Hermione Granger Redux Pt. 2

A/N: Just a reminder, new chapter here officially means new chapter over on the P atreon now, where my patrons are currently voting on the future direction of this story!

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In the end, while Harry knew better than to try to sideline Hermione, he couldn't let her go in without back-up. To that end, there was really only one option that made sense to him.

First, however, he fucks the brunette long and hard, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm before finally letting out a groan as he cums deep inside of her. With her legs wrapped so damn tightly around his waist, it wasn't like he could do anything else. But then to be fair, he didn't really want to. He fills the Head Girl with his seed, and only then does Hermione's grip on his waist dissipate.

Pulling out, Harry falls to his side beside her with a panting breath, while Hermione… Hermione turns and curls into him, looking him right in the eye with those big, soulful brown pupils of hers.

"Well, Harry?"

Hah, so she was going to come at him this fast, huh? Pursing his lips together for a moment, Harry shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle.

"Ever the eager one, Hermione."

"Count on it, Professor~"

Ugh, she couldn't say things like that in that tone of voice and expect him to do nothing, right? Alas… he couldn't just start fucking her again. There had to be limits. They were both busy people after all, with very full days… weeks… hell, even months. Letting out a sigh, Harry focuses on keeping his libido in check and his ardor from overwhelming him as he considers his options one last time.

He'd already made his choice while he was fucking Hermione still, but it was always good to reconsider things in the post-coitus light of day and take a moment to really think about what he was doing. After all, it wouldn't do for him to be thinking with his dick overly much. And from the right angle, one might assume that's exactly what he was doing, with the choice he'd made.

… But no. This really was the best of the four options, Harry felt. Sure, it did likely involve him getting his dick wet faster than the other options, but that… that wasn't the primary consideration. The primary consideration was Hermione's safety. As well as what she'd said before…

"Divide and conquer, yeah? That's what you said."

Hermione blinks and slowly nods, running her fingers along his chest as he smiles slightly.

"I want you to focus your efforts on the Charms Professor, Triss Merigold. Let her in, let her think she's getting her hooks in you. It should get the others to back off, if you become Professor Merigold's prized student. In the meantime… I'll be helping out by tackling the situation from another angle."

Nodding along some more as he explains, Hermione cocks her head to the side at that last sentence.

"Helping out? How so? What angle?"

A broad grin spreads across Harry's face at Hermione's rapid-fire questions. As always, the brunette is quite the inquisitive creature. Unable to help himself, he winds his hand down her back and palms her ass cheek, giving it a light smack before groping it.

"What angle… Professor."

Hermione blushes at his teasing tone. It's obvious he doesn't mean the correction, not truly, but she still flushes and wiggles in his grasp for a moment before putting on her most sultry, breathless tone.

"Mmm… what angle, Professor?"

Fuck, he shouldn't be playing these games with her. Not if he wants either of them to get out of here in a reasonable time frame. Once more attempting to ignore his libido and ardor, Harry swallows thickly and clears his throat.

"Fleur Delacour. She's Professor Merigold's Assistant Professor, yes?"

Eyes lighting up in understanding, Hermione nods.

"Yes. You want to try and get her on side?"

"That's the plan, yes."

"… You do recall that she's sworn off all men after what happened with Bill, right? Your history with her might give you an in… but then again, your history as a friend to the Weasleys might not."

Harry grimaces at that, for more reasons than one. Indeed, Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley had not parted on the best of terms. Their failed marriage had become a cautionary tale among witches everywhere, from what he'd heard. No matter how beautiful you were… your man could still stray if he was a continent away.

Despite both working for Gringotts after the war, Fleur and Bill had two very different jobs. Hers was situated at the bank itself, while Bill was sent on expedition after expedition to far away lands, to peddle his trade as a Cursebreaker. He was a bonafide wizarding Indiana Jones… and maybe that had gone to his head or something, because the reports of his infidelity hadn't just reached Fleur's ears… they'd made it onto the Daily Prophet itself, a scathing article written by Rita Skeeter properly torpedoing their still-fledgling marriage.

Sometimes, Harry wondered if they were right to let Rita and her unregistered Animagus Form off so easy… but truth be told, he couldn't blame the sensationalist reporter for this particular story. Bill had in fact cheated on Fleur multiple times. Rita had the receipts, and when Fleur fact-checked everything, she found evidence herself.

Harry would always appreciate the Weasleys for all they'd done for him, and how they'd been there for him throughout his years at Hogwarts. He even still had a big investment in Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where George continued his and his twin's dream in Fred's honor.

But there was no denying that he'd found himself growing somewhat distant from the family after the war. He still considered Ron a friend, but there was truth to the fact that they hadn't exchanged more than a few words over the course of the year so far. And Ginny… well, it was obvious that Molly had always expected him and Ginny to get together, perhaps in the same way she'd expected Ron and Hermione to get together as well.

For a time, Harry had thought about Ginny in that way, but only for a time. And when they'd finally talked about it… they'd BOTH realized that neither of them was ready to settle down in that manner. Ginny might have had a case of hero worship for Harry growing up that made the younger witch blush crimson to this day, but that didn't mean she wanted to get married and start popping out kids before even graduating from Hogwarts.

They'd agreed to just be friends and left it at that, but obviously Molly wasn't happy. And while she'd refrained from sending a Howler to Harry or Hermione, the Weasley Matriarch had nevertheless grown distant and somewhat chilled to both of them with it becoming less and less likely that they'd be joining her family properly, as in-laws.

A shame, but that was just the way life worked sometimes. Things changed. You grew apart from people you'd known for years. Yours and their trajectory simply diverged. It wasn't a bad thing or a good thing. It was just… life.

That said, Fleur Delacour had a lot of reason to be upset with the Weasleys, both Bill in particular and the rest of the family, who, perhaps understandably, had mostly rallied around their own flesh and blood. Luckily, Fleur and Bill did not have anything in the way of children to complicate matters, so at the very least their divorce was a clean break for the both of them.

Still, after Fleur got out of her Gringotts contract and returned home to France, Harry hadn't expected to see her back in Britain so soon. But here she was at Hogwarts once more, taking up the Assistant Professorship for the Charms Position. She wasn't part of the Lodge of Sorceresses, as far as Harry knew… but on the other hand, what DID he really know?

Either way, he and Fleur had a rapport, didn't they? The two of them went all the way back to Harry's Fourth Year, where he'd heroically, if a bit foolishly, 'saved' her sister from seeming peril. Harry could only hope Fleur would still remember him rather fondly for that, if nothing else, instead of tarring him with the same brush she no doubt tarred the Weasleys with.

Shrugging, Harry nods at Hermione, acknowledging her point.

"I guess we'll see, won't we? I'll feel her out, at the very least, and that shouldn't be too unusual given our history, right? In the meantime, you focus on getting Merigold focused on you. We'll figure out how we want to use that connection later, depending on what happens with Fleur. Understood?"

Eyes twinkling, Hermione licks her lips and gives him a positively lecherous, hooded look from under her lashes.

"Mm, yes Professor. I do so love it when you get… authoritative with me."

For a moment, Harry just stares at her… then, with a growl, he rolls back over on top of her, and slides right into her again.

"Damn you, you little minx. You're intent on driving us both to distraction, aren't you?"

Moaning, Hermione doesn't respond with words… not that she needs to, as Harry jackhammers in and out of her. Her tightening, clenching, gushing quim is answer enough for this, while Harry… Harry stops trying to rein in his libido for the time being, and just settles for satiating both of their wanton desires for a little while longer.

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When he finally leaves the Head Girl's Chambers behind, it's with a smile on his lips and a pep in his step. And perhaps, just a little bit… he's let his guard down. Feeling well-rested and satiated, Harry isn't as alert and on the look out for trouble as he probably should be… and it causes him to fall prey to a perfect ambush, as he's grabbed from the side by a Summoning Charm and yanked bodily into an empty classroom just as he's passing it by.

With a grunt, Harry skids to a halt, having drawn his wand in midair and arrested his momentum as fast as he possibly could.

"Protego!"

Maybe a little late, but better late than never, Harry gets up the Shielding Charm. It would likely have been just in time to stop any other offensive magic being cast in his direction, but truth be told, Harry wouldn't be able to say for sure… because no other spells come his way. The fact that someone had even managed to use the Summoning Charm on him was annoying enough.

Especially when the Summoning Charm only worked on inanimate objects. With a moment to think and breathe, Harry recognized that it was his clothing that had been Summoned, rather than himself… but that shouldn't have been possible either, considering all of his robes and garments came with anti-summoning charms. It wasn't standard in ALL wizarding clothing, but it was certainly standard in HIS clothes. He'd be a piss-poor DADA Professor if it wasn't…

All of this was to say, Harry didn't feel nearly as safe behind his Protego Charm as he might have liked to feel, even as a voice calls out from within the classroom.

"Hold! I mean you no harm, Professor. I apologize for the rude introduction, but I needed to speak with you. Privately."

Harry's eyes narrow, as he realizes his attacker is obfuscated by powerful magic. Then, without a word or even a visible wand movement that he can see, the obfuscation expands outwards, passing right through his Shield Charm and spreading to encompass the entire classroom. As he's brought into the obfuscation spell, which is likely also a muffling and anti-spying spell from the look of things, Harry blinks at what he sees in front of him.

Around his age, his attacker is a beautiful young woman with ashen hair, bright green eyes that match his own, and a lithe yet athletic body with legs that go on for days. It takes a moment for Harry to place her. He'd only caught a glimpse of her the one time, but he'd heard about her enough at this point that it would be rather silly for him not to know who she was.

"… Cirilla? Yennefer's daughter?"

Holding a beautifully smithed sword out in front of her, one that from the glow was clearly her casting implement, the white-haired witch's lips purse together for a moment, before she makes a show of lowering the sword to her side.

"Please, call me Ciri."

Harry's mind swirls with unspoken questions. Was this attack sanctioned by the Lodge of Sorceresses? Had they sent her after him? Wasn't she supposed to have left? Tonks had made it clear she'd thought Harry's opportunity with Yennefer's daughter had passed him by. He hadn't second-guessed the Metamorphmagus because… well, Tonks was the Hogwarts Caretaker, and her mother was the Headmistress. If Tonks thought Ciri was gone from the Castle, then it was a pretty safe bet that she was gone from the Castle in truth.

And yet, here the woman stood, looking… hunted, perhaps? But also, very serious and determined. Resolved, if Harry had to truly put a word to it. Ciri looked… resolved.

If this WAS a move by the Lodge of Sorceresses, then it was clearly meant to be a subtle one. The ashen-haired witch had gotten the drop on him, full stop. Harry hated to admit it, but he wasn't so arrogant or stubborn that he couldn't acknowledge she'd completely snuck up on him and caught him with his pants down as a result.

And yet, all she'd done was use her one freebie to yank him in here for a… private conversation? That seemed to be the impression she wanted to give off, anyways. If she wanted to, she could have continued to attack him, but she hadn't. Yet.

"… Alright, Ciri. What do you want?"

Straightening up, the young woman swallows thickly for a moment, her chin jutting out. Her high cheekbones give her quite the perfectly sculpted jawline, which bobs up and down as she swallows.

"It's not about what I want. It's about what I need… what YOU need. I need your help, Professor Potter. And you need mine."

Harry narrows his eyes at the certainty in her voice.

"Hm. Is that so?"

He's not surprised when Ciri bristles slightly at his skeptical tone. He does soak it all in though, from the way she bristles for just a moment, her green eyes flashing before she gets herself under control and nods sharply.

"It is. Can I trust you to keep what I have to say between us? Can we have a frank chat about what's going on at this school, and out in the world at large? We need to work together, Professor. But if you can't be trusted…"

It's Harry's turn to bristle a bit as Ciri trails off. He's the one who can't be trusted?! She's the enemy's daughter! And yet… it sounds like she's got something serious to discuss with him. Maybe he's jumping the gun. Or maybe this is all a ploy by the Lodge of Sorceresses and Ciri is little more than their pawn, unwitting or otherwise.

She'd asked him a question. He just needed to decide how he was going to answer it.

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