The clock on the mantelpiece chimed six, and Hermione glanced up at it with a frown. She hadn't realized it was so late, and these damn reports—
She sighed, gathering the scattered pieces of parchment with a sweep of her hand, then shrinking them to fit into her briefcase. Everyone else had already left for the day, so it was just her in the Ministerial offices, and the quiet was oddly soothing. Around her, the summer day was mellowing into something lenient and yellow, like a piece of pulled taffy. She couldn't wait to get back to the house, to dinner in the garden and maybe a gin and tonic. At least there was a garden now, after Harry had taken one look during their first spring together and nearly passed out from the way everything had stayed dead and brown and withered. Now, their back garden looked the picture of the garden at his old cottage, though with a decidedly bigger lawn, and the roses were well out of reach of tiny, curious hands.
Hermione went about organizing the rest of her desk, a smile threatening to break through. Even just the thought of stretching out on the warm grass, cold drink in hand, closing her eyes and listening to the screams of laughter and the sound of running feet—
Suddenly, her fire blazed green, and a visitor stepped out of the hearth, brushing an absent hand down the front of his shirt, his golden wedding band glimmering in the sunlight.
Harry smiled at her. "Minister."
She eyed him with a raised brow. "Potter." She thumbed through a second sheaf of briefings, wondering if she should bother bringing them home. "What are you doing here?"
Harry gave an easy shrug, strolling over to her desk. He was quite the picture, in his rumpled jeans, disastrous hair, and a creased button-down. "Got tired of waiting."
Hermione scoffed and grinned at him. "Honestly, you make me sound like—"
"—a workaholic? Perish the thought." He closed the distance between them and kissed her, one hand cupping her head and the other sneaking around to her lower back.
His mouth was plush, warm, and she sank into his embrace, suddenly very glad that it was Friday, the week was over, her workload was light, she'd have time to do their usual Saturday outing at the museum—
"You," she sighed, "are incredibly unhelpful."
"Am I?" Harry breathed, thumbing a line down her neck that made her shudder.
"Yes," she hissed, but she couldn't bring herself to step out of his reach. "You know you are, don't pretend. I have to pack—"
Harry muffled her with another kiss, his tongue sweeping through her mouth in a fierce, attentive line, and she hummed, going a bit weak in the knees. His hand slid from her back to squeeze her bum, pulling her even closer.
This was lovely, except— "Harry," Hermione managed to gasp into his ear, "we can't, the children—"
"The gremlins are with your parents until seven," he growled back. "I can think of at least a couple ways to spend the extra hour, can't you?"
"Shit," she gritted out, then fisted a hand in his hair, tugging his mouth back to hers.
Their kiss became sloppy, ruthless, and within moments, he was yanking at her blouse, his mouth hot and brutal on her neck, and she gasped as the backs of her legs hit the edge of her desk, her hands slipping under his shirt to rake up his bare back—
"You knew what you were doing this morning," he growled, sinking his teeth into the skin below her ear. "Putting on this skirt like it was fine to just parade about in front of me like that—"
Somehow, Hermione managed to laugh. "Harry, it's not the skirt's fault—"
He hummed, soothing the love bite with his tongue. "Never said it was." With that, he hitched her up onto the top of the desk, its contents scattering explosively around the room.
Hermione glanced at the huge mess. "You're cleaning that up."
Harry ripped open the top three buttons of her blouse, smirking when she scowled at him. "Sure," he said, light and easy, then he hitched her legs up around his hips, yanked her bra out of the way, and sucked a burning line of kisses into her breast.
Hermione could only gasp, dizzy with the sudden pleasure, her hand fisting in his hair as she tried to draw him even closer. His free hand shoved her skirt up her thighs, then slid under the hem, up her inner thigh, and she smiled as he got higher and higher, then—
His gaze found hers as he stroked her, and she caught the barest edge of his surprise. "Are you—? You're trying to kill me, Hermione—"
Her smile grew as she shrugged. "Well, I knew you liked this skirt—"
He let out a muffled growl of frustration, sucking on her exposed nipple hard enough to make her see stars. "You're telling me you've been walking around the whole day without pants on— I could've had you in my lap, grinding on my cock—"
"Yes," she gasped, white-hot pleasure ricocheting through her body. God, she wasn't going to last long.
"Jesus Christ—" He slipped two fingers into her and muffled her groan with a kiss, sucking on her tongue as he thumbed at her clit. She could feel his erection against her stomach, and she throbbed for it, clenching around Harry's fingers, needing more, but she knew he wouldn't let her until she—
"You thought about it, didn't you?" he breathed into her ear, and her eyes fluttered shut. He paused to tongue at her nipple, flicking it in time to her clit until she shivered and bucked against his hand. "Thought about what you'd do to me once you got home. Shove my face under your skirt before you sank down and fucked yourself on my cock." Harry stifled a chuckle between her breasts, pressing a kiss to her oversensitive nipple, then lapping at it, watching as her back arched and her mouth fell open. "How very devious."
Hermione barely managed to moan in reply, fucking herself on his fingers. His thumb pressed into her clit, and her belly turned to liquid, heat exploding down her back, her legs. "Harry," she managed, as his mouth sealed over her nipple and sucked on it in earnest. "Please—"
He hummed, but he didn't let up. He went back to circling her clit, his fingers hooking inside her to press at her G-spot, and she gasped, feeling as if she were floating on a wire, pulled taut and made to stretch and stretch and stretch until she snapped. She writhed against him, shoving his head into her chest, hating and loving the way he walked the line between pleasure and pain, finding that endless, sharp edge along which her body was programmed to dissolve.
"That's it," he murmured, and she clenched around him. He pressed his thumb directly onto her clit again and said, "Come for me."
Her orgasm was sudden, explosive, and she shook with it, pleasure ripping through her body like a shockwave. But she barely had time to recover, going slack against his arm, before he undid his zipper and licked into her mouth, sliding inside her with a muffled groan.
Hermione shuddered again as she stretched and filled, his cock radiating pleasure through her oversensitive body, and could only just hold on as he began fucking her into the desk, steady and ruthless. Even after years of this, she still wasn't used to the way he felt, the way he dazzled her, overwhelmed her, and she gripped his arms as her eyes slid shut.
Out of pure habit, their magic met in midair and formed a tangled, frothy knot that had jagged edges and an electric current that jolted her from the inside out. Her ebbing pleasure returned with a vengeance, passing through their connection, and she clung onto him as he shuddered. Then, his pleasure hit her like a wave and she let out a guttural moan, clenching against him until she felt her inner thighs grow damp.
They kissed, messy and edged with teeth, and sweat was beading along her hairline, at the dip of her back, the cool air only adding to the frenzy of sensation dancing along her skin. Hermione felt herself returning to that familiar, exquisite precipice, and it built and built and built until it shattered.
She might have screamed. Her nails dug into Harry's biceps, and she could barely hold on as he fucked her through it. A few moments later, Harry trembled and grunted, then came inside her with a muffled shout, his face buried in her neck. They clung to each other, damp and sticky and boneless, Harry's mouth tracing senseless patterns on her chest, her breast.
"Well," Hermione managed a few minutes later, blinking back into something resembling the present. "That's certainly one way to kill time."
Harry huffed a chuckle, then pulled away to put her bra to sorts. "I do occasionally have a good idea, my love." He smacked a final kiss to the swell of her breast, grinning when she swatted at him. "What? It's been known to happen."
"Yes," she sighed, smiling. "It has."
Harry stepped away, wiping a quick, gentle cleaning spell through her inner thighs. He tucked himself back into his jeans and held out his hand.
Hermione took it, easing up off the desk, swaying a little as her body turned from a liquid back into a solid. She tugged her skirt back into place and smoothed everything out, frowning at the torn buttons at the top of her blouse. "Harry."
"Sorry, sorry." But then he turned away from her, holding his hands out like he was about to start conducting a symphony. There was a gentle hum, then suddenly, the scattered contents of her desk all rose into midair, hovering there for a moment before they slowly floated over to her desk, rearranging themselves into their usual neat piles.
Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes. "Show-off."
Harry glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "Never."
She pressed her fingertips into the ripped section of her blouse and whispered, "Reparo." The seams and knots tied themselves together, and her missing buttons came zooming over from somewhere on the carpet, slipping back into place. Hermione buttoned her top with a smile — wandless magic of all shapes and sizes had become a large part of her life these past couple years, and each time she did it, she couldn't hold back a feeling of absolute satisfaction.
Harry stifled a yawn, stretching a little. "At least we never have to worry about your parents pumping them full of sugar and sending them back to us right before the tantrum hits."
Hermione nodded, reaching for her briefcase. "Teddy, on the other hand—"
He held up his hands in mock defense. "He says he learned his lesson about the chocolate cake incident. Granted, he was always a quick learner—"
She smiled. "That was barely a week ago. Give it two weeks, really let the horror settle in and mingle with the wracking guilt and hovering fear."
"My goodness." Harry leaned in and stole a kiss. "You are ruthless."
"Absolutely." She kissed him back with relish, sweeping a hand through his hair. On the mantelpiece, the clock struck seven, and she pulled away with a groan. "You have to make me the world's largest g-and-t once we get home, use a pint glass or something—"
"Anything for you, my love," he replied, dry but sincere all at once, and he stepped away to fetch a handful of Floo powder. Harry held out his free hand to her, striking a fierce, burning silhouette against the fire, and a fierce wave of love tore through her at the sight of him, rumpled and powerful and lovely and sweet and Harry. "Ready?"
Hermione took a breath and stepped forward, taking his hand in hers. "Yes."
Fin
y'all know I couldn't let ya go without a nice smutty scene to send u off ;)
I can't thank everyone enough for the overwhelming response I have received for this story. your comments, your discussions, all of it has brought me so much light on my darkest days, and has given me sincere hope that I might have a chance of making it as a professional writer. I can't tell you what that hope means to me - it's one of few things keeping me going, right now.
I will write another Harmony story again, hopefully within the coming year (2021), but for now, I finally get to focus on finishing my novel, LOL
I love you all so so much, there aren't words for it 3 from the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading!
