch, and pluck to her nipples had her hips pushing back into his erection as her thighs clenched. Shifting her stance, she caught him perfectly in the crevice of her bum and with short, grinding gyrations stroked him until he was groaning into her mouth. With a hand straying back down to her stomach, he further pressed her into him as they resumed their journey to the bathroom with a slow shuffle.

Not wanting to delay things any longer, Hermione turned around in his arms and began walking backward at a quicker speed. With the fervent energy they had possessed after their run returning, Marcus took advantage of the change and grasped her thighs, scooping her up. Wrapping her legs around him, her uncovered cunt was pressed against his bare stomach, her slick arousal slipping along his taut muscle.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he heavily sighed, his voice halfway between lust and worship. Gripping her bum, he moved her along his abs again, the both of them moaning at the feel of her teasing glide. "How do you already feel so good?"

No longer forced to meet her shorter strides, he had them in the bathroom much sooner than she would have. With a gentle plop, he deposited her onto the cool tile of the shower's built-in bench. Not currently consumed by the heat of his touch and his increasingly vocal participation, she brought her arm back up to her chest as she watched him turn the multitude of knobs to get water pouring from the array of heads. Closing her eyes as the edges of the hot spray reached her, her tight muscles began to release, her head falling back as she breathed in the steam.

Feeling a gentle pull on her arm, she cracked her eyes open and looked down at where Marcus was kneeling before her legs.

"Don't hide from me."

Putting enough tension into her limb so that he would be forced to manhandle her if he wanted her arm removed, she warned, "You're not going to like it. Even Madam Pomfrey wept and had to take a moment to collect herself when she saw it."

Sitting back on his heels, he started, "If you're having second thoughts-"

"No, that's not it," she interjected. "I trust you. I just want to let you know, it's bad. Worse than all the others combined. So if you can't school your features right away or at all, I understand."

"What could be so bad that…"

His words died off as she extended her left arm out for him to see, a hissed string of expletives in English and Maori escaping him as his hand stuttered in its movement to touch her.

"This is what I was dreaming about. The day it happened." Touching her neck, she said, "I got these that day too. And this," she added, drawing his attention to the three jagged scars that ripped up from her right hip, courtesy of Greyback's enthusiasm at having caught her. "The Cruciatus tremors tie it all together," she laughed without humor.

Regaining his composure - though she had to admit out of everyone who knew, he had taken it the best, second only to Theo who had already known what he would find because of Draco - Marcus's long fingers gingerly curled around her wrist as he lowered his lips to the crudely carved M. He placed open mouth kisses along the first three letters, making her shutter at the stimulation to the sensitive scar tissue.

"Is this okay?" He checked upon her reaction.

"Yes," she breathed, her thighs clenching as he kissed the B followed by the L. "Yes… I… I like it… a lot…"

"Good," he murmured, tracing each O with his tongue, her head bumping into the wall as she whimpered.

With her knees falling open, he nudged her legs apart with his own and settled in closer to her as he sucked the D into his mouth. Gripping the edge of the bench, Hermione cried out, her hips lifting up in search of attention. Moving his hand around her hip, Marcus grasped her bum and pulled her to the edge of the bench. With himself firmly ensconced between her legs, his fingers began trailing back to the inside of her thigh, where they circled and swept up and down the muscle, inching at an achingly slow speed up to her swollen lips.

Doubling back over each letter, he kissed the rest of the way up her arm, brushing her damp curls aside as he reached her shoulder. Turning her head to meet his lips, she whined then moaned as he ducked under her chin and licked across her clavicle to the hollow of her throat. Draping her left arm over his shoulder, he brought his freed hand to the top of her breast and caressed down and around, cupping and kneading the flesh.

Scratching at the nape of his neck, his head rolled into the touch as he nearly purred along her chest. Reaching out with her other hand, Hermione started to match the slow touch along her thigh on his sternum. Her ministrations turned sharp as he kissed down the scar that bisected her breasts, making him hiss. Panting as he licked back up the path he had just made, her legs tightened around him, her hips lifting up into his body.

"Mmm…" he observed in a hush that was swallowed by the sound of the shower. "Just as sensitive." Glancing up at her as his tongue lapped at the thin, branching veins of the scar, he silently sought permission to continue.

Holding his face, she curled down and kissed him with a bruising intensity. Pulling on his lip with her own, she slipped her tongue in and stroked along the ridges of the roof of his mouth. Keening over his groan as his touch on her turned into a grip, she pulled back with shortened breath and held his deep gaze.

"Keep going, I'll tell you if I need or want to stop."

"Are you sure?"

"Marcus, it is taking everything I have not to yank your shorts down the rest of the way and sink myself onto your cock," she responded bluntly. "How you're showing this much restraint is beyond me."

Reaching down to pump and adjust himself, he chuckled, "Now there's an idea."

"You sound terribly smug."

"You just said you want to strip me bare and ride my cock, of course I'm smug. Now come here," he growled, yanking her hips forward until she fell back on her elbows, her legs over his shoulders. Folding his heavy arms over her abdomen, he checked once more, "Are you sure?"

"Fucking Christ and Godric, yes."

Staring into her eyes, he lowered his lips to the top of her mound and kissed. The light touch triggered a reflexive jerk that went nowhere under his hold, another quickly following as his mouth traveled along the juncture of her joint.

"Bloody hell, you're a merciless tease."

"Shh," he admonished. "I'm making a thorough study of your body. I need to concentrate."

"I'm going to remember this," she warned.

"Well good, I don't think my pride could take it if you forgot."

"Marcus please, for the love of magic would you - oh God!"

He stole her pleading complaint right from her as he sucked one of her puffy lips into his mouth. Repeating the action to the other, had her thighs briefly clenching around his face as her ankles hooked together between his shoulders. The sudden tense of her body only just started to melt away as his tongue came out and licked a long stripe up from her parted, wet cunt to her throbbing clit. Crying out as she gripped his arms, she struggled to raise her hips to keep his mouth on her.

Putting more weight into his arms, he stilled her movements as he circled the tip of his tongue around her peeking, distended bundle of nerves. Sucking it between his teeth, a primal, moaning screech tore out of her throat as her back arched. He had only just begun but the teasing, exploration his mouth had done along her scars already had her core drawing tight, the walls of her cunt fluttering with a need to be filled.

Breathing his name, she tried to ask for what she needed, but all that came out was a throaty sob as the knot of desire tied tighter within her. Releasing her clit with a flick of his tongue, he swirled it around the erect flesh once more before swiping up her opening. With an erotic and wicked kiss to her entrance, his tongue curled and entered her, turning the breathy, inchorrent words she was spilling out to him into a loud shout.

The full taste of her brought forth a delicious groan that vibrated within her and added to the stimulation. Her already caged and wanton movements turned desperate as she tried to fuck his tongue right back, seeking the hot deluge of her release. Though her mind was fogged with the baser need of sex, she knew she had never been as vocal as she was with Marcus between her legs. She was almost positive that even through the pounding sound of the shower and the thick walls of the rooms, the entirety of their hotel floor could hear her crying his name out like a depraved devotion, announcing the secret of their relationship to the world. And as he released his pinning hold on her to grip her bum and drive her hips against his thrusting tongue, she didn't care.

Bringing her hands to her breasts, she pinched and rolled her nipples, groaning at the connecting shocks of pleasure it sent to her clit. Teetering on the edge as he again moaned between her legs, she shifted all her weight to one elbow to reach down between her legs. Just as she grazed the hood of nerves, he snatched her wrist and planted her hand on the bench, looking up at her with a hard stare.

"Mine," was all he said, the word growled like a feral animal.

Pulling her even closer, he reached behind him to check her ankles before lifting her up and rolling back on his heels. Before she could panic at the precarious hold, he lay out on the warm, wet tile, her knees gently colliding with the floor as she sat over him. Holding her, he guided her movements up and down and back and forth over his open mouth until her sudden bout of inhibition left her.

Taking the control he offered her, Hermione started to ride his face with abandon, the spray of the shower beating down her back and along her breasts. Feeling his arm move behind her and a swallowed grunt into her cunt, she looked over shoulder to see him palming his long, thick cock. Slowing her movements to match his, she looked back and down at his glazed, green eyes, her own hand going out behind her to trace the lines of his muscle tone.

Lifting off of him, she said, "I would like to do that for you."

"Please," he breathed, flicking his tongue out to tease her clit.

Rising up on her knees, she slipped in her attempt to turn around with as much grace as she could, giggling in embarrassment. Laughing with her, Marcus offered her his hand to help steady her as she moved on the slick tile and repositioned herself over his face. Once she was vaguely lined up, he yanked her back down, resuming his euphoric kiss between her thighs.

Reaching forward as her hips started to bounce and rock over his mouth again, she ran her palm over his head, wrapping her fingers down and around until she was stretching and failing to close her grasp. While she had seen many penises during her quest of completing the healer's program it had always been a clinical examination. Now, as she pumped her hand down and then back up with a twist of her wrist, keenly watching every twitch and ripple of his body as she learned what he liked, the irrational part of her mind that forgot her exhaustive study of anatomy and physiology was quietly thankful for his slow pace. She knew her body would relax and stretch to accept him but seeing him and also knowing how her body hadn't been penetrated by anything thicker than two of her fingers in years, a trickle of anticipatory fear crept in. There was no doubt about it, when it finally happened, Marcus was going to split her wide and leave her with a delicious, aching soreness that would remind her of where he'd been the following day.

Watching the beads of his own arousal weep from the head of his cock, Hermione placed a hand on the outside of his thigh and stretched down to lick him clean.

"Fuck," he hissed into her, grabbing a hold of her hips and driving her down onto his thrusting tongue, his efforts at pushing her to orgasm doubling.

Pumping her hand up to just under his head, she licked at his slit again before sealing her lips around his tip. Hollowing out her cheeks, she slowly took him into her mouth, following her retreating hand. A third of the way down she sucked back up and swirled her tongue around his head and along the vein of his shaft. When his hips gave a thrust upward, she once more worked her mouth down his length, going until he brushed the back of her throat. Repeating her retreating actions as he swore and prayed into her cunt, she relaxed herself with a long exhale and sucked down until the muscles of her throat worked around his hard cock, his hips stuttering against the fight to not thrust into her.

Pulling up halfway, she released her hand and began bobbing her head in time with his lapping and fucking tongue. Matching his speed on her and mimicking the exploration of his hands as they raced to finish the other first, she sought out his sac. Cupping his bollocks, he arched under her, a muffled groan vibrating her swollen flesh.

Rocking back into him as she felt the knot of pleasure yank tight, she rolled the weight between his legs, pulling at the skin in massage as she focused her mouth's attention on his head. She was done for though when his mouth closed around her clit. With a hard suck to the sensitive and desperate cluster of nerves, she tore off his cock, screaming his name as she rode out the cresting and breaking waves of release. Dragging herself against his flattened tongue, she panted and keened at every pulsing aftershock, her body tensing with renewed desire as he languidly lapped at her release.

Bones melted, she rocked herself off his mouth and onto her side on the shower's floor, her head collapsing to rest on his large thigh as she caught her breath, her hand still holding his sac. Pressing a featherlight kiss to his length, she returned the possessive admonishment and batted his hand away as he came to stroke himself.

Vaguely gesturing towards her cunt, she said, "If that's yours, then this is mine."

"That's fair," he chuckled, caressing a finger through her swollen lips. Brushing her too sensitive clit, she jerked as he said, "So not just yet. At least not on the outside," circling around her opening.

"What?"

"Testing how long before I can start touching you to make you come again."

"Oh Merlin," she moaned, moving both towards and away from his finger.

Running her fingers up from his sac and to his erect length, she started to slowly pump her fist over him again. Sitting up as his hand fell away from between her legs, she patted his stomach and softly commanded, "Stand."

His brow rose in question as his eyes struggled to focus but he complied with her request and stood up. Releasing him, she led him to stand directly under the rain head, and lowered herself to her knees. Working her hand on him several more times, she again brought her mouth to him and followed the path and pace she was setting as she guided him to the back of her throat.

With a hollowed, sucking rhythm established, she returned a hand to his bollocks, massaging and weighing them. Looking up through her lashes at him, she found he watched her with a reverent if strained gaze, his hands fisted at his sides and stomach tight as he struggled to remain still. Brushing her fingers along the inside of his left arm, she encouraged him to relax and hooked her fingers around his, bringing his hand to thread through her hair until he cupped the back of her head.

Pulling back so she held just the tip of him in her mouth, she murmured around him, "It's okay, let go," before transitioning to a slow bob of her head.

"Shite… you can't be real…" he hummed, his restraint cracking a fraction as he gently rocked his hips into her.

Feeling him stutter and tighten before relaxing again, Hermione ran her hands down his sides until she reached his bum. Grabbing the muscles of his arse, she started to manipulate him into the faster rhythm he needed to reach completion. When he finally relented and tangled his other hand into her hair and moved her along his jerking cock, she moaned around him, sitting back on her heels allowing him to use her.

Looking up at him as he watched himself repeatedly disappear into her mouth, she felt the faint stirrings of renewed arousal bloom between her legs. Even now as she sat at his lustful mercy, he remained mindful of his size and power and chose to be as gentle as ever. Turned on even more by the sight of how small and seemingly fragile she was in comparison, her own fingers drifted down her stomach. Swallowing around him as his blunt end collided with her throat, she lightly touched herself, testing the sensitive nerves.

Moaning at her touch as she found a pressure she could manage without the sharp pain of over stimulation and the power she felt at seeing his control with her crumble, she caught his attention, his eyes glancing past her opened mouth to where she was pleasuring herself. Marcus's head fell back into the water at the sight, a guttural groan ripping out of him.

Looking down at her once more, he panted, "Gods, you're so fucking beautiful, e taku ipo. So… fucking… perfect…" he drawled, puncturing each word with a hard thrust into her mouth before pulling on her hair to free her. Sealing her relaxed lips around him, she glared up at his green eyes, sucking further as she shook her head no. "I'm about to come, Hermione," he struggled to say, his rhythm gone.

Grasping the hard muscle of his bum in one hand, she removed the other from thumbing her clit and brought it back to his sac. Giving a faint squeeze to the weight as it drew up tight in her hand, she swirled her tongue around his length like a lolli and was rewarded with a harsh, devotional shout of her name, followed by the rapid stutter of his hips as he pumped his release into her mouth before going still.

Swallowing as much of his seed down as she could, she sat back on her heels and smiled up at him, a long rope of saliva keeping her connected to him as some of his come dribbled down her chin. Brushing thumb along her lips to sever the connection and across her chin to clean her up, Marcus lifted her up by her elbows and surprised her when he kissed her.

Hugging her to him, he tucked his face into her water logged curls and murmured, "I love you."

"I love you too, taku toa. And thank you," she replied with a kiss to his chest before resting her cheek on him.

"For what?"

"Your reaction or lack thereof. I know it's a rather gruesome sight the first time you see it and acting like it doesn't bother you means a lot to me."

Lifting her chin up, his gaze bored into hers, as he solemnly said, "It doesn't bother me. It's a part of you and I can only love you more for sharing it with me." Kissing her forehead, he hugged her again, his arms growing tight as he corrected, "Okay that's a partial lie. It does bother me. Not because it changes how I see you but because it enrages me to think there were people in your life who claimed to love you but made you grow insecure over it. Off the pitch I'm fairly even tempered, docile according to Cass, but it makes me want to pummel Weasley when we see him tonight because I know full well he carries a predominant amount of the blame for that."

At loss for words worthy of how his protective, unseen avenging side made her feel, she returned his tightened hold and murmured her love for him again.

Later, after they had bathed each other, explored their bodies more, and bathed again, she laughing slipped free of him and commanded him to take a cold shower as she grabbed a towel from the rack. Her skin had pruned ages ago and though she couldn't be completely sure, she thought the once never ending supply of hot water was beginning to chill from their abuse. So with one of the fluffy white towels wrapped around her as she scrunched another through her hair, Hermione left Marcus to comport himself into something other than the sexually insatiable beast he had become before their breakfast finally arrived.

Tossing the used towels onto the small table in their room she opened the dresser up to fish around for a fresh pair of knickers. Extracting another pair of boy-shorts - this time in Slytherin green, complete with a snake curving around her hip, its mouth open as it dove between her a legs, a gag gift courtesy of Draco on her last birthday - she tugged them on thinking about what else she had packed so she wouldn't have to change yet again when it was time to meet Luna for their salon appointment.

Interrupted by a knock on the door, Hermione called, "Coming!" Pulling on the sheer tank she had discarded earlier.

"If it's the maid, will you ask them to strip the bed, e taku ipo?" Marcus shouted from the bathroom as she opened the door without checking expecting their room service delivery.

Seeing Fowler and Richmond, her eyes went as wide as theirs as she stammered, "I... I mean this... uh..." tucking her left arm behind her back as she draped her wet hair over her shoulder more concerned with concealing the scars at her neck than the love bites Marcus had colored them with.

"We didn't see anything; we don't know anything," Richmond said, snapping out of his shock first and shoving Fowler so he would do the same.

"Colt, Trent?" Marcus asked, startling her as he came up behind her. Glancing down at where her rosy nipples could be seen through the white tank and the suggestive boy-shorts she wore, he grasped her elbow and pulled her behind him, asking his teammates, "What's up?"

"We uh... um... fuck man, how long has this been going on?" Fowler asked. "I mean there's photos and the rumors about her cheating on Weasley with you and all but we didn't think-"

"It's none of our fucking business," Richmond snapped, slapping Fowler upside the head. Something down the hall caught his eye and made him snarl, pushing Fowler into the room without invitation before shutting the door behind them. Handing over a copy of the Prophet he explained, "We were heading to breakfast and saw this discarded on the table by the lift. Looks like that ginger wanker and his beaters are under investigation for purposefully attacking you. They've been placed on an unpaid suspension and since the entire League Commision is already here for the banquet, there's been a call for an emergency meeting to determine if they're going to be stripped of tonight's-"

A loud banging on the door interrupted Richmond, sending Darya into an uncharacteristically rabid frenzy in the adjoining room as Ron's shrill voice bellowed, "I know you're fucking in there! Open the damn door, Hermione!"

"Is this pussy assed bitch for real?" Fowler hissed, the drawl of his southern American accent thickening as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"Unfortunately," she answered, her cheeks already flaming with embarrassment at Ron's display. Jumping as the pounding on the door renewed, she added, "And he's just getting started."

Turning around, Marcus grasped her upper arms and said, "Go into the other room with Darya and let us handle him."

"Seeing you in only a towel in my room is only going to make him more belligerent."

"Well, it's a good thing this is technically my room then isn't it?" He smiled in the conniving sort of way only a Slytherin could. "Please Hermione," he said seriously. "I don't trust his anger to be in the same room with you."

Plucking the paper from his hand, she acquiesced, "Fine," kissing him as she walked from the room.

Leaving the adjoining door partially cracked, she sat down on the floor with Darya coming to collapse in her lap. Scratching under the Newfoundland's collar, she flipped through the sections of the Daily Prophet, looking for the story the boys had mentioned.

Beyond the door, she heard Ron demand, "What are you doing in Hermione's room?"

With an arrogance bred only in the snake pit, Marcus deadpanned, "Giving her the shagging you were too poorly equipped to manage yourself." Biting her lip as she tried not to laugh aloud, he added, "Look around, Weasley. Does this look like her room? Merlin, and they called me stupid in school. What exactly did you do for her and Potter during the war anyways?"

Landing a blow on what was still a highly sensitive topic three years later, Richmond taunted, "Couldn't have been much. I mean they were each awarded an Order of Merlin First Class and what was it he got again? Second? Curious isn't it?"

"More than any of you lot," he sneered. "Don't recall seeing you at the Battle of Hogwarts Richmond. And you Fowler, you're a fucking Yank so shut the hell up. As for you Flint, I know all about how you ran scared for New Zealand. Tell me, would you still want to get in her knickers if you knew she was the one who killed your daddy or what hideous scaring she has beneath all those glamours she wears?"

"Well if she did kill the old bastard, I'd have half a mind of invoking the old ways and binding her to me in marriage. Seems only fitting for doing what I dreamt about doing myself after he killed my mother."

"I warned her about you, you know. All you slimy snakes care about are optics and what better boost to your nonexistent media presence than to have everyone whispering about if the 'Gold Girl' really is spreading it for the cowardly son of a Death Eater?"

"Well if she was, you would know about it because she'd be screaming my name for this entire fucking hotel to hear. Now if we're through, I invite you to see yourself out and take care to let the door hit your pasty, speckled arse as you leave. Oh, and unless you want to eat through a straw for the next two months, I suggest you avoid so much as glancing in Hermione's direction tonight or ever again."

She could hear the heavy door wrench open as Ron made to leave but not before he showed who the true coward was and said with a parting shot, "Not that you'll be able to read it, what with your muggle mental retardation and all, but they can't prove one way or the other that I tampered with those bludgers. So tell your broom chasing whore, to keep her mouth shut."

The scuffle of what was no doubt Fowler and Richmond holding Marcus back was distant to Hermione's ears as she reached the sports section. With Ron's words about tampering playing over in her head, her eyes flew across the words of the article before examining the accompanying photos fans had captured. This had been what Narcissa and Pansy had been looking into for the last several weeks: just how accidental Marcus's injury had been.

Repeatedly watching the bludgers slice through the air, gunning for Marcus no matter where he was on the pitch as Ron's words echoed in her head, she finally placed the familiarity of it. In their second year - against Slytherin no less - Dobby had done the same thing to Harry in a misguided attempt at keeping him safe from the dangers of Tom Riddle's diary and Salazar's basilisk. Bringing the paper up to her nose as she squinted to see the two beaters' faces, she was sure of it that they were just as shocked by the collision as everyone else had been. They were innocent of the accusations lodged against them but Ron was not. He had somehow tampered with the bludgers when they were supposed to fly free of their wands and Narcissa and Pansy had found people who had caught the evidence of it on camera.

"I'm going to fucking ruin him," she swore, wadding up the paper and chucking it across the room just before Marcus came in with their breakfast, an apology readily falling from his mouth for the crass way in which he had spoken about her.

Taking his offered hand to help her stand, she jumped into his arms and smiled, "Don't worry about, taku toa," kissing him until they fell back on the bed, their food forgotten as she unknotted his towel and slithered between his legs.