TRIGGER WARNING:

Discussions of Bullying and Suicide

CHAPTER 12

I took in my reflection in the mirror; I looked thoroughly debauched. I grinned, my ego soaring at what we'd just done.

She'd screamed. She'd wailed. She'd fallen apart multiple times. She'd told me all the things I'd heard through the wall and wanted her to say to me.

And now, she was laying dozing and satiated on the bed just outside the door.

Gulping down a glass of water, my dry throat thanked me. My voice had grown hoarse towards the end, hers little more than a dry croak. She had been fucking incredible; just the thought of her tight cunt had heat stirring my groin. My post-orgasm haze told me it was the best sex I'd ever had. And I was sure it was. However, I didn't want to compare her to anything else. I wanted to remain in this moment and not have my past memories drag my insecurities back to the forefront.

Snagging a stray hair tie I found in the top drawer, I pulled my hair up into an easy knot, then filled the glass again. Glancing at the waste basket as I headed back to the bedroom, I huffed a quiet laugh; I was surprised that little piece of latex had survived. The power of my orgasm had surprised me. I had come at my own hand with only her image as motivation, but I had never felt the dizzying rush, the split second moment of blindness to all else that I had felt with her.

"You look good like that," she said with a lazy smile as I crossed the room and handed her the glass.

"You look good like that." I nodded towards her naked body then flopped down on my back beside her.

She sat up and drank the water and I ran my hand across her bare lower back.

"But you're so stupid."

I laughed, turning my head to look at her; she never ceased to surprise me when she spoke.

"Please tell me, oh wise one, why am I so stupid?"

She placed the empty glass on the night stand and rolled to her side.

"You were incredible." She touched her fingers to my lips. "And this mouth of yours… so filthy."

"Sorry—"

"Don't be, I loved it. I loved the way you spoke to me."

"I've no idea where it all came from," I admitted, rolling to my side to face her. "It's not something I've ever done."

"I'm so glad I brought it out of you. Don't ever doubt yourself again."

I touched her cheek. "You've had quite the influence on me."

"Is that a good thing?"

"A very good thing," I assured her. "And this influence is something I definitely want to explore further."

"Three years without sex has made you quite the horn bag," she laughed and shoved at my shoulder, pushing me back to the bed and lifting her leg to straddle me. Sitting up, she smirked at me, her eyebrow raised in an amused arc; my cock was stirring between her thighs and her expression told me she felt it.

She glanced up at my hair. "Did you think we were going to sleep?"

"I wasn't sure," I said, rubbing my palms along her thighs. "I'm never sure of what to expect with you."

Her fingers moved across my abdomen, exploring, feeling, taking me in. She traced the scar on my ribs once more, looking up at me, asking without words to tell her what had happened.

"I wasn't an angel in my teens, I freely admit that. But these four… their attitudes were, quite frankly, disgusting. Of course, they were quite the charming lads, having bluffed their way into everyone's good books. The teachers bought their act of being cheeky rascals, but those of us who knew them for what they really were saw them in a different light. They were bullies, pure and simple. And they so thoroughly bullied a boy who became one of my closest friends... he took his own life a few years after he finished school."

"Oh, Lucius… I'm so sorry."

"I was angry for a long time, what they did to him, how they made him feel, was unforgivable." I paused and swallowed. "And I have never forgiven myself for not seeing how dark the place he had gotten to was."

She traced the scar again with her thumb. "And this came about from defending him?"

"It did. He was different, smart, somewhat nerdy, very quiet, but a good person. They took all those things and made him feel worthless." I brought my hand up to cover hers. "I'm not proud to say that I beat up boys several years younger than me, but they needed to be taught a lesson."

She lifted our joined hands and kissed my fingers. "You stood up for your friend. That's more than a lot of people do. And it sounds like they deserved it."

"I took them all on and they got a few punches in," I explained. "Which resulted in several stitches and a week off suspended."

"Well worth it, I'd say."

"I'm not perfect," I said. "Far from it. I was a spoiled rich kid, just like them."

Her exploration continued, running her hands over my chest, her thumbs sliding across my nipples, stroking back down to tease the line of hair on my navel.

"I'm not seeking perfection, Lucius. And all those things you think of as imperfections, they just make you who you are."

"And who am I?"

"A good man."

I let out a low growl, reaching for her shoulders and pulling her down to me. I ran my fingers through her messy hair, dragging it away from her face.

"I haven't always been."

"But you are now, that's all that matters."

She kissed me softly, sweetly, with a gentleness I wondered if I deserved. Talking about my teenage years always made me tense. Talking about how I beat up four boys with an anger I couldn't contain wasn't one of my proudest moments.

"They're the bad guys, Lucius." She stroked my cheek and whispered, "You fought for your friend. You took his side when no one else did. That makes you a good person."

I let her hair fall around us, enclosing us in our own little world, and smoothed my hands along her sides to rest on her hips.

"I've tried to live my best life since then. I've stumbled on occasion, but I let go of the unnecessary frivolity of money and notoriety, and I've made my family and friends my priority."

"Your grandmother set you on the right path, and you stuck to it," she replied, reminding me of one of our first conversations.

"It was very fortunate that she did. I might have been on the other side of that bullying if she hadn't."

"I'm glad you weren't."

A silence fell around us, and we just stared at each other. I absently ran my hand along her thigh before realising how familiar the simple motion already was.

"Alright?" she asked, searching my eyes.

"I am," I assured her. "It's just…"

"Talk to me," she said. "What are you feeling?"

"Everything at once," I told her honestly. "Until now — until you — I didn't realise how alone I've been. I thought I was content in my life, but here, with you, I know I wasn't. I don't remember the last time I felt this… feeling, this sense of having something tangible, something so real it pushes everything else aside."

Smiling down at me, she caressed my cheek and I inhaled deeply. My skin tightened, my heart beat faster, slamming against my sternum, and my cock lengthened against the dampening skin between her thighs.

"I like this feeling," she whispered. "I like being your real."

As I pulled her mouth to mine, kissing her softly, wanting the realness of her pressed against me, a single thought slipped into my brain: I want this reality. The pull I felt the first time I saw her had only intensified over the past months, and while my insecurities held me back, I had only ever wanted this. Wanted her.

I broke away from her mouth with a groan when she shifted her hips and settled over where I'd grown hard again.

"I want you again," she said. "Can I have you?"

"You don't have to ask."

Sitting up again, she moved back to sit on my thighs. She licked her palm then wrapped her hand around the middle of my cock, sliding it down and then back up, swiping her thumb across the head.

"Fuuuck." The word was a long, drawn-out groan which made her giggle.

"I like you like this. All lewd and improper."

My mind clouded; she'd done this to me. All manners and propriety were lost and I wanted only to be filthy with her. I'd thought it selfish, thought I was only chasing what I wanted, what I needed, but her expression, her sounds, her touches all gave credence to the fact she wanted the same thing.

"I like your dirty mouth, Lucius. Don't hold back on me."

I searched my brain for words, but I was unable to process anything but the feel of her hand wrapped firmly around me.

"Tell me what you want."

"I… want…"

What did I want?

Her hand moving over me?

Her tight cunt wrapped around me?

Her mouth swallowing me?

"Your mouth…" I grunted. "On me… sucking."

She licked her lips and then leaned down to press a kiss to the tip, causing me to curse again and my cock to jump in her hand.

"Mmm." She licked her lips, "Delicious."

"Hermione…"

Her hand slipped to my balls, rolling them in her palm and pushing them gently against the base of my cock. She dragged her tongue up the underside, teasing the sensitive frenulum, causing me to thump my head back into the pillow and release a shuddering breath.

Nothing in the world had felt this good. Her gentle kisses and licks were the most delicious tease I had ever known. The light touch of her fingers felt like heaven.

The tip of her tongue traced over my shaft, following the ridges of pulsing veins, and then dipped into the tip, gathering the dripping precum and moaning as she tasted me on her tongue.

"Lucius?"

I lifted my head to look at her and she winked at me, then swallowed my entire length into her mouth, making my balls ache with need.

Bobbing up and down, her tongue swirled and her teeth scraped lightly with each upward drag. Her cheeks hollowed around me, sucking hard and slow until I pulsed in her mouth, fisting the sheets, growling out a warning.

"Fuck, Hermione! If you don't put me inside you right now, I'll come in your mouth."

She smirked at me then scrambled to the end of the bed, her arse in the air and her head disappearing as she reached to the floor. She returned with the string of condoms, tearing one off, opening it with her teeth and pulling out the circle of latex. Turning it over in her hand, she held it over the tip of my cock then rolled it slowly down my length.

Moving back over me, she reached down between us, holding me, teasing me against her. She was so wet, she slid easily over me, forward and back, up and down, holding the very tip of me against her clit. I pushed my mind to think of very cold things, lest I embarrass myself and come in just seconds at the sight of her wet folds wrapped around me.

"You're so hard." She closed her eyes for a second, breathing deeply. "I knew it would be like this."

When she opened her eyes again, she stared straight at me. I gripped her thighs, and watched in awe, seeing the level of control she had as she lowered herself to take in just the tip of me.

"Impressed?" she asked with a smirk.

"Very," I answered, watching the place where she held me at the very edge of her body.

She held her position, her well-trained legs steady as she clenched her inner walls and squeezed the head of my cock. I inhaled sharply, closing my eyes and thumping my head back into the pillow.

"Are you still close?" she asked cheekily.

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. Initially, I'd not taken into account her training and now I knew she would continue to tease me.

"Hmm," she hummed. "I'm not sure you are."

She began to retreat, letting me slip out of her and fall with a sharp slap onto my stomach. She reached for me, but I shoved her hand away.

"No!" I gripped my shaft and held it back up to her.

Laughing, she took me back in, holding herself in a steady squat over me.

"You teased me, Lucius. Now it's my turn."

I groaned; what else should I have expected from this woman?

Moving slower than I thought possible, she slid down the length of me. I watched as I disappeared inside her body, letting the tight heat of her overwhelm me once more.

"You feel so good," she murmured. "You fill me perfectly."

I grunted in response, unable to form words.

Shifting her feet back, she pressed her knees into the mattress and began to move, grinding in tiny circles and driving me insane.

The pleasure l felt was intense, raw, pure. Much like every other moment I'd spent with her, I knew what I felt was real, not just some fleeting bounce back from the disaster that was the end of my marriage. Since that first glimpse of her, I'd felt an undeniable pull towards her. It had been like a constant hum inside me, as if my heart knew long before my brain did that she was the person I'd been searching for.

She was my safe place and not just because we were currently naked. She was honest and open, and gave me the freedom to be the same. She gave me permission to let go of all I thought proper and polite and allowed me to exist in her simpler world. I could let my guard down, I could relax. I could breathe.

"So deep like this," she breathed.

"Yeah." The single word was all I was capable of.

"Do you like me on top?"

Was she kidding?

"Do you want me to move faster?"

"No," I croaked and held her hips in my hands.

She moved like she danced, easily, fluidly, with the same flicker of passion in her eyes. Slowly she worked me, moving in tiny circles then shifting to long slides until her breathing changed.

Her hands landed on my chest and she began to move faster, the words I was unable to find falling freely from her lips. Stuttered words of how we fitted together, how good I felt inside her, how she wanted me to come, wanted to feel me come.

Moaning, her pace picked up again and the intensity began to build.

"Lucius…"

She writhed above me, the volume of her moans growing louder with each thrust of her hips. Her body began to spasm around me, her thrusts becoming desperate as she chased her pleasure.

"Chase it," I said, finally finding my voice. "Get there."

Her head dropped back and my name was little more than a breath as her body clenched and her orgasm spread through her. She collapsed onto my chest, and with just a few thrusts into her, I followed her over the edge.

We were sweaty and panting and I wasn't sure if I could even move. Her breath huffed against the side of my neck where she'd buried her face. I ran my hands along her back, already in love with the feel of her draped over me, and knowing without a doubt my feelings of her being my safe place, of being everything I wanted, were real.

We stood side-by-side in the kitchen. Hermione was grinning like a maniac and I was sure my expression was the same. We'd woken early — which was surprising since we'd hardly slept — and a loud growl from her stomach brought us out to the kitchen.

Much like the previous night she'd stayed, she'd insisted on me remaining in only my boxers. She was wearing my t-shirt, her legs and feet bare, and in contrast to my discomfort, she looked completely comfortable.

"If I pour boiling water on myself, there could be some serious burns."

"Don't pour the water on yourself then," she replied with a shrug.

"It would be much simpler for me to just put a shirt on," I countered.

She ran her hand across my stomach. "And hide all this from me?"

I pointedly gave her the once over and she laughed.

"Fine." She pulled her t-shirt over head and handed it to me. "Put this on."

"That's not really what I meant."

"You don't want me naked in your kitchen?"

I looked her up and down. "I can't say I'm averse to the view, but you're possibly in more danger now than I was."

"Danger, huh? What kind of danger?"

"Draco and Katie have a habit of showing up unannounced on Saturday mornings. I'm not sure how comfortable you'd be standing naked in my kitchen with them here."

"You're serious?"

"Deadly."

She grabbed the t-shirt from my hand and hastily pulled it back over her head. "It's mortifying enough they know about the wall thumping. I don't need them to see me in your kitchen this early just yet.

"They already approve of you," I assured her. "You won them over when Scorpius fell in love with you."

"I'm not sure how much they'd approve of the fact I'm not wearing any pants."

I snorted a laugh. "Those pants you were wearing probably wouldn't make much difference to that fact."

"Well, I'm going to put them on anyway." She headed for the guest room, pausing at the hallway door. "Did you want your shirt?"

"I'd appreciate it, thank you."

She disappeared towards the guest room and I chuckled to myself. This was all too domestic for just our second morning together. I was aware of the fact she knew her way around my kitchen — she'd made herself at home often enough — but this felt different, like she'd been a part of my life forever, not just a few months.

Waking up next to her had been bewildering. Yes, I had woken up next to her once already, but waking up with her sleeping sprawled on her stomach, her hair a mess, her body naked and covered only by the sheets, was a sight that had brought a giddy smile to my face. I'd watched her until she woke, smiling sleepily at me, her face sleep-wrinkled and looking so naturally beautiful she made my heart clench.

Now, however, she was making me laugh; she'd returned to the kitchen, fully dressed.

"Did the threat of my son arriving terrify you that much?"

"Maybe," she replied and handed me my shirt.

"I'm almost positive they won't be here this morning."

"I'm still not willing to take the risk."

She watched me closely as I slipped my shirt on, fastening all but the top two buttons and rolling up the sleeves.

"I actually think that's hotter," she said with a slight tremor in her voice.

"Boxer shorts and a dress shirt are considered hot?"

"The way you wear them it is." Her hand curved around my hip and came to rest on my arse. "I think you should only wear this from now on." She paused and looked up at my hair. "And I like your hair like that."

I reached up and touched the knot of hair on my crown. "You do?"

She nodded. "I really do."

"Okay then. I will compromise and dress like this just for you."

"Fine," she huffed, then twisted her lips thoughtfully. "Can I ask you something?"

"You've never asked permission before now."

"This might be a little sensitive."

"That's kind of ominous."

"What was your friend's name?"

"Oh," I startled slightly at her question. Our brief conversation while she was naked and over me had obviously piqued her interest. "His name was Severus."

"Severus?"

"Yes, Hermione."

She grinned and conceded my point. "Okay, we all have weird names. Tell me more about him… if you want to."

"He was in the same year as those boys, which was two below me, and I guess he was considered a bit odd. He was very quiet, but observant. He knew more about the goings on at that school than anyone." The thought made me smile and she squeezed my arm. "He was extremely intelligent, especially in the sciences. He probably should have been advanced ahead several years at school… it may have saved his life."

"Maybe," she said thoughtfully. "But, then you wouldn't have known him."

"I'd prefer he be alive."

"And I get that, but he had you as a friend, and things may not have been better. I mean, a kid that's four or five years younger than everyone else in his classes and smarter than them all? It might have been worse."

I squeezed her shoulder. "I never thought of it like that."

"I was made a principal at twenty-two so I know how hard it is to have others look at you like you don't deserve it, like you're too young."

"I didn't realise the ballet world was quite so nasty."

"Not nasty, just very competitive." She drummed her fingers on the counter. "I mean, there's a certain amount of appreciation and respect, but I also know there were quite a lot of people who thought I shouldn't have been elevated so young. Unfortunately, Severus might have experienced the same."

"Why are some people so cruel?" It was a question I had asked myself repeatedly, one that always caused me to shudder. What if my grandmother hadn't been the kind woman she had been? What if she'd listened to my father and stayed out of my life?

Her shoulders stiffened slightly at my question, and a small wince flicked her cheeks. Had I not been standing so close I would have missed her reaction, but whatever thought I had pushed into her mind was gone as quickly as it came.

"You said it yourself, you could have been exactly like them. One person changed the course of your life, and hopefully beating the snot out of those four changed their mindsets."

"They did leave him alone — physically at least — I kept my presence known, dropping in quite frequently to check on him, but I knew that while the physical abuse had stopped, the verbal abuse didn't."

"I hate those boys," she said. "Just because he was different and smart… I hate them."

"And Severus would appreciate that." I curled my hand around her jaw. "I appreciate that."

"What happened to them?"

"I've no idea, and I hold no interest in what became of them. My best guess is that they're living their privileged lives and don't care much about anything else."

She wrapped her arms around my waist and smiled up at me. "You said you weren't an angel, and that might have been true, but you stood up and did what was right. Not many people do that."

"How do you do this thing you do?"

"What thing?"

"Talking about Severus usually makes me tense. You've made it easier."

"You should talk about him." She absently fiddled with the top button on my shirt. "Not this shitty thing, but the good things. And I'm happy to listen."

"Is that how you deal with your parents' accident?"

"It is. But I think I've had better support around me than you did. I think you were alone through your grief and that's why it hurts you to talk about it."

"You're far too young to be this wise."

"So you keep saying, but it's the truth." She pressed her palm over my heart and brushed a kiss on my cheek. "Thank you for telling me about Severus, and for the record, I don't think you would have been anything like those boys, you only think so because you grew up in a similar environment. You did the right thing and took a different path, one that hasn't always been smooth but it was one that brought you here."

I ran my hands up her arms, over her shoulders to curl my palms around her jaw, and searched her eyes. The depth of wisdom reflected in her dark irises was astounding, and a single thought struck me; she was madness and energy and happily spoke her mind, but deep within her was a kindness that could only come from one with a gentle soul. She'd grieved her own losses — was still grieving them — yet she was still able to put me at ease with the simplest words and the warmth of her smile.

I leaned down and touched my lips to hers, pouring everything I was feeling into the kiss. There was so much I wanted to say to her, to tell her exactly how I felt; want, desire, need, the relief of having her as more than just my neighbour. And while I knew them to be true, it was far too soon for those three words. But, I also knew what felt for her was stronger than anything I'd ever felt before.