Warning: LEMONS AHEAD!
Fury.
Fury. Fury. Fury.
Rarely do I lose my composure as I did after that meeting. Of course, you're aware of what transpired if you've viewed the records? You've seen the memories?
Good. I need not explain the specifics.
Needless to say… I was not happy with the old man's proposal.
I had silenced the room and bellowed as loud as I could, kicking a chair so hard that it splintered in several spots.
It was not enough; I needed more release.
It had been very late at night. I expected to be able to attain some antiqued alcohol in the Black cellar, not be disturbed by anyone, and certainly not give the liquor the savoring it deserved. I wanted to be as numb as possible, or as drunk as possible, for any further violence I decided to commit.
To my surprise, someone else seemed to have a similar idea.
Down the long, dusty stairs into the dungeon (as it was decorated with various macabre pieces, including manacles; typical Black lack of subtlety), I noticed a dim light in a corner near various casks.
Not saying a word, my anger slightly subdued by piqued interest, I quietly made my way to what appeared to be Fire Whiskey casked as far back as 1400.
The hair was unmistakable.
Hermione Granger, don in a flimsy nightdress that, as she bent over, gave me full view of the small white undergarments she was wearing, was clutching her arms from the damp cold of the cellar and perusing the selection of whiskey that vastly surpassed the typical magic proofs.
How interesting, I had thought.
'How interesting,' I had said.
She jumped, turning quickly with wand at the ready. This was all very fast, mind you, for a girl nearly purple with the cold and who obviously was without a brassiere.
Her face showed great surprise, at my presence or at her own incredibly quick response, I did not know. I do know that she became aware of my eyes traveling to things that let me know exactly how cold she was.
She had quickly wrapped her wandless arm around her breasts in an attempt to hide their obviousness; that only pushed her cleavage into a much more pleasant view. And there was no denying it was pleasant.
'Looking for a midnight snack, Miss Granger?'
She had furrowed her brows, propriety warring with her desire to spar.
'I was unaware that you had ownership to this cellar, Professor, as it's in Harry's possession,' she had bit back. Quarrelsome girl.
'Ah, does Mr. Potter know that you are partaking of his wares?'
She had no answer to that query.
'If you excuse me, Miss Granger, I will be sampling said wares as quickly as possible.' I left the double entendre hang. My earlier anger was returning, and I was finding myself as rebellious as the teenager in front of me.
As I moved past her, she attempted to further cover her chest, again unknowingly accentuating her cleavage.
I noticed she had transfigured some odd notion into a tumbler, which I charmed to duplicate itself. I went through the process of tapping the whiskey and filling our glasses past what was proper, handing her one.
She looked incredulously at the glass, then at me; repeat. This meeting was quickly becoming annoying.
'Just take the damn drink, Miss Granger. You are severely trying my patience.'
She bristled and took the glass, drinking it as if it were a shot served off of Madame Rosemerta's chest. I was both peeved at her blatant disrespect to the whiskey (even my earlier attempts to get pissed on whatever came my way was changed after seeing the fine selection) and impressed at her downing the liquid so quickly without any sign of distaste.
Her eyes quickly slid out of focus. I decided to test my observation.
'Is that flimsy cloth you'd call a nightdress for Mr. Weasley's benefit tonight?'
The girl's quick, involuntary grimace unexpectedly delighted me. I assumed it was more from the insinuation than the taste of the 600 year old whiskey she had just gulped.
'That is none of your business, Professor,' she said, her tipsiness not quite at the stage I had hoped. I drained my glass and quickly refilled both of ours.
'I would say that your nudity isn't my business either, but you appear to keep airing it,' I said, drawing her attention to her now forgotten lingerie. Nothing was left to the imagination due to the coldness of the dungeon, the thinness of the cloth, and the exquisite view that was her breasts.
What surprised me was that, after two glasses of whiskey, Miss Granger made no move to hide the view.
'It's too dark in here for you to see anything,' she said, with only slightly waning confidence.
'Ah, you assume I have poor eyesight in the dark when I am expected to function almost always in darkness?'
She stiffened slightly at my obvious reference to Death Eater activities.
'What do you do in that darkness?' she boldly questioned.
I, having already lost an edge due to my own four libations, did not rise to the bait and simply took her glass from her.
As I brushed her hand with mine, I believe that, second only to the dream, is what started it all.
I took the glass, noting, 'You have had too much already tonight, Miss Granger. I believe it is past your bedtime.'
She had again locked eyes with me for the second time that day and coyly responded, 'I'm of age. I can drink whatever I like and stay up as long as I like.'
I, foolishly…so foolishly, had responded to the rising tension.
'And what else are you of age to do?'
It was almost painful when we dizzily pressed together. Her lips quickly warmed from a chilly purple to a swollen red as my mouth met hers, frantically kissing.
The tumblers had fallen, her cold skin seeping through my warmer, woolen attire. Suddenly, it was too much, too hot. She seemed to sense that, working her slightly numb fingers to unbutton everything she came across, sliding everything off, leaving only my unbuttoned pants in her wake. I grabbed her roughly by the ass, sitting her on top of the casks so that she was eye level with me.
I pulled the strings of her already thin, loose night dress down her shoulders, letting them slip to hang on her slightly widened hips. Her breasts hung full, white marked with purple from the cold, her slightly puffy nipples fully pink and erect. I liked to think it was I, not the cold, who had that affect on her.
I became fully familiar with her chest, squeezing, grasping, pulling. She only pushed me further, one hand coming to entwine in my hair, another hand making work of the breast I was not enjoying. I bent my head, suckling, licking, and biting until I let each nipple slide from my mouth with a pop, leaving them as reddened and swollen as her parted, gasping lips.
Expecting her to remain, inexperienced, bent at the will of her new pleasure, I was surprised when she leaned from her cask-perch to suckle exquisitely on my neck, another hand sliding down my chest and toward the unbuttoned entrance to my pants. My cock only seemed to twitch harder against my already tented trousers. As her tongue descended to the niche between my neck and collar bone, I was nearly lost at the sensation… particularly as her tongue swirled its way north to suckle on my ear while her hand fully delved into my pants. I quickly worked my pants to slide to my feet, leaving me aching in my need.
Looking me directly in the eye, the chit actually licked her lips. I could tell our mutual inebriation was slowly wearing off in our frenetic foreplay.
Neither of us, in our growing soberness, appeared to question our impending actions.
I yanked up her nightdress, plunging two fingers into her ridiculously wet cunt. She sounded almost choked with the moans she made as I quickly stretched her tightness, feeling my own balls tighten as I grew impossibly hard at the sounds of her cries. This was it.
I quickly arched up into her, her legs spread wantonly as she threw her head back. By this point, I was not surprised to find she was hardly virginal and tried not to get distracted at the passing thought that I was resting in the same place as a Weasley. Her hands, gripping my ass to push me to the extent of her cervix, quickly rid me of any passing thoughts.
Her mewls of pleasure masked the scraping noise of her ass against the cask grain as her legs spread further, the pace of our fucking increasing. She would certainly be uncomfortable after our coupling, but she seemed to delight in the intensity of our positions. We were already close.
Her eyes suddenly drifted close, her mouth hung open in an almost silent scream as she suddenly pulsed around me. Her orgasm ripped through her, her hands making their way up my back to dig in almost painfully with her nails. She moaned no name, only the gibberish phrasings of "Yes…Yes!" Her sudden loudness only spurred me on, causing me to come with no words, only loud grunts, as she moaned at the feeling of my own release.
We lay for a moment, her quim and my cock twitching in the after-glow of what had just occurred.
She held me close to her, which for some odd reason had seemed more dangerous to me at the time than the obviously illegal act we had just committed. Which I had committed.
I had quickly pulled away, eyebrows furrowed as I slowly registered the actions that had just occurred. She seemed to do the same.
We silently dressed and left the dungeon, the tumblers cracked on the floor in our wake
Note: Again, I promise you are not reading anything illegal... everything will be explained in time.
I appreciate so much that so many of you are tracking me via Author or Story Alerts. I appreciate reviews even more! For all of you silently on the outskirts... please review! Hearing what you think gives me the impetus to keep posting. And for anyone else tuning in, this story is essentially complete. When I have the time to edit, then I post a chapter. So, keep reading!