Word Play

A/N: Takes place waaay in the future….

*~*

The last month in the Potter-Granger household had been sheer hell. Harry had been called away three times to assist in delicate negotiations over the final wording of an agreement between the five major Wizarding ministries of the IFW. For days on end he talked and wrote, cajoled and schmoozed, argued and placated. Sleeping in strange beds at strange hours, he accommodated the somewhat capricious tactics taken by the negotiators to have “spontaneous discussions” which necessitated his being on site 24/7 for long periods of time. No, Apparating to and from the castle in the backwoods of Outer Mongolia simply would be too much of an inconvenience for the negotiators, and would interrupt the spontaneity of the talks. He had spent, last time he counted, a total of six nights in his own bed.

Hermione had been caught up in a huge legal case before the Wizengamot; most nights she only had time to Apparate home to eat dinner with the children and their nanny before returning to her office and cadre of busy assistants. Some nights she was so tired, she fell asleep at her desk and an assistant had to transfigure it into a bed, a comfortable one, but a bed not her own. She felt a huge measure of guilt for not being there for her children, but she simply had to direct the research and the investigations with a firm hand in order to get the work done before the deadline imposed by a rather cranky member of the panel. Last time she thought about it, she figured she had spent only twelve nights in her own bed over the past thirty-five days. And only four of those with her husband. To make matters worse, for three of the nights she and Harry had spent together, two of their children had had the flu, and they walked the sleepless walk of parents with sick little ones. That left only one night during which they did not waste on something like sex.

They slept like the proverbial dead.

They were both bloody tired and bloody tired of not sleeping together. And they were both horny as hell. At least Harry was.

Finally released from his long-suffering work torment, he sighed as he magicked up the last of the children’s toys, books, clothing and minutiae from the lounge as he waited for Hermione’s long-over due appearance.

He heard her Apparate into the tiny, warded room off the kitchen. She entered looking radiant, yet pinched and exhausted.

“I won the case!” she exclaimed as she threw her arms around Harry’s neck. He picked her up and twirled her around.

“Knew you would. How could anyone doubt the work of the Ministry’s finest barrister?” he chortled. “Did you celebrate?”

“Yes. The minister brought in some nice champagne and dinner for us. I tried to beg off, but it was just so hard to get—“

“No need to apologize. You deserve the recognition,” Harry said, as he shushed her with a kiss. “Want anything else to eat?”

“Not really, but a cup of tea would be perfect.” Hermione sighed, pulling off her formal robes and kicking off her shoes. She dropped onto the sofa and settled in one corner, leaning back into a large pillow.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. In a few moments, Harry returned with a mug of steaming chamomile tea. He handed it to Hermione, and sat opposite her. She turned and put her feet in his lap, enjoying his warmth. Taking his cue, Harry started to massage her toes.

“Mmm..oh, that’s too good for words,” Hermione said with a smile. She relaxed further into the pillow and closed her eyes as the gentle rubbing brought instant and much appreciated relief to her aching feet.

Harry caught her up on the treaty negotiations, with her interjecting comments and questions. She told him about her case and how the judges had interpreted their arguments. Hermione’s face glowed with quiet passion as she explained how each point related to the case. He looked at her, marvelling once more at the depth of her intelligence and how much of a turn on it was. They talked about their children and how much they missed them during the month. Both vowed to take some time off soon to be with them and each other.

As their conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, Harry became more aware of her warm feet in his lap and how they were hitting him in exactly . . . the right spot. He looked at her intently and then, smiled wantonly at her. Harry pushed her feet to the side, and lazily crawled over her prone body. Giving her a small kiss, he said in his best seductive voice, “Let’s go to bed.”

“Goodness, it’s only . . .oh well, yes, about that . . . . ”

Harry nuzzled her cheek with gentle kisses. Hermione flushed slightly but could hardly look him in the eye, knowing she would have to dash his plans for their first evening at home together in weeks. “You see, well, the red tide flows . . . .”

“Oh, no!” Harry groaned dramatically as his head dropped to her shoulder. But quickly, his countenance softened. “You feeling all right?” The first day of Hermione’s monthly cycle was always the worst, leaving her feeling achy and drained.

“I’m fine, just the usual.” She paused as she tried to gauge his reaction. “I can stop it, you know.”

“Absolutely not! I won’t have you screwed up for the next six months.” He shook his head as he enfolded her in his arms. “Hermione, wizards may have advanced medical knowledge, but there are some things that just aren’t meant to be messed with. It’s not worth it. I’m a big boy and I can wait,” he smiled and kissed her neck.

Hermione could see how much he wanted—needed—to make love. She wanted him too, but tonight was just not the night.

“Come on,” she said, pulling him from the sofa. “Let’s turn in.”

*~*

As she completed her pre-bed ablutions in the lav, Hermione watched Harry climb wearily into the bed. He took off his glasses and laid them on the table, scrubbing his hands over his face and through his short, spiky hair. He picked up his wand and cast a warming charm on her side of the bed. Hermione’s eyes misted over as she watched her best friend, lover, and husband fluff her pillows and arrange them just so for her. Oh, how he cared for her. She looked down at her own flannel jammies, when a she had a wicked thought. There are more ways than one to skin a cat, she smirked to herself. And she cast her own spell.

“Hey there, lover,” she purred.

Harry looked up, surprised at his wife standing beside the bed wearing…a see-through black nighty that skimmed the tops of her thighs. Her nipples were erect against the clingy fabric; her hand trailed down her abdomen to the patch of dark hair of her pubis.

“Wow,” he whispered. “I thought you weren’t feeling well.” His eyes, unfettered by his glasses, widened.

“Actually, I’m fine,“ she whispered back as she knelt on the bed beside him. “I don’t think I’m up for actual sex tonight, but there are other ways a woman can satisfy her man…”

“And what exactly do you have in mind?” he hissed as she spread his thighs open and smoothed her hands up his body, pushing him back into the mound of pillows behind him. His eyes grew wider. “You mean you’ll go down on me?”

“Mmmm…I don’t think so, even though I love that.” She licked one nipple, raising it to a taut nub. “No, it’s so rare that I get to see your face when you’re in the throes of ecstasy. It’s either too close or it’s too dark or I’m too busy trying not to bite you. I think I’d like to watch you come,” she whispered to him in between tiny kisses to his eyes and neck and jaw.

“Oh, so you’d like to watch me wank, eh?” He laughed as he rubbed her arms and then the tips of her nipples very, very softly with the flats of his palms. He delighted in the sudden intake of her breath when he circled her breasts.

“Wank is such a…common term. It’s so teenage boy-ish,” she said. “It’s more proper to say ‘self-pleasure’, perhaps,” as she leaned back and massaged her way up his thighs. “And I see that prospect isn’t too distasteful to you, either.”

Harry grinned as his cock sprang to its full length during her wordy foreplay. “Not at all, my love. I am your willing slave and will do your bidding. Tell me, will you not assist in my pleasuring?” he slipped easily into their playful banter.

“Ah, but that’s the thing…I want to watch without having any part of it. I want to talk you into it.”

He groaned. “God, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Indeed.”

And with that, Harry cast a warming spell over the room raising the temperature instantly. He set his wand carefully on the bedside table and bid it “Lumos” so that its glow was diffused and soft. Hermione murmured “Divestia habiliments,” and Harry found himself without pyjama bottoms. She gave him an appraising look as he watched her, amused.

For a man of Harry’s age, he was still a breathtaking speciman. Though he had quit professional Quidditch long ago, he maintained a training regimen that kept his body lean and in good physical condition. His stomach was still flat and toned. A generous dusting of black hair across the chest and pectorals narrowed down to the thin trail leading to the dark thatch of pubic hair. His penis was, in Hermione’s estimation, the finest penis in all the universe, and when aroused, it was most impressive. But then again, she had exclusive rights to it and its owner. It isn’t the length or the girth that makes the man, she thought, it’s how well he uses it. And on that score, she had no complaints whatsoever.

“Take your penis in your hand, Harry,” she breathed.

Harry did as he was bidden.

“Look at me.”

How could he not? Her eyes, pools of black and brown, of love and lust, snared his and filled him with an overwhelming need to touch her, and he moved his other hand to run it along her thigh.

“Not just yet, Harry. Feel the heat of your penis. Do you feel it?” she said in a low, seductive tone. “Imagine it inside me. Do you feel my heat, Harry? Feel the softness, the wetness?” At this, she whispered “Lubricato digitus minimus” and his hand filled with a small amount of warm lubrication. “Squeeze it for me, Harry. Just like the muscles of my vagina do when you’re making love to me. Can you feel it, Harry?”

He moaned softly, “Bloody hell…” His breathing became more shallow and quick as images and remembered sensations flashed through his mind. Her warm hands on his thighs massaged in time with the one on his penis. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the incredible sensations coursing through him.

“No, Harry. Look at me.” And as he did, she untied the small bow at the bodice of her nighty. Her breasts gently came loose of the fabric and swayed with the rhythm of their bodies. In the dim wandlight, her face took on an ethereal glow.

“Mmmm, Harry. I love how it feels inside of me. It’s big and it stretches the walls as you plunge in and out of me,” she continued in a beguiling tone. “Oh, Harry, I love it when it goes deep, when you’re as deep as you can go.

“Sweet Merlin, but you’re going to kill me, love,” he breathed.

Her hair fell into her face with the quickening pace. She rose up slightly on her knees so that he could admire the length of her abdomen through the sheer gown. After the birth of their children, her body took on the gentle soft, round curves of an hourglass figure., which only made her sexier and more appealing. His need to touch her, to brand her skin with his fiery fingers was overwhelming him, though her moans told him that the time had not yet arrived. Her hips moved in concert with his, dancing the ancient motions of male and female, of passion and sex, of life and creation.

“Oh, Harry. Oh, god. Faster, Harry. Harder. Do it harder, Harry.” His hand sped up.

Hermione arched her back towards him. The straps of the nighty fell down her arms, and the light fabric fell away from her breasts and her chest, fluttering to the bed behind her. He always marveled at how beautiful and perfect her breasts were, round and full with deep rosy areolas and nipples: breasts that had nourished their babies; breasts that made her squirm in utter delight when he rubbed and pulled and squeezed.

“Oh, Harry. Harry…,” she moaned. “Go deeper. Faster!” His hand was nearly frantic, his hips undulating in short thrusts in time with hers.

Harry wanted to close his eyes for the sensations were nearly overwhelming. But her face was full of such wanton abandon, such sensual lust that he simply could not tear his eyes away.

“Oh, god! Now, Harry, now!” she hissed in quiet fierceness. “Come for me now, Harry!”

And with that command, his hips bucked upward and he climaxed with a gasp, the semen pulsing out onto his hand and stomach. The emerald eyes, still locked with hers, were wide and wild with desire and completion. “Oh god, Hermione!” He raised up from the pillows and locked his free hand around the back of her neck, pulling her to him, crushing his lips to hers, thrusting his tongue deep into her ready mouth in a needy, frantic, passionate kiss.

After their frenetic heartbeats relaxed into their normal rhythms, after he whispered a cleaning charm to take care of the stickiness on his hand and body, he pulled her into his loving embrace. They lay there for quite a while, listening to the other’s breathing and sighs.

“Are you all right?” he whispered. “You worked just as hard as I did but without any of the benefit.” He tucked her hair behind one ear as he kissed it.

“Oh, I don’t know. Nice to know I still have that effect on you after all these years,” she chuckled, raking her fingernails through the chest hairs. “I enjoyed watching you get off.” She giggled. “Did you know I saw you wanking once?”

“What?! You’ve never told me this!” His voiced raised just a notch.

“I’m sure I told you. This was too good to not tell you at some point. I guess it was just before we started our official relationship. You were in the shower one afternoon after Quidditch practice. I was in the backyard sunning myself in that bikini that you used to love.”

“The ones with the ties on the ends and not much in the back? I have very fond memories of that bikini.” He kissed her eyelids and ran a hand down her back to cup one arse cheek.

“That’s the one. You came home from practice and talked to me for a while. I think I also asked you to rub the sun block on my back,” she said as her hands rubbed up and down his arm. “You disappeared fairly quickly after that. Well, I went upstairs to get a book and I noticed that the lavatory door was open a bit, so I peeked in. You were moaning, and I was a bit concerned about you. But then I saw through the sheer shower curtain what you were on about. I swear I couldn’t move. I was so taken with the vision of you whacking off that I watched the entire thing. And when you whispered my name as you came, well, let’s just say it was a moment of feminine empowerment.” She giggled softly as he groaned into her hair.

“Oh, geez. Caught in a hormonal moment. At least it didn’t scare you off.”

“Please. I was no blushing virgin,” she dismissed as she tried and failed to stifle a yawn. “I always wanted to catch you again, but no luck.”

“Yeah, but now you can do far more fun things with me, and with my complete, total, enthusiastic consent and participation. No need to spy on me. I wank on command and at your pleasure,” he yawned and laughed at the same time, holding her tighter. Several heartbeats later, he asked, “Are you feeling all right?”

“Mmm…I took the anti-cramping potion before we got into bed. I believe it’s kicked in fully.” She snuggled closer to him.

“I owe you one.”

“You better believe I’ll collect, too.”