Notes:
First off: this fic has next to no set up, it's more of the brief interlude style. I couldn't for the life of me get my brain to cooperate and flesh it out more, so this is what it is.
Well, here I am with this ship again. I swear it started with me just wanting to prove something to myself, and now here I am. Joke is on me I guess. Oh well, they're not real people anyway.
The sex itself isn't super graphic, if you're hesitating based on that, I promise. Just a brief, slightly fluffy encounter.
This fic is exactly what it says on the tin. If you can read the fic, then you can read this warning too, so don't go to the comments and bitch like I sprung something unexpected on you.
Google docs and I did our best to get as close as possible with British English on this, but at the end of the day I am American and therefore bound to slip. If any Brits care to comb through and brit-pick, drop a comment with the corrections and I'll make the changes.
Trans people are awesome and JKR is a cunt. :)
So we could call it even,
You could call me "babe" for the weekend.
Hermione woke with a small start and found herself briefly disorientated, not recognizing the bed she was in or the room around her, least of all the rhythmic breathing next to her. When she rolled over and saw Dumbledore's sleeping face, his hand stretched out to touch hers, it all fell back onto her in a rush.
"Thankfully the curse did not take properly," Dumbledore told her after examining the results of his diagnostic spells. "You will simply have to remain in proximity to me for perhaps a day, at most, while the effects wear off."
"As opposed to…" Hermione asked slowly, suspicious.
"I believe the intent behind the spell was to require, ah, sexual contact between us," He hesitated slightly, seeming worried about embarrassing her. "As I said, thankfully you will be spared such a fate," he reassured her with a chuckle.
"So… What now? Until it fades, I mean."
"The simplest solution would be to have you remain here with me until such time as it wears off on its own. Of course, if you wish I'm more than willing to enlist Professor Snape in order to-"
"No thank you," Hermione assured quickly, "I can stay, it's no trouble."
Dumbledore chuckled again and squeezed her hand where it rested in his. "You should be able to spend brief periods without physical contact, however I wouldn't suggest very long."
"I hope you don't snore too badly," Hermione quipped by way of acknowledging the inevitability of the sleeping arrangements.
She sat up and withdrew her hand, slipping out of the bed and into the bathroom as quietly as possible. After finishing and washing her hands she stepped out, venturing absently over to the window. She watched as the glass fogged over with each breath she let out and used her wand to coax it open slightly, enough to breathe in the crisp winter air and look out at the sprawling grounds beyond, bathed in the light of the waning gibbous.
Hermione kept waiting for the crawl beneath her skin to start anew, driving her to step back and touch Dumbledore once more to quiet the curse, but the urge never came and she eventually lost track of time standing at the window, waiting for it.
"Stunning view, isn't it?"
Hermione jumped slightly and whipped around to find Dumbledore standing just behind her with his beard falling down in front of his bare chest in a way that made it hard to remember, for a moment, who he was to the rest of the world and the weight that he carried upon his aged shoulders.
"Yes it is," she answered him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's no matter," he assured her with the quirk of a smile, "I've been a light sleeper for decades."
She didn't know if she would ever understand why she did it, but on a wild impulse Hermione cupped the side of his neck, leaned up on her toes and kissed him. Soft yet confident, she threw her heart into it for the two or three seconds it took him to comprehend what she was doing and pull away.
"Miss-" he cut himself off, then continued. "Hermione I…"
"Something I've noticed about magical society is that the line between child and adult is very black and white. With muggles it's rather grey in the teen years, you're sort of an adult when you're sixteen but you're also sort of a child when you're twenty. But here it's not like that. If you're under seventeen you're a child, and if you're seventeen you're an adult, and it's that simple. I'm eighteen, I'm of age even in the muggle world. Even if we weren't in the middle of a war that directly affects me and that my best friend plays a pivotal role in, I would still be considered an adult."
Dumbledore managed to find his words. "That aside, I do not want pity," he told her quietly.
"It's not pity," Hermione told him. "We're both lonely and starved for touch and affection. I may not even be in the same universe as you, but nevertheless I think I'm beyond my own peers and that intimidates people, even my friends at times."
"The curse is-"
"Gone," she finished for him. "I can feel its absence, somehow. I'm quite confident I could leave entirely if I wanted to. I don't, but I could."
"Then why would you possibly want someone like me?" He asked her, his tone almost demanding. "I am a hundred and sixteen. How is that appealing to a woman your age?"
"Honestly?" She asked rhetorically. "I'm not sure, I'd have to think about that some. All I know is that for some reason I do want you. And of course I wouldn't dream of pushing you, but it sort of seems like you're nearly as desperate for it as I am. I know the inevitable response to that is that it's wrong and we shouldn't, but who cares anymore? It feels like the entire world is going completely to hell and all I want is a single scrap of an escape."
"It would be weak of me…" Dumbledore trailed off.
"That's allowed," she countered quietly, "We're all weak sometimes. It's part of what makes us human."
His eyes were lingering on her mouth now, and she ran the pad of her thumb gently across his lips.
"May I?" She asked him.
"Yes," he whispered back, sounding both pleading and terrified.
Hermione closed her eyes and kissed him again, as soft and slow as she could bear to. His response was incredibly hesitant, but it was there nevertheless. His hands were gentle on her waist, thumbs caressing slowly as his lips gained a sliver of confidence.
She felt an odd clench in her gut that radiated downward and resulted in a sudden breath through her nose, the sway of her body toward him seeming to spur him on. She felt him begin to take control and ceded to him eagerly, melting into his touch when his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest. He stepped back and took her with him, and when he sat on the bed Hermione eagerly propped her knees on either side of his hips to straddle his lap. His face was tilted up slightly to meet her leaning down, one of her hands threaded into his hair.
He was bare from the hips up and she trailed her fingers down the buttons of her shirt, letting it fall away so she could join him. There was nothing but warm skin against her breasts now, her nipples being tickled by his chest hair, and she sighed.
Hermione felt his tongue brush against her lips and responded in kind, kissing him deeper and pressing her breasts eagerly into his hands when he became brave enough to reach and touch. His mouth left hers in favour of her jaw, her throat, and her collarbone where he grazed his teeth as well.
Her head fell back and she gasped shakily for breath, lifting herself up in an effort to guide the warmth of his lips and tongue to her breasts. He complied and she moaned quietly, arching her back toward him. His hands fell to her hips and guided her pants down over her bum and down to her knees, then slowly flipped her onto her back on the bed. She kicked them off with his help and snagged a finger into the waist of his.
Dumbledore pushed them off and settled between her waiting thighs, accepting her renewed kiss like he couldn't breathe without it and burying one hand deep in the riotous curls. His other hand caressed her hip, waiting for her to give him permission to continue.
After a few more moments of feeling him pressing against her, Hermione lifted her hips and used her legs to guide him.
"Are you sure?" He asked her, pulling away to look her directly in the eye. "Are you sure that you want this with me?"
"Yes," Hermione told him clearly, "yes, please, I want you Albus."
He pushed into her in one smooth thrust and gasped loudly. Hermione, despite doing her best to stay silent and relaxed, had tensed up and failed to muffle a pained sound that made him freeze. When she opened her eyes he was staring at her in surprise.
"Your first?" He asked her softly, though he already knew. "Why didn't you say something? Why me?"
The sting was just beginning to fade, and Hermione was starting to become distracted by how it felt to have him inside her.
"Because all of the hubbub people make about someone's first time, particularly girls, seems very silly to me, and because all I ever wanted for my first was to be with someone who would treat me with respect." Hermione's eyelids fluttered closed for a few moments and she gently shifted her hips, happy that there weren't any sharp twinges. "I realised I wanted to have sex with you, and I didn't particularly fancy my first time being made into some grand occasion. And if there was ever anyone who would treat me with respect no matter what, it's you."
Dumbledore closed his eyes and kissed her slowly but deeply, her tongue tracing along his while he shifted himself minutely. She only sighed, so he pulled back and watched her face as he pushed back in slowly, pausing when the corners of her eyes pinched.
He kept his pace painfully slow until Hermione was nearly begging, writhing in his arms to coax him to move faster. Her legs wrapped around his hips and her head fell back, neck arching slightly toward him, which he took advantage of with the heat of his mouth. He was an attentive lover, paying meticulous attention to her body and she came with a breathless cry of his name against his shoulder.
His breathing was ragged and he came soon after her, groaning and shuddering slightly as he throbbed inside her. He went still slowly, catching his breath while he softened and slid out of her. He rested one hand on her pubis and muttered a vanishing spell, dispensing with all of the fluids. He moved off her and laid on his side facing her, clarity sinking through his brain with a sobering chill.
"I was inexcusably weak," he whispered, whether to himself or to her he wasn't sure.
"Then so was I," she countered softly, rolling to face him and meeting his eyes. "Or we're simply normal, flawed human beings with needs to be met. I know there's ethics this and morals that, but personally I think right now we all have much bigger things to worry about than which adults are consensually shagging other adults. If we weren't all at war with prices on our heads then…"
Hermione shrugged one shoulder and wiggled her way closer to him, the length of her body warm against his. His arms found their way around her and she pressed her head against his chest, feeling sleep tugging at her.
"If this was weak, then perhaps you should let yourself be weak more often," she told him softly. "Just promise to call me…"
But if it's okay with you,
It's okay with me.
Notes:
Thanks so much for reading this and giving me a chance!
Pretty please drop me a comment to let me know what you think, I can't wait!
I know this pairing is an odd one but I'm actually having fun exploring it and there's probably more to come.
Title and bolded text is from the song Tis The Damn Season by Taylor Swift.