The New Year had come and gone. Hermione and Marcus spent the holiday celebrating with the rest of the professors at the Three Broomsticks. Despite her conviction to do so, Hermione made herself stand as far as possible from Marcus while they counted down the seconds to midnight, so that she would not be tempted to throw her arms around him and kiss him in front of all of their colleagues. She didn't think she could handle the embarrassment of a rejection.
The dawning of January, crisp and bright, did remind the two unlikely friends that the students would be returning and there wouldn't be too many more afternoons for flying lessons. They agreed to meet the last Saturday before everyone returned and they would have to return to lesson plans and grading essays. Or Hermione would have to, at least.
They had actually had a fair few number of flying lessons over the break. They would meet out on the pitch, with Hermione on a borrowed broom as always. Marcus would spend a bit of time explaining some new technique before they would share the broom to go try it out. He'd even taken a day to try to get her to toss a Quaffle through the rings, which had been equal parts embarrassing and hilarious.
It was fair to say that Hermione was not going to become a Quidditch player any time soon, but she was enjoying flying more than she thought she would.
On the day of their last flying lesson together, Hermione packed a little lunch for them to share together. Marcus immediately clocked the small basket on her arm. "What's that?" he asked, curious.
"I thought if you wouldn't mind, we could have lunch together after we take a little fly," she suggested, wanting to spend some time actually talking to him. "It's just sandwiches. Nothing fancy."
Marcus seemed pleased, and gave her a quick nod. "Of course. There is one place I haven't taken you to yet," he said.
Once they were ready to get started for the day, Marcus stood to mount the broom behind her. In all of their lessons, Marcus had insisted on riding along with her, for safety, he said. Hermione hoped that it was just because he liked an excuse to hold her in his arms, but she wasn't going to say anything about it.
Their flight was pretty unremarkable, as Hermione was mostly consumed with the sensation of being pressed up against Marcus. He directed her to a pretty clearing, far away from the Hogwarts grounds, but close enough that it didn't take all afternoon to get there. It was near a lake, now frozen over from the cold. When they dismounted, Hermione conjured a blanket for them to share and pulled the sandwiches out of their basket, once she returned it to its normal size.
"I'm going to miss this," she told him, truthfully. "Soon all of your Saturdays will be consumed with Quidditch again."
"I don't spend all of my weekends absorbed in Quidditch," he said with a scoff. "Anytime you want to go for a fly, just let me know. I'm your wizard."
Oh, how she fucking wished he was her wizard.
"I'd like to keep spending time with you, if I could," he added, looking at her as if he dared to hope. "I really...I really like being with you."
Hermione felt her heart soar at his words. Maybe now it was a good time to tell him that she wanted to do more than just spend time with him?
But, it seemed as if nature had other plans. The cloudy skies had grown darker over the course of the afternoon and before they knew it, huge pelting drops of rain were falling all around them, quickly turning to sleet in the colder temperatures. Hermione immediately felt her robes begin to soak through and she shivered as her hair and face were covered with rain.
"Fuck, I better fly," Marcus said, looking at her guiltily for catching them out in a storm.
Hermione did not take any offense to the suggestion. It was no secret that Marcus was the better flier between the two of them, and he would get them back safely and quickly. He mounted the broom first and encouraged her to climb on behind him. Hermione wrapped her arms around him tightly, squealing just a little when they pushed off of the ground and took off like a shot. She pressed her face into his warm back, half to keep her eyes clear of the rain and half so she could breath in his scent covertly. Godric, she couldn't believe how brazen she was while they were in such a situation!
Marcus flew like a man possessed and before she knew it, they were touching down outside of the Quidditch dressing rooms once again. Hermione was almost disappointed that this meant she would have to let go of him. Reluctantly, she dismounted the broom and waited for him to do the same, standing in the freezing rain.
She was amazed at how quickly she'd been soaked to the bone. The temperature was really unforgiving and before long, she was shaking with the shivers, her teeth chattering away in her head. "I don't know why I didn't think to cast an impervious charm," she shouted to Marcus, over the rising wind.
"You were probably just distracted by my incredible skill," he teased, his own lips beginning to chatter. "Fuck, it's cold out. We should get inside and get out of these wet clothes."
Hermione, perhaps a bit addled by the cold, didn't even bother to ponder over the potential rejection that her boldness might bring. Instead, she strode into the dressing rooms and began peeling off layers of clothes, her fingers struggling with the buttons of her robes.
Marcus got to work on removing his clothes as well, though it seemed that Quidditch practice clothes were much easier to remove. With a quick motion, his shirt was pulled up and over his head, revealing every bit of his chest. Hermione wasn't sure where to look first - his shoulders, perhaps, bunching with muscle? Or maybe the bit of dark chest hair that she could see fully now? Or maybe the trim cut of his waist that hinted at the muscle underneath?
Godric, she wanted to run her hands on every inch of him, to know what his skin felt like!
She was too distracted by the cold and the view to complete the task of removing the buttons on her robes. They were simply shaking too much to get the buttons through the holes. She felt her breath catch in her throat when Marcus reached over and began to undo them for her.
"I can't let you get sick," he said, his voice sounding thick with desire. "We can use the showers to warm up. It sure beats asking the Matron for Pepper-Up Potion."
She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I can stop by yours tomorrow and bring you some Pepper-Up," she said, almost an auto-pilot.
There were separate showers for women and men, but Hermione found herself being led by the hand into the mens. Marcus quickly turned on the taps and let the room fill up with steam. The first beads of water hit her skin and felt almost too hot to her yet frozen skin.
Unembarrassed, Marcus bent over to remove the last bit of clothes that were clinging to his arse. Hermione, reaching behind herself, unclasped her bra and pushed her knickers down as well. Was this really happening? Was she really standing fully nude in front of an equally naked Marcus Flint, about to take a shower with him? This seemed like something out of one of her books!
When he turned back around to pull her under the warm spray of the shower tap, he swallowed thickly, trying desperately to keep his gaze on her face, though Hermione could see that it was a losing battle.
"I thought you said things like this didn't happen in a Quidditch dressing room?" she asked, remembering his insistence that nothing naughty every happened in the shower.
"Well I...like I said, I had to make sure you got warmed up," he said, floundering under her brown-eyed gaze.
She caught her lip again, before deciding to just go for it. "Well, maybe there's another way..." she said, trailing off before taking a step closer to him, until there was barely a millimeter of space between their bodies. "Another way to warm up?"
Her suggestive statement was all that was needed to have Marcus surging forward, connecting their mouths in a desperate kiss. His hand came up to cradle her jaw, turning her face up to look at his, so that he could have her just the way that he wanted her. Hermione, eager for the connection, wrapped her arms around him, until they were pressed together, chest to chest under the warm spray of the water.
She wasn't entirely sure who deepened the kiss first, but soon their tongues were pressed against one another in a tangle, making Hermione's body feel like a liquid and gooey. Marcus was a better kisser than she'd even imagined, the perfect balance of possessive and sweet. Godric, she thought that she could do this all day and all night and never get sick of him.
A sure hand slid down her wet skin, until it could sneak between them and cup her breast. Where their bodies were pressed together, Hermione could feel his hardness against her belly. Thank Godric for the water, because she thought that she might spontaneously combust! Confidently, she pressed her own hand between them and gripped his cock, slipping her hand up and down at a lazy pace.
Marcus was stunned for half a second, before he switched into action. He broke their kiss so he could press open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down to where her neck met her shoulders. The feeling was enough for Hermione to gasp in pleasure. She whined when she felt his fingers on her nipples, her body filling with need.
"Oh for Salazar's sake," Marcus said, as she dropped her head back against the stark white tile of the shower. His hips were rocking back and forth, pushing his cock into her hand insistently, nearly reflexively, like he wasn't even aware of this. "You're too good, Hermione."
"Please, Marcus," she answered, desperate with want. "Please keep touching me. I've wanted this for so long."
He found her lips again, his tongue finding her again. His hands trailed down her sides, confident and sure, until they rested on her hips. And then, she could feel the press of his fingers against her sex, sliding along until he found that one little bead at the top. The pads of his fingers worked over her in a circular pattern that quickly had Hermione on edge. She wasn't sure if it was their chemistry or the desire that had been building for months finally boiling over, but she found herself on the precipice of orgasm in an embarrassingly short amount of him.
She threw an arm around his neck while her other hand never stopped its own back and forth on his cock, wanting to make him feel good, too. She was feeling delirious as her ultimate completion came closer and closer. "Oh, if I wake up from this, I am going to be so upset," she said, needing it to be real.
"That would make two of us," Marcus said with a chuckle, only to abruptly switch to a moan when she ran her thumb across the head of his cock. "Please, Hermione."
She wasn't sure what he was begging her for, but the feeling of his voice reverberating through her was the thing that finally sent her over the edge with a squeal, her toes curling against the cold floor. Unbidden, she rocked her hips against his hand, eager for that bit of friction to work her through waves and waves of pleasure.
"Fuck!" Marcus called out, not far behind her. His thrusts grew uncoordinated and hard and then he was coming as well.
Godric, there must be something wrong with her, because all Hermione could think about was what that would feel like inside of her. Now that she'd seen all the goods that he had to offer, she only found herself feeling more desperate and wanting. A giggle came out of her mouth, thinking about how ridiculous this whole thing was.
"Well, I'm certainly feeling warm now," she said, hoping to add a bit of levity into the situation. She'd felt a bit possessed. Even though she'd thoroughly enjoyed the moment, she couldn't stand it if she lost the playfulness of her relationship with Marcus that had grown over the last few months.
"Salazar, that was not how I imagined that going," he said, a bit sheepishly, before reaching over to turn off the tap.
Hermione scrunched her nose up in delight. "But you did imagine it, then?" she asked.
Marcus flushed pink and she was sure it wasn't from the warm water. "It's maybe crossed my mind before," he said, sounding as nonchalant as you can sound when you are standing naked and sated in a shower.
"Mine, too," she revealed, feeling a bit naughty, but also light as a feather to finally have their attraction for one another addressed after so much pining.
"Well, can I interest you in some firewhiskey in my office until your robes dry?" he offered, before handing her a towel. "I've got some spare Quidditch jumpers you can borrow and some pants. I doubt you'd want to go up to the castle like that."
She didn't have the heart to remind him that they could use spells to dry them instantly. Instead, she happily agreed to his offer, following him down the hall and into the office that had started this all.