Hermione was a smart, athletic woman, with an impressive magic power and even deeper spell knowledge, yet despite all that, she had never been a skilled combatant. There was one simple reason for that.

She didn't deal well with surprises.

And, being called by her real name by Harry despite her disguise qualified as a big surprise, particularly since she was dressed in a way that was very fitting for a stripper. Harry's current state of undress was even more shocking.

Say nothing to his size. Earlier, she had already familiarized herself with it enough to understand its size, but it turned out that she underestimated the monster he was packing, just like everything else about Harry. Hermione shivered as her gaze dipped down to his erection, a thrill rushing through her.

Hermione shook her head, trying to focus on the situation. His size didn't matter. The fact that her disguise failed did. She raised her gaze and looked at him, trying to see if he was bluffing, or if he actually knew. And, if so, since when. Yet, when she caught his gaze, she found not much changed. Maybe it was the fact that she was sitting and he was standing, but his stance was domineering. She felt herself weaken. "Since when?" she muttered.

"Since when, what?" he asked, his tone amused yet confused. Hermione failed to understand whether he was mocking her, or was genuinely confused.

"Since when you knew it was me," she said.

He chuckled. "Was that meant to be a secret? I recognized you immediately," he said. "It's not a terrible disguise, but not enough to trick anyone that knows you."

"Well, Ron did not," Hermione responded. She didn't want to sound as resentful, but she did. "How did you?"

"A few things," he said as he sat next to her, close enough that their shoulders touched. Inappropriate, but not as inappropriate as everything else they had been doing, so Hermione ignored his arm on her shoulders. "Simplest one, it doesn't change your voice."

Hermione blushed. "True," she admitted.

"Then, there's your stance. Confident yet demanding, like the world owes you all the answers because of your incredible mind," he whispered, his lips close to her ear. She closed her eyes, shivering as his voice caressed her. It was the weirdest compliment she ever received, yet somehow it worked enough to steal her breath.

"What else?" she asked, trying not to sound pathetic and needy. She failed.

"Then, there's your incredible cleavage. There's no mistaking them, not with all the times I imagined seeing them. I had dreamed how the rest of them would look too many times not to recognize them immediately. That, and your beautiful legs are hard to miss," he said. As he said that, one of his hands landed on her thighs, squeezing her thigh hard. It was extremely inappropriate … but nothing compared to everything else they had done.

It might not be the worst thing they had done, but it had been distracting enough. It took a few seconds for Hermione to realize it had been the aim all along. But, it was already too late. While her attention was on her legs, he had pushed one of the straps of her dress to the side. The other was already askew, and her dress wasn't designed to mitigate any mishap. On the contrary, it wouldn't be wrong to say that the dress was designed to enhance any mishap.

When he touched her shoulder, she felt merely a whisper and a chill. Only when he spoke she realized what had happened. "And, they are as amazing as I imagined," he added. Her eyes popped open in panic, only to realize his hands were already about to cover her breast.

She should have slapped his hand away, or maybe even slapped him away. Yet, she only let a whimper. "You can't do this, Harry. You're my best friend … and Ron's," she whispered. She didn't move away.

He grinned triumphantly. "He has given me explicit permission," he whispered.

"Under false pretenses," she said.

Harry gave her a mocking glare. "It's not my fault he can't recognize his fiancee."

Hermione had to admit that he had a point. "And, what about my opinion."

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he put his hand on her breast, squeezing gently. She moaned desperately. "It doesn't feel like your answer is going to be negative, but maybe I'm reading it wrongly. All you need to do is to open your beautiful lips and tell me to stop. And, I will stop…" he whispered.

"It's wrong. You're my best friend, and Ron's best friend as well," she whispered, trying to keep her voice stable. She failed.

He pulled his hand from her leg, which would have convinced her that it was enough to make him stop. But, his other hand stayed on her breast, caressing gently. His free hand grabbed her hair, gently pushing through her lush locks. "That wasn't a stop," he whispered.

"I won't let you fuck me just to prove a point to Ron," she whispered.

He pulled her head slightly, forcing her to look into his eyes again. In there, she saw only desire. "That wasn't a stop either. Also, it is wrong. I want to fuck you because you're a beautiful woman that I had a crush on for a long time, and you want this as much as I do. Pulling one over Ron is just a bonus. Last chance."

Hermione shivered once more, this time due to his fingers closing around her nipple, squeezing hard. Or maybe, it was about his lips about to close over hers. Not for the first time, but this time, she didn't have her fake identity as a cover. "We can't… I'm about to get married in a week. You're the best man!"

"That wasn't a no either," he smirked. "You're out of chances." With that, he leaned more, and Hermione let her. She could have told him that it would be her first time, but he would probably smirk even wider and say it wasn't a no either. And, he would be right. It wouldn't be a no.

Just before his lips landed, he finally ripped off the mask, leaving her even more naked, but Hermione wasn't able to comment. She was too busy being kissed in a way she had never been kissed before. With hunger, urgency, and domineering desire.

So, she just let him. What else she could have done when her body burned with a desire she had never felt before. After all, it would be a lie to say that she had never imagined this moment, but she had abandoned those as girlish fantasies. But, it seemed they were not as girlish anymore.

As the kiss continued, she suddenly felt very self-conscious about her situation. Half-naked, with no mask hiding her face, in front of her oldest best friend. Not just about the kiss, and what was about to follow.

"Are we going to do it," Hermione asked with a trembling voice.

He smirked. "Are you asking me whether I'm going to fuck your brains out?" he asked. It was a crass question, making her blush. "Really. Hearing what I'm about to do makes you blush? Worse than standing in front of me half naked," he said. "Speaking of it, lift your hips," he said. Hermione followed before she ever understood what he wanted to do.

It turned out he wanted to get rid of her dress. A tug made it slide down even more. The dress pooled around her ankles, leaving her wearing only her panties. "You are so wet," he said even as he dragged his fingers over her wetness, but beautiful panties."

Hermione blushed even worse.

"What if someone comes? We should ward the room," she said insecurely.

"No one is going to interrupt me when I'm with a beautiful stripper," he added. "And, you'll be moaning hard enough to keep everyone away."

"You're sure of yourself," Hermione teased, trying to get back a sense of control. "What if I stay silent —"

That was all she was able to say before he ripped off her panties with a display of dominance that stole her breath away even as it promoted her from half-naked to naked. Then, his fingers danced around her clit, and she found herself moaning desperately.

It never felt so good when she played with herself.

"How about now," he said as he brought his other hand back to her nipple, squeezing to elevate her pleasure even more. While he waited for an answer, he started kissing her neck … which pretty much made sure she couldn't answer at all. Her moans turned unbearable.

He chuckled. "Would it be arrogant if I assume that as a positive response, or if it's a recent slang I missed while gallivanting across the globe?"

"Yes — so — arrogant," Hermione moaned helplessly.

"As arrogant as fucking my best friend, who's also the fiancee of my other best friend, on his childhood bed?" he growled, driving the point even more. Highlighting the illicit nature of the situation should cool her down, yet it made her hornier.

"No, I think that's a difficult achievement to top," Hermione replied as she shivered helplessly, feeling that the world was spinning. His fingers were pushing her toward an orgasm faster than she ever experienced with her toys.

"Good —" he started, but this time, Hermione interrupted. With a searing kiss of her own. It didn't surprise him for long. His tongue counter-attacked immediately, once again stealing her breath. She moaned into his mouth as she surrendered to pleasure, not paying much attention to their position.

Until she found herself on his lap, with his shaft locked between their bodies, throbbing against her stomach. "Is this supposed to go inside me," she whispered once she pulled for a breather.

"I trust you can handle it perfectly, Hermione. You have always been an overachiever," he said.

Hermione couldn't help but giggle, even if it was interrupted by another kiss. Though, feeling its girth, she wasn't as confident. She would have found an appropriate spell if she knew how the night would have ended.

She wanted to be sure she could feel it properly. Her hand sneaked between their bodies, wrapping her fingers, feeling it throb. However, in her hands, it felt even bigger. It was a monster.

"You're going to split me into two," she said.

"Yes, I am," he answered this time. "But there's always ways to make things easier." Hermione looked at him questioningly. "Like proper lubrication," he said as he dragged his fingers over her lips, leaving no doubt about what he meant.

"I'm not … too experienced with it," she whispered.

"Well, you have always been an excellent learner. I'm sure you can get a handle on it after a few times," he said.

"A few times," Hermione repeated, freezing at the implication that it wouldn't be only once. But, before she could ponder on it, he asked an important question.

"Now, do you want to do it softly, or do you want me to fuck your face properly?" he asked even as he grabbed her hair gently.

"Crass," Hermione muttered.

"That was not an answer," he whispered back, once again mocking her.

Hermione glared at him as hard as she could manage, but it only made him grin harder. He had all the control, and he clearly reveled in it. So, Hermione hated her answer even more. "Hard, please," she whispered.

"As you command," he said, and his grip around her hair turned painful. "Now, on your knees!"