"We need to know what's going on at Hogwarts."
That was the first thing Harry heard when he arrived in Hermione's little study. He blinked, taken aback by the sudden declaration, before a small smile curved his lips. She was facing away from him, sitting in the armchair as she ran her eyes through another page of The Tales of Beedle the Bard for the umpteenth time.
Harry walked over and rested his hands on her shoulders, gently taking her chin and tilting her head upward to cover her lips with his. Hermione melted into the kiss immediately, and even though the angle was all opposite, there was just something about it that felt all more thrilling. He caressed her neck gently, feeling goosebumps rise on her skin, and smirked.
"You could greet me properly first before dropping bombshells like that, you know?"
"Mmm," she moaned in protest as he pulled away before walking around and gently pulling her to her feet. He sat where she'd been sitting and Hermione promptly planted herself sideways in his lap, the open book placed face down on the side table.
"Now what's this about Hogwarts?"
"Well," Hermione began. "We know Snape's the Headmaster now." Harry made a face at that, but she continued, "And we know nothing good can come out of it. I think we need to know what's going on there."
"Please tell me you're not thinking of taking that portrait out here," Harry sighed. When she opened her mouth to respond, he cut her off. "No, Hermione, listen to me," Harry said, keeping his voice firm but gentle. "We can't just pull that portrait out without thinking this through properly."
She twisted in his lap to face him more directly, her brown eyes determined. "I am thinking it through, Master. That's exactly why I'm suggesting we do this properly. We need information, and Phineas is our only direct line to what's happening at Hogwarts."
"He's also a direct line back to Snape," Harry countered. "One wrong detail and he'll know exactly where we are."
"Which is why we won't give him any details." Hermione's hand came up to rest on his chest. "We can control the environment completely. We'll cast every concealment charm I can think of. We'll make him think we're in a tent somewhere in the middle of nowhere. We can transfigure the walls temporarily to look like canvas. We can add sounds of wind, maybe some forest noises. Temperature charms to make it feel cold and drafty like a tent would be. We'll keep him blindfolded the entire time anyway, just like before. He won't see anything, and what he hears will all point to us being camped out in the wild."
"And if he hears something he shouldn't? A detail that doesn't fit?"
"Then we'll just have to be very careful about what we say and do." Hermione's fingers traced absent patterns on his shoulder. "Harry, we need this. We need to know what's happening to our friends."
The guilt in her voice made Harry's chest tighten. He knew she was right. They'd been operating blind for too long, focused entirely on Horcruxes while their friends faced Merlin knew what under Snape's rule.
"Alright," he said finally. "But we do this my way. Every precaution. The moment I think something's wrong, we're putting him back and not taking him out again."
Hermione's face lit up and she kissed him quickly. "Thank you. You won't regret this."
"I already regret this," Harry muttered, but there was no real heat in it.
They spent the next twenty minutes preparing the study. Hermione was thorough, Harry had to give her that. She transfigured sections of the wall to look like weathered canvas, complete with patches and stitching. She cast a charm that made the air feel colder and added a slight draft that rustled papers on the desk. Another spell produced the distant sound of wind through trees and the occasional hoot of an owl.
"Temperature?" Harry asked, watching her work.
"Cold enough to be uncomfortable but not freezing. Mid-autumn camping weather." She tested the air with her wand. "There. That should do it."
Harry walked around the room, examining their work critically. "What about the furniture? This armchair doesn't exactly scream camping trip."
"He's blindfolded, remember? As long as we don't say anything about it, he'll never know. Besides, we can say we nicked it from somewhere if it comes up."
"You've really thought this through."
"I had all the time while you were checking on Greengrass." Hermione moved to the small beaded bag she kept nearby and pulled out the portrait, still wrapped in fabric. "Ready?"
Harry nodded, drawing his wand. "Keep him blindfolded. Don't give away any real details about our location. And if he starts fishing too hard for information, we shut it down."
"Agreed."
Hermione carefully unwrapped the portrait and propped it against the bookshelf. The painted Phineas Nigellus Black remained motionless, still blindfolded with the old sock they'd used before.
"Professor Black," Hermione said clearly. "We need to speak with you."
There was a moment of silence, then the portrait stirred. Phineas's painted hands reached up to touch the blindfold, confirming it was still in place.
"Ah, the mudblood girl," Phineas drawled. "How delightful. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me entirely, locked away in that wretched bag of yours."
Harry's jaw tightened at the slur, but Hermione squeezed his hand warningly. They'd been through this before.
"We need information about Hogwarts," Hermione said, ignoring the insult with ease. "What's been happening there?"
"And why should I tell you anything? You've kept me prisoner, stuffed me into darkness like some common rag."
"Because you're curious," Harry said, speaking up for the first time. "You want to know what we're doing. Where we are. What our grand plan is. You can't resist that, can you?"
Phineas's painted mouth curved into a thin smile. "Potter. Still alive, I see. The Dark Lord must be slipping."
"Yeah, well, he's been having an off year," Harry said drily. "About Hogwarts?"
"What makes you think I would betray the confidence of the current Headmaster? Professor Snape has been most accommodating to my portrait. He actually speaks to me with respect, unlike some people."
"We're not asking you to betray anyone," Hermione interjected smoothly. "We just want to know how things are. Surely there's no harm in telling us general information about the school?"
Phineas was quiet for a moment, his painted fingers drumming on the arm of his chair. "Where is the Weasley boy? I notice his distinctive lack of volume."
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. They'd known this would come up eventually.
"He's sleeping," Harry said. "It's late."
"Sleeping? How terribly boring of him." Phineas tilted his head, the blindfold shifting slightly. "Or is there perhaps trouble in paradise? Has the precious trio fractured?"
"Ron's fine," Hermione said firmly. "Now, about Hogwarts?"
"My, my, so insistent. Very well. What precisely do you wish to know? I warn you, I will not speak ill of Headmaster Snape. He is the first Slytherin to control the school since my own tenure, and I will not have his authority undermined by the likes of you."
Harry bit back a sharp retort. They needed information more than they needed to defend Snape's honor.
"We just want to know how the students are doing," Hermione said. "Are they safe? Are they being treated well?"
"Safe?" Phineas laughed, a short, barking sound. "My dear girl, there is a war on. Nowhere is truly safe. But yes, the students are adequately protected within the castle walls. Headmaster Snape has maintained order, which is more than can be said for the chaos that preceded his appointment."
"What kind of order?" Harry asked. "What's he done?"
"Implemented necessary rules, of course. The previous administration was far too lax. Students running about forming secret societies, breaking curfew, challenging authority at every turn. Headmaster Snape has restored proper discipline."
"What kind of rules?"
"Oh, the usual sort. Restricted gatherings, banned unofficial organizations. Really, Potter, it's nothing revolutionary. Simply proper school management."
"He's reinstated Umbridge's decree, hasn't he?" Hermione's voice was sharp. "The one about banning groups of three or more students?"
"Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, yes. A most sensible piece of legislation. It prevents the formation of rebellious groups that might cause trouble."
Harry's hands clenched into fists. He could picture it now, students forced to walk the corridors alone or in pairs, unable to gather freely. Unable to organize or resist.
"And I suppose there have been detentions for anyone who breaks this rule?" Hermione pressed.
"Naturally. Though I must say, there seems to be a rather stubborn element among the student body. A hard core of troublemakers who simply refuse to accept proper authority." Phineas sounded almost admiring despite his disapproving words. "They've been staging minor acts of defiance. Nothing serious, you understand, but persistent."
Harry leaned forward. "Who? Which students?"
"Ah, now that would be telling tales, wouldn't it? Let's just say that certain former members of your little rebellion seem unable to let go of the past. The Lovegood girl, for instance. The Longbottom boy. And of course, the younger Weasley girl has been particularly troublesome."
Harry's jaw tightened at the mention of Ginny. "What's happened to her? Is she alright?"
"Oh, she's perfectly fine, just restricted from Hogsmeade visits for the foreseeable future. A minor punishment, really, considering the circumstances."
"What circumstances?" Harry demanded. "What did she do?"
"I believe there was some incident involving graffiti and a rather creative curse on a classroom door. Nothing dangerous, but certainly disruptive. Headmaster Snape was quite lenient, all things considered."
Harry sat back, drumming his fingers on Hermione's bare thigh. Graffiti and curses on doors. Ginny, Neville, and Luna causing trouble together. It sounded exactly like what they'd do. They were trying to keep the DA alive, to resist in whatever small ways they could.
Pride and worry warred in his chest. Pride that they hadn't given up, that they were still fighting. Worry because he knew exactly how dangerous it was to challenge Snape openly, especially now.
"These students," Hermione said carefully. "Are they being punished harshly?"
"Define harshly. They receive detentions, lose house points, face restrictions on their movements. Standard disciplinary measures. Though I gather the Carrows have been brought in to assist with discipline, and they have rather more creative methods than previous staff members."
"The Carrows…" Harry muttered with an undercurrent of rage in his voice.
"Now now, no need for that tone. You already knew they're teaching Muggle Studies and Defense Against the Dark Arts respectively. Why such a reaction? Though I believe Professor Amycus prefers to call his subject the Dark Arts now. Far more honest, wouldn't you say?"
Harry and Hermione glanced at each other. They knew Death Eaters were now teaching at Hogwarts. Students were being punished by Death Eaters for minor acts of rebellion. But these creative measures… that was not something they were aware of.
"What kind of creative methods?" Harry asked, his voice low.
"Oh, I don't concern myself with the details of discipline. That's the staff's domain. Though I have heard the Cruciatus Curse mentioned once or twice. As a teaching tool, you understand."
"Teaching tool," Harry spat, his hand tightening on Hermione's thigh. She winced, and Harry immediately relaxed his grip, looking at her apologetically. She shook her head in reassurance. Harry turned back to the portrait and hissed, "They're torturing students."
"Don't be so dramatic, Potter. A little pain builds character. Why, in my day, we had far worse punishments and we turned out perfectly well."
"Your day didn't have a megalomaniac in charge," Harry snapped. "Volde—"
Phineas stiffened in his frame and he sharply cut Harry off. "Do not speak that name in my presence. And Headmaster Snape is in charge at Hogwarts, not the Dark Lord. He runs the school as he sees fit."
"Under whose orders?" Harry shot back. "You know whose."
"That is mere speculation on your part. Now, are we finished? I grow weary of this interrogation, and I have yet to learn anything interesting about your own activities."
"Just a few more questions," Hermione said quickly, shooting Harry a warning look. He leaned back in the armchair, his jaw tight with anger. "These students who are causing trouble. Are they in danger? Real danger?"
"Everyone is in some degree of danger during wartime, girl. But no, I don't believe Headmaster Snape intends to seriously harm any students. He's maintained a delicate balance, you see. Enough discipline to satisfy his Death Eater colleagues, but not so much that he loses control entirely. It's quite masterful, really."
"You're saying he's protecting them," Hermione said slowly.
"I didn't say that. I merely observed that he has not allowed any permanent harm to come to students under his care. What you read into that is your own affair."
Harry wanted to scoff at the idea that Snape was protecting anyone, but he forced himself to focus. They needed more information.
"What about the other students? The ones who aren't causing trouble?"
"Oh, they go about their business. Attending classes, doing homework, pretending everything is normal. It's quite pathetic, really. No backbone whatsoever. Though I suppose self-preservation is its own form of intelligence."
"And the staff? McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout?"
"Still there, still teaching. Looking rather pinched around the mouth, if you ask me. They don't approve of the new regime but they're powerless to do anything about it. McGonagall has been particularly sullen. I suspect she misses playing hero."
Harry felt a pang of sympathy for McGonagall. She must be beside herself, forced to stand by while Death Eaters tormented students.
"Right," Harry said. "Anything else you think we should know?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that question? After all, you've pumped me for information and given me nothing in return."
"We're not telling you anything," Harry said flatly.
"How terribly rude. And after I've been so helpful." Phineas sniffed. "Very well. Keep your secrets. I'm sure Headmaster Snape will find you eventually anyway. You can't run forever."
"We're not running," Harry said. "We're working."
"On what? What could three school-age children possibly accomplish that the entire wizarding world cannot?"
"You'd be surprised," Hermione said.
"I'm sure I would be. It's such a pity you won't share. I do so enjoy being surprised at my age. So little excitement left in the world."
"I think we're done here," Harry said. "Thank you for the information, Professor."
"Oh, leaving so soon? And just when things were getting interesting. Very well. Do try not to get yourselves killed. It would be terribly anticlimactic."
"We'll do our best," Hermione said dryly. She wrapped the portrait back up carefully and tucked it into her bag.
As soon as the portrait was concealed, Harry waved his wand and began removing the environmental charms. The temperature returned to normal, the wind sounds faded, and the walls shifted back to their original state.
"Well," Hermione said. "That was enlightening."
"Enlightening? They're torturing students, Hermione. The Carrows are using the Cruciatus Curse as a teaching tool."
"I know. It's horrible." Hermione said soothingly. "But at least we know Ginny and the others are alright. Restricted and punished, but alive."
"For now." Harry ran a hand through his hair. "They're running the DA again. They have to be. That's what the graffiti was about, the curses. They're keeping Dumbledore's Army going."
"I think you're right. Ginny, Neville, and Luna working together. It makes sense."
"It's dangerous is what it is." Harry's mind raced with images of Ginny and Luna facing down Death Eaters, of Neville standing up to the Carrows. "They could get seriously hurt."
"They're choosing to fight, Harry. Just like we did. Just like we are now." Hermione placed a hand on his chest. "We can't protect everyone. We can only do what we set out to do and hope it's enough."
Harry wanted to argue, to insist that they had to do something, but he knew she was right. They had a mission. The Horcruxes were the priority. Everything else had to come second, no matter how much it hurt.
They were quiet for a moment, both processing what they'd learned. Harry found his thoughts drifting to Ginny, wondering what she looked like now, how she was handling everything. Was she angry? Scared? Still as fierce as ever?
And then, unbidden, another thought crept in. How would she react to the person he'd become? To the choices he'd made?
He glanced at Hermione, taking in the way she looked at him, the easy intimacy between them now. They'd crossed so many lines in the past few weeks. Lines he never thought he'd cross with anyone but Ginny.
Except it wasn't just Hermione anymore. There was Celeste too. And Harry knew, with a certainty that should have bothered him more than it did, that there would be others.
He'd changed. The war had changed him. Necessity and proximity and the constant shadow of death had stripped away so many of the rules he'd once lived by.
"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked softly.
Harry hesitated, then decided honesty was best. "Ginny. How she'd react to all of this. To us."
Hermione's expression became guarded. "Oh."
"I don't think she'd understand," Harry continued, his voice thoughtful rather than regretful. "She'd probably hate it. Hate me for it."
"Would you blame her?"
"No. It's not exactly conventional, is it?" Harry gaze moved to the window, looking out at the darkened grounds. "The thing is, though, I don't know if I care as much as I should. About her approval, I mean."
He felt Hermione shift in his lap, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on his chest. "What do you mean?"
Harry turned to face her. "I still care about her. I want her to be safe, want her to be happy. But this idea I had, that we'd get back together after the war, that everything would just pick up where we left off? I don't think I believe in that anymore."
"Harry." Hermione's voice was careful, uncertain.
"I've changed, Hermione. The person I was when I dated Ginny, that's not who I am now. And I don't want to go back to being him. That version of me was naive, thought things were simpler than they are."
"And who are you now?"
"Someone who takes what he needs. Someone who doesn't apologize for wanting things." Harry met her eyes steadily. "Someone who's with you and Celeste and isn't sorry about it."
Hermione bit her lip. "I've been thinking about this too. About Ginny. About what happens after. I feel guilty sometimes."
"Don't." Harry closed the distance between them. "We didn't plan this. It just happened. And I'm not giving it up. Not for Ginny, not for anyone."
"Even if she can't accept it?"
"Especially if she can't accept it." Harry's voice was firm. "If Ginny wants to be with me after this is all over, she'll have to accept who I am now. All of it. And if she can't, then we weren't meant to be together anyway."
Hermione searched his face. "You really mean that."
"I do." Harry reached up to cup her cheek. "I'm not the same person who left Hogwarts last year. I'm not the boy who kissed Ginny goodbye and promised to come back to her. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but I can't change it. I won't change it."
"You're not terrible," Hermione whispered. "You're just being honest."
"Then let me be honest about something else." Harry's thumb traced along her jawline. "I don't know what happens after the war. I don't know if I'll even survive it. But right now, in this moment, I know that I want you. I want what we have. And I'm not interested in feeling guilty about it."
Hermione's breath hitched. "Harry..."
"Tell me you feel the same," he murmured. "Tell me I'm not alone in this."
"You're not alone." Her hands came up to rest on his chest. "I want this too. Want you. Even knowing it's complicated, even knowing Ginny might hate us for it. I can't help it."
"Then don't help it." Harry lowered his head, his lips hovering just above hers. "Just let it be what it is."
Hermione closed the distance between them, kissing him with a hunger that spoke of relief and desire mixed together. Harry responded immediately, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against him.
The kiss deepened, became more urgent. Hermione's fingers tangled in his hair while his hands explored the curve of her back, the dip of her waist. She made a small sound against his mouth that sent heat racing through him.
"Harry," she breathed when they broke apart for air. "I need you to know something."
"What?"
"This isn't just physical for me. It's not just because we're here and there's no one else. It's also not because of the Horcrux and Celeste's ritual. I chose this. I chose you."
"I know. I chose you too."
They kissed again, slower this time but no less intense. Hermione turned around fully in his lap so that she was straddling him, her body pressing against his. She arched into him, pressing herself against his hardening member.
His hands found the hem of her jumper, sliding underneath to touch warm skin. Hermione gasped, her own hands working at the buttons of his shirt. They fumbled with each other's clothes, neither wanting to break the kiss for too long.
"I really can't get enough of you," Hermione panted.
"I'm no better," Harry muttered against her neck, making her laugh breathlessly. He pulled back just enough to look at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. "Fuck, I don't know what I did to deserve all this."
"You deserve everything," Hermione whispered fiercely. "Don't ever think you don't."
Harry kissed her again, pouring everything he felt into it. Gratitude, desire, affection, and need. She responded in kind, her body melting against his.
His hands roamed over her body, learning every curve, every place that made her shiver. Her own hands explored him with equal curiosity, fingers tracing muscles and scars with reverent attention.
"I love touching you," Hermione murmured against his mouth. "Feeling how real you are."
"I'm real," Harry confirmed, his voice rough. "Very real."
She rolled her hips experimentally and they both groaned. The friction was incredible, even through layers of clothing. Harry's hands gripped her hips, guiding her into a rhythm that had them both breathing hard.
"Too many clothes," Hermione complained, tugging at his shirt.
Harry helped her remove it, tossing it aside without care. Her hands immediately spread across his chest, her touch making his skin burn.
He returned the favor, carefully pulling her jumper over her head and revealing the simple bra underneath. For a moment, he just looked at her, memorizing the sight.
His fingers found the clasp of her bra and he undid it, letting the garment fall away. He pulled back to look at her properly, his breath catching.
"You're staring," Hermione teased.
"Can't help it." Harry's hands came up to cup her breasts gently, his thumbs brushing over sensitive skin. Hermione's head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips.
He leaned forward, pressing kisses along her collarbone, down to her chest. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him close as he explored her with his mouth. He latched on to the left nipple, flicking the hardened nub with is tongue as he sucked, kneading her tits as Hermione threw her head back in pleasure.
The world narrowed down to just this. The taste of her skin, the sound of her breathing, and the way she moved against him. Nothing else mattered. Not the war, not the Horcruxes, not the danger waiting outside these walls.
Just them. Just this moment.
Hermione's hands moved between them, working at the button of his trousers while Harry helped, their fingers fumbling together until it finally came loose. She tugged the zipper down slowly, her fingertips brushing against the hard bulge straining against his boxers, the fabric tenting obviously as she pressed her palm flat against it, savoring the heat and the thick ridge through the thin material.
"Master," she murmured, her voice low and rough, eyes locked on his as she rubbed up and down the length once, then twice, feeling it twitch eagerly under her touch.
She held his gaze steadily as she sank to her knees in front of him, looking up with an expression of devotion mixed with unmistakable desire.
"I want to please you, Master," she said softly, her breath hot against his thigh and her lips brushing the fabric as she nuzzled closer, pausing to await his permission.
Harry's pulse kicked up immediately, his body responding to the sight of her kneeling before him, the vulnerability and trust in her eyes mingling with clear want. His arousal throbbed insistently in his boxers, leaking a damp spot at the tip where the head pressed against the cotton, and though he shifted in the chair to ease the pressure, it only intensified the ache.
"Good girl, Hermione," he praised, his voice steady yet filled with heat as one hand reached down to cup her chin, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her lower lip. "Show me how much you want this."
Hermione's lips curved into a small, pleased smile. She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and freeing his length. It sprang, heavy and erect, the thick, veined shaft curving slightly upward while the flushed dark red head glistened with pre-cum beading at the slit. It bobbed in the air between them, mere inches from her face, and she inhaled sharply at the musky scent of him.
"You're ready for me, Master," she breathed, wrapping her fingers around the base and squeezing just enough to coax a fresh bead of pre-cum, which she swiped with her thumb and spread slowly around the head in teasing circles.
Harry's breathing grew heavier with each passing second. His balls tightened, drawing up slightly under her breath on his skin, and when Hermione looked up again, still kneeling, still utterly devoted, the sight nearly undid him, her face so close that her parted lips revealed the tip of her tongue.
"That's my Hermione," he murmured approvingly.
Her smile widened further as she whispered, "Please, Master. I need to feel you."
He nodded once, releasing her chin, and she leaned forward without hesitation, wrapping one hand tighter around the base until her fingers dug in just enough to draw a hiss from him. She stroked upward slowly and firmly, spreading the slick pre-cum from head to shaft until it gleamed, and brought her lips closer for a feather-light kiss on the tip that sent a jolt racing straight through his body.
She parted her lips wider and took the head inside, her tongue lying flat against the slit to lap at his pre-cum while the wet heat of her mouth enveloped him, sucking gently as she swirled around the crown and traced every ridge.
Harry's head fell back against the chair as the sensation overwhelmed him completely, his fingers digging into the arms before he released it to tangle in her hair.
"Yes, just like that, Hermione," he urged, his voice ragged as he guided her head forward an inch. "Take more for me. You are doing so well."
She obeyed, taking him deeper inch by inch, her lips stretching around his thickness as the suction turned perfect, tight and warm, with her cheeks hollowing on each forward bob of her head. Saliva coated his shaft quickly, dripping down to where her hand gripped the base and making her strokes slick and effortless, while a low hum in her throat sent vibrations buzzing along his length, drawing a deep groan from him as his thighs tensed beneath her arms.
"Your mouth feels perfect, Hermione," he panted, watching her through half-lidded eyes as her lips slid over him, shiny and stretched. "Breathe through your nose now. Relax, yes, good girl."
Hermione maintained a steady rhythm, her head moving up and down to take him halfway into her mouth each time, her free hand cupping his balls to roll them gently in her palm and feel them tighten further under her touch. She tugged lightly on the sac to prolong the build-up, then squeezed just enough to make him buck, his length hitting the back of her throat once and eliciting a soft gag.
She didn't pull away, relaxing her jaw instead to push forward and swallow around him, the tight constriction blurring his vision with flickering stars as she deep-throated him fully, her nose brushing his groin.
"Hermione, you are taking me so deep," he growled, his hand tightening in her hair to hold her there a beat longer. "That is it. You are doing so well."
She pulled back slowly at last, strings of saliva linking her lips to his glistening length before she dove down again, faster this time, her hand twisting at the base on each upstroke to match the mouth's suction. She felt every vein pulse and throb as he grew even harder, the head swelling against her tongue while drool escaped the corners of her mouth to trail down her chin.
She ignored it, lost in the taste of him and the way he filled her mouth so completely.
"I can feel you swelling, Master," she murmured, her voice muffled, before sucking him back in hard with her tongue pressing flat on the underside. "Are you close? Please, let me..."
Harry's hips began to move in shallow thrusts into her willing heat, which she allowed while her hand guided him to keep the pace from turning too rough, her tongue dragging along the sensitive underside and flicking the slit on every push inward. His balls drew up tight in her grasp, signaling how close he was, but she slowed to edge him, releasing his length with a wet pop and stroking the slick shaft with both hands now, twisting them in opposite directions as the purple-red head leaked steadily, until she leaned in to lick it clean, tracing the slit with her tongue's tip before sucking it back inside.
Her free hand slipped between her own legs to press against the seam of her jeans where she ached, soaked through her knickers, the friction drawing a moan around his length that spiraled him further. He thrust up once, then twice, and she swallowed to urge him on, her fingers grinding harder through the denim until he warned fondly, "No touching without permission, Hermione. That is for me to decide. Focus on pleasing your Master now."
She hummed louder in compliance, the vibration pulling a fresh string of groans from deep within him.
What followed was one intense act of devotion, her alternating speeds from slow, torturous licks, her flat tongue dragging from base to tip, to fast, deep sucks that sent saliva dripping onto his balls, where she fondled them, rolling them between her fingers as her other hand pumped the portion her mouth couldn't reach.
Harry's groans filled the room, low and guttural, his body trembling under the onslaught until he warned, "Hermione, I am close," prompting her to pull off once more and wait for his command, her lips swollen and shiny with spit and pre-cum as she wiped her chin with the back of her hand.
His eyes snapped open, dark with need, his length standing rigid, twitching in the air.
"Up now, Hermione," he ordered, his voice rough but steady. "Strip for me slowly. Show me what is mine."
She complied, taking off her jeans, her fingers working the button until it popped open with a soft click before she shimmied her hips to push the denim down her thighs inch by inch, revealing the dark blue knickers clinging to her skin and marked by an obvious wet patch at the crotch that molded to her swollen folds and the hard nub of her clit. Bending slightly to step free, she presented her round, firm arse to him, the cheeks parting just enough to reveal the damp crease between them.
She asked over her shoulder, her voice edged with need, "Do you like seeing your Hermione like this, Master?" She wiggled her hips while the jeans pooled at her feet.
"Yes, Hermione. Turn around," Harry demanded, his hand finally yielding to stroke his length once as his eyes devoured her every curve. "That is my good girl. Now the rest. Peel them off and spread your legs so I can see how much you need me."
She straightened and kicked the jeans aside, hooking her thumbs into the knickers to peel them down slowly, the material sticking briefly to her wet core before releasing with a soft snap that exposed her glistening slit with puffy, parted lips and a red, erect clit peeking out. A thin string of wetness stretched from the fabric to her thigh as she stepped free and shivered in the cool air hitting her exposed skin.
"Touch yourself for me," he commanded.
One hand slid down her stomach to cup her mound, her fingers parting her lips to circle her clit as she gasped, "Like this, Master?" She dipped two fingers just inside herself for shallow pumps that coated them instantly in her arousal, the wet sounds filling the air.
"You are so ready for me, Hermione. That is enough. Come here now," Harry said, reaching for her.
She straddled him once more, reaching between them to grip his length, its base still slick from her mouth, and stroking it hard once to draw a hiss from him before positioning herself over his lap, rubbing the head along her slit to coat it in her juices. The blunt tip nudged her clit, sparking jolts through her as she ground down, sliding it back and forth through her folds until their wetness mixed with the saliva, turning everything slippery and hot.
"Feel how you make me ready, Master?" she whispered, pressing the head against her entrance and circling it there.
"Yes. Take me in slow," he urged, his hands on her thighs.
She shifted in his lap, the motion drawing gasps from them both as the head caught at her entrance, pressing in just the tip before she lifted away, teasing him. She took an inch at a time only to pull back, her core clenching around nothing until he said, "Hermione, take it all," thrusting up to chase her while his hands found her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh to guide her down firmly.
She grinned and sank further with each descent until finally aligning him to lower fully, her walls stretching around his thickness as he filled her completely, the girth splitting her open and the head bumping her depths.
"So full, Master," she moaned, bottoming out with her clit grinding against his base.
Harry's grip tightened on her hips as she began to move, the friction hazing his vision while she rocked forward to grind her clit against his pubic bone. Her inner muscles fluttered and squeezed his length in rhythmic pulses.
He thrust up to meet her, shallow at first, then deeper, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room alongside her arousal dripping down his shaft to soak his balls, each movement coaxing obscene squelching from their joined bodies.
"Move for me, Hermione. Ride your Master," he said through gritted teeth, one hand sliding up to pinch her nipple and making her hiss.
They fell into a rhythm, rocking against each other with growing urgency as she rose almost to the tip before slamming down to take him to the hilt every time, her breasts bouncing in his hands and her hard nipple peaks rubbing against the fingers.
Harry's hands slid up and down her sides, over her stomach and then back to her tits, which he palmed roughly while his thumbs flicked the stiff peaks, making her arch into his touch and falter briefly as pleasure lanced straight to her core.
"Yes, like that, Master," she gasped, covering his hands with hers to press harder.
Harry's mouth sought her neck next, kissing and sucking the sensitive skin before latching on to graze the pulse point with his teeth, then soothing it with his tongue in a mix of slight pain and relief that made her clench harder around him. She rode faster despite the burning in her thighs, unable to stop as his length dragged along her walls to hit that inner spot, curling her toes and igniting sparks low in her belly.
"Right there. Do not stop, Master," she breathed.
One hand braced on his shoulder, nails digging into his skin, while the other slipped between them to find her swollen, slick clit, and she started rubbing tight circles that matched her grinding and drew a gasp from her as her core fluttered wildly around him.
Harry sensed the vice-like tightening and thrust up harder, his hips snapping against hers with his balls slapping her arse in a lewd rhythm.
"You are holding me so tight, Hermione," he groaned, his thumb joining hers on her clit to press firmly. "But ask for permission to touch there."
"Master," she gasped. "I am close. May I? Please, let me..."
"Yes," he replied, barely able to think through the mounting pleasure. "Fuck, Hermione. Come for me, but only when I say."
She accelerated, chasing her release as Harry guided her firmly with his hands on her hips, pulling her down to grind deep while holding her in place for his circling rolls that rubbed his shaft against every inch of her, the head insistent on her g-spot.
Her fingers worked her clit furiously now, pinching and rolling, her breaths sharp and panting. Their sweat-slicked skin and slippery thighs rubbed together.
"I am… Master, now! Please!" she cried, her body seizing, and Harry grunted his approval just as her orgasm crashed over her, her walls clamping his length in rhythmic spasms while she shuddered through waves of pleasure, her core gushing wetness that leaked out to soak his lap. She ground down once more to draw out the pulses, her vision going white and her nerves firing until her nails drew blood from his shoulder. "Harry!"
That raw slip of his name pushed Harry over the edge as her milking heat proved too much, his balls drawing tight before he thrust deep to bury himself fully.
"Hermione, I am coming inside you," he grunted, his release exploding in thick ropes that flooded her core while he groaned low, his hips jerking erratically to pump load after load, her walls squeezing every drop to prolong the drag until he was spent, his length twitching weakly within her.
He held her down through the final spurts, his hand stroking her back soothingly. "Such a good girl. Taking all of me."
They remained locked like that for a long moment afterward, breathing hard with hearts racing as Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder, his arms wrapping securely around her while his softening length stayed lodged deep, their mixed fluids trickling out around the base.
She shifted slightly, feeling the lingering fullness and warmth that triggered a small aftershock, clenching once more as she whispered, "Still holding you, Master. Thank you."
He stroked her back, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over her sweaty skin as she nuzzled his neck, inhaling his unique scent.
"You were perfect, Hermione," he murmured, kissing her temple. "Rest now."
Neither stirred to separate, content in the sticky sated aftermath with their bodies pressed close. And neither noticed the shadow beyond the closed door of the room that disappeared after a while.
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