Chapter Text
Friday, January 14, 2011
“Hermione will have an opinion,” Ginny said wryly, pulling Hermione out of a firewhisky-induced reverie; the third one had gone down rather nicely. She brought her attention back to the Three Broomsticks, where the Ministry Monthly Mixer was in full swing. Ostensibly, this was a networking event, but as 95% of the Ministry’s employees had gone to school together or with each other’s family members, it was mostly just a way to run into your friends without planning ahead, if you dared risk seeing all of your exes.
It was also a way to end up drunkenly knocking boots with someone who worked in another unit, which was clearly not a consequence that the Intra-Ministry Wizard Relations Department had considered in advance.
But she was drifting off into her own thoughts again.
“An opinion on what?” Hermione asked, glancing up at Lavender and Parvati, who were gathered around the small table with them. In her extensive work with Lavender on cases that involved both the Department for Magical Creature Relations, as it was now called, where Hermione was Department Head, and the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, where Lavender was Deputy Director, Hermione had found Lavender to be impressively competent and refreshingly tolerable despite years of being a trying roommate. She was, in fact, rather pleasant most of the time, though she did get a bit silly a few drinks in.
“More an opinion on who,” Parvati supplied with a leer.
“On who I ought to pull tonight.” Lavender’s eyes glinted, as though she were trying to convey how very naughty she was. Her divorce from Michael Corner had just been finalized, which was what she had been talking about when Hermione had glazed over. “I do want someone who will throw me around a bit. Really dominate me. So I was thinking…” she cast her eyes scandalously to the corner of the pub, where Malfoy was leaning against the wall, louche and laconic, nursing what was sure to be a very expensive aged firewhisky and ignoring whatever Percy Weasley was saying to him. “Maybe I’ll aim for Draaaco.”
It was common knowledge that he and Astoria had… an arrangement.
“You might do better with Neville,” Hermione said pensively, shocking everyone but Ginny, “If what you want is to be dominated, that is. Granted, you’ll have to ask him for it directly. If you make it very clear that that’s explicitly what you want, he’d be perfect for what you’re looking for.”
“Neville!?” Lavender’s face puckered skeptically. “But don’t you think Draaaco would be more likely to, oh, shove me against a wall and use me? We all know he’s the Slytherin Sex God, after all.” Pansy’s rather elaborate tales of Draco’s Certain Qualities had made it even to Gryffindor Tower their sixth year.
Hermione scoffed. “Oh please. Sure, Draco will definitely push you into furniture and pin your wrists to the wall, but when all is said and done, he mostly just wants to get very whiny whilst you fuck him up the ass with a charmed strap-on and make him feel bad about himself.”
Oblivious to Parvati’s open jaw and Lavender’s sidelong glance towards Ginny, who was smirking knowingly, Hermione plowed on unperturbed, exactly as though she were explaining a difficult arithmancy problem.
“Don’t get me wrong, that’s verrry fun, especially the first few times. But he’s really just... much more submissive in bed, when it comes right down to it, and it doesn’t sound like that’s what you’re looking for.” She paused thoughtfully. “And all of that Sex God stuff was pure rubbish, he was a virgin until he was nearly 19."
Hermione squinted analytically, her audience rapt. “Not that that’s any measure of skill, mind, as he really is excellent in bed, surprisingly generous, but the rumors around Hogwarts were completely false, so their content is nothing to go on. If you do want to get him into bed, though, he’ll go completely wobbly in the knees if you boss him around.”
Lavender took a large swig of her white wine. Parvati called for another round, then turned her fascinated gaze back to Hermione.
“Neville, however...” Hermione gestured vaguely at where he was chatting amiably with Harry at the bar, sipping a butterbeer. “I wouldn’t say he’s exactly a dom, I don’t really think he’s deep into BDSM, but when encouraged, he has a very natural tendency towards sexual dominance that is incredibly effective, really. If you walked up to him and said, ‘I want you to take me home, push me up against the wall, and have your way with me,’ that should be enough to get the ball rolling.”
A knowing smile flickered across her face before she pulled it back, then bit her lip seriously, considering. “Plus his cock is truly unrivaled,” she added, as though it were a simple statement of objective fact.
Lavender choked around her bite of pumpkin pasty, spitting it into a napkin. Parvati cackled and leaned forward with obvious delight.
“Not again with Neville’s fabulous cock,” Ginny groaned, rolling her eyes.
Hermione bristled. “It’s no slight to Harry, Ginny, I’m sure he’s perfectly adequate, but there’s simply no comparing-”
“Excuse me for not wanting to hear a detailed description of my childhood friend’s genitalia for the 20th time-”
“You didn’t seem to mind hearing about Malfoy’s cock, in fact, I believe you had follow-up questions -”
“Well, I don’t have to play Exploding Snap with Malfoy every Sunday and call him Uncle Neville whilst my children climb all over him-”
Parvati, who’d been surveying them archly, cut in. “Hermione, how the hell do you know all this?”
Hermione flashed her a toothy grin and took a sip of her whiskey.
Ginny was still irritated at Hermione for bringing Neville’s cock, not to mention Harry’s, into it. “She’s only been shagging both of them since her eighth year,” she muttered.
“Hermione’s shagged Malfoy?!” Lavender hissed in disbelief, as though Hermione’s play-by-play accounts of his sexual preferences had not been enough to persuade her of the possibility.
“That’s hardly fair,” Hermione huffed at Ginny, “First of all, it’s been more off than on with both of them for ages now, and you know I gave it up with Draco two years ago. And I barely sleep with Neville anymore. You’re the one who told me I needed to stop!”
“When you say both of them,” Parvati pressed with evident glee, “surely you don’t mean at once?! ”
“Oh no, definitely not,” Hermione assured her, “Neville would never agree to a threesome with Draco. It’s a shame though, as I’m sure Draco would quite like it. And I certainly wouldn’t turn it down.” She was staring off in Neville’s direction quite dreamily, admiring the broad planes of his back through his green cardigan. Feeling her gaze, he turned, and when he caught her looking at him, his face lit up with a sincere grin as he hoisted his butterbeer in her direction.
“You do need to stop,” Ginny said. “Completely. He’s clearly head over heels for you. It’s not kind.”
“Oh, pish, he is not.” Hermione smiled sweetly back at him and waved.
“Merlin’s pants, he’s coming over here!” Parvati hissed.
“Please not tonight.” Ginny winced, side-eyeing Hermione knowingly. “He’s joining us for brunch tomorrow and I can’t bear it.”
“How do I look?” Lavender peered around the table searchingly, fluffing her hair.
“Alright, Neville?” Hermione beamed up at him, and if her smile was slightly suggestive, well, she was rather deep in her cups.
“Alright, Hermione!” He nodded at each of them in greeting. “What are you lot up to?”
“Lavender’s looking to pull,” Ginny said, rather cruelly.
She really would have done well in Slytherin.
“That so? Any contenders?” Neville shot a friendly smile at Lavender.
She shook her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “No, not really,” she murmured from underneath her eyelashes. “Can you think of anyone?” She locked eyes with him, her meaning crystal clear.
“Actually, yeah,” Neville said easily, effortlessly deflecting her advances. “I don’t know if you’re interested in anything serious, but I’ve been meaning to introduce you to a bloke I work with.”
He gestured to where Professor McGonagall was looking rather unbuttoned, laughing amiably with a very handsome dark-haired wizard with a charming smile. “Luca Lazuli, he’s in his second year teaching DADA, which should be enough to recommend him.” Neville smiled good-naturedly. “Even Minnie likes him. I think you’d get on.”
“Oh, well,” Lavender considered, baffled. She seemed to gather herself. “Erm, sure. Why not?” Mustering a dazzling little smile, she stood up and followed Neville, casting a suggestive eyebrow waggle back at Parvati.
“Well, I do hope Luca likes it rough,” Parvati said, throwing back the half-glass of chardonnay that Lavender had left at the table.
“Remember,” Hermione cautioned, coming back to reality, “tonight, and I do mean all of it, is completely off the record.” Parvati was the editor-in-chief of Witch Weekly.
Parvati shook her head in amusement. “Honestly Hermione, you know I sign that sodding agreement of yours every time we have drinks. Do you think I fancy ending up with boils all over my face?” She sighed, laughing. “Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have some business to attend to.” Hermione and Ginny glanced after her as she strode directly to the corner where Malfoy was lounging.
Ginny sighed. “Well, I reckoned that would be a bit of fun, but you can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”
Hermione sniffed. “You’re just mad that I brought up Neville’s cock. And I’ve told you a hundred times, there’s no shame in openly and honestly discussing sex!" Hermione, back in lecture mode, gestured indignantly with her whiskey. “We all have urges and preferences, and it’s perfectly natural and healthy.”
Ginny shook her head, smiling ruefully. “I don’t disagree, Hermione, but for someone so brilliant, you are remarkably thick about certain things. I thought you’d tell a vague story or two to scandalize them, not give them an instruction manual and an action plan.”
“Then even after all these years, you don’t know me very well.” Hermione grinned as she surveyed the room. Lavender was perched coyly on a barstool as Luca kissed her knuckles, and McGonagall had moved on to a conversation with Ron that she could only assume was about Quidditch. In the shadowed corner, Parvati was whispering something in Malfoy’s ear. From across the crowded pub, Harry was mouthing at Ginny and making a series of hand gestures that Hermione suspected to be some kind of couple code for “Can I do one more shot with Shacklebolt or do we have to get back to the babysitter?”
And there was Neville, standing alone at the bar, waiting to order.
One more time couldn’t hurt.
“I’d better be off,” Hermione said breezily, gathering her things and bending down to kiss Ginny on the cheek, “as it looks like Neville is in need of a nightcap. See you at brunch tomorrow.”
Ginny blew out a defeated breath, simultaneously fond and put upon. “Be good,” she grumbled.
Hermione wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a warning, and frankly, she wasn’t sure she cared.
“No promises,” she offered cheekily, and made her way to the bar.
Neville was reckoning he’d have one more butterbeer, then pack it in. Just as he was about to order, Hermione strode up to him, illuminated with the tipsy confidence that he had come to associate with a strong likelihood that they were going to fuck.
“Nightcap at mine?” she asked, touching his shoulder gently. It was innocent enough, but he felt a jolt of electricity ripple through him at her touch.
“Sounds good to me.” Neville flashed her a rather searing smile, then collected his peacoat and offered her his arm.
As they stepped out into the chill air of Diagon Alley, Hermione stood on her toes to whisper in his ear. “I want you to take me home. Push me up against the wall. Fuck me hard. And make me beg to come, over and over again.” Ever the proactive pragmatist, she paused to cast a contraceptive spell. “Same agreements as last time,” she added after a moment, “if that still works well for you.”
“That kind of night, is it?” he breathed huskily as he pulled back to examine her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her lovely brown eyes were dark with desire. “Same safeword as usual?” He brought his mouth low so his words ghosted over her ear.
“Yes,” she said with a shiver, “Yes, please.” That was all he needed to hear; he pulled her into his arms and Apparated them to hers.
“Yes, Neville, mmmph, harder,” Hermione moaned, her back arching helplessly as Neville drove his perfect cock into her wet cunt. After a brief stint against the wall, he had laid her out on the kitchen counter, the cold tile pressing into her back.
He really was fit, she thought, admiring his greenhouse-toned arms and lightly furred chest. Her ankles were slung over his shoulders, and he was slamming into her at a punishing pace, hitting her g-spot with every single thrust. That was part of what made his cock perfect, she mused: he was long and girthy, with just the right curve. She’d never had anything else inside her that fit half so well, and not for lack of trying. “More!” she cried, “Faster! Make me come!”
“Pushy, are we?” he whispered teasingly in her ear, slowing almost completely as she groaned in complaint. With the flat of his hand, he smacked her ass, smiling when she mewled, then brought his thumb to her clit and stroked across it lazily. He looked into her eyes with a challenging smile. “You want to come, eh? Already?”
“I want to come! Please make me come!” Hermione cried, casting her eyes about wildly as she tried to buck into him. He chuckled a little, holding her hips down.
“You really need it? How badly?” he asked darkly, pinching her nipple hard with his free hand. It was incredibly sexy, and also a little unnerving, the way his eyes never left her face.
“Yesss, just like tha-” She lost her words abruptly, seized by a moan. “So badly,” she admitted, knocking over a jar of spatulas with a sprawling arm and beginning to whine. “Please, Neville, I need to come around your cock. I need it so badly. Please make me come.”
He pulled out almost completely and held a moment, smiling down as she squirmed, her eyes flashing mutinously, before he thrust all the way back into her, picking up his previous pace as she shuddered uncontrollably. He leaned over her, and his bare chest, slick with sweat, brushed her breasts enticingly as he dragged his teeth across her earlobe. “You want to come, eh?” He plucked her nipple between his fingers and rolled it, the hot heel of his hand resting on her breast. “Come for me now,” he commanded, lowering his lips to her neck and rubbing two fingers over her clit fast and hard while his other hand twisted her nipple.
Hermione immediately cried out and clenched around him as she came, tossing her head back and closing her eyes. She quivered uncontrollably, her whole body convulsing around him as he stilled his hand and slowed down. As another wave of pleasure rolled through her, she opened her eyes to find him staring down at her reverently, and she met his gaze, her face wild with a kind of undone euphoria.
The arm he had been leaning on started shaking, and he lowered himself over her, pressing his forehead to hers and then kissing her as she moaned into his mouth. They were both slick with sweat - she was starting to slide off the counter - but somehow that only made it hotter.
After she had ridden out her release, he hoisted her up, his cock still inside of her, and carried her to the bed. Laying her down, he fucked her through a second orgasm before he came, shuddering out her name as he bit into her shoulder, leaving little tooth marks.
He lingered within her for a moment, dropping his mouth down to hers for a long, sensuous kiss. She brushed her tongue against his and ran her fingers through his hair. Then Neville withdrew from her, still half-hard, and kissed his way down her stomach. “You remember how this works, love.” His gravelly voice was gentle but firm. “You’re going to want to come again, but you need to hold back. Until I give you permission. Understood?”
“Yesss,” she answered, eyes still glazed in pleasure.
“Fuck, Hermione, you’re gorgeous,” Neville moaned from between her legs. He drew his tongue up along her opening, licking up their mingled come. He flicked his tongue lazily at her clit. She was so sensitive that she shuddered and gave a little yelp of both pleasure and protest. “I love the way you look with my come spilling out of you. Gods, you’re wet.” He buried his face in her cunt, the bridge of his nose hitting her clit in a way that drove her spare in the best possible way.
“Wet for you,” she moaned, hungry for more, and reached down to grasp his hand, which was resting on her hip. She wrapped her fingers around his middle and index fingers, and, drawing them to her cunt, forcefully guided his fingers directly into her, canting them up so they hit her g-spot.
“Nope,” he said, chuckling, and withdrew his fingers as she groaned in disappointment. “I’m in charge tonight. That’s still what you want, yeah?”
“Yes,” she said softly. And it was what she wanted, very badly. But she also wanted to push him a little bit. Make him wrest control from her.
Grinning, he struck her left ass cheek with an open palm, then rubbed it gently and slapped it again. He nipped at her inner thigh, making her squeal. Only then, slowly, did he return to licking up her cunt in long slow drags then circling her clit until she wasn’t sure she could take it anymore. Finally, he took the same two fingers and pushed them all the way into her, fucking her with them fast and hard so that they directly hit the spongy tissue at the front of her pelvic floor at every pass.
As she began to pant and moan, he started rubbing her clit in small circles with his other hand. He was gazing up at her, his face reverent and self-assured.
“Pinch both of your nipples,” he told her, “hard.” Through the window, moonlight illuminated the scars on his damp cheek, and she liked what she saw in him tonight.
She brought her hands to her hard nipples just as he directed, feeling herself on the very brink as she tugged on them. “I think I need to… Please… I’m going to…”
“Not yet,” he said, rubbing her clit harder and adding a third finger to her cunt. “You have to hold back for me a little bit longer. And keep pinching.”
“I’m holding back for you,” she gritted out, glancing at him desperately. She bit her lip and resisted her orgasm by stilling her body, which was on the very verge of spasm.
“Do you need to come?” Neville asked, rubbing her clit hard. There was something a little mean about the way he asked it, which, coming from someone as provenly decent as Neville, was somehow unbelievably attractive.
“Please,” she begged, starting to fall apart completely. Her face was frantic and ecstatic; she was at the edge of what she could take, in the best possible way, and it felt so amazing to let herself go completely with someone that she knew she could trust.
“Please. I can’t hold back much longer, please Neville, please, I need to come, I need to, please can I come? Please, I need you, please will you let me come for you? Please please please?”
Neville looked… well, pleased with her, and pulled his hand back. “All right. You can come for me,” he bid her in a low voice, “right now.” He slapped her clit very lightly then sucked it into his mouth, ever-so-gently scraping his teeth with it as he abruptly pulled his fingers out of her.
“Neville!” she screamed out in abandon as she flailed into an extremely intense orgasm, pulling his hair and bucking her hips into his face wildly as he continued to suck on her clit. The bed squeaked violently and poor old Crookshanks yowled from where he was locked in the bathroom. Hermione was lost to it all, shattering in ecstasy.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she chanted, almost crying with relief, as she squirted all over his face.
Neville eagerly lapped up as much of her come as he could, casting a quick Tergio to stop the rest of it from seeping into the bed. He knew that she hated rolling into a cold wet spot when she slept, and she appreciated that always he remembered that.
Hermione had collapsed back into the pillows, and Neville moved over her with slow grace, drawing one of her nipples into his mouth, then pulling away from it with a hard pop as he worked his way back up to her mouth. When he kissed her again, his lips and tongue tender on her mouth, she could taste her own cunt on him, and she’d never been able to figure out why exactly that turned her on, but they both knew enough by now to know that it definitely did.
“All right?” he asked, eyes searching hers.
“So good,” she confirmed, smiling at him broadly before burying her face in his neck.
“You got one more in you?”
Hermione scoffed, shooting him a look which roughly translated to, How little must you think of me?
“Of course!” She massaged his firm ass with one hand while the other played with the baby hairs at the base of his neck. “At least. ”
He dropped a cheeky kiss on her nose. “On your hands and knees, then.”
Hermione crawled into position and took a deep, contented breath, happy to surrender to him for another orgasm. And then another. And then, perhaps, just one more.
When they were both fully sated and breathing slowly, Neville padded away from the bed and released Crookshanks from the bathroom (Neville refused to feel too bad about it; that old half-kneazle knew what he had done last time). He returned to the bedroom levitating a tray behind him and handed Hermione a glass of water, which she drank deeply of. Then, he spooned up behind her, casting cleaning spells while holding her to make them both more comfortable. He loved the way she reflexively nestled comfortably into his touch. He had pulled the blanket up around her to make sure she was cozy and was about to apply bruise removal paste to the bite mark on her shoulder when she stopped him.
“Leave it,” she said.
“Yeah?” he asked, uncertain. She’d never had him leave a mark before.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she murmured, and he knew it was a small thing, but for some reason it made his heart leap.
Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea for him to keep sleeping with her like this every few months when he’d really like… considerably more. But he found it very tempting to have even this much of her, and if it was available to him, he was going to take it. Though it was possible Ginny was right, with all of her advice about boundaries.
Finally, their naked bodies tangled together under the companionable cover of deep night, they fell asleep.
Neville came to in the small hours to feel Hermione writhing against him. He realized through a haze that they must have started kissing in their sleep. “Awake?” he asked blearily.
Her eyes wide open now, she nodded and grinned at him. It almost seemed a dream to him when she climbed on top of him, and, under the earliest tendrils of dark grey dawn, brought his hands to her breasts, then lowered herself purposefully down onto his hard cock.
She was magnificent, arching above him, gyrating slowly from side to side, dragging her fingers tenderly over the curves and angles of his face and looking right into his eyes the entire time, as though he really did mean something to her.
He said, “I love you,” as he came, looking right into her eyes, and didn’t even realize what he had done until he woke again under the full sun of morning - and perhaps also a small cloud of gentle remorse.