With a flick of his wrist a splash of Firewhisky landed in the heated pan and caught alight. Harry leant back instinctively to avoid the sudden burst of flame, and tossed the vegetables with practiced ease. Lowering the pan once more to the stove, he extinguished the flame beneath it and placed a stasis charm upon the pan's contents. Lifting his wand, he cast a series of charms with such precision that even Molly Weasley would be put to shame, utensils flying through the air to apply the finishing touches to a variety of dishes.
From the corner of his eye Harry caught sight of a brilliant flash of green flame. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he stowed his wand, drying his hands on a dish towel before tossing it over one shoulder.
"There's my brilliant wife," Harry said, turning to see Hermione enter the kitchen. "How was work, dear?"
Hermione unfastened the silver, official Ministry of Magic badge from the front of her outer robe and dropped it on the bench top, before shrugging the item of clothing from her shoulders and draping it across one of the barstools.
"My staff were for the most part incompetent, as per usual."
She reached up, unfastening the ornate clip that held her wild mane of curls in a tight bundle atop her head. She groaned in pleasure as the locks fell free of their confines and tumbled down to brush against her shoulders, before adding, "I whipped them swiftly into line, however."
"Wouldn't expect anything less." He flashed his wife a cheeky smile, before rubbing his hand along his stubbled jaw line.
Her eyes narrowed slightly in response and his pulse quickened. If he played his cards just right he knew he would be rewarded. Now was not the time however. He needed to be patient.
"The kids are in bed," he began, watching her features soften at the mention of their children. "The little ones are asleep, but I think James may still be awake and reading. If you want to head up and say goodnight to him I'll get dinner served up for us both."
He watched her as she turned and headed up the staircase, from the sway of her hips to the posture of her spine. His wife was a formidable woman, one who knew how to take charge. Harry brought his hand up, carding his fingers through his hair as he reminded himself to breathe. In and out. Each sharp exhale falling from his parted lips to match the click clack of his wife's pointed heels as she climbed the timber steps. As she ascended the staircase his eyes were drawn upward from her polished black shoes, traveling the length of her toned legs. He swallowed, teeth sinking into his lower lip to stifle the hoarse moan that threatened to escape. The fitted Muggle pencil skirt that she favoured wearing beneath her Minister's robes hugged her arse perfectly. Once she rounded the corner he allowed himself to at last release the appreciative sound he had held at bay. He reached down, readjusting his now semi-rigid cock to a more comfortable position before returning his attention back to the kitchen.
Harry smiled as he placed the finishing touches on the pair of meals. He had always known how to cook, after all it had been one of the countless chores assigned to him by the Dursleys. After the war however, he had been surprised to discover he quite enjoyed the task when his efforts were directed towards those he cared for.
The distinct sound of his wife's footfalls as she descended the stairs caught his attention. Without looking up from the wine he was pouring, he asked, "Table or lounge?"
"Lounge. It's been a long day."
"Was he still reading?" Harry asked, as he took his place on the sofa and offered out one of the bowls for Hermione to take.
She took the dish, taking her place by his side as she replied, "Of course he was. That boy wouldn't sleep if he could avoid it. Don't get me wrong, I love that he's academically minded, not to mention driven. Though he just doesn't seem to listen, no matter how many times I tell him that adequate rest is vital to information retention."
"Says the swot who used a Time-Turner to attend practically every class Hogwarts had to offer in our third year," said Harry, as he raised a single brow in challenge.
"I utilised that privilege to ensure I slept a solid eight hours each night, thank you very much," Hermione replied, stabbing a carrot with more force than strictly necessary before waving the fork in his direction.
"And I'd watch who you're calling a swot with that smart little mouth of yours," she added, her voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "Or I may have to find some use for it that does not involve speaking."
The cheeky grin that had pulled at the corners of his lips fell instantly. Harry exhaled a sharp breath as he watched his wife bring the carrot to her mouth. Without breaking their eye contact she sank her teeth into the root vegetable, cleaving it in two before dragging the tip of her tongue slowly across her upper lip. His eyes traced the path of her tongue. Stifling a groan, he brought one leg up and rested his ankle atop the opposite knee. The change in position shifted the material of his trousers, obscuring the outline of his swelling erection from view.
As Hermione spoke of her day, he made his way systematically through each element of his meal, the carefully crafted flavour profile of the dish barely registering on his taste buds. The food was now of little consequence to him as he forced himself to focus on the words his wife spoke, rather than lose himself to reveries of his mouth worshipping her perfect body.
"Godric, my feet ache," Hermione groaned. "My day was beyond chaotic. The cushioning charms on my heels wore off before noon and I didn't even have a single spare moment to myself to renew the spellwork."
"Pass your bowl and put your legs up," Harry directed, holding his hand out for the empty crockery.
With a grateful smile she handed him the bowl before maneuvering her body down the sofa, lifting her legs and resting her feet atop his thighs. Taking the bowl from her grasp he stacked it atop his own before placing them both to the side. He rubbed his hands together swiftly, generating friction to warm the cool skin before he began kneading his thumbs into the aching soles of her feet. As the pad of his thumb dug into the heel of her left foot Hermione's head lolled back against the sofa's armrest, eyes falling closed as a low, drawn out moan reverberated from her throat.
The soft sighs and deep moans that fell from her parted lips caused Harry's cock to grow rigid. Though he wished for nothing more than to cease the massaging of her weary soles and climb her body to claim her mouth with his, he made no move to do so. He knew all too well his reward would be all the sweeter if only he could remain patient.
As his mind wandered to just how well he may be rewarded if only he could please his mistress, a soft moan escaped his own lips. He slammed his mouth shut as soon as he realised his mistake, however it was too late. Hermione's head had snapped up upon hearing the quiet sound, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him.
"Stand," she commanded.
The tone of her voice left him with no desire to argue. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple jolting harshly as he did so. With care he lifted her feet from his lap, lowering them back to the cushion as he complied with her demand.
He stood there, spine straight, shoulders back and head slightly bowed as he awaited his mistress's further direction. Harry gazed at her through his thick lashes, watching as she pulled herself into a sitting position with grace. Knees together, she swivelled atop the sofa, her feet landing in unison upon their polished hardwood floor. Her hands stroked the top of her thighs as if to ensure there was not a single crease in her tightly fitted pencil skirt.
After what felt to be an eternity she rose, closing the distance between them in one stride. Harry felt paralyzed, unable to draw even a single breath. His eyes still downcast, he saw her hands move, realising her intention only a moment before her fingers threaded through his belt loops. She pulled him forward with force, the soft curves of her body pressing into the firm plane of his chest. As he felt her body against his, it was as if a jolt of electricity coursed through his body, resuscitating the life force within him. He gasped, inhaling a sharp breath mere seconds before Hermione's lips claimed his.
The tension in his body left him as the soft pillow of her lips moved against his own. His arms encircled her with his embrace, palms pressing firmly against the small of her back. Hermione's hands ghosted up the length of his spine and Harry felt himself shiver in the wake of her feather-light touch. Then, abruptly, her fingers tangled roughly in the hair at the nape of his neck, ripping a strangled groan from the depths of his soul. She swallowed the guttural sound greedily as she deepened their kiss.
Before he was ready to lose the contact, Hermione pulled away from him. He thought to follow her, steal another chaste kiss from her lips, though he knew better than to do so. He remained in place, awaiting her direction. Only when he felt the pressure on the back of his skull did he move, dropping his head forward and allowing his wife to press her forehead to his. There they stood in silence, the pair inhaling sharp, panted breaths.
The hand in his hair shifted and he followed her lead, pulling his head from hers to look down into her eyes. He could see her desire reflected in the gold flecks that seemingly danced amongst the warm brown hue of her irises.
"I'm going to fuck you, Mr Potter."
Just barely, he managed to dip his head forward in acknowledgment as he stammered, "Y-yes Ma'am."
Without any further warning Hermione tugged him forward with force. His body flush against her own, she spun them on the spot, and in an instant the uncomfortable sensation of Apparition pressed down upon his form. Just as he feared he could endure the pressure no longer, it ceased.
Gasping for breath, he quickly took in their surroundings. Noting the all-too-familiar furnishings of their bed chambers, he felt the anxiety that had gripped him abate. Years had passed since the Second Wizarding War, yet the scars of Harry's past ran deep. Not only those of the body, but of the mind too. His youth had been burdened with the oppressing weight of unreasonable responsibility, now – with that past behind him – he craved nothing more than to relinquish control to someone he trusted implicitly.
Hermione released her hold on him, the movement pulling him from his thoughts. Feet firmly planted to the spot, his eyes followed her as she crossed the room. Lifting her leg she placed her foot on the armchair in the corner, the action causing her skirt to ride up, bunching just below her hips. She removed her wand from the leather holster strapped to her thigh, before unleashing the metal clasps that held it in place with a flick of her wrist. The apparatus fell to the ground with an audible thud . With a series of wordless incantations Harry heard the click of their bedroom door locking, followed by the tell-tale hum of a silencing charm before Hermione placed her wand down atop her vanity.
Without so much as turning to face him she instructed, "Strip."
The way she spoke – her tone teetering on the edge of bored indifference – caused his already engorged cock to twitch within the tight confines of his trousers. He knew the tone all too well, she was going to make him work for his reward.
Not wishing to displease her, his hands flew to the button at his collar, unfastening it and those below in quick succession. As he did so, Hermione moved from her place across the room, circling where he stood with steady, measured steps. He felt her eyes on him, her gaze raking over his form as if appraising his body of its worth. He wanted to please her. Needed to please her.
His fingers stumbled on the last button, the digits shaking and unable to thread it through the final loop. She had told him to strip. He needed to comply. Without a second thought his hands fisted in the white cotton, tearing it from his body. The final, defiant button broke free of its stitching and shot across the room to clatter noisily against the polished timber floor. Releasing a relieved sigh, he shrugged the ruined piece of clothing from his broad shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor.
Finally free of the garment, he lifted his gaze, his breath catching in his throat. Hermione stood before him. Close, so close. Her head was tilted ever so slightly to the side, the soft pillow of her lower lip pulled between her teeth as her eyes travelled down the ridges of his torso.
His hand twitched, the involuntary movement betraying his desire to reach out and take hold of her. Noting his slight movement, Hermione slowly arched a single brow, but still did not speak. He needed direction. Needed to know what she wanted from him.
She stepped towards him and he exhaled a deep, shuddering breath. Her hands rose, palms coming to rest upon his pectoral muscles. Fingers splayed, she ran her hands upwards, combing them through the curled dark hair that covered the centre of his chest. At her touch, a soft rumble of an impending groan rose from deep within him, threatening to break loose. One of her hands dropped from his body as the other began its descent south at an infuriatingly languid pace. A single finger bisected his sternum and traced a path tenderly – too tenderly, he thought – to his belt.
Hermione flicked at the metal clasp. "Off, now."
He need not be told twice. Harry unfastened his belt and trousers in record speed. Shoving the clothing down from his hips hastily, his cock sprung free from its confines as his trousers fell to the floor. As he kicked the discarded clothing to the side he was met with the overwhelming urge to stroke himself. He made no move to do so however, as he had yet to receive her explicit permission.
A choked whimper forced its way through his clenched teeth as Hermione dropped to her knees before him. Feeling her warm breath against his sensitive skin he dropped his gaze to look down at where she knelt. When his eyes met hers, a knowing smile pulled at her lips. Her god damn perfect lips.
"Please. Oh fuck. Godric, Please! " he begged. He needed her to touch him.
"Did I say you could speak?"
He clamped his mouth shut, silencing the further pleas that had been perched upon the tip of his tongue. The moment stretched on, and still she had yet to touch him. He willed himself to remain unmoving, to await the pleasure she would bestow upon him if only he complied.
A fingertip stroked the underside of his length and his knees buckled at the shock her touch sent through him. He caught himself before he crumpled to the ground, straightening his posture just in time to feel her hand wrap gently around his girth. Gently she stroked him from base to tip. Too gently.
"Harder, fuck. Please."
Her hand left him and instantly he realised his mistake. He swallowed hard, suppressing his desire to apologise for the misstep. Speaking further would only exacerbate whatever punishment he would surely receive.
"I told you to be quiet," she said, rising to her feet.
She turned from him and made her way slowly to the far side of the room once more. Her hands went to her head, her deft fingers combing through her hair with practiced ease and piling the wild locks atop her head in a tight bun. Unbuttoning her blouse, she removed it before draping it across the armchair. Her back still to him, he watched her dexterous fingers as they reached to find the zip of her fitted skirt and slowly – so fucking slowly - lowered it. Stepping out of the pencil skirt, she collected the garment from the ground, laying it atop her blouse and smoothing the fabric before finally turning to face him. Her eyes bore into his, daring him to move, to challenge her.
Fuck, she was so bloody beautiful. She moved towards him in naught but her lingerie, poised and in total control. As she came to a stop before him, her hands moved to her hips, thumbs looping beneath the sheer material before sliding her knickers down her legs. Crouching down, she collected the underwear from the floor. Balling them in her fist as she rose again, she shoved the cloth into his mouth. He could taste her arousal on the sheer lace, the evidence of her desire for him almost enough to send him over the edge.
Then he felt her mouth on him and suddenly he was glad for the gag as it muffled the desperate sound he made as she took him fully. Hermione moaned appreciatively around his cock, the vibrations it caused exquisite. All thoughts left his mind as she licked and sucked him eagerly. His hand moved as if of its own accord, thumb caressing her cheekbone with the lightest of touches.
Retreating from his touch, she released his cock with an audible pop . "Did I give you permission to touch me, Mr Potter?"
He exhaled sharply through his nose at the loss of contact and stared down at her, brows pinched. Unable to speak, he shook his head once in reply to her question.
"Then be a good boy for me and keep your hands to yourself."
His hands snapped to his sides, palms pressed firmly against each thigh.
"All this, just for me?" Hermione gripped his cock once more, the pad of her thumb collecting his leaking pre-come and swirling it over the head of his cock.
Despite knowing she expected no answer to her question, he nodded fervently. Her hand shifted, tightening around his girth. Thumb pressed firmly against the underside of his shaft, she stroked him once from base to tip. Harry looked down at her as she coaxed more of the clear fluid from his cock's tip. Then as she moved forward to collect the moisture on the tip of her tongue and spread it across her upper lip slowly, he whimpered into his makeshift gag.
He closed his eyes then, giving in to the sensations. She took him once more into her mouth, her hand not leaving the base of his cock. The tight grasp of her fist moved in unison with her perfect, hot mouth. Stroking him, sucking him to the verge of madness. With each pass of her lips over his rigid length he felt himself hurtling ever closer to the precipice of his release. The low pressure coiled and he felt his balls tighten. He was close, so fucking close to blissful release.
His hand lifted, fingers tangling in the curled locks atop her head. Abruptly, her mouth left him. No... Fuck. No, no. No!
He needed it back, that ecstasy that had been so close. Though even through the hazed state of his thoughts he knew it was too late. He had disobeyed her. Harry released his grasp on her hair as if it were Fiendfyre, likely to consume him whole. She rose to her feet swiftly, swiping away the moisture from the corner of her mouth with the pad of her thumb.
The fierce, reprimanding look in her eyes caused him to take a step back from her, only for the backs of his calves to meet the foot of their bed and halt his retreat. Following him with one determined step, she placed her hands upon his chest and shoved him backwards. Harry toppled, collapsing backwards atop the plush mattress. He thought to push himself back up onto his elbows, to chance a look in her direction. However, before his limbs even had the chance to move Hermione spoke.
" Incarcerous! "
Ropes fastened themselves around each of his wrists and before Harry had a moment to comprehend what was happening, his arms were pulled upward and bound to the bedhead. There he lay on his back, naked with his cock jutting upward, alert and wanting.
He felt the mattress dip beside him and tried to lift his head to see what had caused the shift. Hermione was by his side. She brought her hand up, combing the unruly strands of black hair back from his forehead before leaning forward. She plucked the gag from his mouth, his tongue instantly darting forth to wet his dry lips.
"You've been a bad boy, Mr Potter," she whispered huskily by the shell of his ear. Harry groaned, his already stiff cock twitching in response to her words.
She climbed to her feet with surprising grace and stepped over his prone form with one foot. There she stood above him, her cunt on full display. He could see her glistening with her own arousal, a thin trickle leaking down her inner thigh. Vaguely he noted that her arm moved, unclasping her bra and dropping it to the floor.
"I did tell you that I'd find a use for that smart little mouth of yours," Hermione declared, sinking to her knees.
As she sat on his face he needed no instruction; his tongue left his mouth, swiping between her wet folds. As the intoxicating taste of her washed over him he growled into her cunt. Hermione angled her hips, grinding against him. Her thighs pressed his biceps against his ears, muting the sounds of the room. As he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, he gazed up at her. He could see the way her mouth fell open, recalled the music that was the soft mewls she could make in the throes of passion. Despite his recollection, he heard nothing but the pounding of his own rapid heartbeat in his ears.
The movement of her hips grew erratic and she fell forward to brace her hands atop the headboard. The shift in her weight knocked his glasses askew as she bucked wildly atop him. As her damp arousal flooded his senses, the glass began to fog, only further obscuring his view. The abandon with which she used him caused his cock to grow painfully erect, the deep, coiling tension building to a near unbearable intensity. An ache began to radiate from either side of his groin as the growing pressure swelled. He needed relief, release. But her pleasure was his priority.
With the aid of what flimsy Occlumency he wielded, Harry pushed his own discomfort aside and doubled his efforts. Knowing she was close, he sucked her clit into his mouth. Instantly he was rewarded for his efforts as she came hard atop him. He lapped at the evidence of her release greedily, carrying her through her orgasm until the shaking of her thighs against the sides of his head subsided.
Once she had regained her faculties, Hermione lifted herself off him before shifting her weight backwards. As she moved Harry gasped, inhaling a deep, satiating breath. His breaths returning to an even pace, he lifted his head. The sight before him was exquisite, his wife – skin flushed and a few wild locks having escaped from her once perfect updo – straddled his thighs, her glistening cunt hovering a mere inch above the swollen head of his cock.
"You've been such a good boy," she said, leaning forward and running her forefinger along the line of his stubbled jaw.
He leant into her touch and her hand shifted, swiping her own release from his lower lip with the pad of her thumb before pushing it into his mouth. His tongue melded to the underside of her thumb, his lips closing around the digit as he sucked eagerly.
Pulling her thumb from his mouth with a pop , she asked, "Do you think you've earned your reward?"
"Please, yes. Oh Godric, yes."
Righting her posture, she gazed down at him. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"There's a good boy," she praised, lowering herself until just the tip of his cock slipped between her heated folds. The heat shot through him, straight to his core and Harry's hips bucked up involuntarily. In an instant her palms were firmly planted on his chest and the intoxicating, wet heat of her cunt vanished, pulling a pained groan from his throat.
"You don't move until I tell you to move," she scolded. "Understood?"
"Y-Yes Ma'am."
Slowly she lowered herself again, though this time she did not stop. Harry remained still – his body affixed firmly to the mattress – as she sank onto his cock inch by marvelous fucking inch, until she was seated atop him, his engorged length fully sheathed within her tight little cunt. The pair groaned in unison.
Hermione rode him with fervent enthusiasm. She brought her body up, sinking down on his cock time and time again, before grinding her hips back and forth, her sensitive clit seeking friction against his pubic bone. As she repeated the alternating actions, seeking her own pleasure, Harry's gaze was drawn to her breasts, the way they bounced with each jerky movement of her body. An appreciative moan left him as she took them in her hands, cupping and kneading the supple flesh before tweaking her pert nipples. Releasing her breasts, Hermione shifted her weight once more atop him, leaning back and bracing her hands on his thighs for support.
"Fuck me."
Harry needed no further prompting. He obliged happily, thrusting upward into her hot centre. His eyes dropped to where their bodies joined and he groaned huskily as he watched his cock slip in and out of her wet cunt.
"Do you like that?" she asked. "Like watching your cock fill me?"
Harry could merely grunt in response. Lifting one hand from his thigh she brought it to where his cock drove into her body, her index and middle fingers sliding down either side of his girth to feel where they joined.
"Do you like the way my tight cunt grips you?"
"Fuck! Yes!"
She removed her hand from around his cock, lifting her arm and with the flick of her wrist his bindings released.
"Touch me," she moaned. "Rub my clit."
Without hesitation his hand found her body, the calloused pad of his thumb circling her clit as he thrust up into her with renewed vigour. Harry gazed up in awe as her head was thrown back. The thin sheen of sweat that coated her body shimmered under the room's soft lighting. She was radiant – a goddess – as she cried out, limbs quivering and tight cunt fluttering around his cock as her orgasm ripped through her.
Oh fuck . The ache borne of the tightly coiled tension deep within his pelvis bloomed, his balls throbbing as they tightened.
"Please. Uh- fuck," he groaned. "Please, I need to come."
"No. Not yet," she panted, taking control once more as she rose and sunk onto his cock slowly. Too slowly.
He was close, so fucking close. He needed to come. But he had yet to receive her permission. A deep groan rumbled up from within him before he clamped his teeth down hard on his lower lip. His eyes screwed tightly shut as he desperately tried to distract his thoughts.
Fuck. Merlin's balls. Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck. Oh shit, think of something else for fuck's sake! Slughorn's crusty pants... Umbridge! Fuck!
Abruptly, Harry was snapped from his frantic inner monologue as a familiar pain stung his scalp. Hermione's hand was in his hair, fist tightening as she tilted his head back.
"Look at me."
His eyes snapped open, his gaze locking with hers as she added, "Come for me."
He pumped into her once, twice, three more times, before his hands flew to her hips pulling her down atop him forcefully. His fingers bit into her flesh as he held her against himself, a strangled sound forcing its way from his lungs as his cock pulsed deep inside her.
As the stars in his vision cleared and he came down from the bliss of his own release, his eyes dropped. Belatedly he noticed how her hands moved furiously against her own clit, his seed leaking from where their bodies joined as she came undone once more.
He smiled as she collapsed forward, spent from her efforts. His arms wrapped around her, holding her against his body as they both inhaled shallow, panted breaths.
Twisting her head to the side, Hermione placed a tender kiss just below his ear before she whispered huskily, "You did so well."
In response to her praise, he felt his softening cock twitch within her. He ignored it, instead cradling her body in his arms as he rolled them to the side, slipping from her heated depths. He knew his witch would soon order him up to bathe, but for now he was simply content to lie there – in the arms of the one he loved – his mind blissfully free of any earthly concern.