Chapter 34

First, Harry and Hermione slept. A clothed cuddle ahead of an intimate evening instead turned to a comatose sort of sleep, because they were both more tired than they realized.

When they woke, neither were in a hurry to move.

Harry held her on their bed, stroking her hair as she purred contentedly. The girls' dormitory was empty but for them. Lavender and Parvati had been taken home by their families, for the few days that Dumbledore was allowing it, in the wake of Hogsmeade.

Which was good, because Harry was in no mood to share his Hermione. He'd locked the dormitory of the whole room, but drawn shut the four curtains of her bed, creating an intimate small environment for them to cuddle in.

They were both hot, clammy, too warm in winter jumpers and jeans, but it wasn't right to take their clothes off, not yet.

He held her as tight as he could, breathing her in. Her thumb stroked his arm softly, because Hermione always knew how he felt. The relief of having her back, but somehow having her back made stark just how close it could have been to her never coming back. If Tom had chosen to kill her rather than keep her, if she'd been stored in Voldemort's lair rather than the poorly defended prison, used more for Muggles they wanted to play with than real prisoners.

"I'm here, it's okay." She said softly, backing up into his embrace, facing away from him.

Harry just breathed, watching the goosebumps form on the back of her neck as his breath hit her skin.

"No more games?" Hermione murmured, after a minute.

"No more games." Harry confirmed. "I'm sorry. I've been…inconsiderate."

"Five syllables, you have changed." She turned in his grasp, so she could see his conflicted face, the same conflict in hers. "You've been…enjoying me." Her smile was light but her eyes was accusatory. "Corrupting me."

"I have." Harry thought for a long moment. "But I should have enjoyed it together, with you."

"What do you mean?" She whispered. In their bed, the dormitory empty, it felt like the world was just their bed, just the two of them.

"Something I knew but forgot." Harry said slowly, shaking his head at his foolishness. "Everything is better with you. Everything."

Her smile was soft, her fingers crawling up his chest to find his chin, and then his cheek. "Tell me everything?" She implored gently.

So he did. She deserved that much. He spoke for a long time. Hermione flinched when she learned of how Voldemort's mind had entered his. Her chestnut eyes grew wide when he told her how he had struggled — did struggle — with the memories of Tom's rapes and murder. She caressed his cheek as he told her of how it changed him, made him so much more and so much less.

She pressed her forehead against his when he admitted to enjoying the dominance and manipulation, of Daphne, of Hannah, of her.

Harry told her everything and hoped she wouldn't flee. But even when he told of the bond, she only held him tighter.

"I've gone down this path." Harry said, his voice gravelly from talking so much. "And it's too late now to walk back."

She tutted, wiping at his eyes with her thumb. "You should have come to me, Harry. You know that. You used to say I could do everything — figure out your homework, punch Malfoy, beat Ron at Gobstones. I would have helped you."

"I…" His jaw opened and closed. He had known that. For a long time, he went to her with everything. "I was ashamed. And…afraid that you'd think less of me…"

Because it was her, she knew that there was more to it. "And…?" She raised her eyebrow, in that way she always did.

"Afraid you wouldn't walk this path with me." He admitted.

That was the truth. The crux of her. He was afraid of a life without her.

She squeezed his cheek, her feet entwining with his under the duvet, using his feet to warm hers. "I'll always be with you, silly."

"You will?" He hated he sounded. Like the little boy he had been. But it was Hermione.

He didn't need to pretend, with her.

She flushed, breaking eye contact, speaking into his chest. "As long as you'll have me. As long as you want me."

"I do." Harry tugged her into him, tilted her chin up. "I do. More than anything."

Hermione's eyes glowed. She darted up to press a kiss against his lips, a chaste imprint of her lips against his. "Then if you want me to walk your path with you, you should make me." She said impishly, daringly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Harry growled and with a swish of his wand, she was giggling in a simple white bra and panties, and swatting him away as he playfully attacked her.

"Stop!" She shrieked as he tickled her, enjoying the way she arched her bum into his cock.

"I can't. I need to have you." He kissed her passionately.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione looked down at herself in despair. "I'm a mess."

"You're not. You're beautiful."

She smacked his chest. "You're just saying that."

"I'm not." He hesitated. How could he make her see? In a moment, she was laid back on her bed, half-sitting up, head against a pillow stuck back with a charm.

"I want to tell you," Harry began. "About how I think about you, how I first began thinking about you. But I need your mouth to be full, so you don't interrupt."

"You're going to gag me?" Hermione frowned.

But Harry stood, his hard naked cock swaying towards her mouth. "Something like that."

"This is not the romantic fore—mmmph!" Hermione's eyes went wide as he stuck his cock in her mouth, forcing her lips wide as he thrust slowly, her mouth bulging. He was gentle — he really did want her to listen.

"I first fantasized about you in our Third Year." Harry told her, stroking her hair from her forehead. She made a glurking noise as he pumped into her mouth, but her eyes were on his, curious. "You were in this really tight pair of jeans. You'd just hit Malfoy in the face. And you were just as upset as I was over Hagrid." He paused, caressing her swollen cheek. "And I just remember this big swell of affection for you, because you were so brave and beautiful."

She tried to say something, but it was muffled around his cock, so it ended up as pleasant spluttering vibrations. Despite her frowning brows, her tongue was lapping on his under shaft.

"That night, I jerked off thinking about you." He laughed suddenly. "I felt really guilty."

Her eyes softened.

"I didn't touch myself thinking about you again until the Yule Ball." He withdrew from her mouth, let his cock head rest on her glistening lips. "That dress."

"You did?" She murmured.

"It wasn't even a respectful fantasy. Like, ripping the dress up, bending you over, fucking you hard."

"I would have been yours, that night, if you'd asked." Hermione pressed a kiss to his reddened cock head.

"I should have."

"I…I love hearing how you wanted me." She blushed. "I didn't — I mean, I've never been—"

"I want you always." Harry assured her, groaning as she pressed butterfly kisses down his shaft as he slid his cock over her face. "It got worse, after that. You in the library. You in my bed. You under my cloak. In the bath. In the shower of the Burrow. Everywhere."

"Harry!" She gasped, hands taking in the full weight of his heavy balls, throbbing with a thick load.

"I want…to go too far, with you. Want to chain you to my bed. I have this image in my mind where I'm sitting on a throne and you're kneeling by my feet."

Hermione tutted, shaking her head and incidentally rubbing his cock over her face. "Such a misogynist." She smirked.

Harry climbed down to join her in bed, slipping his fingers down to rub over her wet panties. "Did you ever think about me?"

She sniffed. "Far before you ever thought about me, that way."

"Really?" Harry felt his heart flutter. "I never realized. Since when?"

"First year?"

"What, really?"

She blushed. "I had a crush on you when you rescued me from the troll. I was in the library once and I realized I'd absent-mindedly doodled your initials on a book. I started crying — stop!" She hit him when he started laughing, but she shifted on the bed, angling herself to give him better access to her panties.

"You vandal." Harry jibed, slipping his fingers under her white knickers.

"Madam Pince gave me some tea, I was so upset." Hermione laughed at herself, red-faced.

"And then?" Harry slipped a finger inside her, feeling how wet she was, enjoying how she gripped his arm with both her hands.

She bit her lip, legs squirming. "I-in second year, I would stay awake at night, reading all the books to try and figure out what was petrifying students. And, when I woke up from being petrified to find you'd rescued Ginny and saved the day, I was so proud but so jealous."

"Aww. Mione." Harry nibbled on her ear. She tilted her head for him.

"It got worse the next year." She moaned as he kissed her neck and fingered her. "I-I was so busy trying to Time-Turn my way to all my classes, but I wanted to see you. So I'd risk paradoxes just to see you. Pop up just to spend time with you, even when I had just left you, from your point of view."

"I remember that!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. "You'd run off to the library and then suddenly you'd be back, just to help me with my homework or to give me some scones."

Hermione nuzzled his neck, breathing heavily under the rhythm of his fingers. "Because you weren't eating enough and you were so stressed about Sirius. I…I had this fantasy that I'd use the Time Turner to save you from Sirius Black and you'd be so grateful and you'd kiss me."

"Hermione." He kissed her even as she tried to avoid looking him in the eyes.

"And you didn't talk to me when I took your Firebolt." She said quietly. "I cried for a week. I wanted to use the Time Turner to go back in time to when we were friends."

"I'm sorry." He said.

She looked at him suddenly, her eyes shining. "That was when I knew, though."

"Knew?"

"I loved you. Because I was sick at the thought of you in danger and I was sick without seeing you smile everyday. And even then, I thought if that isn't love, what is?"

Harry buried her in kisses. "I'm sorry." He said between each kiss. "I'm sorry."

She sighed under his kisses, under his fingers, her hand joining his as his fingers arched inside her. "I couldn't say anything." She remembered, eyes sheening over. "I was just happy we were friends once more. We had our own adventure to go back in time, without Ron, something to bond over, something only we knew. And when you were devastated with Peter getting away, I was devastated for you."

"I remember." He said quietly. For a long moment, they said nothing. The sound was only Hermione as he brought her to a crescendo; the wet squishes of her pussy, the slick-slick-slick pumps of his fingers, her rising oh-oh-ohs, her sharp breaths that became a satisfied sigh, a bow string released. She looked at him lazily, her hands clutching his arm like it was a bicycle handlebar.

When he brought his wet fingers to her lips, she cleaned them obediently.

"And last year?" Harry said finally. "You never told me how you felt."

She dipped her gaze. "I couldn't, not with the Tournament. I just told myself that I'll do anything to keep you alive. You and Ron didn't understand, but I did. The Tournament killed a lot of competitors." She snorted. "I even thought of praying. I tried doing my hair. Makeup. Tried to get you to see me as a girl."

"I did. You were so beautiful in that dress."

She smiled fondly at him, nuzzling his neck and closing her eyes contentedly. "I spent so much money on it. Almost everything I had." She giggled suddenly. "Had to ask Mum for money. It was worth it, just to see your eyes widen. I thought, after you won the Cup, because I knew you would, that I'd take you back to my bed. Wear the dress, let you take it off." She smiled into his skin. "Tell you I love you."

"Mione…"

He traced his hand down her back.

"And then it all went wrong." Her voice was muffled. "Voldemort came back and you were…not there. You couldn't look me in the eyes. You were in so much pain and I didn't — couldn't — help you. I couldn't recognize you, even. And after summer, when you came back, you were so different."

"I'm sorry."

"Not in bad ways." She assured, tracing circles on his chest. "Some beautiful ways. My Harry becoming the man I know you always would." She gave him a wan smile as she thumbed his sharp jawbone. "But so very beautiful, such a bright a light, that everyone noticed. And I, little old Hermione, would just fall away."

She sniffled. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Never." Harry told her firmly.

She arched into him, grabbing his fingers. "Just take me with you." She begged. "Take me with you. It doesn't matter what path, just take me with you."

"Sssh." He soothed. "You're never going to leave my side." He threw back the covers, pushed her onto her back.

Hermione waited for him — her caramel hair in wild strands over her lidded eyes, lips swollen from his kisses, from fucking her face. Without a word, she unhooked her bra for him, revealing her pink-tipped perky breasts, the nipples he wanted to take in his mouth.

Her pussy dripped for him, wet with her grool, slick and red and waiting to be fucked, a little slit he was going to ruin. Panties that he tore from her thighs.

"Harry."

"Hermione."

"Fuck me." She said simply. "Make me yours."

He trembled as he took his shaft in hand, as he parted her legs, as he lined himself up. She was soaking wet and for a moment, he watched his head part her, be enveloped by her, a tightness that almost painful. But then her hands were on his chin, tilting his head up.

"Be with me." She murmured.

So he was, kissing her, watching her face change as he took her virginity. A smile into a gasp into a scream into a wince and back into a smile. Tears spilled from her cheeks, and when he wiped them with his thumb, she leaned into his hand, her face red and happy.

"It's a dream." She said as he leaned over, forward, kissing her tears away.

"It's reality. It's me and you." Harry told her, his cock throbbing in her tight hot pussy, pushing forward inch by inch. She felt incredible, thrashing underneath him, gripping her pillow and then the sheets and then his hair.

Sounds he'd never heard from her, little moues and sighs and cries, whimpers of joy. Her brown eyes were wide with disbelief.

"I…" Hermione clutched him, her smile shy. "It feels so much better than I dreamed. You're so deep inside of me." Her voice was weak.

Harry cradled her cheek, admiring her beauty, taking in the fact they were finally here, finally together. "Ready for the last of me?"

"There's more?"

"There is."

She looked determined. "I want all of you."

He bucked up fully, thrusting through all of her tightness, kissing her scream silent. He waited inside her, waited for her shakes to become trembles, stopping himself from grinding, even as she tempted him. Tempted him with her clenching cunt, with her soft moans, her squirming body, her rolling eyes.

When she was ready, her hand reached down between them, to feel his cock completely enveloped. "It feels so good, so right." Hermione said softly.

"Like we were made for each other." Harry kissed her.

"Yes." That thought made her beam. "My Harry," She cried as he began pumping, working his hips slowly in her impossibly tight warmth. She was so wet and tight, it felt like his cock was getting milked and oiled, all at once.

"You'll bond me?" She said, knees coming up against his sides, like she was afraid he'd get away.

"I will." Each push and pull inside her was torturous, her virginal tightness threatening to drain his cum from him already. "I'm-I'm afraid you'll change. I don't want you to change. You're perfect as you are."

"Nothing will change." She promised. "Because I already love you."

"And I love you." He kissed her lips to seal the words.

She giggled suddenly, giddy. "I can feel you." She announced with delight, her hand on her abdomen, on the cockbulge in her skin.

Harry snorted despite himself, as he eased through her, and they both watched the bulge move with him. "Didn't fantasize about that, did you?"

Hermione looked fascinated. "Who needs stories?" Her hand left her body and found his, trailing along his muscles in wonder, her touch awkward and then, as she gained confidence, easy. "So beautiful." She murmured.

"That's my line, I think."

"But you are, oooh—" She shrieked as he slammed into her suddenly. "Too beautiful. It's not fair." She gasped. "You have the eyelashes of a girl."

Harry collapsed on top of her naked body, laughing. Body-shaking snorts into her neck until she was giggling with him, toying with his hair.

"Sorry." She said.

"Not quite how I imagined this going." Harry conceded.

She snickered. "Sorry. What usually happens?"

"A lot more screaming."

"I bet." Hermione's toes curled as he took her nipple in his mouth and suckled. "I-I think you're gonna reach my lungs."

He moved with her, two waves of the ocean lapping up and down the same beach, tugging her breasts up and down with his lips, enjoying her squeals.

"Slowly, for me." Hermione begged. "You're so big."

"Anything for you." He told her. But it was hard, since it felt like her pussy was gripping him, sucking him in, refusing to let go, and he couldn't resist looking at where they were joined. Her glistening grool coated his blood-filled pulsing cock, his whole cock given a gleaming sheen by her arousal.

And sliding back into her was obscene, driving him into madness — her juices splashing out as he filled in, his cock-bulge driving up through her tight frame, her responding squeal, her quivering pussy, trembling hands, hands scrabbling at the sheets, her lips swollen from biting, hair stuck to her face, and those eyes…

In and out, bottoming out inside her, deep, and Harry couldn't hold himself above her any longer, so he just buried his face in her hair, cheek against cheek. She whimpered, her hands in the back of his hair, her legs wrapping around his fallen waist, but though he didn't have strength enough to lift himself, he couldn't — wouldn't — stop the slow plunge inside her gloriously wet, hot, pussy.

For a long time, he just stayed there, a languid love being made, and he let himself take in the surreal sensation of becoming one with his Hermione, a final realization of a years-long courtship that never was. He kept his eyes closed and felt the rising sun over Gryffindor tower, as the black of his closed eyes turned a warm red. It felt like a blessing.

He didn't need to see. He could feel everything.

The scratch of her hair-strands on his face, stealing her exhaled breaths, and he could kiss from her neck to her cheek, could taste the sweat of her skin. Could listen to her whimpers, every audible reaction to his push and pull. Could trail his hand across her body. Clutching her asscheek firmly to nail her deeply. Pressing down a little on her stomach as he rutted up, just to hear her cry out.

Palming her breasts to feel her shiver, to give her even a fraction of the pleasure he felt. And when he trailed up her neck, caressed her face, she captured his thumb in between her lips.

"Harry," She whined.

He opened her eyes finally. He was a fool to not take her in all the time, such a beautiful sight was she. Shining with sweat, glowing in the sun, a wildness in her eyes, her hair plastered to her face. And looking down her body, she was streaked with sweat his and hers.

And below, they were a mess.

"Hermione." He breathed.

"Thank you." She was crying, but she was smiling. "Thank you."

He couldn't voice what he thought — that it had been beautiful for him, that he'd never forget it, couldn't regret it. So instead he just kissed her.

"Together." He told her.

She nodded a little.

He picked himself up then, took hold of her hips, fingers splayed on her ass. He was uncertain, for a moment.

"It's okay." She pushed his hair out of his eyes affectionately. "Use me. Bond me."

And he did. He used the last of himself to fuck her hard, balls slapping against her ass, her neck arched up, fucked into the pillows, a gasped orgasm that pitched high and then silent, her legs trembling, her pussy quivering around his cock.

"Now, Harry." Hermione begged. "Cum inside of me, like you need to. I'm empty without you."

He shook, taking her in one last time. Because it was Hermione, who always wanted to be included, she reached down between them to hold the base of his cock, to pull it inside her, her ankles on his ass to push him deeper.

Her eyebrow arched primly, daringly.

Harry came, a roar that became a laugh that became a groan as the sensations of flooding her warm depths felt too good, even as she giggled, even as she rocked with him. He filled her with load after load, a release that washed over his mind, a climax that felt years in the making. It was Hermione. He was cumming inside Hermione.

She held him as he filled her, clutching his face, urging him on, her dark eyes as happy as he'd ever seen them. They shared a rapture.

"So hot." She murmured. "I can feel it all. It's like a thermal bath inside me—"

Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing, collapsing on top of her. There was no other girl like Hermione. He muttered the spell to bond her, because he could never let her go.

"Oh." She said simply.

"Hermione?"

"You are very silly, Harry." Hermione admonished gently, patting his cheek.

"I am?"

"Nothing changed." She kissed him. "Because I already loved you like nothing else." She gazed at him, seeing something in him he couldn't see himself. "But now I can feel you. Your love." She drew a sharp breath. "It is beautiful. Golden."

They lay there for a long minute. Harry thought he might pass out, but he didn't have the strength to even roll over, so he just enjoyed Hermione's soft touch on his scalp and shoulders, drooling into her hair.

"I'm so happy." He moaned.

"Me too, Harry." Hermione said softly.

"I can't live my life without you."

"And you'll never have to." She held him a little tighter.

Harry used all his energy to roll over onto his back, if only so he could see her face, could feel her cuddle into him.

Hermione glanced down at her body and then promptly pulled the bed covers over herself. "I can't even deal with…that."

"What?"

She stared at him, unimpressed. "Harry, do you know how long we were doing it, for? And how much you just…I look like…" She trailed off, blushing, unable to find the words.

Harry peeked under the covers. Oh. Her belly was filled with his cum, curved impressively, conjuring images of her pregnant. But beyond that, her lower half was…ravaged with their joint fluids.

"Sorry." He said.

"No, you aren't."

"I'm not." He agreed.

She laid her head on his shoulder. "Neither am I." She admitted. "That was…"

"Inconceivable." Harry tried.

"Look at you. Five syllables."

He snorted, his heart light. The bond hadn't changed her. She was still his Hermione.

"Thank you." She said genuinely, fingers tracing across his abdomen. "I didn't know I could ever be this happy."

"Me too, sweetheart. I'll…ask you to walk a tightrope, you know."

"Huh?"

"I need you to be my best friend, like always. But I also—"

"Need me to be a very dirty and submissive girl." She said dryly.

Harry felt his ears go hot, even when she took his earlobe in her mouth unexpectedly. "That's okay." She whispered. "I can do everything, remember?

Harry held her. "Yes, you can."

"I'll need some time to research." Hermione thought out loud.

"I'm not sure this is the sort of thing—"

"Of course it is. Everything's in a book, Harry."

He smiled, staring up at the canopy bed. There was no girl like Hermione.

"I'll be mad when you're away at nights." Hermione murmured, tugging at his chest hair.

"I know."

"I'll be jealous when you're with the others."

"I know."

"I don't want them to share our bed."

"I won't ask you to."

"You will, in time." She pressed a sleepy kiss to his skin. "And that's okay. Just give me a little time, to have you all to myself."

He tried to look at her, but he couldn't peer down, with his chin blocked by her head. "You will, uh—"

"Obey?" Hermione smirked. She gave a lug and one of his hairs was pulled from his chest. "You haven't been listening, Harry." She rebuked, amused. "Don't you see what I've been trying to tell you? I'm a fool for you, bond or no bond." The bed covers were lifted and Hermione descended under them, pressing kisses down his body.

She disappeared with giddy giggles.

Harry wiggled his toes as he felt her tickle them. "What are you doing down there?"

Hermione's face peeked out, tugging the sheets around herself like a shawl. "I'm being naughty." She declared.

"Oh, well, please, continue." Harry blew her a kiss.

She returned it and the next sensation he had was her soft tongue on his limp cock, swirling away, lapping at his cum globs, cleaning her own juices from him. When she was done, she was tired and he was hard. She slid up his body to rest her head on his chest.

"That thing is not conducive to sleeping." She mumbled.

"Rest, beautiful."

She yawned. "Be here when I wake, please?" Her eyes implored.

"I will." He promised.

And he was, hours later, toying with her hair while she drooled on his collarbone, slowly stirring.

Hermione's slow smile was one of the wonders of the world. "Good morning, Harry."

"Good afternoon, Hermione."

"Oh," She blushed. "I needed that. Do we need to go?"

"We don't need to be anywhere other than right here."

She melted into him. "I could get used to this."

When she was ready, he carried her to the shower. He'd been patient but could be no longer. She placed her hands on the wall obediently while he nudged her feet apart. Then he drove into her, hands on her hips, the hot water pouring down on their naked forms. He pulled on her wet hair and arched up into her as he came.

They cuddled on the bed and for once, Harry allowed himself to be the tutor of the relationship. Discussions on the theory and process of becoming an Animagus, on what the books got wrong.

"Tom never cared to become one, since he never wanted to be anything but himself."

She traced her finger over his scar. "Maybe he knew that his form would be something dumb, like an ostrich."

"An ostrich?" Harry chortled. "Are ostriches dumb?"

"Oh, yes." She said loftily, smirking. "You try and attack an ostrich, it'll push its head in the ground and close its eyes. It thinks it's invisible."

"I'm not sure that's true—"

"Sure it is." She used her nose to battle his. "That's why they call it burying your head in the sand. After the dumb ostrich."

"Look at you, the biologist. What would you do if your form was an ostrich?"

Hermione paused in thought. "I'd run really fast away from all of the judgmental people who rightly think I'm dumb."

"But not fly."

"Because I'm a lame ostrich." She agreed.

Dobby brought them a steaming vat of spaghetti bolognese, complete with garlic bread and Hermione's insistence on parmigiano-reggiano cheese.

"Food in bed is not sexy." Hermione declared, slurping up some noodles while trying not to flick the red sauce on her white sheets.

"Magic fixes everything, it's fine." Harry said, sliding his hands around her naked waist, head propped up on her shoulder to receive her offerings of garlic bread.

"I see you, getting crumbs on my sheets."

"These sheets are already ruined, sweetheart." His hands slid to her curved belly, pronounced from all of the cum he'd pumped into her.

"I already feel fat after two bites, since you've given me this pregnant belly." Hermione moaned.

"I like it. Gives me ideas." Harry teased.

She looked at him through her hair. "Stop it, you. I have plans, you know. Ambitions. A whole career ahead of me!"

"Oh, yeah?" Harry captured the spaghetti entering her lips and stole it. "No time for raising some green-eyed babies?"

"Harry…" She wailed, but she was blushing.

"Maybe I'll just keep you barefoot and pregnant all year round." He decided, tracing her stomach.

"Are you hard, again?" Hermione poked at his cock.

"My Mione makes me so wild." He took her bowl away from her and tugged her into Lavender's bed - their own was beyond repair until Dobby could do his magic.

Lavender's bed was a mess of women's magazines, magical and Muggle, from Witch Weekly to Cosmopolitan and everything in between.

"Is the stuff you've been reading?" Harry said sceptically, picking up one of them. "Do you have what it takes to conquer the 30-Day Sex Challenge?" He read out loud.

"I'll be lucky to make it through one day." She grumbled, but she snatched the magazine from him. "It's not all bad." She couldn't meet his eyes.

"Yeah?" Harry said softly. Finger to her chin. "Something you want to try?"

There were a lot of things, it turned out. A gentle oil handjob, with Hermione biting her lips as she jerked him off. "It says," She glanced at the magazine as she worked. "One fist on lower penis, one fist on upper, then lightly twist your hands in opposite directions, as though you're wringing a towel dry."

Harry gasped. "Yeah, that works."

Hermione had a lot of ideas. It was always the quiet ones, he mused.

They dressed up purely to play a strip quiz on Hogwarts: A History facts, which Harry lost quite badly. He consoled himself by flipping up Hermione's red-and-gold plaid skirt and hammering her into the bed, holding her prone, face muffled in the pillow, feet kicking behind her. Her copy of the book fell off the shaking bed.

They puzzled at the newest letter that a Hogwarts owl brought, from his blackmailer that he'd almost forgotten about.

You solved the first riddle, congratulations. I should hope that you won 't give all of my riddles to your whole Defence class again, or I will be troublesome in return.

A second riddle, delayed in recognition of your Hogsmeade heroics.

What goes up, but never comes down?

Harry muttered the riddle to himself over and over.

"I think it's your cock." Hermione giggled so hard she had to hold her stomach, her hand cupping his eternally hard shaft as it pushed between her thighs as they cuddled. "Write that."

"I can't. I have to figure out who it is — they saw me and Narcissa together."

"I can't believe you took Draco's mother." Hermione said flatly.

"Well, I couldn't punch him as well as you can." He kissed her neck. "Had to find a different way to get one over on him."

"Don't you worry about her—"

"Age? No, she looks quite young, really. The wonders of magic."

"I was going to say about her being a Death Eater-adjacent pureblood cold-hearted bitch who spawned a demonic child, but sure, let's go with age." Hermione sniffed, turning in his grasp to kiss him. She blinked suddenly. "Age, by the way."

"Huh?"

"The riddle's answer. Age — it goes up but never down."

"What would I do without you?" Harry shook his head as he penned a quick reply to his riddler.

"Let's never find out." She took his chin, turning his head so she could kiss him. "I'll do everything she does for you, and much more." She promised.

Later, Hermione dressed in her Yule Ball dress, that periwinkle blue. He zipped her up, placing a tingling kiss on her bare neck.

She shivered. "Well?"

"Just as beautiful as I remember."

"I remember so vividly wishing you were there to take it off me."

He wrapped his arms around her chest, just under her breasts, squeezing her so tightly she gasped. "Who says I would have taken it off?"

She hoisted up the dress around her hips, giggling as he pressed her against the frosted window of the dormitory. Her breath formed mist on the glass. "The article says the cold glass should provide — oooh — pleasurable sensa—" She squealed as he filled her up, his fingers working her clit as he bottomed out, pressing himself firmly into her welcoming taut ass.

Her bare breasts squished against the cold glass, her nipples hard, and with each thrust, the window fogged up more. The moon rose, a spectral white glow reflecting from the lake, casting their red faces in an unnatural glow. Harry fucked her until her knees buckled as she came, and he spilled inside her, panting.

Her dress pooled at her feet as he brought her back to bed.

"Ready to sleep?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't ever want this day to end." She said softly, but then she yawned, eyelashes fluttering. "But I am sleepy. Come closer?"

She pulled him into her, ensured his hand was over her breast, backed up into him so they were skin to skin.

Harry kissed her cheek. "Thank you for today. I never want to hurt you, not again."

"It's okay." She sighed happily, holding his hand on her chest. "I'm here now. We're together. And I love you."

"And I love you."

She yawned, nuzzling into the pillow. "Gonna be everything you need." She mumbled sleepily. "Be here when I wake up?" She asked, for the second time that day.

"I will."

###

Dear Diary,

It has been a couple of days since my last entry, and in that time, much has changed. It is as if a whirlwind has swept across my mind and body, rearranging all parts of my life, sending my heart to my throat, my femininity to my brain and my brain somewhere else entirely.

Last I wrote, it was the morning of Hogsmeade - I was determined to seduce Harry. I dressed myself up, revealed myself, asked him for his attention.

I did not find it. He had promised his day to another, as I had already known. And Harry never breaks his promises.

Disappointed, I resolved to go to Hogsmeade regardless, if only to purchase a new ink pot holder. Only hell broke loose — Voldemort and his Death Eaters attacked. It was a chaos, of fear and panic. While we all floundered, Harry took charge, of course.

I tried to get the younger students to the tunnel in Honeydukes, but I got separated from the group. While Harry fought Voldemort (and what a duel it was — I 'm sorry I did not it all), I found myself dealing with Bellatrix Lestrange.

She defeated me easily, to my shame but not my surprise. Thus I endured a fearful time in a prison cell, knowing Harry would come for me, but not when, and not if he would find alive.

The Dark Lord seemed dissatisfied with his capture — he thought that I would hold greater weight with Harry, greater leverage, somehow. At the time, I did not understand.

And then Harry came. And the boys too! Ron, Ernie, Seamus, Dean, Neville. How unkind I have been in these pages to one and all of them — what I saw as loutishness, I now see as boyish camaraderie. What I saw as pigheadedness, I now realize is an admirable stubbornness. What I thought was a British laddishness (a quality I have often denigrated, especially when I go abroad with Mum and Dad) is instead a unique friendship.

They have been great friends to me and today, I resolve to be better friends to them all.

Harry supervised them — and oh, Harry. He is a wizard beyond compare, more and more so everyday. He toys with magic like a toddler in a sandbox.

It is not all he toys with.

While Neville asked to take me to St. Mungos, Harry told them — really quite matter of factly — that he was taking me to bed.

And none of the boys even questioned it!

Indeed, neither did I. I know what you are thinking, dear diary, that this entry will continue in the same vein as the last month, conflicted over my shame at Harry 's easy belief in his ownership of me, and my uncontrollable arousal and passions, deeper than any detailed by Ms. Austen or Ms. Bronte.

But no.

Harry took me to bed. He bonded me in a way that I will not detail here, but that unraveled me so completely that I cannot, will not, stop thinking of him. And nor would I want to. He loved me so completely that I was left crying, fulfilled and so deeply enveloped in his love, and even grateful for it. I am forever changed.

No longer am I Hermione Granger, but Hermione of Harry 's. His will, his determination, his desire.

Dreams do come true. I knew that as soon as I entered this world, age eleven, it 's why I can't go back to a Muggle life. Here, in this world, dreams come true. I used to think it was Hogwarts and then later I thought it was magic itself, but now I realize. It's Harry.

Only now do I see how foolish I have been. In worrying over my submission, I thought myself chained, tethered, imprisoned. But now I see his love makes me free. I am untethered entirely, able to be anybody I want to, to spend freely, to perform acts of extreme debauchery, to perform radical expressions of love.

Bronte knew best. I should get that on a shirt. Wasn 't it Jane Eyre herself who said she would always rather be happy than dignified?

Jane led a long and troubled quest to find her happiness. I should be grateful that Harry came into my life at only eleven. Jane struggled with the tug of war between her passions and her moral wisdom. And at the end of the book, she reveals that her passions won the war, in the eternal line 'Reader, I married him'. In having Jane choose Rochester rather than St. John, Bronte said it was okay for women to choose their desires over moral puritanism.

That book forever changed me, too. And so, if you will allow a little plagiarism, and in the true belief that Ms. Bronte would approve, I shall steal her final line to illustrate how I too chose my desires over my moral wisdom.

Reader, I fellated him, took his member deep inside myself and begged for more, trembled as I was flooded with his copious seed, and then I cleaned him up with my tongue — and tomorrow? I 'll do it again.