How Much?

A/N: Howdy folks! This is a little something that came to me via a conversation I had the other day. Is this what's called a 'plot bunny'? Cause it's completely separate and unrelated to anything I've ever written, but it just refused to stop nagging me until I wrote it down. It was written in less than 48 hours.

I'm still writing "Above It All" - not that very many people care or anything. Just thought I'd let ya know. Thanks and please review this little thingie. Rock on!



How Much?


Hermione Granger was in an irritable mood.

Everyone has license to be irritable more than a few times in their lives and Hermione certainly thought she had reason to be irritable at the moment. She had just returned from the Burrow having heard her fiancé involved in a conversation that she disapproved of greatly.

"I mean, men!" she muttered to herself as she changed out of her clothes and into a t-shirt of Harry's, which was much too big for her and hence was perfect for sleeping in. "What kind of thing was that to be discussing in civilized company?"

Now Hermione did not think herself a prude, not by any means. But the way the guys had been talking! Apparently, Ron and the twins had seen a certain Muggle video at Dean's flat in which apparently, the girl had had a good ten orgasms. And there they were telling Harry about it, about its "bloody brilliant!"-ness and how "hot!" it was.

"She was obviously acting," Hermione continued, pulling back the covers and climbing into bed. "It's not possible for a woman to have ten orgasms in one day, much less in a single sitting. I bet she faked at least half of them."

Harry came into the room then, wearing a white t-shirt, boxers and an amused grin, which only served to piss Hermione off even more. "I think it's possible. If the guy knows what to do."

She scoffed. "Please. That's such a male egoistical thing to say." Trust a man to assign himself the credit!

Harry grinned and pulled his t-shirt over his head before climbing into bed too and rolling on top of her. "You don't think it's possible?"

Hermione fought to appear unaffected by his face so close to hers that she could see the layers of green in his eyes. His unruly black hair was falling across his forehead oh so enticingly, obscuring his famous scar. "That's what I'm saying."

"Really," he murmured, one hand reaching up to fondle her left breast as he settled in between her legs. She could feel him firming against her thigh and her body reacted immediately in response. Her nipples hardened, that pulling hunger began between her legs and she gasped as his lips nuzzled her neck.

His mouth found hers and she kissed him back hungrily, her hands roaming his broad, strong back. His hand left her breast to trail down her stomach and into her knickers. She moaned as he stroked her.

"I say it's possible for a woman to have ten orgasms in one day," he whispered, slipping a finger inside her.

It took Hermione a few seconds to recall what on earth he was talking about. "And I say she would be sore to do that," she managed, while her hips began to move with his hand.

"How about a bet then?"

He was doing something with his thumb and she almost couldn't think. "A-a bet?"

"Yeah. What do you say?"

"Oh God," she moaned as the tide began swelling in her abdomen. "She-she'd be too sore. It's a deal."

His fingers left her abruptly and Hermione's eyes flew open in dismay to see Harry rolling over. "What're you doing?" she hissed desperately.

He looked puzzled. "Well, I thought you said a woman would be too sore. I want to win the bet so I can't have you be primed going into the ring, can I? So beginning tomorrow, you're on. Deal?" He grinned at her outraged expression. "Night-night."

He rolled over and fluffed his pillow while she glared at his back, feeling the dull throb between her legs continue unabated.

"Bastard," she muttered, laying back down. She was almost tempted to finish it herself; that would teach him.

'Nah,' she decided, squeezing her legs together in an attempt to ward off the hunger. 'There's gonna be tomorrow.'

At that, she felt a flash of excitement and really, she didn't know whether it was because she had a full slate of sex scheduled or because she would prove him wrong. Because of course she would. No woman could do that, no matter how skilled the man.

'Not even Harry, who is pretty damn good,' she thought sleepily and her deliberately unfulfilled body hummed in protest before succumbing to sleep.

Must get some rest. Tomorrow would be arduous. Pleasurably arduous.


*******

The bright sunlight of the June day woke Hermione the next morning. She mumbled and rolled over, her hands automatically reaching for Harry. But she quickly deduced that she was alone in the bed and her eyes fluttered open. Glancing at her alarm clock, she saw that it was after ten o'clock and she sat up in alarm.

"Oh no, I'm late for work!" she exclaimed, flinging the covers aside and bounding to the bathroom. "I can't believe Harry didn't wake me!"

She started the water running and quickly stripped and stepped inside. "What the hell is wrong with him anyway?" she mumbled as she frantically scrubbed her hair. "I specifically told him how important it was that I be at work on time on Monday, after he got back from- Oh."

Her hands fell from her hair and she blushed. Today was Saturday; she didn't have to be at work. That's why he'd let her sleep. He was always telling her that she worked too hard, that she needed to 'simmer down'.

"I mean, Hermione, we've already been through all that stress with Voldemort! We're not even twenty-five yet. Don't you want to have some fun?"

At the time, she'd assured him that he was all the fun she needed, with a certain saucy grin that had made him drag her into the Burrow's deserted kitchen to snog her silly. Which was before they'd been stumbled upon by the twins, effectively providing ammunition for decades of teasing, she was sure.

But when you start thinking Saturday was a workday, you know it's time to start taking it a bit easy, Hermione decided as she slipped into a bathrobe and charmed her hair dry. Not that she would ever tell Harry, of course. He'd never let her hear the end of it.

Maybe they could go out on the town today, into Muggle London or even take a Trans-Channel Portkey over to Paris for the day. She was only twenty-four years old and Harry was right - they'd already been through a lot.

With that in mind, she headed downstairs, eager to ask him what he wanted to do that day. A smile bloomed on her face when she saw him standing by the kitchen sink wearing a bathrobe too. He was holding a coffee mug and leaning over the yellow-and-green croton they'd picked up in Belize on her birthday last year. For some reason, he'd nicknamed it 'Dr. Deciduous' and gave daily pep talks to the plant, which seemed to have shrunk since being in Britain.

"I know it's not as hot and exotic here as where you're from, but chin up, my man. Or should I say 'leaf up'?" Harry was quipping and Hermione giggled.

He spun around, grinning. "Hey sleepy-head."

"Hi," she said, walking over. "How's the good doctor?"

"Dismal," he replied, putting down his mug and pulling her into his arms. He buried his nose in her hair. "Mmm. You smell good."

"Don't I always?" she murmured, nuzzling his neck. He smelled good too and she tightened her hold on him. After a long minute, they pulled apart and he cupped her cheek.

"I love you," he whispered, gazing into her eyes.

She smiled and stood up on tiptoe to kiss him lightly. "I love you too. Only twelve more weeks to go now."

"Twelve weeks," he muttered, frowning. "That's too long. Can't we just get married today?"

I wish. "Harry, we've been over this. All the invitations say September twenty. That's what our guests are expecting."

"Sod the guests. I want you to be mine as soon as possible."

"You silly, silly man," she whispered, kissing him all over his face. "I'm already yours, remember? I've been since seventh year at Hogwarts."

At her words, she watched his green eyes darken with something she much recognized and which always thrilled her. There was something else in his eyes too but before she could decipher what it was, his lips were on hers and she was lost to intelligent thought.

His lips were so soft, his mouth so warm, his tongue so sweet. Harry was a phenomenal kisser. His kisses always seemed to invade her very essence, filling her with a burning hunger and it wasn't long before she was gasping and undoing the knot of his robe. He was naked underneath and she pushed it off him and ran her hands over his smooth chest.

He pushed her robe off her too and cupped her breasts and she moaned as he tweaked her nipples with his fingers. His mouth wandered to her neck and she buried her fingers in his hair, feeling his erection pressing into her belly and suddenly she wanted him so badly, the ache was almost painful.

"Harry," she moaned as he suckled at first one breast, and then the other.

He raised his head, his eyes hot with desire and kissed her again, hard. He lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist and still kissing her, carried her to the kitchen table. He sat her on it and again his lips went to her breasts as his hands stroked her inner thighs.

Hermione's whole body thrummed with anticipation but when he still didn't touch her where she was slick with wanting, she began wiggling on the table, trying to move his hand.

"Harry," she moaned again and cried out when, at last, he stroked her, gently, maddeningly slowly. "Please."

His finger left her but before she could even register dismay, it had been replaced by his mouth and she lay back flat on the table and gave herself over to the incredible sensations he was arousing in her.

It wasn't long before she began feeling the surge looming over her as her walls began to twitch but it was a strange titillation because she was empty inside. She needed something to grip, to milk.

She tried to grab at his head, needing him, all of him, inside her. "Harry, please. I need you in- oh!" The surge had reached her and she cried out as the waves of ecstasy swept over her. But it felt oddly unfulfilling; she was coming but she wasn't being satisfied - she needed something - it was almost painful - she needed-

Desperately, her fingers tried to dip under his mouth, to fill herself but he pushed them away and used his own instead, his eyes burning into hers.

"Harry! Yes, yes!" she cried, bucking on the table as he finger-fucked her, his tongue finding her clit again and this time the furious swelling was swifter, deeper, liberating as her muscles clamped down on his fingers, clutching them, grasping them, owning them.

She was just starting to come down, her breath emitted in sobbing gasps when his fingers left her and he pulled her to the very edge of the table. His lips covered hers and she kissed him back, her eyes closed. He broke the kiss but she could feel his breath in her ear.

"That was two," he whispered and before she could wonder what he meant, he had slammed into her, driving everything else from her mind.

She hadn't really recovered from her last orgasm so only a few strokes and she was coming again, her back arched as she gripped his shoulders in helpless ecstasy. Harry was holding her hips tightly, at the very edge of the table so her butt was almost off it.

"Gods, Hermione," he growled before his lips crashed into hers. They kissed greedily, their breaths harsh, sweat glistening on their bodies as they moved together and apart like practiced lovers. Which they were. He knew her, he knew her so well and she knew him too. The table was creaking, Harry was really banging her and Hermione howled when, again, the tsunami assaulted her, just as he exploded inside her with a growl.

For what felt like generations, they were unaware of anything else but each other and the fierce rewards of their love. But at last they regained their senses and slumped against each other, breathless, weak and trembling. Hermione couldn't move and not just because Harry was pinning her to the table. She just kept her eyes closed, letting her lungs, her heart do their frenzied jobs while she savored the feeling of still being so intimately joined with the man she loved more than life itself.

Finally, Harry raised himself and slipped out of her. He reached out to brush her hair from her face, his eyes adoring her. "You alright?"

She nodded and sighed contentedly. "Mmm-hmm."

Harry straightened up, a smug look creeping onto his features now. "Good. Cause you still have six more to go."

"Six more what?" she asked, frowning at the gleeful look that erupted in his eyes.

"Orgasms, luv," he murmured. "Remember our bet last night? I'm gonna prove to you that a woman can too have ten orgasms in one day." He stepped away from the table and grinned at her. "So it's four down, six to go. Damn, am I good or what?"

And he walked away, whistling monotonously, leaving Hermione gaping after him on the kitchen table, her body tingling in afterglow and traitorous anticipation.


********

"Why'd we have to take the Chunnel?" Hermione grumbled as she and Harry were bumped and jostled on their way to their seats aboard the CTRL Fast Line. They were on the famed Muggle railroad underneath the English Channel that traveled from Waterloo, London to Gare du Nord in Paris.

"I mean, for Merlin's sake, we could've just Apparated or even taken a Portkey," she whispered once they were seated. Harry was sitting by the window, she was in the middle and an elderly Muggle woman had the aisle seat.

Her fiancé turned to grin at her. "Ah, well, you asked what I wanted to do today. Since you suggested Paris, it's only fair that I get to pick how we get there, don't you think? Besides, it's good to go back to the basics sometimes, yes?"

He was grinning smugly and Hermione had a strange sense of déjà vu as she glared at him. He'd been acting like that all morning, after that inferno on the kitchen table and especially afterwards in the shower. Now that she remembered the bet, Hermione was wary of him touching her. Not that she didn't want to feel his hands on her body but something told her that she was going to lose this bet (What was the pot, anyway?) and Hermione Granger hated to lose at anything, dammit!

So she'd eyed him suspiciously when he'd offered to wash her. He'd swore that that was all he wanted to do. Which turned out to be true. At first, anyway. She should've put her foot down when he'd wanted to 'check that [she] was really clean'. But she'd regained her senses to realize that he had just licked her to a screaming orgasm and was smirkingly saying, "Oh, I do believe we're at the halfway mark."

Hermione hadn't known whether to smack him or kiss him then, just as she didn't now. So instead, she huffed and leaned back in her seat, settling in for the approximately three hour trip, give or take a few minutes.

'That could've been made in seconds, but it's good to go back to the basics sometimes, yes?' she thought exasperatingly, but couldn't help reaching for his hand.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her and figuring that he wouldn't try anything on a crowded train, she let him. The kiss deepened, bless and damn him, and when they pulled apart, Hermione blushed as she realized that the elderly woman beside her was goggling at them. She distinctly heard the woman mutter something about 'young people', 'exhibitionism', and 'no shame', while Harry shook with silent laughter on the other side of her.

"You are going to be in so much trouble, Harry Potter," Hermione hissed, her face red.

He grinned devilishly. "Oh, am I? I'm gonna be in trouble? You gonna spank me?" he said, making no effort to keep the conversation just between the two of them so that the poor woman in the aisle seat closed her eyes in shock.

He was out to embarrass her, she just knew it. Best not to give him any more chances to do so. Hermione smoothed out her skirt with dignity and grabbed a magazine from those provided, trying to keep herself from looking at her fiancé.

For the next few minutes, everything was fine. But just as she turned the page to continue reading a faintly interesting article about mushroom farming, she felt a hand cup her left breast. Her eyes widening, she looked quickly over at Harry but both his hands were sitting innocently on his lap.

And the hand on her breast was now gently kneading.

Startled, she glanced down but there was nothing at all to indicate that expert fingers were now squeezing and rolling her nipples. Only one person knew her that well, knew just how hard to squeeze, the precise moment to roll.

'That bastard,' Hermione thought, trying to get mad but it felt so good. 'He's obviously Duplicated his hands and Disillusioned them.'

Bloody wandless magic.

She looked over at Harry again but he was still determinedly staring out the window. She tried but she couldn't hold back a gasp when one hand crept up her skirt.

The elderly woman shot her a concerned glance. "Are you alright, dear?"

"Wh-what? Oh, I'm fine, thanks," Hermione managed as the invisible hand moved her knickers aside to caress her. She raised the magazine to her face, trying to close her legs on the hands but they pushed the knickers down and pulled her open.

Peering down, she saw that her legs appeared to be demurely crossed at the ankles so no one was any the wiser that right that moment, knowing fingers were plumbing her depths, stroking her folds, rubbing her nub in tight circles.

Nobody except Harry, of course. And were not for the heat blazing in his emerald eyes, she wouldn't have been sure of it either.

But as it was, he was staring at her while she fought back the moans and cries trying to get out as the fingers sped up. Her breath was coming faster, her hands tightly clutching the shaking magazine and suddenly Hermione's back arched - unseen to anybody but Harry - as her eyes widened. Her mouth opened in a helpless 'oh' and Harry's lips slammed down onto hers, effectively absorbing her cry of release as the sensations exploded from within her. Her eyes squeezed shut as he kissed her and the pleasure rumbled through her being until she slumped against the seat. She rested her forehead against his, panting, the blood pounding in her ears, while the invisible hands slid her knickers back into place and closed her trembling legs.

"I love you," Harry whispered, stroking her flushed face.

It took her a few moments to answer. "I love you too. But I'm gonna kill you, you know that? And don't say it - I know how to count!"

He grinned impishly at her and Hermione took deep breaths until she could lower the magazine from her face, trying to ignore the simultaneously concerned and scandalized glances the elderly woman kept throwing her all the way to Paris.


*******

Upon arrival at the Gare du Nord in Paris, they found a handy Apparation spot from which to leave. Harry had booked them a room at the Timhotel Gare du Nord and they stopped by to check in and freshen up a bit.

They decided to go for a stroll at the Château de Versailles. Hermione had visited there before with her parents and she had a great time telling Harry about the Palace, which was the former headquarters of Louis XIV. Then they'd gone for a tour of the inside, including the King's Private Bedroom and she'd had to threaten to hex him to within an inch of his life for him to give up trying to seduce her in there.

They bought some delicious Kirsch Bûchettes and coffee from a sidewalk café before heading out to visit the markets along the Boulevard du Strasbourg. The hustle and bustle of the Boulevard was quite a welcome change from the 'pastiness', as Harry referred to it, that was typically Paris. The Boulevard was an ethnic haven, Eastern Europeans, Africans, Asians and they had a great time chatting in their limited French with the vendors.

They managed not to buy too many things, though Harry did buy her a beautiful Asian red silk dress, embroidered with rich gold dragons and phoenixes. It was knee-length, with a mandarin collar and side dress slits up to the thigh and Hermione was delighted with it. Just owning it made her feel unbelievably exotic.

On their way back, they happened upon a store called Désire, with scantily-clad mannequins in the windows and Harry raised his eyebrows suggestively at her. "Wanna go in?"

"Why not?" she replied, trying to pretend that her nipples hadn't hardened at the look creeping into his eyes. Was she trying to win this bet or wasn't she?

'But how does one keep from having an orgasm, anyway?' she mused silently as she wandered amongst the lacy undergarments and erotic get-ups. 'I've already climaxed a whopping six times already and all he has to do is look at me a certain way and I can't wait for him to touch me again.'

Perhaps she'd been wrong afterall. Perhaps a woman could have ten orgasms a day.

'No reason to let him know that my position has wavered, though,' Hermione decided, hiding a smile. Let him think he still needed to convince her. She was reaping all the benefits anyway.

"What do you think of this, Harry?" she asked, picking up a skimpy pair of lacy negligee.

His eyes darkened. "It looks nice. But I think it'd look better on you. Or better still, on the floor after I take it off you."

Hermione blushed, unable to hide how pleased that made her. "I like it," she said. It was a matching lacy guepiere and thong, completely sheer except in strategic locations with thin straps. All the color options were embroidered with dainty blue flowers on the padded bra cups as well as scattered across the guepiere and knickers. "I think I'm gonna try it on. What color should I get it in?"

He moved behind her, his breath on her neck raising goosepimples up and down her arms. She could feel herself getting wet just from the mere whiff of his aftershave, for goodness' sake! What the hell was going on?

"The black."

She picked out the color he indicated and made her way to the changing stalls, Harry in tow. "Wait here."

She closed the door and took deep breaths, observing herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks slightly flushed, her lips red and swollen from all his kisses. A woman in love. And lust.

She undressed quickly and slipped into the lingerie, her nipples hard with excitement. Hadn't she purposefully gotten it in too small a size just so she would have a legitimate excuse to call him in here? The guepiere hugged her breasts, pushing them up enticingly and the knickers fit snugly on her hips.

Too bad they would be coming off within a few minutes.

"Harry? I need some help in here!"

There was a brief pause, then the door of the stall opened and he came in. He shut the door and froze when he saw her, his mouth dropping open.

"You- Herm- wow- it-" he stammered, gaping at her.

She smiled shyly, tugging at the bottom of the guepiere. "It's a little too sma-" she began but broke off with a gasp because he was suddenly in front of her, his eyes burning into hers.

"It's perfect," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're perfect."

And then his lips were on hers, his hands on her butt, pulling her flush against him and Hermione moaned into his mouth. He backed her against the opposite wall and grinded his hardness against her aching center, making her knees go weak. His lips left hers to wander to her neck, while his hands caressed every inch of skin he could find. Her hands were doing their own wanderings as she stroked him through his jeans and vaguely, she registered the voices of the other people in the store.

"Harry, the door-"

He left off ravaging her neck to point his wand at the door of the stall. "Colloportus. Silencio." before he was kissing her again.

Hermione's hands fumbled with his zipper, suddenly hungering for his smooth hardness. His fingers hastily undid the laces of the guepiere and his eager mouth latched onto her left breast, making her cry out. She buried her hands in his messy hair as he moved to lavish attention on the other breast and suddenly, she was sitting on the bench at her back and he was on his knees before her. He roughly slid the flimsy knickers off her and captured her most intimate part with his lips.

"Oh, God," she moaned, arching into his mouth as his tongue thrust into her like a tiny phallus. He suckled and nibbled and licked her into a frenzy and Hermione forgot where they were. Hell, she forgot her own name. Nothing else mattered but him and his mouth and fingers and tongue and then even they ceased to exist when the blinding white light washed over and through her.

"Harry, Harry," she gasped repeatedly when she was capable of speech again.

He recaptured her lips - had she ever been kissed so much in one day before? - and her hands went back to pushing his jeans and boxers down.

"You sexy woman, you," he growled, picking her up and pressing her back into the wall. She reached down to stroke his hard member, making him groan, before guiding him to her wetness.

They both shuddered when he sank into her and for a moment they were still, just reveling in the exquisite feeling of being one. Finally, he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into her. Hermione's eyes drifted shut, her hands gripping his shoulders and her hips meeting his every time as he set into a rhythm.

"I do believe you had ulterior motives for calling me in here, Miss Granger," he murmured, gently biting her neck, his breathing ragged.

Her eyes opened to take in the erotic sight in the mirror on the opposite wall of him repeatedly plunging into her and she felt the tension beginning to coil again in the pit of her stomach, even as her heart swelled with the deepness of her love for him.

She was suddenly overcome with emotion. "Oh Harry. I love you so much," she sobbed, tears falling down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms and legs tighter around him. "Harry."

"Hermione." He looked deeply into her eyes, his own beautiful ones filling up as their bodies locked, merged and exploded. His whispers of love were lost in their cries of deepest completion as they clutched each other convulsively.

And in those moments in that changing stall, it was no longer about any bet, nor the winning or losing thereof. It was not even about being right or wrong. It was about each other's pleasure, about expressing, about sharing.

It was all about their love.


*******

The rest of the afternoon was spent getting some much needed rest at the hotel. Both of them could barely keep their eyes open long enough to finish the room service lunch that they'd ordered. Hermione woke up first, just after dusk, feeling refreshed and pleasantly sated.

She was also starving and after a few minutes of admiring the sleeping love of her life, she slipped out of the bed and took a long shower. Harry was just beginning to stir when she came out and she wrapped her hair up and went to kiss him awake.

"Wake up, wake up, sleepy-head. Get your bottom off the bed," she sang softly and watched him drowsily grin that lopsided grin that had stolen her heart back in third year at Hogwarts.

Harry stretched with a grimace. "It's all your fault that I'm knackered," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning hugely.

She scoffed. "My fault? You're the one who set out to prove that you could make me orgasm ten times in one day."

"I was, wasn't I?" he said, leering suggestively at her. "Only two more to go, right? And the night is young."

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to get up but he grabbed her arms and pulled her on top of him.

"Harry! Let me go. I need to get dressed."

"Why? You going somewhere?"

"As a matter of fact, I am. I'm so hungry, I could eat a hippogriff. And besides, I wanna show off my new dress," she replied.

He nuzzled her neck. "Ah, yes. My spicy little Asian dumpling." He slapped her butt and she squealed and rolled off him.

"Go take a shower, you horny beast!" she said, trying hard to sound annoyed. But how could she be when he was grinning at her like that?

He stood up and stretched again, wearing only the skin he'd been born in and she couldn't help but let her eyes appreciatively linger on him. He was in great shape, there was no denying that.

And his erection was magnificent.

"See something you like?"

Hermione blushed and shook herself out of her reverie. "Go take a shower."

"Gimme a taste first," he responded, stalking towards her, his eyes full of lust.

She took a step backwards, eying him warily. "A taste of what?"

"Of this." He grabbed her and slipped his hand under her bathrobe and between her legs. "Ooh, so you're not as unaffected as you would have me believe, are you?"

She bit back a moan as he fondled her. "Harry. I need to eat."

"I need to eat too. Don't you know it's like my spinach?"

"Your what?"

"My spinach. Y'know like Popeye and his spinach."

Hermione threw back her head and laughed at that while Harry grinned at her. Before too long, though, her laughter was cut off as he kissed her and she let him lower her to the bed while he knelt to feast of his 'spinach'.

Afterwards, she lay panting, while Harry headed for the bathroom licking his lips and flexing his muscles exaggeratedly. "That was yummy, dahlin'!" he called. "And it was numbah nine!"

'Number nine,' she thought in disbelief, and she wasn't the slightest bit sore. Tomorrow she would most likely be but right now, she wasn't at all uncomfortable.

They set about getting ready and some thirty minutes later, were seated at the Restaurant Julien, a four-star eatery that the concierge at the Timhotel's front desk had heartily recommended. They had been seated in a nice, dimly-lit corner and conversation was minimal as they ate ravenously.

But once food, wine and dessert had all been consumed, they leaned back in their chairs and sighed contentedly.

"That's better," Hermione murmured, setting down her napkin.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it was. Not as good as my spinach, though."

She blushed. "Honestly, Harry! Don't you ever think about anything else?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "Let's see.. um.. no."

"Pathetic."

"You love me anyway."

Well, she did that. Hermione glanced down at her engagement ring and couldn't suppress the thrill of excitement that raced down her spine. In just a few weeks, she would be his wife. To have and to hold, forever and ever - or as long as they both lived and into the world beyond.

Smiling slightly at the thought, she picked up her wineglass but nearly choked on her sip. "Harry!"

He adopted an innocent expression. "What?" But wasn't that his foot creeping up the inside of her thigh, pushing her exotic red silk dress up?

Her eyes widened as his toes slowly rubbed her through her satin knickers while his eyes bored into hers.

"Plus du vin, Mademoiselle? Monsieur?" their waiter inquired, suddenly materializing by their table.

"Non, merci," Harry answered, completely relaxed, even as his foot stroked her faster, aided now by the wetness seeping from her core.

The waiter turned to look at her and Hermione could only manage a quick shake of her head. She just knew that if she opened her mouth- The waiter left and Hermione had just shakily put down her wineglass, knowing her release was near when the foot abruptly left her. She moaned in dismay, looking up to glare at him.

"I need to use the toilette," he said breezily, laying down his napkin and giving her a meaningful look. And he was gone.

Leaving Hermione to take deep gulps of air as she furtively tried to tug her dress down under the table. She gave him a minute's head start before hurrying in the direction she'd seen him go. Upon reaching the loos, however, she hesitated. Did she really want to do this? She'd never been into a men's loo and while this had been, without a doubt, the most sexual day of her entire life, this was a bit extreme. Wasn't it rather teenager-ish to be having quickies in loos?

"You coming in or what?" a familiar voice whispered from her right and Hermione started and hurried inside.

"Harry, you-" she began hotly but he once again effectively shut her up with his expert lips and for the second time that day, Hermione found herself being snogged senseless in a stall - this time the posh bathroom of a four-star restaurant.

He locked and soundproofed the confined space, without even a pause in kissing her, while his fingers took the place of his toes and stroked her insistently through the satin crotch of her knickers. She came with a cry, slumping forward against him and he hurriedly undid his trousers and pulled them down.

Hermione dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth without preamble, her hands roaming over his butt, her ears ringing with his moans. She sucked him further in, back up and down again, breathing in his musky scent, her nose being tickled by his soft, pubic hair.

"Hermione," he groaned, his hips moving slightly in a rocking motion and she licked the underside of the head, down to his balls before taking him in again and bobbing energetically.

He cried out and pushed her away before pulling her up to kiss her frantically. He yanked her dress up and ripped her knickers off her.

"We'll get you some new ones," he whispered raggedly against her lips. "Turn around."

She obeyed and he grasped her hips and slid into her with one smooth motion. They both yelled at the assault of sensations and he began pounding her so hard that Hermione had to brace her hands against the wall to keep her head from smashing into it.

"This is what you do," he growled. "This is what you do to me."

He nudged her legs further apart and reached around to caress her swollen clit, his breath harsh on the back of her neck. She began backing into his thrusts, her cries echoing in the room, her every nerve and muscle straining to get even closer to him than she already was.

Her new dress was getting horribly wrinkled, sweat was ruining her makeup but she couldn't have cared less. Because she was being fucked into oblivion in a restaurant's bathroom stall by the man she loved and right now, there was nowhere else she would rather be.


******

For years to come, Hermione would wonder how they'd managed to Apparate back to their hotel without gruesome results.

After that insanity in the loo stall - neither of them could stand for a good five minutes afterwards - they'd paid their bill and somehow managed to get back to the hotel. They'd found energy enough to take off their clothes before collapsing on the bed and sleeping for a solid ten hours - missing their return trip on board the Chunnel.

Of course Harry still smugly let her hear about how he'd made her climax not once, not twice but eleven times in one day. She never did tell him that she'd given up on her side of the bet halfway through it. It didn't hurt anyone to let him think he had won - which he had, to be completely honest.

Because he'd taught her a valuable lesson about her body, at least in relation to him. He was her drug, her addiction and she could never get enough of him. How much? As much as he could give and then some. He could turn her on like a light switch and she didn't think that ability of his would ever diminish.

Frankly, she sincerely hoped it never would.


*******
FIN
*******

Notes and inspirations:

1. My guy really does have a croton that he calls "Dr. Deciduous". He doesn't give it pep talks, though. :)

2. There really is a Chunnel from London to Paris, station names and all - as all European readers know, I'm sure :)

3. There really is a Timhotel in Paris, as well as Boulevard du Strasbourg and Julien restaurant.

4. The Asian dress that Harry buys Hermione is inspired by the one Mary Jane Watson has in the first "Spider-man" movie.

5. Finally, PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks!