Ginny gave a small start as Hermione pushed the parchment back across the little table towards her.
"You did quite well," Hermione said with an encouraging smile. "Fourteen out of twenty."
Ginny wrinkled her nose. She wanted to get higher than that when she sat her OWLs for real. Her first exam was now little more than a week away and she was really starting to feel the pressure. She blamed the rest of the fifth-years. It wasn't that Ginny didn't care about her classwork - she wanted to do well and worked hard to make sure she did - but some of the other students were working themselves up into anxious wrecks and it was unnerving her. All of Ginny's Ravenclaw classmates (except for Luna) hadn't been seen without a study book in their hand for weeks, every other day resulted in a Hufflepuff breaking out in tears, there were rumours that a number of the Slytherins could sell you banned study aids for a high price, and Colin Creevey had to be taken to the Hospital Wing for a calming draught last night after suffering a panic attack.
Ginny couldn't bloody wait for it all to be over.
She didn't even need particularly high grades if she wanted to pursue quidditch professionally after leaving school, but she knew it was wise to have good qualifications as a backup (and she didn't need her mother or Hermione to tell her that, thanks, she wasn't stupid) because even if she did make it onto a team, quidditch careers could be brutally short for even the most skilled players.
Barely anyone was actually aware about her wish to be a quidditch player because she knew exactly how they'd react, and she didn't need that in her life right now. Her brothers would all make fun of her, Mum would be horrified, and the girls in her dormitory would doubtfully raise their eyebrows and pretend to support her before bitching about her behind her back. Dad knew and was supportive of the idea, but Ginny had sworn him to secrecy. She'd also mentioned it to Dean when they had been dating and though there had been many arguments between them during their relationship, he had never belittled her quidditch abilities.
Hermione also knew because Ginny told her most things after learning her lesson during her traumatic first year. She often wondered how differently her first few months at Hogwarts might have gone if she had told Hermione about the strange diary she'd been writing in that could write back to her, and that she kept forgetting where she'd been at important moments… Anyway, Ginny had been forced to bite back a smile as she watched Hermione's reaction to the news of her quidditch aspirations. She knew very well that the academically-driven Hermione would find it difficult to comprehend someone wanting to 'play a game' as their career of choice, whilst simultaneously wanting to support her friend's choices. After watching Hermione flounder for a few seconds with a range of expressions crossing her face, Ginny had taken pity on her and made it clear that she wasn't about to give up on her studies in the pursuit of her goal.
"Oh," Hermione had said, probably trying to minimise her relief even though it was blatantly obvious to Ginny. "I know I don't know much about quidditch compared to you but I really do think you're a very skilled player, Ginny. There can't be many people who have succeeded as both a seeker and chaser like you have. That will probably make you a good prospective signing for many teams, won't it? Oh, and you got to speak to Gwenog Jones at the Slug Club meeting last month, didn't you? It must have been so inspiring to meet one of your heroes. Did you tell her you want to be a professional?"
That had been back in October and though Ginny was sure Hermione was hoping she would change her mind about her career ambitions, the older girl had continued to be supportive of both her quidditch pursuits and her studies, and proved herself trustworthy by not telling anyone else about it.
Ginny had yet to tell Harry. She was reasonably confident that he would be supportive - he knew better than anyone how far she had progressed in quidditch over the last year under his captaincy - but discussing the future with Harry felt… too soon. Deep in her heart she hoped that he would be a significant part of her life beyond Hogwarts, and not just because he was best friends with her brother. After years of harbouring an embarrassingly obvious crush on Harry, they were finally - tentatively - together. The relationship was barely a couple of weeks old, she couldn't start telling him about the life she dreamed of them having together. He'd think she was worse than Lavender Brown! No, far better to keep things light and exciting between them. She had her OWLs to prepare for and, of course, the war loomed over them like a spectre. With Harry's future seemingly tied to You-Know-Who, it seemed trivial to talk about joining a quidditch team. Who knew where they would all be in a couple of years' time? Merlin, help her - who knew if they'd even be alive?
Annoyed at herself for that defeatist thought, Ginny turned her attention back to the lacklustre score she'd received on the Transfiguration quiz Hermione had put together for her.
"You nearly got two marks for this question," Hermione was saying, pointing at the parchment with the feather end of her quill. "I know what you were trying to say, but what you wrote didn't quite make sense and the examiners always want clarity."
Ginny frowned at the offending paragraph. Bloody hell, those were some garbled sentences! She was surprised Hermione had even given her one mark for it. She let out a slight groan.
Hermione gave her an understanding smile. "I'm sure he's fine, Ginny," she said quietly. "You've got to try and block out distractions and anxieties."
"I know," Ginny grumbled. "I just wish I knew what was taking so long. If Scrimgeour is keeping him all this time, it can't be good." She threw a guilty glance Hermione's way a couple of seconds later after realising what she'd said. Hermione looked a little pained. "Sorry," Ginny said quickly. "That's probably not true - I'm just talking rubbish."
The rest of the school had been mildly interested since the news at breakfast that the Minister for Magic would be visiting Hogwarts that day (but were more irritated that they were being made to wear their uniform on a weekend). Ginny had seen a few heads turn in Harry's direction as people discussed the imminent arrival over their cornflakes. It greatly irked her that they were right in their assumptions that Scrimgeour's visit had something to do with Harry, but not as furious as she was that the so-called leader of the fight against You-Know-Who in the country was manipulating a couple of students for his own benefit. Hermione had told Ginny last night about their hopes to get Dolohov moved and what it was costing them to bring it about. Fucking Ministry. She'd love to give Scrimgeour a piece of her mind about this and the shit he'd pulled at Christmas.
Ginny reached over to give Hermione's hand a reassuring squeeze but the other girl jerked her arm back before they could make contact.
"Shi- " She coughed to try and hide the fact that she'd nearly sworn. "Sorry, I forgot."
Hermione was due to see Dolohov today, which meant that her skin would burn if anyone touched it.
Ginny honestly didn't know how Hermione did it, allowing an evil bastard like Dolohov to touch her every week. The thought of any Death Eater's hands on her own skin made Ginny want to throw up. She genuinely believed that Hermione might be the strongest girl she knew, not just the cleverest.
Hermione gave her a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's fine." She looked like she was about to say more but a clearly nervous First Year boy approached their table.
"Professor McGonagall wants to see you in her office," he said, saying each word carefully.
Hermione sighed, looking grim. "I'll be right there." She waved her wand, packing away her things into her bag, and stood up.
"And you," the boy said, looking at Ginny.
"Me?" she said in surprise.
"You're Ginny Weasley, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Professor McGonagall wants you too. And your brother and Neville Longbottom," the boy said.
"What the hell?" Ginny muttered as she also packed her things away.
Fifteen minutes later, she was standing in the Deputy Headmistress's office along with Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna and Harry. Her boyfriend had given her a small smile when he'd seen her but he looked unhappy and strained.
Professor McGonagall was sitting behind her desk, her hands clasped together. She didn't look pleased either.
"What's going on?" Ron asked. "Why are we here?" McGonagall arched an eyebrow at him and waited until he eventually added, "Professor."
McGonagall swept her gaze across the assembled students. "An invitation has been extended to you all to visit the Ministry of Magic next weekend," she said and Ginny could tell that she was choosing her words carefully. "The Minister would like to thank the six of you for withstanding the Death Eater attack last year and helping to expose the return of You-Know-Who."
There was a moment of silence and Ginny cast a worried look at Harry and Hermione.
"But…" Neville said. "He's already here, isn't he? Why can't the Minister thank us now if he really wants to? Why do we have to go all the way to London - to there?"
Neville didn't know about Hermione's lingering curse effects, nor did Luna, and they therefore didn't know about Scrimgeour's machinations either.
"Rufus Scrimgeour will soon be departing the school to visit Hogsmeade," McGonagall replied, her voice clipped. "There is apparently no time in his schedule today." Her thumbs momentarily unclasped then slid alongside each other again. "Evidently, given that next Saturday will mark exactly one year since the battle took place, the Minister thought it a more fitting date to commend the bravery you all showed."
"The Ministry is going to admit what happened in the Department of Mysteries, are they?" Ron asked angrily. "They've been trying to cover it up since it happened."
"The reason behind your visit will not be made public, Mr Weasley," Professor McGonagall answered, tone indicating that she was not pleased with Ron's manner of speaking. "You will meet with Scrimgeour and a few other key Ministry members only. Though I daresay a photographer or two will be there to record the moment for posterity." McGonagall looked as though she was sucking on a particularly bitter lemon and Ginny could understand why. There was no doubt in her mind that Scrimgeour would plaster any photo featuring himself and Harry all over the front pages of the Daily Prophet for weeks to come. And on the anniversary of Sirius's death too… Oh, Harry.
"Why would he think we want to be commemorated or thanked for what happened?" Neville asked, looking bewildered. "Surely they have much more important things to be doing than meeting us."
"You'd think so," Ginny muttered.
"Would I be allowed to question Rufus Scrimgeour about being a vampire for a Quibbler-exclusive interview?" Luna asked, eyes aglow at the prospect.
"No, Miss Lovegood, you would not," McGonagall said, though it looked like she was fighting a smile.
"Not even off the record?" she pressed.
"No."
Luna sighed gently. "A pity."
"Do we have to go?" Ron asked, but he was looking at Harry rather than McGonagall.
Harry's jaw was set in a stubborn line. "I do," he said. "I don't want to but you -"
"Then we'll all go," Ginny interrupted. "You couldn't get rid of us last year and it's not going to happen this time either."
"I would never let you do this on your own," Hermione said quietly, the first words she'd spoken since entering the office. Ginny thought her eyes looked a little wet. "Is that all it is? A meeting in the Ministry?"
Harry nodded, his own gaze full of unspoken emotion as he looked at Hermione. Ginny would be lying if she said that she wasn't sometimes jealous of Harry and Hermione's friendship and closeness. The two of them shared a bond that Ginny couldn't compete with, a bond that she knew she shouldn't try to compete with because it wasn't a bloody competition. All the years Ginny had known them, they had never shown the slightest interest in being anything other than friends. Their love for each other was different from the giddy, heart-racing, swooping feeling that was developing between herself and Harry now - a relationship that Hermione had done nothing but encourage from the beginning. Besides, given that a lot of boys her age were complete dicks when it came to the opposite sex, Harry's ability to have healthy friendships with girls was one of the things that Ginny liked most about him.
As Ginny watched the two friends share so much in that moment without even having to speak to each other, instead of jealousy she felt relief that their anxious ordeals caused by Scrimgeour's manipulations might soon be over.
"It's going to be okay," Harry told Hermione.
If Neville or Luna thought those words were a bit much for the situation, they made no comment.
"Mr Potter didn't want to speak for you all when the Minister gave his invitation, but if you're all in agreement…?" McGonagall looked round at the six students and they nodded. "I shall see to it that he is informed of your decision."
A wicked smirk crossed Antonin's face as he picked up one of the little chocolate hazelnut tarts from the package he'd just unwrapped. He lifted it closer to his face and inhaled the aroma - just like he remembered from his Hogwarts days. It was still faintly warm. "I thought you said you would never ask the elves to make me food."
She seemed to be very particular about the way that she was draping her cloak and robes on the back of the armchair and didn't raise her head to look at him. "Oh, well, it was nothing. I just happened to be walking past the kitchens earlier."
"So it was a coincidence that they also happened to be preparing my favourite sweet treat for tonight's dinner when you made your unexpected trip there, was it?" Antonin pushed, smirk still in place.
"Yes," she said shortly.
"Mmhmm," he hummed unconvincingly. "How fortunate for me."
She spun round, causing her curls and skirt to flare outwards, and she fixed him with an annoyed expression. "Look, I was in the kitchens a few days ago to talk to a couple of the elves about SPEW anyway - I didn't go especially for you."
"So you put in a request then? You didn't just pop down to the kitchens earlier today and ask for them to be made. It was pre-planned?"
She pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes," she admitted tersely but quickly added, "Don't be smug."
Antonin maintained eye contact as he lifted the tart and took it into his mouth in one bite. His taste buds rejoiced over the sweet, buttery pastry and rich, velvety filling. He hadn't had such luxurious food in a very long time. After swallowing his mouthful, he licked his lips slowly, still savouring the taste. "I'm not smug," he said, his voice thicker thanks to the chocolate coating. She scoffed but her eyes were still transfixed on him. "I'm very grateful." He put the rest of the tarts on the table and walked towards her. "And I intend to make it up to you, milaya. One good turn deserves another, so they say." His hand trailed over her cheek and her lashes fluttered.
"Antonin," she sighed, her fingers reaching up to cover the back of his hand, to keep his touch flush against her skin, to keep him close.
That was where he wanted to be more than anything - close to her. He had to have her, to keep her his forever. He could do it. He could. He had to. He could make this work. He had to make this work. Everything would be fine…
He kissed the corner of her mouth, she turned her head to try and press her lips to his but he pulled back and brought both hands to cradle her head. "Next time, bring me some raspberry trifle."
She clicked her tongue and pushed him away with another irritated expression. "I'm not going to be bringing you anything specially made from the kitchens next time - let alone something as ridiculous as a trifle," she scoffed.
He put his hands at her waist, kissed her cheek and then pulled her against his chest. "I know you won't let me down," he said confidently.
She made another derisive noise but it was distorted slightly given that her cheek was pressed against him. "In your dreams."
"Would you like to hear about my dreams, Hermione?" he asked in a low voice, pronouncing the Russian slowly and seductively. "You play a prominent role in them." She shifted restlessly against him as he tugged her shirt from her skirt and slid one hand to the smooth small of her back. It was odd that she was wearing her uniform on a weekend but he was always happy to see her in a skirt so he made no comment. His other hand stroked up the back of her shirt and then abruptly stopped. Hermione had also gone still beneath him. He ran his fingers searchingly over the fabric. "Did you…?" He moved both hands to front, one either side of red and gold stripes of her tie, and trailed his fingers over her chest. "You came to me without a bra?"
She shuddered, her nipples tightening as he played with them through the fabric of her shirt. "I-I don't know w-what I was thinking," she whispered, keeping her head lowered.
He lifted one hand to encourage her chin upwards, taking a moment to eye the shy, flushed expression on her face before he kissed her eagerly. She was hesitant at first, probably still insecure about the daring action, but either Antonin's actions or the strength of relief she was getting from the curse soon wore her down and she matched his affection.
Antonin started undoing her shirt buttons but she held onto his hands, stopping him. "I just want to see," he told her reassuringly, kissing along her jaw. "See the present you've brought me. That's alright, isn't it?"
He felt her take in a deep breath and then she nodded. He returned his lips to hers as his fingers resumed their work on her buttons, loosening but not completely removing her tie. Before allowing himself to view her offering, he let his hands trace over the smooth skin he'd revealed but was careful to skirt around her scar and breasts. He could tell by the whimpers she was releasing against his lips that she was greatly enjoying his touch with the curse still so strong.
He longed to explore those other parts of her but she had made it clear that she didn't want him there early on in her visit - he didn't exactly understand why because surely it would only give her the most intense pleasure. He could push the issue, and he was sure to get what he wanted if he did, but he was mindful not to cross her boundaries around sex. Not only was he determined to make sure that he didn't lose the trust she'd built up for him after nearly a year of hard work, but it was so much more satisfying to know that (apart from a tiny bit of manipulation here and there) every truly intimate moment between them had been Hermione's choice. She wanted him - wanted him to kiss her, touch her, lick her, finger her, eat her, fuck her. She chose. No matter what happened in the next few weeks, that would always be true…
Besides, he had been very well rewarded for his patience last week. He'd lost count of the number of times in the last few days that he'd come to the memory of her jerking him off. Her hands, her lips, her tongue. Fuck. It might not have been the best handjob he'd ever had in terms of her skills (he was sure she'd get better with practice) but that had hardly mattered because her tentative enthusiasm, her willingness to please him and the knowledge that it was her - his zhar-ptitsa - worshipping his cock more than made up for it. He was very hopeful that she would be up for a repeat, or even allow him to use that pretty mouth properly.
For now, he had other delights to enjoy.
She chased his mouth when he pulled back so he gave her two short, reassuring kisses and stroked her cheek before taking a step back in order to view her better. Despite the attentions of his hands, her skin was still mostly covered by the shirt and tie so he pulled the white fabric apart a bit more, revealing teasing glimpses of the inner swells of her breasts. He parted the material further, almost pushing the bottom hems round to her back, and he savoured the sight - her beautiful bare breasts framed by the white of her shirt and the line of her tie, her scar proudly on display just below.
"Aren't you a pretty picture," he murmured, fighting the urge to touch and taste. Perhaps he could convince her to keep the shirt and tie on whilst he fucked her. The prospect seemed particularly arousing.
Perhaps his desires were blatant on his face because she said a little breathlessly, "I'm on my period."
His eyes darted upwards a few inches and, to his relief, he could just about see the glint of metal partly hidden by her tie. "But you're not leaving early."
"No," she confirmed. "It's mostly finished, there's very little blood, but I don't know if I would be comfortable having sex today."
Damn. "Because it pains you?"
"No. It doesn't hurt anymore."
"Then because of the blood?" She hesitated then nodded. Antonin tried not to let his displeasure show. "So the tarts and lack of bra are to make up for that?"
Hermione gave a little shrug. "I don't know," she murmured. "Maybe?" She sighed. "It's not that I don't want to…"
He rubbed her back reassuringly, wondering how best to get what he wanted. "You know that you bled the first time we had sex, don't you?"
She gave him a startled look. "What? Did I?"
He nodded. "It wasn't a lot. You probably didn't notice because you could barely keep your eyes open when I was getting us cleaned up."
"Oh." Silently, he watched and continued to rub circles into her back as she absorbed that information. Waiting. "Ten hours is a long time," she eventually said. "Perhaps later, to give it time to really finish off." She shot a very quick glance at the obscured bathroom facilities. He was about to tell her that while he would ultimately let her decide, he didn't want her to be in any doubt that he most definitely wanted to fuck her but she hurried on before he could open his mouth. "I've actually got an awful lot of revision to do - my end of year exams start in just over a week!" She removed herself from his hold and returned to her cloak, and started pulling out a seemingly endless collection of parchment and books.
Antonin followed her, taking the towering revision supplies from her hands. "You know you can't do any of that now, milaya," he said in an almost chiding tone. "The curse needs to be sated first." He placed her items on the desk then turned around to look at her. "How do you want to do it?" He was watching her closely and didn't miss the barely there glance to his crotch. That was a good sign. "Do you want to rest?" he offered. "Do you want me to explore your generous gift?" He let his eyes drop to her chest. The fabric had moved back to cover most of her breasts now but it was still a tantalising sight. "Or do you want me to teach you more about how to please me?" Obviously, that was the option he'd most prefer but he'd be happy enough to while away the time petting his witch until she hopefully decided that she was up for sex after all.
Hermione seemed to have momentarily lost her voice and he gave a little smirk as she struggled to voice an answer. "Perhaps you'd like to do all three," he suggested, moving back towards her. "I'm sure we can make that work." He kissed her slowly, dragging out the pleasure as his fingers slipped beneath her shirt to run up her sides and deliver glancing touches to her breasts. She melted into him, her body lining up flush against his own. He could feel the heat of her seeping through his robes.
She turned her mouth away from him, her hot breath fanning over his neck. "You," she panted. "It's - it's too much for me right now - your touch - if it's not going to lead to sex."
He removed his hands from her skin and slipped them out from under her shirt. She made a tiny whine in response to the loss of contact but didn't ask him to bring his touch back.
"You want to get me off again?" he asked, trying to downplay his eagerness for that very outcome. He wished he could see her face but he dared not move in case he spooked her.
Three heartbeats of silence passed before she said, "Yes."
One of his hands stroked from the back of her head down towards her arse and the other gripped her hip as arousal flushed through him in anticipation of the pleasure to come. "The same as before or…more?" he asked, his voice deeper and suffused with desire.
Hermione lifted her head. She was trying to look determined but Antonin could tell that she was still nervous beneath the surface. "I want to know more."
His gut clenched and a spike of lust shot to his cock. "And if I said I wanted to teach you how to take my cock into your mouth?" he posed, watching the effect the words had on her. "Do you think you're up to that?" It was those challenging words that sealed it. He could tell by the tightening of her expression, the slight upwards tilt of her chin.
"Yes."
The nerves and uncertainty were still there but her need to succeed was driving her right now, and Antonin intended to make the most of it. The kiss that followed wasn't slow like the last one, but hot and lustful and eager.
"I've been dreaming about this," he said feverishly, kissing down her throat. "Dreaming about your mouth all week, just like I told you I would, moya mechta."
Her fingers tightened and bunched the fabric of his sleeves and then she took a step back from him, denying herself his touch once more. Antonin took the opportunity to pull off his robes but when he saw her pulling off her tie, he stopped her.
"No, keep it all on."
Surprise flashed across her face. "But last time you said -"
"You're not going to get cum on your clothes, not if you do a good job," he told her, "because you'll swallow what I give you." He closed the small gap between them, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on his face, and ran her tie through his fingers. "I want to keep the wrappings on my gift until it's time for me to properly receive it." He delivered a ghosting kiss across her lips and heard her suck in a quick breath, then gave a playful tug on her tie. He pointed the fabric in the direction of the bed like it was a leash. "Are we going there?" he asked, then moved his hand downwards so that the tip of the tie pointed to the floor again. "Or are you going to take me right here?"
Her tongue darted out to wetten her lips. Antonin was quite sure that she'd done so unconsciously but his fingers tightened on her tie anyway.
"Here is fine," she said with supposed confidence (but he knew her better than that). He pulled on the tie, encouraging her downwards. She obliged, maintaining eye contact as she got to her knees and then worked at the buttons to free his cock.
He dropped her tie, letting it dangle between her bare breasts, and cupped her cheek. "Same rules as last time," he said. "Tap my thigh if I tell you to do something you don't want to do." He traced his thumb over her maddeningly soft lips. "You understand?" He gently caught her lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, her moist heat giving him a tease of the satisfaction to come. She nodded. "Good girl."
He released her lip and suppressed a groan as she pushed his trousers and underwear down his legs to reveal his half hard cock. He kicked the clothes away, resisting the urge to take himself in hand because he wanted it to be all her. She was sitting back on her heels and looking up at him like the obedient cock-hungry student that she was. "Show me what you learned from last week, moya mechta. I'll tell you when I'm ready for more."
He saw her take a breath and then she rose so that her face was roughly level with his crotch. After another moment of hesitation, she took him in hand without the uncertainty of her previous touches. Within a few strokes, she already had him fully hard. His instinct was to close his eyes whilst he savoured the arousal swimming through his veins, but that was a force of habit. When he was the one tugging on his own dick, he would shut his eyes to block out his reality and put her in place of his hand. But that was his reality. No need to pretend. He wanted to see every moment of her on her knees in front of him.
Her eyes momentarily lifted to his, perhaps looking for approval, before she ducked her head forward and licked up his shaft just like she had last time.
"Yes," he hissed, loving the sensation of her velvet tongue delivering wet heat all around his cock as she repeated her action until she'd traced every part of his length. "That clever mouth," he murmured, grabbing a fistful of her curls to make sure she didn't move her head too far away. She continued to stroke him, twisting her wrist just so like he'd shown her. He let her add her other hand for a few seconds, but he knew he couldn't have her keep that up for long if he wanted to make a lengthy use of her mouth.
"Ease up, milaya," he said, voice strained. "Fuck - you've learnt so well from before - time to teach you some more." She released him, momentarily resting her hands on his thighs before looking up at him expectantly so she could learn how to suck his cock. "Are you ready for me?"
She nodded and he stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "My dream girl. You will be magnificent. In essence it's very straightforward but there are a few important things to remember - some for your benefit and some for mine." He took his hand away so that she wasn't distracted by the relief from his touch. "You need to keep your jaw and throat relaxed. No teeth. Breathe through your nose. Understand?"
She nodded again.
"Good. Start with my tip - lick and kiss it until you feel ready to take it between your lips."
She did as instructed, teasing him with her soft, wet warmth until he thought he was going to lose control and force himself into her mouth if she didn't part her lips soon. He didn't hold back his vocal appreciation, knowing that she would respond well to the praise and not wanting her to start doubting her willingness to see the task through. "Milaya," he said in a choked voice, on the verge of begging her to let him in, but his words turned into a satisfied grunt as his tip was finally past the barrier of her lips. Her eyes were on him and she made a humming noise that had to be instinctual, but the vibrations on the most sensitive part of him sent a shock through him that nearly dislodged him from her mouth.
"Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck. You look so fucking beautiful, Hermione." She moved her tongue against him and used her hand to stroke the rest of his length. Even through his fiery arousal, he could tell that she was pleased with herself. "Take more," he urged, resisting the need to thrust himself into her. "Try to take as much as you can." He could no longer look into her eyes as he slowly sank into more of her heat until he was sure he hit the back of her throat. She pulled back at the intrusion and he reassured her before encouraging her to take him back into her mouth, to slide up and down him like her hand had done earlier, to experiment with using her tongue, to suck as she moved her head back and forth, to play with his balls like last time. And before long, Hermione was sucking his cock like she was born to do it. What was more - he was quite certain that she was enjoying it. He knew that it was most likely down to the curse giving her relief even through an atypical method, but he still took further satisfaction from the hums and moans she let out around his cock, and from the blissful fluttering of her eyes as his fingertips traced her scalp and cheek.
Additional gratification came from knowing that he had succeeded in persuading her to give a further piece of herself to him, that she had allowed him to tarnish another part of her innocence. How far she had come from that self-righteous, arrogant chit who had first demanded his notebook. He had done that. He had brought her along this path to lower herself to her knees and worship his cock. Oh, if they could see her now, all her friends and so-called protectors in the Order. Potter's virtuous best friend sucking off a Death Eater and loving it. He drank down the power and victory he got from picturing the shock and horror experienced by the likes of those ginger blood-traitors, the werewolf who'd punched him, the aurors - Shacklebolt and Tonks - who had tried to keep her safe and, of course, Potter and the old man. As he shot his seed into her mouth from one of the most intense orgasms that he'd ever had, Antonin was so full of triumph and arousal that he almost laughed.
They had failed her.
Hermione had Antonin to look after her now. He wasn't going to fail. He could make this work. He could have everything he wanted. He was almost certain. Soon. He didn't know when exactly, the Dark Lord's note didn't say, but he knew it would all happen soon…
She swallowed every drop of cum he gave her.
