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Requital by msscribe
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Requital

msscribe

Requital by Msscribe

Rating: R- (edited version). Full NC17 version on www.portkey.org.

Ships: H/Hr

Type: Angst\ Romance\ Action Adventure

Summary: A story of Hermione Granger coming to terms with her greatest loss, finding her own voice and strength, and coming of age in a world battered by a never-ending war.

Disclaimer: No profits are being made off the fiction on these pages. Harry Potter, associated characters and the associated Harry Potter universe is © J. K. Rowling and respective publishers. Fanfiction is fiction-it's not meant to be taken seriously in the least.

(A/N: Danielle7, there's a line in here just for you. Nappa, that last scene was to wish you a Happy Honeymoon!)

Chapter - 8 - Encore

The still battle weary Harry, Cho and Ron revealed everything they had learned to Arthur Weasley, who for the most part, sat with his hands flat on the desk staring intently at his team of young Aurors. Arthur grew more nervous with each passing day. The Death Eater attacks were becoming more frequent, and even though they still fled from the Ministry Wizards, Dark Wizards and Witches were growing bolder and fighting longer.

"Mrs. Mills will be well protected at a ministry safe house, but there is much work to be done. I'm afraid we lost more good wizards last night in a raid in Cairo. Sirius Black and his team are currently investigating this," Arthur Weasley informed them, his voice dispirited.

"Where is Neville?" Arthur Weasley asked, looking back and forth from Ron to Harry to Cho. "You do all remember Neville? Agent Neville Longbottom?"

Ron looked towards Harry for an answer. Cho bit down nervously on her pencil and Harry began explaining their plan to get Neville hired at the nightclub. Arthur lifted one brow with marked skepticism when they informed him that Neville hadn't been in contact with them since they left the night before.

"Your team will go and make contact with him tonight. Including you Cho. We need to regroup and devise a more solid plan. You've got tonight to gather what information you can about what it is we're dealing with, and then five days research time before the club opens again. Harry, I'd like you to owl Sirius Black. He should be returning from Cairo on Monday. Your leadership is solid Harry, but my instinct tells me you might need someone with more experience to help you along this time."

Harry never minded an opportunity to work with his godfather.

"What about the book?" Harry asked.

Arthur Weasley glanced at the mountainous pile of them in the box next to his desk.

"We have every book that she had in the house. It's possible the death eaters got what they came for, and if so, God knows what they've planned. All we can do is keep our ears open. I'm going to head down to the victims lounge and see if Mrs. Mills can tell me anything, whether this is it or whether or not a book is missing."

"She will if she's related to Hermione," Ron replied, rolling his eyes.

#

"Please aunt Lois," Hermione pleaded, "Believe me when I say that being a witch doesn't mean I worship Satan…and I swear on my parents grave we are most definitely not going to sacrifice you. We need you to help us find what the people who tried to hurt you were looking for."

The elder woman still refused to listen to a word Hermione had to say.

"How dare you bring your poor parents into this! I will throw myself onto the street before I let you use me for your evil!" Lois Mills shrieked, eyeing her niece with intense fear and mistrust.

Hermione Granger sighed, trying desperately to be patient with her aunt's justifiable reaction. After all, her niece, whom she had thought was dead, was standing before her confessing to be a witch trying to explain to her why her home was nearly blown apart by dark wizards. She threw her hands up in defeat, signaling that she wouldn't come any closer.

"And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them [1] ," Lois prayed, pulling back the large green curtain and unlocking the window.

"It won't do any good to throw yourself out of that window," Hermione said, "Please sit down so that we can talk."

Hermione's hands were outstretched to her aunt, who promptly refused her gesture.

"You cannot fool me with your trickery!" Lois bellowed, now solemnly determined to throw herself to the ground.

Lois struggled to get one leg through the opening, summoning all of her courage.

"We're on the first floor aunt Lois," Hermione sighed, growing tired of her aunt's theatrics.

Harry, Ron and Cho burst into the room with Arthur Weasley right behind them. Ron was carrying the large box of books they had acquired from Lois' home.

Lois screamed at them to stay away.

"Hermione, I'll try to calm down Mrs. Mills. You will need to be briefed by Harry before tonight," Arthur Weasley said, turning bright red as Lois tossed a small plant towards his head.

"What's happening tonight?" Hermione asked, disappointed that her plans of going to bed early were now ripped to shreds.

"Looks like we're back together darling…" Cho said wrapping an arm around Hermione's waist and kissing her playfully on the mouth.

It was all too much for Lois Mills.

"Mrs. Mills…. Please wake up Mrs. Mills…" Arthur Weasley said, fanning the woman while pulling her down from the windowsill.

#

The ringmaster grew weary of this song and dance, but it was still necessary. Their temporary prison seemed so quiet now. Not a sound was heard in the normally booming club except the occasional footsteps from one of their hired thugs. Locust had finally found someone to replace the tall Italian man that had opened one too many doors.

He was the one who milked the human's anger, their lust, and their hate… even their love. He was truly her provider. Not Locust. It was he that collected the human emotions into the pool from which their leader drank. It was he that truly loved her.

It had only been a year, but Maedon grew stronger everyday. She could withstand the sunlight better, and her senses were returning to what they were before they left the underworld.

It is always an easy task to go from Earth to Hell, but not so easy to return.

Tom Riddle had opened the door for Maedon; giving her a chance to come back. In exchange, she gave him great power, powers only seen from where they had so recently risen.

It had been good when they were first on the surface three hundred years ago. They didn't have to entertain the humans. They simply had to keep them in close enough proximity so they didn't have to go far to find their next meal. These humans, even the magical ones, didn't have weapons that could destroy them. They were sheep, used for pleasure and survival. They were quite content ruling their corner of the surface world. Powerful kings were puppets, and princes became their slaves.

A betrayal cost them this enjoyable life, and despite Maedon's return, there would be a long battle to regain the power lost.

Their existence became more complicated when Tom Riddle perished, finally killed by the same human that nearly killed him once before. The dilemma he left them in cost them valuable time. The humans working for the Dark were loyal only to Tom. The ringmaster didn't want to expose Maedon so soon, but they had to let their forces know that their real leader hadn't been killed. It was through the ringmaster and her other minion, Locust Daviz that she let her voice be heard. That was a good night. The ringmaster had devoured three dark wizards before the night had ended and the rest had surrendered to them immediately based on nothing but their pathetic human fears.

Locust Daviz. He had so willingly accepted a human name. Not the ringmaster, he'd remain nameless, only to be summoned by her. His love.

Maedon wasn't ready to yet reveal from where she came, but soon she would. Soon she would be strong enough to effectively control the magical humans as well as the Muggles without any human puppets like Riddle to give their orders.

If lust was Locust's weakness, impatience was his own. The ringmaster could barely tolerate Locust, and had no patience for these games he so loved to play.

Locust was responsible for their downfall once before. He had adopted an attractive human, Nora Mills as his own personal pet. Eventually, they all learned to tolerate her smell, for they were dependent upon Locust for his ability to communicate with humans so well. When Nora Mills betrayed them, it was this gift that saved Locust from Maedon's full wrath. Maedon punished him by entrapping him in the same human flesh he craved, engulfed by its horrid scent and physical limitations for an eternity.

The only trace of how Nora Mills performed the task of returning Maedon and her servants to Hell remained in folklore and fairy tales, detailed in books written, and rewritten by her descendents, including the last by Emma Mills, the first of them to discover magic running through her veins.

The ringmaster let his hand brush the head of the python that started to whirl it's way around him, dreamily letting his tongue hiss to it about better times and a better future.

Neville couldn't understand a single word of this monologue as he stood outside of the ringmaster's door, but he recognized the language with which the man was speaking, and perhaps it was the same one a very good friend of his could understand.

#

It was starting to get late, and there were some loose strings to be tied up at Malfoy Manner. Tonight would be a perfect opportunity for Draco Malfoy to come of age.

Lucius stepped cautiously into the large bedroom, went to Draco's bed and clicked on the lamp. He almost hated to awaken the blonde boy sleeping so peacefully, blissfully unaware that he would never see his mother again alive.

Lucius thought it was the proper thing to do; after all, the boy should be able to say his goodbyes.

Ordering a drowsy Draco out of bed, Lucius waited for his son to throw on his cloak before leading him outside, down towards the catacombs. Fear rose into Draco's throat as he walked swiftly behind his father. He suddenly wished he had brought his wand, in case his father had discovered his treachery. At least he'd have a chance.

Lucius muttered a somber spell, and the solid stone door swung open. Lucius had placed Narcissa's corpse there earlier, before his visit to Club Mistress. He couldn't stand the mess. He had dressed her carefully in that blue gown that she adored so much, before laying her alongside the now mummified body of his own mother

Upon seeing her, Draco dropped to his knees and gasped at his mother, who was only hours ago, so alive and vibrant.

"There will be no service. She died by her own hand and it would cause us great embarrassment," Lucius said casually, unmoved by his son's display of emotion. "She took a knife to herself after we argued."

Draco nodded numbly, wishing he believed it.

"You will tell anyone who asks that she left us. You will speak nothing else about it, not to me, not to anyone…or you will find yourself lying next to her."

Tiny wisps of steam were rising from her body, kept warm by the walls of the tomb, now exposed to the cold night air.

"I want you to prepare for tonight. There is a meeting I'd like you to attend, and wizards I will introduce you to. It's time you stopped lounging around all day and made good use of yourself."

"Yes," was all Draco could mutter, raising now to stand beside his father. His hands were trembling, even though he fought against it.

Lucius despised signs of weakness. He grabbed Draco's arm so tightly that he could feel the boy's blood pooling around his grip. Draco clenched his teeth together, biting back the pain.

"You have a responsibility and a duty to fulfill the tasks which I assign to you. You will not bring shame on me. Pull yourself together," he snapped finally releasing his grip, "it's only death after all."

#

Hermione and Cho paused at the entrance to the nightclub, giving the patrons a good viewing. Hermione's shiny black dress fit her like a wet suit in the few places it bothered to cover. Cho's own matched hers, except in a shimmering white that, despite its color, looked anything but innocent. Hermione's nipples strained against the material managing to rise to the occasion of all the attention.

As the two approached the bar, they could feel the watery eyes of flaccid, red-cheeked men gazing longingly at them. Among this sea of beautiful women coiffed to perfection, they still stood out.

Ron and Harry, once again, were treated to their grand entrance. Being unsuccessful at finding Neville, they resigned themselves to that same corner table. Ron had been talking to an attractive brunette woman, who shot condescending arrows of disgust towards Hermione and Cho.

Cho enjoyed this reaction immensely. Ron's lustful stares made her feel powerful, and Harry's uneasiness at watching her hand running through Hermione's hair excited her.

Rising out of the middle of the dance floor, the pulsing lights of Club Mistress seemed brighter then they were before. They hoped that the fact that they had come prepared with counter-potions would make them less vulnerable to whatever magic filled the air between those walls.

The music was so loud tonight that Cho's voice was almost inaudible, even though she stood next to Hermione, stroking her pretend lover.

It didn't take long for Locust to spot them, her pale outrageousness next to Cho's dark sensuality. She and Cho strode across the room to the secluded corner where he stood watching them.

Cho let her body brush full against his. Hermione let her hand trace his fat repulsive face, swallowing back the urge to vomit. Locust felt too cold, like he wasn't alive. He didn't notice her loathing. He was lost…helpless… theirs.

Hermione knew that it was only a matter of time before they had to go back into that dark, dirty and cavernous tunnel towards the back room. Relief flooded her when Locust motioned to someone in the corner.

Neville.

#

When Ginny Weasley opened her eyes, Draco Malfoy stood over her.

"Narcissa is dead. I'm going to have to run… he'll figure it out soon," he said, sounding strangely distant.

He kissed her. Her ginger lips tasted sweet on his tongue. She opened her mouth wider. When she sat up to embrace him, her hands slipped behind his neck, bringing his head to rest on her shoulder. Comforting him. He breathed her in for a while, struggling with his thoughts.

Draco let his hands fall to Ginny's back. She skipped a breath.

A tiny freckle marked the onset of her cleavage. He caressed it, and moved his hand, cupping her.

She gazed at him, anxious and interrogating, but remained silent. His hands slipped beneath the thin fabric of her nightshirt. She didn't find it strange that he would want her now… that he would need to meld with something warm.

He pulled the garment down her shoulders, and she sat before him, wantonly on display. He drank in her exquisite vision. The color of her nipples were a pale pink, blending with the overall pallor of her body. He was detailing every facet of her features, the way her nose turned slightly upwards, and the way her fiery red hair fell against her face.

She was still, her eyes piercing through him, her sadness touching him in parts he didn't know he had.

His mouth moved to taste hers again. Her watery eyes remained open.

She's shedding my tears for me, he thought. It touched him intensely.

Draco fell on her, moaning and crying into her skin.

#

The red light of the back room gave it a surreal, dangerous quality. Hermione and Cho sat with Locust and Neville at the center of that strange universe.

Cho was next to Locust on the threadbare sofa in the back; one leg sprawled across his lap, snaking down between his legs. Hermione sat on Neville's knee, letting her head press against his chest, getting close enough to exchange desperately needed information.

"We need to get Harry back here somehow," Neville whispered to her, smiling as he put his arm around her hip, "Perhaps we can do a switch."

"Why Harry specifically?" Hermione asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"How about you and I head somewhere private before the show starts beautiful? We've got an hour…" Neville said loud enough so Locust could hear him. The round man passed him a knowing glance and nodded his approval, wanting to be more alone with the exotic beauty he knew as Rasa.

Hermione planted a kiss on Neville's lips. Neville flushed red, even at this charade, as he took her hand and led her to a dirty rest area near the ringmaster's office.

"Do you have any polyjuice potion?" he asked staring at her small purse.

"Just what's in the Auror kit…it's the three hour concentrate," Hermione said, glad that she hadn't listened when Cho said the kits were just dead weight, "But you never answered me… why Harry?"

"I heard the ringmaster speaking in parseltounge," Neville said, growing more anxious as he glanced at the clock.

She handed him a tiny vial and he turned to leave.

"No, wait," she said smearing some of her lipstick on his shirt and tousling her hair a bit.

"We have to make it look good," she said putting her arm through his before they walked out.

#

Harry and Ron were sitting at the bar; experiencing déjà vu, as they waited patiently for their companions.

"Wonder if they play cards back there," Ron pondered out loud, glancing towards the door they had disappeared through.

Harry wasn't paying attention. He was paying attention to the man who had just come through it a moment ago.

"Neville. Good to see you again," he said as the large man sat next to them.

Ron smiled.

"Knew you'd still be kicking around back there."

Neville smiled back at the red head.

Harry's eyes focused in on the lipstick on Neville's face and shirt.

"You got a chance to talk to the girls I see," Harry said, his voice going flat.

Neville didn't blink.

"We don't have much time. You and I need to go in the back. We need to exchange faces. Meet me in the men's room in five minutes."

Ron and Harry understood. Ron ordered another drink. More waiting around for him, so he may as well enjoy the calm while it lasted.

#

"Had to take a leak…where are the girls?" Harry said, still not used to being Neville, to the big burly man whose name was Ivan.

Ivan stood standing at the entrance to the back room, taking in the scenery, waving playfully at a short blonde woman who was losing badly in a card game. Ivan finished the drink he was milking and passed him a sly glance.

"Was that whore a nice lay?" he asked crudely.

Harry gritted his teeth and forced a macho smirk. Ivan slapped him on the back.

"These guys are weirdoes, but they pay well… and the ass is plentiful. You wouldn't mind if I gave her a whirl would you?" he slurred, leering at Hermione.

"Maybe next weekend. She's mine tonight though," Harry replied.

Christ, what a lowlife, Harry thought, I need to remind myself to find him after this is all over and hex him into the next millennium.

Ivan nodded, shrugging his shoulders as if it were no big deal.

Hermione strolled over to the two men, looking into Neville's eyes.

Harry forced himself not to stare at her too long. He certainly didn't want to have a reaction while in Neville's body.

Neville's eyes were the same, the expression was not.

Harry, she thought, taking his hand and leading him towards the blackjack table.

"The shows about to start," she whispered to Harry, sitting down on his lap as the lights dipped lower and the crowd began to cheer.

It was different tonight, she thought, as quiet music began to play and Locust began to dance around a ring of fire. Cho was seated beside them, watching as Muggles around them began to laugh uncontrollably.

A fight broke out between two men at the bar and the flames rose higher. The ringmaster grew more excited.

"Little slut! I saw you staring at him!" a woman screamed at Cho, lunging at her with a wine goblet. Cho threw her to the ground and restrained her.

There was chaos again. The ringmaster stood spraying small explosions over their heads.

Harry could hear him. He could understand the ringmaster. Neville was right.

Give us your hate mortal vermin; feed our goddess, feed our beloved, and she will rule you. Give us your souls…

"We don't pay you to sit and stare, I need you to take care of something," Locust spat at Harry pointing him towards a small office in the back.

Harry nodded and quickly looked back at Hermione and Cho, struggling to fight off the spells that didn't seem to affect him.

Harry walked in behind Locust and immediately noticed an Asian man slumped in a chair. His eyes were blissfully glazed over, lifeless.

"He owed us money and he's already dead. Here is the key… take the body to the locked room. I'll only warn you once not to linger too long," Locust said.

It's time to feed her, hissed the ringmaster in parseltounge towards Locust.

It will be done, Locust hissed back.

Harry held his breath and lifted the man from the chair, dragging him towards the hallway. He groaned with disgust at their callousness.

At first he wondered which room it was, but as the stench grew stronger, it became obvious. When he reached the door he let the body fall to the ground, silently apologizing to the deceased man. He unlocked it and opened the door slowly, almost passing out from the odor. He pulled the cadaver through and looked around the dark room. He could see nothing, but he felt something. Something darted behind a large chair in the middle of the room. It didn't come into the light that the door was letting in. It was hissing and clamoring as if it were whispering urgently to itself.

Harry backed out of the room, deciding to heed Locust's advice and not meet the creature he was feeding. He locked the door behind him. Harry's knees buckled at the sound of tearing flesh as he walked towards the main room again, to finish the show.

He was surprised to find that the room's continuous hum of voices had gone nearly silent, replaced by quiet sobs…and even more surprised to find Hermione being pulled into a corner by a short man with sharp features, his arm wrapped possessively around her. Hermione struggled against him some, but seemed lost in the fog along with everyone else in the room.

Harry walked swiftly towards them.

"This lady is with me," Harry said, grabbing her arm and suddenly grateful for Neville's intimidating build.

The man let go of her and walked off towards another table, unconcerned, weepy eyed.

Hermione's eyes were red with tears. A dark purple cloud was swirling above their heads. Harry could feel the intensity. The counter - potions hadn't worked on Hermione.

"Where is Cho?" Harry asked, searching the room while practically carrying Hermione.

Hermione tried to shake the feelings racing through her. It was like a tornado of emotions swirling around inside. She was angry, sad, and confused.

Harry found Cho sitting in a corner by herself sobbing loudly. Harry pulled her to her feet.

Locust had joined the Ringmaster again, and it looked as if they were about to end the show. It was the perfect time to flee, when they couldn't interrupt the frenzy to stop him. Harry started to pull the girls towards the exit. Ivan was still standing there.

"I'm taking these two outside. Be right back," Harry said.

Ivan was too caught up in his own sorrow to care, nodding quickly as the three disappeared into the tunnel.

When they reached the other side, Harry motioned to Ron who came over to help with the girls, still intoxicated by the foreign magic. Hermione was the most affected, clinging to the door as Harry pulled her away.

Harry was momentarily startled to see himself standing beside Ron. He could never get used to that.

"We need to get out of here. I'll owl Sirius tonight," Harry declared.

#

Neville, Hermione and Cho sat, two hours later, in Harry and Ron's apartment trying frantically to put together everything that they knew thus far. Fortunately, Neville and Harry had managed to make it back with time enough to switch clothes again. Neville had some real concerns about how tight Harry's pants would fit on him if they hadn't.

They knew some things for certain; Harry was unaffected by their magic, the two leaders spoke parseltounge, and they were apparently feeding people to a creature both Neville and Harry had heard, but had never seen. They still couldn't understand what that had to do with a book that Hermione's aunt possessed.

"Well, we know that their magic forces people to feel all of these things. No potion we took worked to overpower them, although we seemed better off then the Muggles. At least we knew we were under a spell," Hermione said, suddenly conscious of how little she had on as Harry's eyes strained not to linger too long.

"You know we can't go back now, especially after being seen with Neville," Cho said, sounding vaguely disappointed.

Ron nodded in agreement, opening a bag of crisps.

"I'm not sure that we need to just yet. I think the first thing we need to do is try to figure out what this thing is," Harry said, putting his head between his hands.

Cho threw her legs onto Ron's lap, stretching out. He didn't seem to mind her intrusion.

"Maybe this thing is some sort of a Demon. And maybe that book can kill it, so it needs it," she muttered, stealing a crisp from Ron.

They stopped and stared at her. Hermione thought that Harry looked like he had been hit in the head with an anvil.

"What? Jesus, hadn't the thought occurred to anyone else? Not exactly rocket science is it? Snakes, magic not belonging to Wizards, eating people… Sounds like a Bloody Demon to me," she continued, now popping the crisp in her mouth.

"Demons are just myth. They don't actually exist," Harry said, trying to hide his own doubt.

Cho yawned, and stretched her arms above her head. Hermione, Neville, and Ron were frozen, still thinking about the unthinkable.

"Well, according to most humans…neither do witches and wizards," Cho said finally.

Neville broke the contemplative silence that followed.

"I'm leaving before we pull out the Ouija board. We're all too tired to be rational tonight. I'll see you in the morning," he said reaching for his coat wondering if his girlfriend Danielle would still be awake. If so, she was probably pretty pissed off.

Cho stood and grabbed her coat as well.

"I'm going too, this dress is making me itch," Cho said, scratching at her stomach.

So take it off, Ron thought, letting his eyes trace her curves for the millionth time that night.

When Hermione stood to gather her things, Cho snatched Hermione's coat away.

"Oh no! You two need to talk… so hand me the keys," she began, throwing her head back to look at Harry.

Hermione knew better then to argue. She gave up her car keys without a struggle.

Cho pulled Ron's coat from the rack and tossed it at him.

"It's your lucky night red head. I'm going to let you drive me home, and if your play nice, you might get to stay."

That was good enough for Ron. Without a word, he was out the door following her like a brand new puppy.

#

Lucius looked his best. He had the house elves fetch the finest dress robes for himself and his son. They had to meet with his loyal circle tonight, and Lucius was going to allow Draco to take his place next to his father.

Do a little bonding, if you will. His lips curled up at the thought.

When he rounded the corner to Draco's room, he was surprised to find his son's bed empty, neatly made up. Draco's cloak was gone, his wand missing.

Lucius had the unsettling feeling that his son wasn't simply out for an evening walk. He threw his fist onto Draco's desk, shattering the lamp that illuminated the now vacant room.

#

Harry and Hermione were alone. They were best friends. Had been for years and years. From the moment they first met, they shared an intimacy and trust that went deeper than anything they knew with anyone else, including people they had dated. People they had thought they loved. They had somehow been fortunate enough as friends to experience that rare and precious gift of complete accord. They could sit for hours on end, holding hands, speaking or not speaking, attuned to a communication which could go from words to silence and back to words without an interruption in the flow of thought. Unaware of themselves, they sometimes struck suggestive postures, getting lost in each other's eyes, their fingers intertwined, sighing openly.

It made sense somehow, but Hermione wasn't sure if she was capable of formulating and articulating the nuances of their current situation, having made love the night before, and finding themselves alone again now.

"So…" was all she managed.

Harry felt a quick impulse to go back to discussing the day's events, but stifled it. They sat silent for a moment, before Hermione decided to walk into the kitchen to grab a beer, hoping it would loosen her tongue. Before Harry even realized what he was doing, he moved towards her, stepping up behind her.

She wasn't completely surprised. She had felt him coming closer.

He put his hands on her shoulders.

She relaxed and leaned against him.

"You were right, Hermione," he said, pulling her hair aside and kissing her neck, sweeping his lips over her smooth sweet skin, "You aren't my sister."

She sighed but said nothing.

He kissed her ear, his breath getting heavier. She seemed to melt back into him. She tried to turn around, wanting to feel his mouth on hers. He denied her, pressing his lips instead onto the supple flesh of her neck again, feeling one of her arteries beginning to throb faster, and faster still.

She turned to face him.

He was growing hard so quickly he was beginning to ache.

Feeling his arousal, she pressed her body closer to his and his hands moved over her breasts in tranquil exploration.

They kissed.

The kiss was slow and long, and when they broke apart only to breathe, their eyes met. Hers were more vivid, more alive then he'd ever seen them. No one had ever felt so warm to him.

He followed her from the kitchen into his bedroom. He wished he'd cleaned up a bit, but she hardly seemed to notice.

She was laying on his bed now, her thighs trembling, her beautiful breasts heaving, and her face a mask of joyful anguish.

Harry began to undress her, peeling away the whorish dress, revealing her. She looked like she was made of sugar and cream. He let himself taste her again, darting his tongue between her lips.

She undressed him, allowing him to look at her fully, as she removed his jumper, then his trousers. He helped her complete this task, pulling down his boxers.

She was seeing him for the second time. She reached out to touch him, letting her hand wrap around his erection, looking at him, touching him, and moving her mouth closer to him.

Harry closed his eyes. Quidditch, Dumbledore's Wart, Snape, was his mantra as he fought back the surge of excitement that ripped through him when Hermione's lips wrapped around his penis. She was uneasy at first, and then quickly grew bolder taking him further into her mouth.

Her lips were slick and fluent on his skin.

He wanted to return the favor. He pulled away from her, shifting her knees apart, diving down to swallow her. When she sucked in her breath, Harry knew he had found her clit. She stiffened each time his tongue brushed across it, and every time he felt her shudder, his resolve quickened.

Harry had to be inside of her. He moved up, looking down at her exhilarated face before pushing himself between her legs and entering her, saying her name with a small gasp of wonder, engulfed in her heat.

They fell into a quick, satisfying rhythm on the softly squeaking mattress beneath them, until they both came with a tremendous shudder, tearing at flesh, panting, and finally clinging to one another, lulled into a dreamless sleep by the sound of their slowing breath.


[1] Ephesians 5 - King James Version of the Holy Bible