Chapter 5
All In The Family
Harry sighed as he flopped down onto his bed. His prison term with the Dursley's was just beginning, and he had little to look forward to until he was picked up by someone, usually the Weasley family. Glancing around his room, Harry grinned. It was certainly better than it could have been though, the vague threat of having a mass-murdering godfather had stopped the Dursley's from making his life quite as miserable as they had before, and that was why he'd been allowed to bring his trunk and all his things up to his room instead of having it locked underneath the stairs.
Even that though wasn't enough to quench the pain he felt every time his mind drifted to how close he'd come to having a family. If not for Snape, or for the moon, or for Peter… he could be living with Sirius right now. He'd never have to come back. It had been so close he could nearly taste it, and he'd done something he hadn't allowed himself to do in a very long time: hope.
Perhaps that's why it had been so much more wrenching this time when his desires were trampled.
Harry sighed again, knowing that it being his first day back wouldn't excuse him the chores that Aunt Petunia expected of him. He pulled himself out of bed and left his room to go tend to the plants outside the house.
It had only been a few hours since he'd last seen them, but as he worked he wondered what they were doing. Ron was likely explaining to his parents why he'd lost his pet rat and gotten an owl of his own in much greater detail now that he was home. Harry shuddered thinking about the fact that Peter had been sleeping in the same dorm for the last three years. It was disgusting, and terrified him in a very different way than facing the Basilisk had.
"Boy! You better be finished with those roses! It's time for you to get inside and make dinner!"
Harry rolled his eyes at Uncle Vernon's demand. It seemed that being back in his own familiar home had given him back some of the confidence learning of Harry's godfather had taken away at the train station, and he expected that other than avoiding a situation like the summer after his first year, this summer wouldn't be much different.
Standing and taking off his gloves, Harry walked back into the house making sure his feet were clean and not tracking dirt onto Aunt Petunia's perpetually clean floors. He found her in the kitchen finishing making some lemonade, though the expression on her face made him think that maybe she had accidentally eaten one of the lemons instead.
Pulling out a few pans and opening the fridge, Harry began to prepare dinner as he had been doing for years.
Michael pulled out his keys and unlocked the front door, papers clutched in his other hand. He couldn't leave Harry's file at work where someone in the office may have found it considering that he wasn't supposed to have it at all. Walking in the door and wiping his feet he glanced to the right into the dining room and saw Elizabeth sitting expectantly, dinner waiting for him on the table. He'd called ahead to make sure she knew what time he would be home.
Looking over to his left into the living room, he inspected the recliner and the floor around it. Everything looked normal to him, meaning that Elizabeth must have cleaned up whatever mess had occurred as instructed.
"How was your day, pet?" he asked, sitting down in front of his plate. Her hands were in her lap as she waited for him to begin eating.
"Today went well, Master," she replied, her eyes now looking down at the table. "Everything went as you instructed. Hermione is asleep in her bed, exhausted from the day."
Michael hummed for a moment as he chewed a bit of food.
"You may start eating dinner, pet," he said distractedly. She picked up her utensils and began to eat with him. "So the gamble this morning worked out then?"
Elizabeth finished chewing the food in her mouth before answering.
"Yes, Master. I had the discussion with her about limits and consent. She was very unsure and anxious about it, but decided in the end to try at least once." Elizabeth took another bite, waiting for Michael's next question.
"So then will that be a regular occurrence, or has she found a limit for herself?"
"She enjoyed it, Master, and will be having a morning drink each day."
"I see," Michael said, still mostly thinking about what he'd learned about Harry's life today at work. "You will need to make sure you have a full glass of water every morning then as soon as you get up."
"Yes, Master."
For a while they both just ate their dinner, but Elizabeth was starting to become worried. She was allowed to speak when they were alone if she had something he needed to know, but she knew from experience that he would only tell her what he decided she would know. She could ask, she was always allowed to ask. She could even explain why she thought she should know, but like all other things it was ultimately his decision.
"I was able to get Harry's information," Michael finally said, breaking the silence. "It makes me… worried."
Elizabeth instantly fell back into her role as a professional trying to care for a patient.
"Abuse?"
"Maybe," Michael replied hesitantly. "Not really many of the things you'd expect to see if that were a large problem. No phantom broken bones, or mysterious healed ones in x-rays that had never been reported broken before. No unexplained bruising."
"Then what has you worried?" Elizabeth asked confused.
"He does seem to get injured frequently, but from the injuries I think it's likely his peers or his cousin that inflict the damage. Perhaps both. When you look at the whole medical history all at once though, it paints the picture of a boy who no one actually cares for. He has obvious symptoms of long-term malnourishment as a child, he's about four inches too short for the structure of his femur, and he gets minor illnesses more frequently that you would expect.
"Of the injuries he does get they seem to be poorly cared for, and heal much slower than normal. I think that's probably because he doesn't rest the injuries when he has them, based on the information in the file." Michael paused. "I don't… I don't think that his Aunt and Uncle physically abuse him much, or at least if they do it doesn't tend to go much farther than the average physical discipline some children receive. But it seems obvious that he is neglected, and that they care for him very little. It's like…" Michael took another bite and chewed, thinking of how to adequately describe his concerns. "It's like the way you might treat a sweater you borrow and forget to return. To them he's something that is someone else's problem, and they are merely in possession of him for now."
Elizabeth frowned.
"Then he might not have too many problems physically," she added, "but it might have affected him much more mentally."
"That's what I'm thinking," Michael agreed. Elizabeth furrowed her brows.
"But then, that will make what we were discussing this morning much more difficult," she stated, knowing he must have already considered this.
"Yes, it will."
Another period of silence passed as they both finished dinner, contemplating the problem.
"I think I have a plan," Michael finally said after their plates were cleared. Elizabeth nodded for him to continue. "Tomorrow I will visit his house and talk to him as well as his Aunt and Uncle. I'll find out more information and introduce myself as Hermione's father. If it seems like a good idea, I'll offer to take Harry from them for two weeks. I'll call it… something. They might not even need a justification if they neglect him severely enough. But I'll probably be able to play off of their concerns or fears as soon as I understand them.
"If there's physical abuse then we won't return him, but if it's neglect then we should probably help Hermione with helping him and then return him until the ones in the magical world looking after him decide to take him away."
"Why return him?" Elizabeth asked.
"Because," Michael replied, "he's 13. He'll be turning 14 at the end of this month according to what Hermione tells us, but there's a reason that even the courts don't usually force teenagers to change their living conditions except in extreme situations, pet. I don't think what he needs most is to be saved from them, I think what he needs is to learn how to save himself from them."
"What if it's more than that?" Elizabeth asked, concern filling her voice. "What if they deprive him of the ability to be happy? You can teach him how to find control, and Hermione can teach him how to connect with other people emotionally." She smiled fondly. "Goodness knows she feels enough for him to learn that lesson, even if she can't quite articulate it that way. But what if he doesn't know what that kind of happiness is? It's hard to accomplish something if you don't understand it."
Michael looked at his wife, considering.
"Do you think he should stay here?"
"It depends," Elizabeth answered. "Until we know the particulars of his situation we won't know what works best. He might be better off experiencing some kind of independence instead of trading one set of guardians for another."
"We're not going to adopt the boy," Michael said.
"No," Elizabeth agreed, "but that isn't what I'm saying. Staying here might be something that he just sees as another novel experience instead of something that teaches him something about himself."
"Based on what we've heard from Hermione, we know that he's fairly important to some powerful people in the magical world. They won't let his living situation change just because we think it should." Michael frowned. "No, he'll have to go back because if it's neglect and not abuse, he needs to face them. Face the situation. He needs to take what I'll teach him and then see it action, see that he does have the power to change things for himself. I don't think he'll ever fully leave that household mentally otherwise."
"There's too much we don't know," Elizabeth said shaking her head. "Perhaps Hermione knows more that would be useful."
"She might," Michael agreed. "We'll ask her about it tomorrow before I leave to visit him, and then I'll get more information when I talk to him and his relatives. I'll decide how to proceed at that time."
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.
"Go ahead, pet," Michael encouraged.
"What if… he can't be what Hermione wants?" Elizabeth asked despondently. "What if he can't be what she needs? I've seen it Michael, even though it's only been a day. She needs this, she's absolutely natural at it and far too intelligent to let social normatives stop her from pursuing it. If we do this we won't be able to undo it. Their relationship with each other will be fundamentally changed once Harry understands this part of our daughter, and if he is either incapable or utterly uninterested it will devastate her."
Michael waved dismissively.
"Teenagers everywhere go through crushes and unreturned love, Liz. It won't be pleasant, but Hermione will eventually move past it."
"That's not the point!" Elizabeth shouted. Immediately the heated expression on her face melted away and she looked down at the table. "I'm sorry for speaking with that tone Master."
Michael blinked a few times, surprised at his wife's outburst. It was so unlike her to speak in that way, and it was clear to him that he'd said something that greatly upset her.
"Go ahead," he said softly.
"It's not that we might 'mess up her chances' with a potential romantic interest, Michael. It's a consent issue." She paused and saw the recognition start to show in her husband's face. "If we take any of these actions without consulting Hermione first, we're affecting her relationships without her consent. That's outside what we both have deemed acceptable under any circumstances."
"It's a choice that can't be undone," Michael agreed, nodding his understanding. "I see what you are saying." He grinned at her sheepishly. "I'm sorry for misunderstanding pet."
Elizabeth blushed and looked away. How could he still make her feel this way, even after 22 years?
"That's alright, Master," she mumbled.
"Hermione had to know though…" Michael muttered. Elizabeth looked back up at him.
"Know what?"
"When she asked on the way home from the station," Michael said. "She had to know that if we agreed to what she was asking for, the things she wanted and needed would change. And she also had to know that after she went back to school in September she would either need to find some kind of arrangement or go without."
"That isn't consent for us to do this, though," Elizabeth offered, confused.
"No, no, that's not what I'm saying," Michael agreed calmly. "We will talk to her about that tomorrow when we discuss the Dursley's with her. I'm saying that I don't understand what her plan was. How she planned on balancing these things with the rest of her life." Michael chuckled. "Our daughter doesn't do anything without a plan."
"No," Elizabeth said, smiling. "She doesn't."
After a moment, Elizabeth spoke again.
"I told her when I was explaining her punishment that we wouldn't help her with Harry."
"You what?!" Michael asked. He looked at her incredulously. "You had to know there was no situation in which we would refuse to help her if she asked. Neither of us, you included, would refuse to help our daughter live a happy life." He looked at her as if measuring her. "Why did you tell her that?"
"I'm not…" Elizabeth hesitated. "Master, you know I'm not experienced being on this side of things. I…" She looked down at the table again. "It just, came out. It's hard for me to stay in that state of mind, Master. You know that." She sighed. "You always say 'a punishment should affect you both physically and mentally for it to make a real impact', and when my mind reached, that's what I knew would affect her the most mentally. I'm sorry Master."
Elizabeth hung her head and her eyes began to water. Michael was silent. After the first teardrop rolled off her nose onto the table, Michael sighed.
"I suppose this is partially my fault," Michael said slowly. "I've put you in a position that you're not well equipped for. You understand very well what goes into the mentality of being dominant, and the actions to take. I guess it just kind of made me forget that it's not a thing which comes naturally for you and something you haven't had much practice with." He nodded to himself. "I should have given you better instructions on how to punish her. Something that also included the mental aspect."
"I'm sorry Master," she repeated.
"It probably isn't something she's thought about too much," Michael allowed. "We've kept her mind pretty busy since then, and she was probably a bit clouded at that time anyway. However, I'm not the one you should be apologizing too."
Elizabeth nodded in agreement without looking up, another tear falling to the table.
"Tomorrow morning before you bring her downstairs for our discussion, you will take her in to the bathroom and you will apologize to her and explain what you did that was wrong," Michael told her stiffly. "Then you will be the one drinking instead of her, and you will offer to use your mouth on her if she is so inclined." Michael paused, then continued in a tender voice. "Liz, I know it's not something that you're used to doing. But being the dominant doesn't mean you stop being her mother. I didn't stop being her father just because of the relationship we've always had, and I never stopped being your husband just because of what we do together."
"I understand," Elizabeth said, a few manic laughs squeezing through her tears at the relief that washed over her from the forgiveness of her Master. "I think I realized that earlier today, when me and Hermione were talking. I found that path that lets me be her mother and Mistress at the same time, and she helped me find it."
Michael smiled warmly before speaking.
"Look up at me, pet."
Elizabeth looked up, a smile on her face and tears on her cheeks.
"Neither of us had exactly prepared for our daughter to ambush us with this on the way home from the station. I didn't have time to prepare you or train you." He motioned for her to come around and sit on his lap, and as soon as she did he embraced her and cradled her head against his chest. "It's forgiven, pet," he whispered as she let go of the last of her tears. "You're doing a wonderful job so far, and I'm so proud of you."
"T-Thank you-u, Master," Elizabeth said.
Hermione woke up slowly the next morning, her mind letting go of the fog of sleep reluctantly. The first thing she thought once she was aware was that she wasn't sure why she was naked instead of in her pajamas. It came back to her and a smile reminiscent of the one she'd gone to sleep with returned to her face. That had been… truly incredible.
Getting out of bed she looked around for her uniform, as she was starting to think of it, before realizing that she'd undressed and left them strewn about downstairs. Had her mother picked them up and washed them? She looked towards the door and noticed a note taped to it. She easily recognized her mother's clean script. It read simply, 'Come directly to my room once you wake up.'
Hermione glanced down at herself, wondering if picking out some new clothes would conflict with an instruction to 'come directly' to the room. Deciding that it was better to let her mother decide what she wore, Hermione opened the door and walked down the hall to her parent's room. She hadn't been prepared for the sight which greeted her, however.
Elizabeth was tied to a hook in the ceiling, her hands taught above her. A metal bar of some kind was fastened between her ankles, keeping them spread, and the rope to the ceiling was exactly enough length for her to be standing on her toes. A vibrator of some kind was taped against her clit, buzzing softly, and her tits which Hermione had admired so much the previous morning were red and splotchy.
"Untie the knot next to you," Elizabeth said unevenly. Hermione glanced to her right and realized that the rope which went to the hook above her mother was actually tied to another hook near the door, allowing her to be more easily released. Working quickly, Hermione untied the knot and Elizabeth collapsed to the floor. Rushing to her side, Hermione began asking question.
"What's going on?" Hermione reached for the wrists and began taking the rope off. "Why are you like this?"
With her wrists freed, Elizabeth removed the vibrator with a wince and a shudder, then began working on the ankle cuffs that held the spreader bar.
"I'm being punished by Master," Elizabeth explained, a smile on her face that Hermione thought was quite incongruous with how she'd been situated.
"But… why?"
"I'll explain once we're in the bathroom," Elizabeth replied, standing and moving towards the door shakily. Hermione's eyes widened and her face flushed. That's right, the bathroom… she had a new morning routine to take care of. She moved after her mother into the bathroom and tried to walk past into the tub, but Elizabeth grabbed her arm. It wasn't harsh, just enough that Hermione knew her mother wanted to speak first.
"The night we got back from the train station," Elizabeth started, "I said something to you that I shouldn't have. Something that wasn't true."
Hermione's face turned to confusion. Nothing she remembered from that night seemed to be that bad.
Well, Hermione thought, I suppose that's a matter of perspective. She did basically tell me that I was a worthless scarlet woman who's only redeeming quality was letting others use my body. Hermione almost giggled at the absurdity of that thought, and how it actually felt comforting in some ways. I don't think that's what she's talking about though.
Elizabeth watched her daughter to see if she'd figure out what it was she was talking about. If it had been something that had greatly affected Hermione's view of her parents, it would have likely stuck with her. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when Hermione's face remained confused.
"When I was explaining your punishment," Elizabeth proceeded, "I told you that your father and I wouldn't help you with Harry. But sweetie, neither of us would ever watch you struggle to find the happiness you want if we could help." Elizabeth's eyes clouded and Hermione felt she began to understand what her mother was talking about.
I didn't really take it the way she's talking about, but I can see how I might have.
"I'm sorry, sweetie," Elizabeth said sincerely. "Nothing will ever stop us from being your parents or loving you, and even if it didn't bother you, I shouldn't have said that. For what it meant, and the idea behind it."
"I forgive you, Mistress."
Elizabeth opened her mouth to tell Hermione to call her mum, then closed it again. She didn't want to confuse the girl.
"I wasn't supposed to tell you that, it isn't part of the punishment that your father and I agreed on. I sort of…" Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably. "Made it up on the spot. When I told your father last night, he… was displeased. As he should be. That's why I was tied the way I was when you walked in."
Hermione nodded her understanding before venturing a question.
"What, um… What exactly was your punishment?"
"Well," Elizabeth started slowly. "I had to write the note you found on your door. After taping it up your father gave my chest 10 lashes, and I had to sleep with clamps. In the morning he set me up as you found me and told me that I would remain that way until you released me." Elizabeth looked to the side, obviously uncomfortable. "I'm also not allowed to cum for the rest of the day, and our roles for this morning's drink will be reversed."
At first Hermione wanted to ask how long the vibrator had been going, because after her experience last afternoon, she wasn't sure she would be able to handle being edged like that without some kind of release. But then she caught the second half of the statement and glanced at the tub.
"You mean… in there?"
Elizabeth nodded.
"If you want, after we finish with that I'm allowed to please you with my mouth."
Hermione wasn't sure what to think exactly. She hadn't really taken offense to what her mother had done wrong, but she also understood why such a thing would matter very much to her parents. In their family, being able to trust each other and rely on each other had always been an absolute quality to their relationship, and her parents had always told her how important it was to them that she could come to them with anything.
She also understood much better now what it felt like to be in a relationship like her parent's shared, and thought she might understand how her mother might have reacted to realizing she'd done something wrong. If their places were switched, Hermione would want the cleansing that such a punishment would provide. A way to atone for an action she'd take back if she could, and wash away the guilt and self-doubt it would generate.
"We had better take care of it then," Hermione said, a tinge of confidence creeping into her voice. "I need to go badly…"
Elizabeth grinned, climbing into the tub and squatting down. Trying to project the kind of self-assured nonchalance she had in other areas of her life, Hermione stepped in after her and put her legs to either side of her mothers face, trying to line up correctly. She gave a gasp of surprise as her mother lifted up slightly and placed her mouth against Hermione's slit, before pushing on the muscle that controlled her bladder.
Hermione was so focused on staying in control of what she was doing that she didn't notice anything about how her mother reacted. She was entirely focused on trying to control the flow so that it would be manageable, which was difficult because it was something she'd never really had to do before. But regardless of whether or not her efforts were successful, her mother seemed to manage and not a drop was spilled.
After she was finished, Hermione felt a shock travel through her as her mother's tongue swiped up.
"No!" Hermione shouted reflexively, stumbling backward. "I… sorry, Mistress. I'll, erm, pass on the optional part. Still a bit… worn out from yesterday."
Elizabeth nodded and stood up, giving her daughter a hug. They embraced one another for a few seconds before Elizabeth pulled back and smiled.
"Now," Elizabeth said with a voice that Hermione knew meant things were back to normal. Or at least, back to the new normal. "Listen carefully slut. I need to go clean up my room and put away the rope and other things that have been left out. Go get dressed in whatever you wish and head downstairs, I'll join you and your father shortly." Elizabeth pulled Hermione close suddenly and began to reach around her back. "First though, this comes out for a little while."
Hermione felt her mother reach behind and wrap her fingers around the plug, pulling on it gently. Relaxing her muscles, Hermione felt it slide out, and realized that she also needed to take care of that problem as well.
Elizabeth placed the plug in the sink and started to walk out of the bathroom.
"We'll put it back in after your father leaves for the day," she called out, heading down the hall.
Hermione took care of all her maintenance tasks swiftly, and only five minutes later was walking into the dining room where her father was sitting, reading the paper.
"Hello, sweetheart," he said warmly. "Did you take care of your mother?"
Hermione nodded with a blush then walked into the kitchen to make a bowl of cereal. By the time she'd finished and was walking towards the table, Elizabeth was walking into the room wearing the same latex skirt and half bra that she'd been wearing the first night.
Her mother sat down at one of the dining room chairs and remained silent while her father returned to the paper. Looking between the two, Hermione got the sense that there was some kind of discussion they wanted to have. She got that sense, ironically, from how they were currently saying nothing.
Setting her bowl down, Hermione started eating her breakfast and considered what the topic could be.
Well, considering how big of a deal what mum was talking about seemed to be to them, it probably has something to do with Harry, she reasoned. Perhaps dad looked into him? Or they need to know something about him from me?
She wasn't known as the brightest witch of her age for nothing.
Finishing her last bite, Hermione spoke.
"Did you want to talk about Harry?" she asked.
Elizabeth smiled and shook her head, as if to say 'of course we should have expected that', while Michael looked at her, both amused and impressed.
"You are frighteningly intelligent, sweetheart," he said. Hermione glowed under the compliment, smiling widely. "We wanted to know if you could tell us anything about Harry's home life."
Hermione looked at him concerned before glancing at her mother. She looked back to her father and asked a question of her own.
"Did you find something out, dad?" Her mind was racing.
Why would he ask that question except if there was something seriously wrong? How could he have found out? What does he think is happening to Harry at home? What IS happening to Harry at home!?
"I was able to get his medical records," Michael replied, noticing the instant fear that crossed Hermione's face. "Nothing there suggests he's suffering from physical abuse, sweetheart. All the same, there were things that left us with… questions, let's say. About his relationship with his relatives."
Hermione tried to calm down and looked down at the table trying to focus.
"He doesn't talk about it much," she answered lowly. "From what I gather they either ignore him completely or hate him openly, though I'm not sure which. He's said that they don't like magic, but I think it might be a more severe than he was letting on."
"Hmmm." Michael thought for a few seconds then glanced at Elizabeth. "Do you think that's where the problems come from Liz? Magic?"
"I suppose it can be an unwelcome shock to some families." She looked at Hermione confused. "But they're his Aunt and Uncle, right? So that means one of them had to have been siblings with one of Harry's parents, and they were both magical."
"His Aunt," Hermione relayed. "Her sister was Harry's mother."
"Then why the problem with magic?" Michael asked, only more confused now. "She would have grown up around it."
"I don't know," Hermione said. "Harry never talks about this sort of thing."
"All I have is more questions…" Michael muttered, trailing off.
"Sorry dad," Hermione offered disappointedly.
"No, sweetheart, it's not a problem. In fact you've been helpful," he offered with a smile. She saw him glance at her mother before looking back. "I want to go to Harry's house and help him, sweetheart, but I want to know if that's okay with you first."
Hermione's mind worked furiously at this information and she began to go over what he might mean. Help him with his relatives? With his relationship with them? She began to blush.
Help him with what they're helping me with right now?
"Do… Are you going to tell him about our family, and about… me?"
Michael shook his head.
"No, sweetheart, not unless that's okay with you. I can probably help him with some things without going into that at all." He paused. "If that is okay with you though, I can probably help him with some of the control and confidence issues you mentioned on the way home from the station."
Hermione worked the request over in her mind.
What would I do to help Harry?
Anything. The answer was anything.
"Please do that dad. If you think it will help."
Michael watched her for a few seconds before nodding.
"Alright, sweetheart. I'll be on my way then, it's a few hours to Surrey."
Michael stood up and began collecting his things, and Hermione suddenly became extremely nervous.
"Dad?" she called out and he turned to look at her. "Are you… Is he going to be coming back with you?"
Michael glanced at Elizabeth and she gave a small nod.
"If it works out with him and relatives, I can. Why sweetheart?"
"If…" She hesitated before gathering her resolve and plowing forward. "If he's coming over, can I be the one to explain to him about you about mum? About me?"
Michael stared at her blankly for a few seconds before responding.
"Are you sure sweetheart? You don't have to, you know."
"I know, dad," she said. "But I should. I'm the reason he's going to be exposed to any of this, and I have no idea how he'll feel about it. It's my responsibility to explain myself to him."
Michael bobbed his head, then walked over to her and patted her on the head.
"My little girl is growing up so fast."
In a few minutes he was out the front door, and a few seconds of silence later Elizabeth spoke up.
"Come on slut," she said beckoning back towards the kitchen. "You went to bed without dinner, you need more than just a bowl of cereal."
Harry had just finished with the roses, preferring to get that chore done early in the day to avoid the summer heat, and was washing up when the doorbell rang. It wasn't very often that doorbells rang on Private Drive during the summer, and a fleeting hope clutched at Harry that it was Sirius coming to tell him that everything had been worked out, and they could live together now.
Harry squashed that thought miserably, frustrated with his traitorous imagination having presented him with something so painful.
He was about to walk into his room and stay out of sight, like his relatives preferred when guests were over, when he caught something the man was saying.
"…Hermione Granger's father. She attends school with Harry."
Harry turned around so quickly he nearly fell over and practically flew down the stairs.
"Mr. Granger?" he called out, reaching the landing. Aunt Petunia, who'd answered the door, looked flabbergasted that Harry had seemed to appear from nowhere, and the sour look on her face told him she was exceedingly unhappy to have someone with a connection to his world at the door. "What are you doing here?"
Michael smiled at Harry and nodded towards Petunia.
"I was just introducing myself to your Aunt. I'd like to speak to you, if that's alright."
"We told those freaks not to come around," Aunt Petunia spat out. She rounded on Harry. "Did you get his daughter pregnant?"
Before Harry could answer, Michael interjected.
"No, nothing like that fortunately." He said it in a light voice, trying to lessen the tension, but Aunt Petunia seemed immune and continued focusing on Harry.
"So what then, is she some trollop you're seeing?"
Harry was stunned at the audacity of his Aunt and looked at Mr. Granger nervously. The man's face still had a smile on it, but it had tightened considerably.
"Madam," he said with a steel in his voice that conveyed his opinion of Petunia's imagination. "Perhaps if you invited me inside I could explain myself."
Aunt Petunia looked back at Michael, the sour look still on her face, before she apparently realized why he might be looking at her with such strained politeness.
"Of course…" she said, pausing and collecting herself. She turned back to Harry. "Make some tea."
Harry bolted, terrified of what any father might do when a stranger impugned their daughter in such a manner.
"Keep your wand away from your hands," Petunia told Michael.
"A wand?" he replied confused. "But I'm not magical, madam. I'm a dentist."
The fire seemed to leave Petunia as she sputtered and huffed before turning and heading to the sitting room. Michael followed, glancing around the house as he went.
That must be Harry's cousin, he thought as he glanced over several pictures. None of Harry though. Neglect seems more likely now, especially since he seemed in such good health when he answered the door.
Harry worked in the kitchen preparing the tea and Michael sat across from Petunia, waiting patiently.
"Why are you here?" she finally asked with another huff.
"To talk with Harry," he replied. "I believe I mentioned that at the door."
"About what?"
Michael stared at the thin woman in front of him, deciding how to proceed.
If I tell her that I'm here to take him away for a few weeks, will she agree simply to get rid of him? Michael wondered internally. She seems to expect everything to be Harry's fault. Would she want to prevent him from enjoying himself?
Michael glanced towards the kitchen, then back to Petunia.
I can't go with the route of claiming some kind of school event, because her distaste for magic seems to have been understated if anything by Hermione. So then, I'll stick to the non-magical lie.
"My wife and I are both dentists, so we've obviously instilled a great respect for the civility of healthy teeth in our daughter," Michael explained. "While at school, my daughter noticed that Harry is in need of a dental procedure." He paused. "No doubt because of an irresponsible amount of sweets while at school."
Petunia nodded absently, and Michael wondered if she even realized she was doing it for how automatic it was.
"The procedure should only take a day, but children are often unbearable afterward, so we thought we would offer to watch him for the two week recovery period."
"We won't pay for it," Petunia declared instantly.
"I'm not on a door-to-door sales pitch, madam," he said with as much disdain as he could muster. "It's been paid for by another party." Michael wondered how much Petunia knew about Harry's life. "Some fellow that claimed to be his godfather."
Michael heard a gasp from the archway into the room and turned to see Harry holding the tea tray with a shocked yet hopeful look on his face. Michael cringed inwardly.
Sorry Harry, I didn't mean for that lie to be heard by you.
Petunia looked ghost white at this information and nodded quickly.
"Yes, of course. Go ahead and take him then." She pointed to the stairs and glared at Harry. "Go get your things to take them as well, I don't want to leave that unnaturalness unattended while you're away."
Harry, still reeling from what he had heard, turned to leave slowly, not realizing the tea tray was still in his hands. Michael watched Harry leave the room and then turned back to Petunia.
I guess I'll have to take him with me regardless then. I didn't expect her to kick him out quite so easily.
"Well I'll just go help him collect his things then we'll be on our way," Michael said amiably.
"Of course," Petunia replied agreeably.
Michael turned and walked up the stairs then followed the sounds of packing coming from the left. Pausing at the half-open door he knocked and the sounds of packing stopped.
"Er… uh… come in?"
It sounded more like a question than a statement to Michael.
So he doesn't have many personal boundaries or much privacy, likely.
Walking into the room and closing the door behind him, Michael turned and faced the boy, studying him carefully.
Definitely didn't get enough nutrition as a younger child, but his face has filled out so the school meals have likely ended that problem. He looked over Harry's clothes for a moment. Far too large and well worn to be things purchased for him. Probably cast-offs from his cousin based on the pictures of the boy and Petunia's instant objection to the cost of a dental procedure.
Harry shifted uncomfortably and Michael realized he'd been staring.
"Sir," Harry started before Michael got the chance to speak. "Did… Did Sirius really send you to get me?"
Michael sighed and slumped a bit.
This is going to be an unpleasant way to start off with him.
"No, I'm afraid not Harry." Michael watched as Harry seemed to shrink a bit in front of him. "I was casting about for something that would satisfy your Aunt as a reason to leave and gambled that she knew of him."
A few seconds passed before Harry seemed to collect himself and direct an angry glare at Michael.
"And why are you here, Mr. Granger. If that really is your name."
Michael's eyebrows raised. Was Harry expecting people to try and abduct him?
"I am indeed Hermione's father," he answered smoothly, taking care to display only an earnest desire to care for the boy. "Hermione… hadn't been telling her mother or me about what was actually happening at your school."
"Ah," Harry replied, looking down and seeming to deflate once more. Michael found this confusing until the boy continued. "I'm sorry Sir, I'll… stay away from her if you want. I know being my friend seems to get her in trouble."
Michael's eyebrows raised again in astonishment.
Definitely some esteem problems, and the way he talks about his life… it's like he's given up the hope of having control over it.
"I see," Michael said, filling the silence. "That, er, isn't why I'm here. I'm not here to reprimand you, or provide you with a dental procedure." Michael chuckled. "From what little I've seen so far your teeth seem perfectly healthy, which is more than can be said for many your age. No, I'm here because Hermione has decided something about her life. Something important to her and difficult to explain. It might involve you, or it might not, but as her closest friend I offered to bring you so that you could help her with this… change in her life. If you were willing."
Michael was already formulating the excuse he would give if Harry decided to stay.
Something about Hermione being a liar making up stories about her friends would probably work well with Petunia.
"Will… I have to come back here? This summer?"
"Yes Harry, I'm afraid you will. Though I understand why you may not want to."
The green-eyed boy nodded as if he'd expected the answer.
"For how long?"
"Two weeks," Michael answered. "You'll be back a few days before your birthday."
"Will I be staying at your house Mr. Granger?"
"I'm not sure yet, but there are several options we're considering. Depending on how your conversation with Hermione goes, you and me might go on a holiday together and leave the girls to their devices for a week or so."
Harry furrowed his brow at this information, not understanding how that could make sense with the other things Michael had told him.
"I see," Harry finally replied. Michael hesitated a few seconds before asking the question he needed to know the answer to that moment.
"Will you come with me Harry?"
Harry considered the offer. Apparently something was going on that Hermione either wanted to share with him or wanted his help with. He thought back to the ordeal he'd gone through with her barely a week earlier. She'd always helped him, always stayed by his side. Even when he didn't want her help, like with his Firebolt this last year, she'd still been looking out for him. If she needed him now, how could he say no?
"Yes Sir," he answered with a resolve that surprised Michael. "If Hermione needs me, I'll do what I can."
Interesting, Michael thought, observing the strength in the boys expression at that moment. So his esteem problems don't extend to his ability to help other people.
"Let's finished packing then," Michael replied, motioning towards the items that were still outside of the boy's trunk. They collected the items in silence and within a few minutes were carrying the trunk downstairs together. Harry had sent Hedwig ahead to Hermione and strapped the cage to the top of trunk for easy carrying.
"We'll be on our way!" Michael called out to Petunia as they reached the front door. "I'll have him back to you in two weeks time."
Petunia simply sniffed as she watched the pair carry the trunk out to Michael's car. Soon the engine was started and they were pulling away from the plain-seeming house in a row of houses just like it. After several minutes of silence on the road, Michael decided to begin the series of conversations he was likely going to need with the boy.
"Do you feel like you have much control over your life Harry?"
Michael saw the boy's face turn and look at him out of the corner of his eye, but he waited patiently for an answer.
"No Sir."
"Do you want to? Have some control over your life that is?"
This time Harry's whole upper body turned to face Michael and he glanced over. Harry's face seemed cautious and confused.
"Why are you asking?"
"It's related to the, uh, situation that Hermione finds herself in. If you decide to help her after she speaks with you, then one of the things I will be doing is helping you find that control within your life."
Harry gawked at Michael as if he'd declared himself the rightful sovereign of the British Empire.
"Yes Sir. More control would be… nice."
Michael let it drop at that and a minute later decided to turn on the radio.
"Slut," Elizabeth called out with a sigh. "They're still several hours away. Your father probably hasn't even arrived at Harry's house yet. If you don't calm down you'll be a nervous wreck by the time Harry gets here."
Hermione's nervous ticks were all on display. She was pacing, biting her lip, flipping from one activity to another rapidly, and muttering to herself.
Classic signs of a stressed Hermione, Elizabeth thought with equal measures fondness and exasperation.
"But Mistress," Hermione started. "What if he doesn't understand? What if dad gives him the wrong idea and he's not mentally prepared? What if—"
"Enough," Elizabeth said with authority. Hermione jumped at her tone and looked at her mother apologetically. "Your mind is far too active. It's time to turn your mind off."
Elizabeth walked over to Hermione quickly, and before the younger girl could react, reached down the front of her pants and stuck a finger into her folds. Hermione gasped and went rigid for a moment before relaxing. Sliding her finger around a bit first, Elizabeth removed her hand and examined the glistening tip.
"What are you?" Elizabeth asked forcefully.
"I—uh—I'm a slut," Hermione fumbled. Elizabeth frowned then reached out with her clean hand and tweaked one of Hermione's nipples through her shirt, causing the girl to squeal in pain.
"Hesitation will be punished," Elizabeth said. She held up the glistening fingertip in front of Hermione's face. "Open."
Hermione opened her mouth immediately, and the finger was inside almost as quickly.
"We're going to go up to my room and I'm going to stick you between my legs for a while so that your mouth can do something more useful than it has been," her mother explained. Before Hermione could really process what had been said Elizabeth was walking towards the stairs and Hermione jumped into action, following behind.
In short order Hermione found herself between her mother's spread legs, her mouth arguably more active than it had been before.
"Thaaat's better," Elizabeth sighed contentedly. "In a few hours I'll let you get cleaned up and dressed. You'll be allowed to wear a bra if you want when you greet him."
Elizabeth laid her head back and let out a long breath, relaxing into the feeling coming from below.
"You're doing better than the other night," Elizabeth commented. "Perhaps this is yet one more thing my daughter is good at." She let out a giggle and patted Hermione on the head between her legs. "Lucky me."
At first Hermione was extremely focused on the task at hand, but as time went on she got used to the situation enough to let her mind wander while doing it. She watched as her mother pulled a book from the nightstand and started to read and for a moment felt herself start to worry.
Am I doing that badly?
Elizabeth seemed to read her mind though.
"Don't worry slut, you're doing fine," she said distractedly. "In case you forgot, I'm not allowed to cum today, so I need to distract myself a little."
Hermione felt the reassurance wash over her and her mind wandered once more. To her surprise, it didn't fixate on Harry or the coming discussion like she'd expected. Instead it seemed to drift towards her experiences as a sub so far, and how she felt about what she had learned and done. Every so often her mothers hand would pat her on the head, or run through her hair, much like you would encourage a dog Hermione thought, and she found herself feeling more and more the part that she was so actively playing: the obedient, submissive slut.
She was confused at first when she felt her mother pushed her away from her task. Glancing up at Mistress' face, her own face shining with juices, she waited for an instruction.
"It's time for you to get cleaned up and dressed, slut," Elizabeth said warmly. "They should be here in the next half hour."
Hermione nodded and got up to leave the room. With every step she took she felt a little lighter. It had worked. Her anxiety was gone, replaced with the simplicity of what she was asked to be right now. Just a slut. Nothing more.
Michael pulled into the driveway, a chuckle on his lips.
"He was trying to raise a dragon?" Michael asked with obvious humor. Harry chuckled as well.
They had passed the last portion of the trip bonding over Michael's interest in Harry's experiences at school. Michael had wanted to know more about the day-to-day adventures and experiences than the major events which had consumed the last several years, which put Harry much more at ease.
"Yeah. In a wooden hut no less." Michael snorted and Harry continued as the car was shut off. "He's such a friendly guy though that it's hard to hold that kind of thing against him. He just gets blinded by his passion for creatures."
Harry looked around suddenly, realizing that they'd come to a stop.
"We're here already?"
"We certainly are," Michael replied, opening his door and stepping out.
Harry followed suit and moved to unload his trunk but Michael caught his attention and motioned for him to leave it.
"We can get the trunk later, Harry," Michael told him. "Let's go in and say hello first."
Harry felt nervous as he approached the door and he couldn't quite figure out why. He'd seen Hermione only a few days ago and hadn't been nervous in the slightest. Harry glanced at Michael as the man fumbled with his keys.
Perhaps it has something to do with how vague Mr. Granger was being about what's going on with Hermione, or why I'm here. He collected the sense of will within himself that he was so familiar with using in unknown situations. I just hope that I can help, whatever it is.
As the door opened he followed Michael in and started looking around immediately, noticing the clean but still lived-in dining room. Turning to check his other side he was staggered as arms wrapped around him and messy brown hair covered his face.
"Hello Harry," Hermione said softly from his chest. He grinned and gave her a few pats on the back before pulling away and inspecting her.
He thought she looked more relaxed that she usually did, but couldn't decide if it was due to what she was wearing or simply that she was at home. Her outfit wasn't anything too special, but it was a bit more showy than the clothes that Hermione usually wore. Or at least, the ones that she brought to Hogwarts with her. Her pants were rather tight-fitting, and only went down to her calves, while her shirt let most of the skin on her arms show and looked to be a comfortably worn and faded piece of clothing.
"Hello Hermione," he replied smiling. After a few seconds though, his smile turned into a frown, and then into confusion. "Er, why did you want me here? Nothing seems to be wrong…" He saw her expression shift to something that looked like discomfort and quickly followed up. "Not that I'm put out, mind you. I'd much rather be here with you than back at the Dursley's."
"Let's go upstairs," Hermione offered, grabbing him by the arm.
"We'll have dinner ready in about an hour," Elizabeth called after them.
Pulling Harry into her room, Hermione reached to close the door, then remembered what her mother had said the previous day.
Right. Sluts don't get privacy.
Walking to her bed and sitting down Hermione looked at Harry expectantly waiting for him to sit and get comfortable. For his part, Harry was suddenly quite nervous once more, well aware that this was a new situation and environment to be with his friend in. A very… intimate situation and environment compared to how they usually spent time. Deciding he better take a seat as she clearly expected, Harry went to the opposite end of the bed and sat down facing her, crossing his legs under him.
"Where do I start…" Hermione muttered.
"At the beginning, normally," Harry offered, trying to calm his own nerves with a joke. She grinned at him.
"All right then," she said, taking a deep breath. "Do you know anything about sex, Harry?"
To say that Harry was startled at the question would be quite the understatement. He nearly fell off the bed. Righting himself and glancing at Hermione with a furious blush he noticed that her cheeks were almost equally red as his felt. At least this was affecting her as well.
"Yes," he muttered, not willing to offer anything further unless she asked a much more specific question.
"When did you learn?" she asked.
"In school the year before Hogwarts," Harry replied, feeling his blush deepen.
"Really?" she asked curiously. "Have you ever had sex?"
"Hermione!"
At least she has the grace to look guilty, he thought, wondering if there was a more nerve-wracking conversation a girl's father might pick up a young boy to have with his daughter.
"Sorry Harry," Hermione said sheepishly. "I was… getting distracted. But it's just such a fascinating subject—a lot of the materials on it are contradictory and unreliable—and it's not one that I talk about with anyone, and—"
"Hermione," Harry interjected, feeling that she was surely trying to kill him.
"Sorry," she repeated. A few seconds of silence passed. "Are you familiar with dominance and submission?"
Harry was confused with the sudden change in topic, and reached through his mind for what she could be referring to. Perhaps she was rephrasing how magic interacted during a transfiguration?
"In magic, you mean?"
Now Hermione looked confused.
"There's dominance and submission in magic?"
"Well," Harry hedged, "it sounds similar to how magic works during a transfiguration."
Hermione looked somewhat shocked, and then laughed. Harry didn't think he'd ever heard her laugh so deeply, and was very sure he hadn't made a joke of any kind. She was laughing too genuinely to be laughing at him, but he didn't understand what was so funny. After a few seconds the laughter died and Hermione took another deep breath, this one seeming much more relaxed.
"No Harry. Dominance and submission in sex."
I don't remember anything about THAT in school, Harry thought.
"No," he answered, feeling lost again.
"For some people," Hermione explained, "when they are with another person, they want to be… controlled. And other people in the same situation want to be in control. Dominance and submission in sex are about that. The dominant is in control and the submissive is being controlled."
"But…" Harry was simply too confused to feel embarrassed about the subject any longer. "How… would that even work?"
"Well," Hermione pressed quickly, "there are many different ways, but a few examples might be the dominant giving the submissive instructions, or tying them up."
Harry's brows furrowed.
"How can you have sex if you're tied up?" His brain caught up with his question and he amended it. "I mean, physically it seems like being tied up might get in the way of that."
"Sex isn't just about… what they talk about in school," Hermione replied, some of her blush returning. "In school what they are really teaching you about is how reproduction works. The kind of sex that can lead to… children."
Harry nodded and looked around the room, sure that there must be a camera somewhere.
Did I fall down the stairs coming down from my room? He thought. Am I lying in a hospital bed hallucinating?
If he was, then surely the fact he was hallucinating about discussing sex with Hermione meant something.
"Sex is about… all the things that bring pleasure and gratification to yourself and your partner," Hermione supplied. "Some of those things don't even require both people to be naked."
"I see," he acknowledged dumbly.
"I'm not explaining this very well…" Hermione muttered in a voice that Harry was familiar with. It was the one she used with herself when she thought she was messing something up.
"I just don't understand what all this is about," Harry told her. "Your father didn't explain very much."
Hermione hesitated, then decided there was no point in dancing around the issue any longer.
"I enjoy being controlled Harry, sexually. And in other ways." Her face gained that brilliant glow again. "You're here because… you're really the only person I know that I'd want to share that with."
"Me?" Harry confirmed. "Do… I mean… Do you fancy me?"
Hermione gulped. There wasn't any turning back from this conversation.
In for a penny…
"I think it goes far beyond fancy, Harry," she nearly whispered.
Harry didn't know how to respond. He liked Hermione very much, but if he were honest the thought of something beyond friendship with her hadn't even occurred to him. Not that she was undesirable, he reasoned. His life had just been so full of danger and excitement that there didn't seem to be space for something like that. Now that he was considering it in fact, Hermione had many qualities that he found rather attractive.
She was intelligent, and applied that intelligence to her work and her friends in equal parts. She was very loyal and brave, having stuck with him through experiences that most people would have run from screaming. That loyalty had even cost her over a month of her life in second year. And now that he was considering it, and she was sitting there in those different clothes, he felt comfortable saying that she looked rather pleasant as well.
He thought about what she had said some more, when his mind caught on something.
"Hang on," he started. "Hermione Granger, the Hermione Granger, who speaks about the injustice of House Elves and the backward thinking of wizards… enjoys being controlled?"
"There's a difference," Hermione replied hotly. "I'm choosing this. And…" she looked at him nervously. "I'm choosing you."
Harry was stunned at the depth of feeling behind that statement. Even if all of… whatever this was went somewhere, he felt that there must be people who would know how to do it better than he did, which was to say not at all. But she was telling him that she wanted to choose him anyway. She must understand how little he knew about doing this based on his answers so far, and yet she was still choosing him.
It was a feeling that Harry wasn't really familiar with, and he decided to come back to that later.
"So then… if… or… when?… uh… we ever have sex… you want to be controlled?"
Hermione looked down and in that moment, with that look, he realized that whatever this discussion was turning out to be, Hermione was laying a part of her soul bare before him.
"No Harry," she said softly. "It goes a bit deeper than that. With… the right person… I'd enjoy being controlled all the time. Not just during sex."
"And… I'm that person?"
"Yes."
"But…" Harry thought for several moments, trying to understand. "I thought you enjoyed having freedom, Hermione. You've always talked about achieving something great, and being a person who can make a difference in the world."
"I still can," Hermione replied, "if that person allows me."
Harry looked aghast.
"But Hermione!" Harry objected. "You're… you're far too brilliant to be held back just because some bloke says you're not allowed to be your best!"
Harry was rather upset at this notion, and so he was surprised when a large smile slowly spread over Hermione's face.
"That's part of what makes you that person for me, Harry. I trust you. I know you wouldn't use that control to hurt me." She paused and blushed slightly, the smile weakening. "Well, not in that way."
"I'd never hurt you, Hermione!" Harry declared defiantly.
"Even if I wanted you to hurt me?" she asked boldly. "Even if I deserved it?"
Harry gaped, at a loss.
"Er… Well, I don't think…" He trailed off, not really sure how to respond. He went back to the part of it he felt he understood. "Hermione, I don't really understand why you'd want to give up your freedom like that. It just seems… unnecessary. Don't you want to be able to choose what you study? Or… Or your favorite type of pudding?"
Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before replying.
"Harry…" she began slowly, "freedom isn't nearly that straightforward. You say that you can make those choices, but can you not make those choices? Can you choose to not choose?" She saw the confusion on his face and explained further. "In most of life, for most adults, those choices cannot be ignored. You don't have the freedom to ignore them. But by submitting, I give that choice to someone else, it becomes theirs to make, and I gain freedom from that responsibility. It's a different kind of freedom. I get to not choose at all, which is a freedom most people rarely know."
Harry wanted to object that that's how he often felt about his own life, and it wasn't quite all she was making it out to be, but the argument died in his throat as he thought about it further.
Most of the things that did still cause him stress were the choices he was left to make, and if someone got to select the person that made those choices for them, instead of having that person thrust upon them as Harry had, he thought he could understand what she was getting at. It certainly wasn't the type of life he would want to lead, but he could at least understand how a different person might.
But then, she's not asking me to live that life, she's saying she wants to. He considered this. In fact, she's asking me to make more choices, to have more control. Wait, control?
"I see," Harry commented absently. "That's why he was asking."
"What did who ask?" Hermione queried.
"Your father, he asked me a question about the control I have over my life, and—" Harry stopped abruptly, a terrible thought occurring to him. "Hermione, tell me you're not doing this just to help me feel better about everything that's happened to me. Tell me that it's not just for me that you're saying you want to give me your freedom."
"The only way it's about you is that you're the only person that I would trust with this, Harry." She looked away, that unsure look returned to her face. "You're the only person I care for in that way."
Her words hit something deep inside him and he realized that she was speaking to a feeling that was much more deep and personal than he'd thought at first. Having recognized it in someone else for the first time in his life, he found a feeling that sat unlabeled within himself that seemed like something similar. That desire to be with the other person as often as possible on their good days, and the understanding to still appreciate them on their bad ones.
"I think I understand what you're saying…" Harry said slowly, placing all the pieces together in his head. "And… I don't know exactly how to do any of the things we're talking about Hermione, so I'm probably rubbish at them, but for you… I'd be willing to try." He smiled at her. "You're the only person I care for in that way as well."
Hermione smiled brilliantly and jumped forward, latching her arms around him.
"Thank you Harry," she said, once more speaking into his chest. "Thank you for not throwing me away now that you really know who I am inside."
"I couldn't do that," Harry replied softly. They held each other for a few moments and after parting Harry asked another question. "Have you had sex before?"
He was hoping to throw the uncomfortable question from earlier back at her and watch her squirm. He was not prepared for the answer that left her mouth.
"Only with my mother—I mean Mistress—I mean…"
Hermione turned a shade of scarlet that he'd never seen on a person other than Uncle Vernon, but he was sure it wasn't because Hermione was furious.
That seemed… strange, from what Harry knew about normal families. But then, most of this had seemed strange to him until Hermione had explained it, and she had always been the one to know when something was acceptable or not. He couldn't hold it in and started laughing.
"Oh Hermione…" Harry said between breaths. "You look… adorable like that… all embarrassed."
This only served to make Hermione bury her face in her hands, which in turn only increased the humor and adorable qualities to Harry. After a minute or so his laughter finally died.
"I can't believe your father lied to my Aunt in order to abduct me so that I could start a sexual relationship with you."
Hermione's face shot up looking absolutely scandalized.
"He lied to abduct you?!"
Harry chuckled.
"It's not quite as bad as it sounds. My relatives wouldn't have let me leave otherwise, and I am eternally grateful that you are telling me all of this instead of him." Harry paused for a second. "How should I learn to do this? Normally my answer would be to 'have Hermione tell me what to do', but seeing as that's rather the opposite of the goal, I don't know how I should figure it out. Do you have a book for me to read?"
At this Hermione couldn't help herself and let out a short laugh of her own.
"I do, in fact. But my father knows quite a lot about the things you would need to learn and has offered to teach you instead." She gave him a smirk. "You've always been much more of a hands on learner."
Hermione glanced at the clock and turned back to Harry.
"Dinner should be just about ready," she said, standing up. He stood as well and they walked towards the door. "Let's join my parents downstairs."
"Your parents…" Harry muttered, his eyes widening. "Oh bloody hell! How am I going to survive eating dinner with them after what we just talked about?!"
"Harry! Lang—"
"No!" Harry interrupted, pointing a finger and stopping her before she could finish. "You want me to control you right? Well here's one: no more nagging me about my language."
Hermione's jaw snapped shut and her face turned slightly rosy. Simultaneously both of them felt a pleasant tingle pass through their bodies, and a small smile grew on Hermione's face. She looked down.
"Yes Harry."
