Chapter 6

Hermione was frozen as her best friend's finger slipped under her skirt, and a moment later, followed that by slipping into her panties, directly onto her wetness.

"W-what are you doing?" she found herself asking, but even as she asked that, she realized that she had failed. It was supposed to be an angry statement, or at least, a nasty declaration of protest.

Instead, what came out was a gentle moan, and the rest of the words filled with anticipation she hated hearing in her voice. Well, hatred might be exaggerated. A slight dislike was more accurate.

Or maybe just liking.

Confusion, she finally settled into an emotion she was supposed to feel under the circumstances, her thoughts coming out particularly difficult. In her defense, she had just experienced her best friend exploding on her ass, and it was instantly followed by his fingers invading her core.

"Rewarding you, of course," he answered.

Hermione bit her lips, suppressing a reflexive question to ask whether that was an appropriate reward. Considering what she had done to win, it was hard to argue that the reward was not appropriate. Then, his fingers picked up speed, and she found herself unable to say anything, too occupied in suppressing her voice.

Yet, her determination to hold back her moans didn't last long under his treatment. What was the point, she decided. Was a moan worse than his fingers in a place she was yet to allow her boyfriend to touch?

Remembering that she actually had a boyfriend, she was first hit by guilt, but that guilt was quick to disappear as his fingers continued to invade her core repeatedly, pushing her toward the next stage. The pleasure was a good way to deal with the guilt, leaving only anger for his actions.

Why should she feel guilty, she reasoned. He was the one that abandoned her first.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't bother compressing her moans as his hands invaded her body, one between her legs, the other on her breasts. She noted that he had pushed her bra down, touching her naked breasts, but the difference was not great enough to make a point.

Not with everything else going on.

She closed her eyes, and opened her legs for better access, allowing him better access while he worked on her core. She kept her eyes closed, because she didn't think she could handle the way she looked. Yet, as the treatment continued, she realized something was wrong.

The closer she got to the climax, the slower his fingers were becoming. "W-what are you doing?" she asked, her eyes wide with shock as she felt her body aching with unmet pleasure.

"What do you mean, I'm rewarding you of course," he answered, his smile maddening.

She opened her mouth, several choices, angry words ready to blast him hard, but it wasn't what came out. Somewhere between her mind and her mouth, those words were hijacked to be replaced by a plea. "Please, faster," she found herself begging.

"Oh, really," he whispered even as he pulled his hand from her breasts, and for a scary second, she had thought that he would stop. Then, his hand landed on her thigh, resolving the fear. "What do I need to do faster?"

"T-the massage," Hermione stammered, unable to admit what she was doing even as she stiffened under the realization. Sometimes, it was easier to lie, even if that lie was paper-thin.

"As you wish," he said, chuckling with amusement, every chuckle making her tremble more. Hermione might have felt angry, but she was more occupied by the way his hand climbed up her thigh, his other hand continuing the treatment. That occupation didn't change even when he grabbed her panties, and destroyed them with one pull, the delicate fabric not giving the slightest resistance.

"Harry—" she gasped, one that was interrupted by when his hand landed on her ass. It wasn't a painful hit, but the shock was enough to jerk her.

"I can stop if you don't like it," he said, a proposition Hermione left without an answer. She felt that she should have felt a surge of anger at his move. It was rough and disrespectful, but for some reason, she felt unable to deny it. "But it's just an innocent massage, isn't it?"

"Yes, just an innocent massage, to deal with the stress of the search," she answered, feeling that she had surrendered something critical. She just didn't have enough energy to care.

/\\/\\/\

Harry had to admit, he was fascinated by her obedience. Even as he followed his instincts and spanked her, he was afraid that it would be the thing to ruin the charm of the moment. Instead, it just pushed her deeper into the arousal, with the implicit permission to push even further.

He still avoided her lips despite the temptation of stealing a kiss, but he didn't stop himself from leaning down, capturing her neck with his lips, every flicker of his tongue coming back as another soft murmur. Her hips started to jerk, to help his move, but it wasn't her earlier movement. Instead, it was soft and choppy, like the first nervous dance of the most unpopular girl in the school.

If that unpopular girl was following every single movie cliche and turned into a beautiful model just by a wardrobe change.

"Dance for me," he whispered into her ear even as she started trembling, showing that she was not too far away from a climax, even as he tried to keep his movement limited.

"H-how," she whispered, tempting him to ask for a lap dance, but he was afraid it would push her out of the zone. Instead, he let her continue as she wished.

She chose to interpret it as intensifying the movement of her hips, still choppy, but under the circumstances, her growing enthusiasm was more important than any kind of skill. Especially with her skills growing noticeably as she got used to the moment, showing that her amazing learning capabilities were not limited to books.

Ron missed a really great opportunity by being an idiot.

Lost in the moment, her hands landed on her breasts, squeezing them to assist his efforts, her eyes firmly closed as if it would help her avoid the shame of the moment.

Harry used his excellent vantage point to ogle her beautiful body between the strings of kisses that he left over her neck and collarbone, avoiding her breasts, though there, his fear was not pushing her out of the mood, but making her avoid the great shock of the moment. His shaft had long returned to life, begging for him to take the last step, but he had held himself back, not wanting to push her too much.

That was not something he wanted to ambush her, but something he wanted her to beg for.

"You're about to relax," he whispered into her ear even as his fingers danced on her core, occasionally slipping between her body and the couch to squeeze her ass, extracting stronger and stronger moans.

Hermione didn't say she appreciated it, but she soon twisted her waist to give even better access to her hips, making him spank her. He bit his lip, trying to ignore the great angle the movement gave him to take the last fateful step, limiting himself to safe activities.

For an extremely loose definition of safe, of course.

He spanked her once more, letting his hand travel down her legs, her beautiful round ass the best gift he had ever received. Her body shone as her sweat mixed with the massage oil to create a beautiful, tempting combination.

"I'm about to—" she started, only to be interrupted by a gasp as he spanked her once more, trying to restrict his desire. But soon, he found himself burying his shaft between her cheeks once more, pushing back and forth to maximize the impact of arousal before she climaxed.

But, before he could enjoy it more, the climax hit her, leaving her trembling with an intensity he hadn't expected before. "Yes," she gasped in shock, one that only got more intense as he bit her shoulder, the best he could to steal her lips.

She gasped, moaned, and trembled, giving him the most spectacular example of arousal he was ever responsible for. It was a show he enjoyed immensely, especially when she suddenly twisted and hugged him, every tremble of her body rubbing against her.

It took all of his strength not to shift his hips to take a very fateful step while she continued to tremble, her arms tight around his neck enough to make it hard to breathe.

One that lasted for a minute, and ended up leaving her unconscious, and him with a raging boner. He was unable to move with her arms tight around his neck. He could have extracted himself, but the temptation of seeing her reaction once she woke up back was too tempting to ignore. That left him with other temptations, like trying to deal with his raging arousal.

Her position gave him many interesting possibilities, but ultimately, he decided to leave it.

After all, what better way to handle it than to return the favor…