Unofficial Portkey Archive

Hermione looked at the framed photograph on her desk and sighed softly. They all looked so young, far too young to be away from home. She traced the smiles on her children's faces with the tip of her finger. Elizabeth was fifteen now, a seeker for Ravenclaw, and a Prefect this year. James was thirteen, always in some mischief or another, and a beater for Hufflepuff. And her baby, little Emily, was barely eleven and, as of three days ago, a Gryffindor. Considering Em's interest in Quidditch, shared by her siblings and father, it should make for interesting Quidditch matches when they went to Hogwarts.

Harry already had enough difficulty not choosing sides when Ravenclaw played Hufflepuff. If Em played, too, he'd combust fighting the urge not to root for his former house. Personally, she hoped Em decided schoolwork was more important, and they finally had a child take after her and not choose to be on the team. Elizabeth was very focused on her classes, but she'd inherited Harry's fondness for sport and was actually more athletic than even James.

She turned away from the photo and sighed again. The house seemed so empty without any of the children underfoot. For fifteen years, they'd had a child running in and out, making noise, asking for things, talking. The last few days, she'd drifted from room to room, feeling lost and empty. Dinners had been pleasant while she and Harry talked about their days, but she missed James teasing his sisters and drinks being spilt and the chatter of their children. It wasn't that she didn't love Harry. She did, more now than she had eighteen years ago when they were first married, but it felt strange just being the two of them now.

When it became evident that she wasn't going to get any more work done, she put away her books and organized her research for the day. She'd stayed late as it was so she should see about going home and making dinner. Friday night was the night she and Harry shared the task of cooking. They alternated cooking every other day of the week, but they'd begun their tradition of Friday nights being 'their night' even before Beth was born. It had just altered quite a bit as they got older and had begun a family. After all, they were no longer twenty-two and newlyweds.

A toss of floo powder, a step forward, and she soon stood in their sitting room. She was surprised to see Harry seated in his favorite chair with a rather mischievous smile on his lips. "Am I very late?" she asked with concern as she glanced at the clock. She was usually the first one home since she'd gone back to working out of an office instead of from home.

"Not at all, Hermione," he replied in a voice that automatically made her suspicious. Her gaze moved back to his face. "I actually left work at lunch today. I had some errands to run, plans to make, and, uh, that sort of thing."

"Plans?" she repeated slowly as her brow arched. "What sort of plans?"

"Before I get into that, are you very hungry or did you have a late lunch again?"

"I ate this afternoon so no, I'm not particularly hungry. What does my eating schedule have to do with your plans?"

Instead of giving her an answer, Harry raised his hand from the side of the chair. Her eyes widened when she saw the scrap of black silk hanging from his index finger. If you considered that it had been put away in a drawer of the bureau, or maybe it been that box in the top of their wardrobe, for fifteen years, it looked in surprisingly good condition. She nervously licked her lips as she tore her gaze from the reminder of their naughty past to look at the man who seemed to have forgotten they were not newlyweds anymore.

"Harry, we can't," she said simply and firmly. While there was a part of her that was slowly awakening at seeing the blindfold, she knew they couldn't possibly. Not now. God, she probably wouldn't even remember what to do in that sort of game.

"Why not?" he asked with the deceptive innocence that always managed to get her to do something daring that she was hesitant to try. If he gave her the slightly hopeful smile and puppy dog eyes, she'd hex him, she decided adamantly. He was far too old for those sort of tricks now. They might have been rather adorable, and just a little sexy, when he was in his teens and early twenties, but he'd turned forty just a little over a month ago. He twirled the blindfold on his finger as his gaze moved over her in a way she couldn't recall seeing for far too long. "Don't you want to play, Hermione?"

"You know very well why not," she muttered. "The children might-"

"The children are probably eating pudding and preparing to go back to their respective common rooms right now," he reminded her gently. "We don't have to be concerned about them catching us."

"Harry, really. A blindfold?" She resorted to arguing for fear she might cry when she realized he was right. They didn't have to worry about one of the children catching them. For years, since Beth had started walking, they'd been unable to indulge in the more adventurous activities they used to do in the bedroom. While they could put up locking charms and muffling charms, nothing ruined a particularly kinky game more than a child knocking and asking for a glass of water.

Their sex life was very enjoyable even if it was a bit more predictable than it had been when they were younger, not that it had ever been particularly daring. They had experimented, of course, and she'd read a lot so there had never been a lack of things to try. Some they enjoyed, some they did not. With the birth of Elizabeth, though, things had become much more simple and less impulsive. The most daring they'd been in the past decade was when they snuck off to shag against a wall at Ron's birthday party when they'd actually had a sitter several years ago, and the kinkiest they'd gotten had been a toy she'd had to throw out several years ago after Beth managed to break the charms she'd used to keep it hidden.

The blindfold was a memento from a time when they could lie in bed all day and make love. Harry would tease her for what seemed like hours and had the stamina to make her beg repeatedly while he licked and touched. Now, well, when it was all done, she usually performed a cleaning charm immediately because lying around all sticky and sweaty was just a bit disgusting where she used to not even think about it and Harry would cuddle her before falling asleep not soon after. She was pulled from her thoughts by his next words.

"Hermione, please?"

Oh bloody buggering hell. He looked at her with the puppy dog eyes and suddenly looked twenty and pathetic instead of forty and cunning. She stubbornly set her chin and shook her head.

"I'll, uh, try to talk dirty."

"You don't like to talk dirty, Harry." Hermione studied him closely. He must really want to play if he made that offer. It was one of the things she really enjoyed but he was pants at it so she never asked him to do it. The extent tended to be 'fuck' and 'wet' and, even then, he'd sometimes blush cursing around her. She, however, had been incredibly aroused the few times he had talked that way to her. There was just something terribly knicker-wetting about hearing her husband say filthy things.

"I know," he said with a sheepish smile before he held up the blindfold. "But I would for you."

"You are a sneaky, conniving man," she declared finally.

He had the audacity to grin unashamedly at her accusation. "No, I'm a man who has a gorgeous wife that I can't wait to shag."

"Don't you mean fuck?" she drawled as she took a step closer to him.

"Right." He nodded as he watched her move closer, the blindfold forgotten as he licked his lips.

"Say it, Harry," she purred as she leaned forward to ghost her lips against his. "Tell me what you want to do with me tonight."

"I want to, uh, that is, I want to," he stammered and she nearly smiled with triumph as his cheeks turned a lovely shade of light pink, "fuck you."

"Hmm," she said before she kissed his cheek. "I don't think I heard you, Harry. Could you repeat yourself?"

"Fuck," he growled before his hand tangled in her hair and he kissed her with more passion than he'd shown in a long time.

Hermione wasn't quite sure how they managed to get to their bedroom from downstairs without breaking their necks. They tripped on the stairs twice because he wanted to kiss her and didn't want to stop long enough for them to run up the stairs. Somehow, though, they made it to their room. Her robe was on the landing. His shirt was half unbuttoned. Her skirt was pushed up her thighs. His glasses were askew. Finally, they reached their bedroom.

"Shut the door," she moaned against his mouth as they stumbled inside.

"Got it," he said as he reached to push the door shut. He stopped and looked at her. "Wait. We don't have to shut the door. We're the only ones here."

"Oh God," she whispered at that realization. "That's right. They're all gone. Oh, Harry. We're all alone now."

"Hermione, love." He moved to hug her. "It's okay. You knew this would happen one day. Don't you think it's a bit nice just the two of us? I've missed having you to myself, you know? Always have to share you with them, which is fine because they're our children and come first, but, selfishly, I like it just being us again. If they were here, I wouldn't be able to do this."

He pushed her against the open bedroom door and kissed her thoroughly. His hand drifted up beneath her shirt to cup her breast as he did his best to distract her. He did a very good job because she soon wasn't so focused on her sadness at having the children gone and more so on her growing arousal for her husband. When he pulled back, she smiled at him as she straightened his glasses on his nose. "I believe you mentioned something about fucking me?"

"Yeah, I think I did." He took her hand and led her to the bed. He held up the blindfold and asked, "Do you remember this?"

"I happen to have an excellent memory." She looked from the blindfold to him. "You bought it in that Muggle shop, the one with all the naughty toys. I remember that you made me wear it that night when you used my own scarves to tie my hands to the bed. I couldn't see anything but I could feel you everywhere."

"I can't believe it's been so long since we've done this," he murmured as he kissed her again before he fastened the blindfold over her eyes. "I won't tie you up tonight because I know you don't like that much, but I plan to make you beg for me."

"How are you going to do that?" she asked as her world went dark. She blinked behind the blindfold and had to adjust to not being able to see him. She was more aware of the heat of his body as he moved closer, the scent of spice and citrus, the feel of his rough fingers on her belly.

His hands paused where they'd been removing her shirt. She waited, not certain he'd be able to do it. "I'm going to lay you on the bed, uh, naked, and then I'm going to taste you. I mean, I'm going to lick your body. Right. I'm going to lick you all over until you're trembling."

Hermione moaned softly. She didn't even mind his hesitations or the fact that he was awful at talking dirty. His words excited her, and she eagerly stepped out of her skirt when he slid it down her legs. She gasped when she felt him nuzzle her cunt through her knickers. She was already so wet and they'd barely begun. "What else, Harry?"

She felt his fingernails scrape her skin as he pulled her knickers down. His tongue licked her cunt once before she heard him stand and her brassiere was removed. "I'm going to touch you, love," he whispered softly against her neck. "I'm going to caress every curve and line of your body with my hands and my tongue and my lips."

She heard the sound of his clothes being removed and reached out to touch bare skin. He whimpered when she traced the curve of his collarbone before he stepped back. His hands took hers and he led her to the bed. "Ow!" she groaned as she hit her foot on the side of the bed. Her big toe throbbed but she ignored it as she carefully crawled onto the bed. Harry made a slight whine and she realized what she must look like. She wiggled her arse a bit to tease him before she turned over to lie down. "What next?"

"God, Hermione. Stop asking questions and just let me do this." She didn't have to see him to know his lips were curled into a sulk and he had probably just rolled his eyes. She recognized his tone of voice easily, after all. If she got him annoyed enough, he might forget his embarrassment and not feel so awkward. "Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?"

"Gorgeous? I don't think I've ever been gorgeous, Harry," she said with a soft laugh.

"You're so beautiful, Hermione," he said softly as he laid on the bed beside her. She felt his body against her side, his breath on her neck, and the rough pad of his fingers tracing the slope of her shoulder. "There isn't a part of you that I don't love. Your breasts, God, they're perfect. Have I ever told you how much I love your nipples? The color of them, such a dusty shade of pink, and the way they get hard whenever I touch them or look at them or lick them. Do you feel what it does to me to look at you like this?"

He moved his hips against her and she felt his erection against her hip. He was hard and leaking pre-come as he moved back and forth lazily. "They're tits," she corrected him breathlessly. "Not breasts, not tonight. Tits."

"If you insist on correcting me when I'm trying to talk dirty, I'll be forced to gag you," he warned, only half teasing. Before she could argue with him, his body shifted. He was now lying between her legs, his belly against her wetness, and his lips brushed kisses along the length of her collarbone before they moved lower. She decided she didn't care what he called them when he sucked and licked her nipples, his hand squeezed them as he seemed to rest his weight on his other arm. "You should see yourself, love. Your body is flushed with arousal and you're starting to sweat. Do I make you hot?"

"Yes," she hissed as his finger lightly teased her clit. Her body arched off the bed to seek contact with hard flesh. He chuckled as he kissed his way lower. Finally, he was there. She had one arm over her head to grip the headboard as she spread her legs eagerly for him. "Please, Harry."

"You're so wet," he murmured as she felt two fingers spread her open. He cleared his throat and she felt his hair against her lower belly. "Your pussy is dripping with, uh, wetness."

She bit her lip and tried to stop herself. It was too late. She giggled.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," she hastily reassured him. He'd actually tried and that's what really mattered, right?

"You were giggling, Hermione. You don't giggle. Did I do something wrong?"

"You said pussy," she finally admitted. "And, well, you know I don't find that word sexy at all. It makes me think of cats and, uh, that made me giggle."

"What am I supposed to call it then?" he asked rather sharply. She could practically see him pushing his glasses up his nose and glaring. God, he probably looked adorable as hell with his messy hair and scowl. "You know if I call it a cunt, then I think about insulting Ron and that definitely isn't arousing at all."

"If you call it a vagina, I'll make you sleep in the spare room," she warned him playfully. She assumed her best bossy tone. "You could call it quim, snatch, or, uh, possibly love blossom or dainty flower, though those are almost as awful as vagina."

Silence greeted her suggestions. Finally, Harry coughed. "Where did you, I mean. Dainty flower?"

"The book that George gave me for my birthday a few years ago? It was a Modern Guide to Slang and Sexual Euphemisms disguised as an original copy of Hogwarts: A History." She bit her lip before she sighed. "Well, I had to read it, Harry. It was a book, after all, and a present. It would have been rude not to read."

"Those are bloody awful," he said with a laugh. "God. I'm not going to call it something like that. How do blokes do this all the time? I swear the blood from my cock has rushed to my face and I've not even started to lick your, uh, you."

"Speaking of licking," she drawled as she wiggled on the bed. "Any time now, Harry."

"I don't know," he said thoughtfully as he brushed a finger delicately along her lips. "You giggled at me."

"Harry," she whined as she pressed down to try to get his finger inside her. "Stop teasing, damn it."

"Tsk, tsk." He clucked his tongue. "Such foul language. Really, Hermione, you're being such a bad girl."

She rolled her eyes behind the blindfold. A bad girl? He sounded like some wanker from a silly Muggle movie. Okay, maybe not that bad because her body seemed to rather like it but it still sounded foolish. A moan escaped her lips when she felt him lick her from arse to clit. God, he might not be able to talk dirty at all, but he definitely knew what to do with his tongue.

"You taste so good," he murmured against her cunt. "Do you feel me spreading your love blossom and sucking your sweet juices?"

"Harry!" She was caught between a laugh and a moan when he licked her again. "Stop that!"

"Stop this?" he asked in the voice he always used when he drank the last of the milk and forgot to add it to the grocery list or when he left his socks on the floor and tried to blame the cat. His tongue thrust inside her and his nose rubbed her clit. Then he pulled back. "I thought you enjoyed when I licked your dainty flower. Are you sure you want me to stop?"

"Stop using those awful names!" She laughed as she kicked at him; her foot hitting the back of his arse in warning.

"You kicked me!"

"Yes, I did."

"Bad, bad girl," he scolded before he took another lick of her cunt. The bed suddenly moved. Hermione gasped in surprise when his hands gripped her hips. She let go of the headboard and her breast, which she'd been squeezing while he teased her with his tongue, and tried to catch her balance as he raised her up.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Harry James Potter?" she demanded sharply as she found herself lying across his lap. His cock poked her tummy and her leg dangled off the bed with her foot against the rug she knew was on his side.

"Bad girls need to be spanked," he practically purred before his hand slapped her arse.

"Spanked? You let me up right this minute or I'm going to hex off your bollocks!"

"Then I'll just hide your wand until you're no longer angry," he said smugly before his palm hit her right arse cheek.

It stung, but he wasn't hitting her hard enough to actually hurt. She couldn't believe he was doing this, spanking her like some wayward child. It was humiliating! However, by the time his hand slapped her arse a fifth time, she squirmed on his lap for an entirely different reason. His hand moved between her legs, his fingers slowly thrust into her, and she whimpered as she felt his cock throb.

"You should see the cheeks of your arse, Hermione," he said softly. "They're pink and I can feel the heat against my hand right here."

He hit her again, his hand wet with her arousal, and she bucked against his lap. She bit her lip to keep from asking for more. She didn't want to admit she enjoyed this, somewhat ashamed she was aroused from being spanked.

"You-you're enjoying this, aren't you?" He sounded slightly amazed but pleased. "God, I've wanted to do this to you forever. Never did before because I was sure you'd curse me. Do you feel how hard I am? Hermione, you're so wet."

"Harry," she whined softly as she shifted again. She was tired of this stupid blindfold and wanted to see. She was also tired of his game playing and just wanted to fuck. She was about to tell him she was ready when he shifted beneath her. Her body wasn't balanced properly and she cursed as she felt herself fall. She landed on her arse and cringed as her sore bum hit the rug. "Fuck!"

"Are you okay?"

Oh, he was not laughing! She reached up and pulled the blindfold down to see her husband, the caring and gentle man she'd married, laughing until he had tears in his eyes. "You prat! This is not funny!"

"Hermione, love," Harry managed to say in between loud bursts of laughter, each one earning another scowl from her, "it actually is rather funny."

"Is not!" She stuck her tongue out at him before she moved to her feet. Her hand rubbed her arse, which was still heated from the spanking, and she looked at him with narrowed eyes.

"You're right," he said with a large grin. "It's not funny. Though you'd have been laughing your arse off if it had happened to me, you feisty little hypocrite."

"Maybe just a little," she relented before she smiled sheepishly. "Okay, fine. Point to you, Mister Potter. You do realize, of course, that it's been half an hour since I stepped through the floo and you're no closer to fucking me than you were then? You're really losing your touch in your old age, darling."

"Old age?" He snorted as his fingers moved through his thick hair. "You're older than I am, Hermione."

"Ah, I see you don't deny losing your touch, Casanova," she teased as she took a step closer to the bed. Her hand drifted up his thigh before her fingers wrapped around his cock. He'd softened during her fall but a few strokes of her hand and a few gentle rubs of her thumb to spread his pre-come had him hard again.

"I don't hear you complaining," he replied as his hand moved between her legs, his finger sliding inside. She was so wet and ready for him. The time for playing was over.

Hermione pulled the blindfold over her head and tossed it on the bed beside him. "You know. The games are fun but nothing compares to just you and me."

"Yeah," he agreed with a crooked smile as he slid two fingers into her.

"However, as you pointed out earlier, we're the only people in the house. The house we bought twelve years ago. The house that has a sitting room that we've never christened, a kitchen we've never enjoyed for, shall we say nefarious reasons, stairs that could prove quite interesting if viewed in a, uh, different light," she said thoughtfully as she stroked him.

"I've wanted to shag you on the sofa since we bought it," he told her matter-of-factly as his hips arched up into her hand. His fingers gripped her wrist to stop her. "And if you keep doing that, I'm going to come before I get to enjoy you."

Hermione leaned forward and kissed him slowly and thoroughly. When she released his lips, she winked. "Catch me if you can."

Before he could move, she pushed him back against the bed and ran out of the room. There was a moment of hesitation in leaving their bedroom naked but she heard him laugh and his footsteps behind her so she quickly overcame her uncertainty and dashed down the stairs. It was different running from him now than it had been back then.

Her breasts were bigger after three children as were her hips and belly. Her hair was shorter, a more manageable length that fell just past her shoulders where it used to fall nearly to her arse. Things jiggled that hadn't when she was in her twenties but she turned to face Harry as she reached the sofa and his gaze told her that was more than okay. He found her just as sexy now at nearly forty-one as he had when they'd shared their first kiss twenty years ago.

"What do I get when I catch you?" he asked huskily as he reached out to teasingly grab at her arm.

"Whatever you want," she whispered softly.

"You're all I want, Hermione," he murmured as he pulled her against him and kissed her. His hands pushed her hair away from her sweaty face and he simply looked at her. "You're so beautiful."

"You're not so bad yourself," she said as she moved to kneel on the sofa. She gripped the back of it and looked over her shoulder at him. "You mentioned something about the sofa and shagging?"

"Fuck," he moaned as he walked towards her, not even blushing when he said it this time. He crawled behind her, his hands gripped her hips and moved her so he could get a better angle, and then he slowly thrust into her. "Even after having our children, you're so tight, Hermione. So wet and ready for me. A perfect fit."

Hermione pressed back against him, her arse rubbed against his belly, and her breasts dangled over the back of the sofa. It was awkward, but felt so good when he slid into her that she ignored the fact that her leg might very well fall asleep before they were done. He'd teased her for so long, though, that she didn't think it would take much time for either of them.

He leaned forward and his arm went around her waist as he began to fuck her. He whispered against her ear, soft words of love and her beauty and she realized she didn't need dirty talk, not from her Harry. Everything he said aroused her because it was from his heart. He felt so good inside her, the position allowed him to go deeper, and she could feel his sweaty chest rub her back every time he shoved forward. He didn't last long. A dozen thrusts, her muscles tight around his cock, and he grunted against her neck.

She felt him spill inside her and moaned softly as she clenched her muscles. His hand left her hip and she felt his thumb rub circles against her clit as he rocked back and forth. When his teeth scraped against the sensitive part of her neck, she whimpered and let go. Her body shuddered as she came, her head fell forward and she held on to the back of the sofa as she rode out her orgasm.

When she was finished, Harry gently pulled out of her and moved them to lie on the sofa. She snuggled against him, her cheek on his chest as she panted and gasped, for once not calling for her wand to clean them. They smelled of sweat and sex, but all she did was move closer to him and brush a kiss against his collarbone. He stroked her hair as his hand rested possessively on her hip, her leg over his as she laid half on him and half on the sofa.

"I love you," he said softly. He shifted so she'd have more room before he took off his glasses and put them on the table beside the sofa.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Love you, too." She brushed a kiss against his lips before she put her head back on his chest.

"You know, there's a new bookstore that just opened up in Hogsmeade," Harry told her thoughtfully. "Maybe we should go take a look tomorrow afternoon?"

Her fingers moved over his chest and belly to draw sloppy circles and designs as she listened to him. When he mentioned the bookstore, they paused. "Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah. And, you know, while we were there, I'm sure Minerva wouldn't mind if we stop in for lunch to see the kids."

Hermione closed her eyes and felt tears on her cheeks. She couldn't even answer him. All she could do was nod her head and choke out, "I'd like that, Harry."

His fingers moved beneath her chin, and he urged her to raise her head and look at him. His thumb brushed away her tears and he smiled gently. "I miss them, too, you know? We can make a day of it, okay? Go to Hogsmeade and see the kids then maybe dinner out, just the two of us, and dancing? We've not been dancing in a long time."

"You don't like to dance," she reminded him softly.

"I know, but you do." He smiled sheepishly. "And I would for you. So what do you think?"

"I think that my husband is the most wonderful man in the world," she decided and didn't even care that she sounded soppy. She kissed him again and realized he was right. They were the perfect fit.

The End