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A Cabin Affair

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Hermione Granger didn't like lying to her family. She thought most people didn't like the act of lying to their family, but obviously they all did it for their own reasons, selfish or otherwise. The brunette haired witch tried not to judge; her situation being what it was she didn't like to put herself in such a hypocritical emotional state.

As it were, her family not being around as she packed was better for everyone. She wasn't forced to tell lies to their faces, and in the future they wouldn't have memories of her lying to their faces to look back on.

Hermione wasn't delusional. She was perhaps the most logical and intelligent witch since Minerva McGonagall in her prime, which was still ongoing in Hermione's opinion, and she knew very well that her lies would catch up to her eventually. The fact she continued to speak them anyway was very telling in that way.

She simply couldn't help herself.

Her two children were currently at the Potter's place and her husband, who hopefully was actually at work as he said he was, was soon to join them. Goodbyes had been said the night before. It was almost routine now; Hermione always took the same week long vacation in the middle of June. Her children thought it was normal for their mother to need a week away to recharge and complete her research and be away from the stress of life. Her husband liked it because he used the excuse of her "leaving him" to lessen his guilt about his own activities throughout the year.

Ronald Weasley wasn't a bad man, nor a bad father. But neither was he a good husband. Sometimes Hermione wondered what she had been thinking when she had married him. How she had possibly thought it would make her future self fulfilled.

Hermione banished those thoughts from her mind at the same time she flicked her wand and banished laundry to the hamper downstairs. Her bag was packed in another flick, shrunk down and stuffed unceremoniously inside her robes. She wanted to leave. She took barely a second to spin her wand around her hair and cast a silent spell to hold it in place, wand now pierced through the bun. She wore her hair much shorter and sleeker than in her youth, now only just reaching her jawline and barely long enough to pull back into that bun.

It was her no nonsense style for when she wanted to hurry. And right now she desperately wanted to hurry.

She jogged down the stairs of her London home and headed for the backyard where the wards allowed for apparition and disapparition. She knew the moment she crossed the boundary, she had cast all the wards herself after all, and without hesitation she spun on her heel. Her disapparition noise was only a whisper, the softest crack, and she never even broke stride as the scenery changed from her green and damp backyard to a rocky inlet beside the beach.

Hermione could feel the heat instantly; it always felt stifling after being in London.

But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered; not the instantly better weather, the beautiful view of a sunset over water which she didn’t even glance at, nor the surrounding jungle to her left. She didn’t take in the sounds of exotic birds or the waves crashing up to the shoreline. All of that was secondary.

The only thing that mattered was the cabin.

It looked almost out of place on the beach; it looked like it belonged in a dense forest. The logs which made up the cabin weren’t even native to the area. The chimney was brick, also uncommon, and the windows had glass as opposed to being just open holes for the ocean breeze. The patio that ringed the entire one floor cabin looked a little more beach-like with its railing crafted from white driftwood and wicker furniture.

Hermione jumped up the two steps to the patio in one bound and walked through the only door without knocking. Her heart was already in her throat. At the door she was able to shed her identity. The second she reached this property she was no longer Mrs. Hermione Granger Weasley. She was no longer a mother of two. She wasn’t the Golden Girl or the Brains of the Golden Trio or a decorated war hero. She wasn’t even Researcher Granger.

She was just Hermione.

She had arguably never been just Hermione since the very moment she had found herself locked in a bathroom with a troll. Her life had changed from that moment on and she was never just herself.

The brunette haired witch didn’t even know who she was when she was outside this cabin anymore.

She knew exactly who she was when she was inside of it.

The smell of cooking filled her sense instantly; a home cooked meal of pasta and baked bread created with taste and simplicity in mind. Under the layers of herbs and fresh bread Hermione could pick up the undertones of black orchids and vanilla. Hermione hated roses and the smell of them; other floral or homey scents always filled the cabin instead.

Hermione looked around almost desperately. Her eyes nearly frantic as she scanned the room. If she’d just calm down she would find her all the faster but her body was out of her control. It always was the first time she stepped inside the cabin for that year.

Her feet were moving before her brain had ever even given the signal to move. It was okay though, arms were already waiting for her; they would have already been waiting even if she had sprinted. Hermione let out a gasp as her body came almost forcefully into contact with another. Her arms wrapped around a thin waist, pulling the body closer, and arms came about her back in return. Her breath came out in a shudder. It was almost too much, her body in sensory overload just from finally being back in the arms she didn’t dare dream about it.

That was only allowed in the cabin.

One of the hands on her back trailed upward to the base of her neck where fingernails gently scraped along skin. “Baby.” The word was whispered in her ear on a breath just as weak and shaking as her own. Those fingernails scraped along the back of her neck again. Those talented fingers could make her melt; right now they were setting her on fire. “Baby. Baby.” It was almost a beg, a benediction from one who couldn’t believe what was happening before them. “Baby.” Those fingernails dug into the skin, gripping her just shy of hard.

Hermione was wet. Her body was surging with heat and it took nothing more than a whisper and a touch. God, how did she always forget how easy it was, how right it was every time she was finally allowed to return to this cabin. “My god, love.” Hermione’s own voice had dropped to a groan. Hermione’s hand drifted lower, moving from her lovers back to her ass. Hermione gripped her hard, knowing exactly how she wanted it, and almost lifted her up as she pulled her harder into Hermione’s body.

A groan in her ear was ripped from her lovers throat and the fingernails on the back of her neck were sure to leave marks. Often they had drawn blood. “Baby, I need you. I need you.”

That alone almost undid Hermione. The truth in those words, the desire, the passion. Hermione had never felt that way for someone, nor felt it directed towards her, until her lover. Her hands were clenching and gripping her lovers ass in an action that was practically subconscious. She had to grab her, had to pleasure her and make her feel good.

Hermione planned on spending every second she was in this cabin making her lover feel good.

Her feet started walking again without any direction from her brain. She was pushing her lover into walking backwards but keeping her tight against her body; she couldn’t handle being separated from her for even a second. Not when they had just been reunited.

“Mmm, wait baby.” Hermione felt one hand of resistance. Her lover wasn’t protesting, and Hermione was completely in tune with the woman in her arms. She knew instinctively what she was saying even with just a word and a moan. Hermione flicked her hand blindly over her shoulder and cast a silent, wandless spell. It put a stasis charm on their dinner, preserving her lovers effort and saving the meal for later when they would be starving. The fingernails gripping her neck forced her head backwards and Hermione’s eyes slammed shut even as she exposed her throat for her lovers lips. “What else can you do with those hands, baby?”

The taunt made Hermione smirk. She cast another charm and then used her grip on her lovers ass to lift her clear off the ground; lithe legs instinctively wrapped around Hermione’s waist. The charm Hermione had cast had taken away just enough weight for Hermione to be able to lift and manhandle her lover with ease. She groaned when her lovers hips started a gentle grind against her abdomen. They didn’t make it through the bedroom door; Hermione slammed the woman in her arms against the doorframe instead. She started pushing back with her own body, rocking into her lover until she could feel her heat against her abs. “Baby. Baby.” Her lovers voice was pleading, begging.

Hermione was in no mood to deny her. She needed her, needed to feel her, otherwise it felt like the fire in her soul would consume her. “Love. Love. I need you. I need to feel you.”

“You have me baby. Baby, you have me.”

Hermione felt blind walking into the bedroom, their bedroom, she had no sense for anything that wasn’t the woman in her arms.

Hermione wasn't rough when she tossed her lover down on the bed; but she wasn't gentle either. For the first moment since she walked through the front cabin door her body stopped all movement and stilled. Her lover was so beautiful. Insanely, almost brutally beautiful and Hermione knew better than anyone how well her lover could use her looks like a weapon.

But she wasn't doing it right now. Right now she was open, walls collapsed and masks pulled away to reveal the more pure person underneath. That was the beauty that took Hermione's breath away.

"I love you." It came out a whisper and Hermione almost shook her head. She didn't need to whisper here. "I love you." Her voice was shaking but it wasn't out of fear. Her body was simply overwhelmed with feeling. "I love you."

"I know baby." Hands were reaching up for her and Hermione dropped to the bed to crawl up an exquisite body. "I love you." Hermione never felt the words the same way compared to when her lover said them. "Let me love you baby."

Hermione laid her body on her lovers and it was with an impatient hand flick that banished their robes from their bodies. There would be other times to strip her lover slowly, to tease her with kisses and bites for every inch of skin revealed. Now she just needed her, needed to feel her in every way.

Both women groaned as skin slid across skin. Hermione kissed every inch she could reach, across a pale throat and down a slender neck to collarbones begging to be nibbled on.
Fingernails raked down her back, leaving marks, and Hermione only felt her blood, the fire inside her, burn hotter. Her kisses turned to bites, marking the pale skin beneath her, and she grinded her hips and pelvis down harder. The moan in her ear made her repeat the motion again and again.

Hermione's ass was grabbed and she felt her lover taking control, forcing her down harder and grinding in the way she wanted it. Hermione's lips were a smirk when she kissed her lover with bruising intensity. Later, she would tease her. Later, she would pull herself up and create separation so her lover couldn't get herself off against her body. Later, she would speak the filthy, dirty things that made her lover clench and pulse around her fingers.

For now she just kissed her again, desperate, unable to separate. She shifted so her thigh slid in between her lovers legs and her mouth practically watered at the wetness she could feel coating her skin. Her lover being wet for her, because of her, was always one of the greatest moments of pride and humble gratitude in her life.

Hermione knew she was just as wet. Her lover need only look at her and Hermione found her pussy, her whole body, responding to her. Her lover placed her foot flat on the bed, hardening her thigh for Hermione to ride on.

"That's it baby." Her voice was the sexiest thing Hermione could imagine. She knew she was the only person who ever heard it this way; unabashed and full of love. "Let me feel your love baby."

Hermione's eyes were clenched closed, her mouth was open as she panted, and she pressed her entire body, as much of herself as she could, down into her lover. She could come easily. She had been ready to come the second her skin had come into contact with the skin she had been craving for a year.

"I want..." Hermione was panting. "I need..."

"I'm going to come." Her lover answered on a breath. Her voice was strained; Hermione could feel the muscles in her lovers neck tensing. Her lover had known she wanted to pleasure her; they both always wanted the others pleasure more than their own.

The only time Hermione was even aware of her clit was when she was with her lover; how she pulsed and ached and how the buildup in her body made her feel like an elastic pulled tight enough it was about to snap. "Love. Love. I love..." Hermione was lost to speech, her body snapped, back arching as the fire racing along her spine consumed her. She could feel her lovers legs clenching, pulsing; the nails in her back were surely drawing blood but she had never experienced anything more euphoric than her lover coming against her skin just because she desired her so badly.

Hermione was in no way sated. The fire still burned, hot and heavy, her pussy empty and clenching and demanding more. Blue eyes were already locked onto her brown ones when she looked down in adoration.

"I love you so much, Cissa." Hermione breathed against Narcissa Black's lips and her heart, finally, felt full.

"As I love you, baby." Narcissa breathed back, almost into her mouth as her kisses turned desperate once again. "Merlin knows how I've missed you. Needed you."

"I know what you need, love." Hermione's eyes turned almost dangerous as she slid her hand along Narcissa's body. The woman underneath her opened her legs without hesitation, spreading herself wider in anticipation. Hermione slid two fingers slowly but deeply inside Narcissa's soaking pussy; Hermione lived for the sounds her lover made, breathing stalling and stuttering as she was filled.

"All for you baby." Narcissa gasped the last word as Hermione spread her fingers inside of her and teased them in circles. "Everything. All for you."

Hermione's eyes were still sparking. "All for me." She repeated. "Mine." Hermione was possessive but only with what had been freely and lovingly given.

"Yes." Narcissa was moving her hips now, fucking herself slowly on Hermione's fingers like she wasn't in control of her body any longer. "Yours. All yours."
"Let me show you how much that means to me." Hermione's gentle whisper against Narcissa's lips punctuated the last quiet moment before she started thrusting in and out of Narcissa's pussy, pushing as deep as she could go and fucking her in earnest. Hermione got up on her knees for more leverage to drive Narcissa higher, one hand reaching to clasp around an erect nipple to pinch and love on.

"Yes. Yes." Narcissa was gasping, driving her hips and meeting every thrust like her life depended on it. "Fuck me. Fuck me."

Hermione let go of Narcissa's breast only to grab her hip and tilt them as best she could to change the angle and drive even deeper into her lover, fuck her harder. "I'll fuck you forever my love."

And for hours Hermione made good on that vow.


Hermione was now the one laying on her back. Narcissa was laying a top her, so low her cheek was almost pillowed on Hermione’s mound. Their breathing had slowed and they had been enjoying the quiet and the stillness of the moment. Hermione was carding her fingers through Narcissa's silky blonde locks, almost putting the woman to sleep like a purring cat, and the elder witch was drawing aimless patterns on Hermione's bare thigh.

The fire that had raged through her body was still present; it never fully went away when she was with Narcissa. It had cooled to embers now at least and Hermione was craving different parts of her lover, for there was no part of Narcissa Hermione didn't love.

"Love." Hermione's voice was almost a croak, hoarse from being made to scream by her lovers tongue and talented fingers. Narcissa hummed against her skin to show she was listening. "I'm in need of something."

"What is it, darling?"

Hermione's lips turned up in a slow smile at the change. Narcissa only called her baby when she was desperate, horny and on fire; otherwise her elegant witch always called her darling. "Can you guess?" Hermione teased with a little tug to the locks of hair intertwined with her fingers.

"From the earthquake happening underneath my ear, yes, I have a guess darling." Narcissa teased back. She lifted her head so Hermione could see the simple happiness shining in her blue eyes.

Hermione had known her stomach was growling audibly enough to be heard, especially with Narcissa's ear pressed against her. "Good thing I have a wonderful lover who cooked prior to my arrival."

"Imagine that." Narcissa pressed a dozen kisses against Hermione's skin before finally coming up to her knees and then stepping off the bed. Hermione watched her, eyes hungry on her naked form even after hours of making love to her, as Narcissa stretched out her body. "Are you coming, darling."

"Not at the moment, but I probably could." Hermione teased. Narcissa shot her a glare, a playful one, and Hermione laughed. She bounded out of bed and managed to wrap her arms around Narcissa before the elder witch slid a simple silk robe around herself. "Covering your skin should be illegal." Hermione danced her fingers over pale smooth flesh. "I just," Hermione had no finish for her sentence so she merely groaned instead. She pulled Narcissa back into her a little harder. A gasp left the blonde witch's throat and she reached down to grip Hermione's forearms.

"I thought you were hungry."

"And then I saw you." Hermione said simply. Narcissa didn't try to hide her pleased smile; Hermione herself knew the feeling. There was something so intoxicating about knowing you were truly and wholeheartedly wanted.

"Well you're the reason I even got up from my very comfortable pillow, so you shall have to face the consequences." Narcissa informed her smartly.

"Yes Mistress." Hermione grinned. Narcissa flashed her a look, a dangerous look full of heat and promise, and Hermione felt it in her core like a bolt of lightning.
It was always this way between them. A look, a word, a fleeting touch; everything about them called to the other.

Narcissa tied the robe loosely about herself and conjured a matching one which she slid sensually over Hermione's body. "Thank you Cissa." Hermione murmured. Narcissa always did the little things, the little gestures, small acts so natural the blonde might not even know how much it meant to her.

Hermione glanced around for her wand and Narcissa pointed it out in the hallway. Hermione didn't even remember Narcissa pulling it from her hair so that her bun would fall loose. Hermione merely reached out her hand as she walked passed and her wand flew from the floor into her fingertips.

"You never cease to impress me." Narcissa murmured as she laid a kiss to Hermione's neck as she slid by.

"You're not used to it by now?"

"Used to you? Never." Narcissa's voice was matter of fact. "You're the most talented witch I've ever seen Hermione. I could never tell you that enough." Then she arched an eyebrow. "And there's no point in being humble about it."

Hermione raised her hands in defence. "Wouldn't dream of it. Have you been practicing?"

"In what spare time could I possibly have to practice magic?" Narcissa deadpanned sarcastically. She concentrated for a few seconds and then wandlessly, and silently, removed the stasis charm Hermione had placed on their meal. The smells of cooking permeated the small cabin once again.

Hermione grinned and darted over to practically pounce on Narcissa. "That was amazing! I'm so proud of you my love, that was absolutely perfect." Hermione held herself back from saying that it was an incredible improvement from the last attempt she witnessed because they were both well aware it would have been a year ago exactly.

They practically danced together in the kitchen, moving about each other with ease, gentle touches and smiles accompanying nearly every moment.

"Is this vegan?" Hermione asked as she plated the pasta dish Narcissa had made.

"Of course." Narcissa sounded so matter of fact. "I know you were only beginning to research it last year but I knew you would follow through. Once you thought about animals suffering you wouldn't be able to continue eating meat. It would remind you too much of torture." Narcissa accompanied her words by pressing her body along the length of Hermione's and holding her close.

Hermione loved the touch and appreciated the comfort but here, in this cabin with this woman, was where she had come to terms with her own wartime experiences. The aftereffects of being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange had been plaguing her more than she would have ever admitted to anybody; but Narcissa had seen right through her. Narcissa had always been able to see her.

"Thank you for the wonderful meal, love."

Narcissa gave a small gesture that on a less elegant person would have been a shrug. She was casual, like she had done nothing special. "I told you cream has no place in proper pasta anyway. And you haven't tasted it yet."

"I have faith in you." Hermione was telling the truth. It was still amazing to her sometimes how a pure-blooded witch who had never cooked before, for that was a job for House Elves, had taken to the kitchen.

Narcissa was a potioneer by trade and passion though, and that meant her skills translated easily over to cooking.

Hermione plated them each a portion and Narcissa poured them both a glass of wine. Narcissa was more of a connoisseur when it came to wine than Hermione was, but the elder witch also only stocked whites in the cabin because she knew Hermione would rather drink vinegar than a dry red.

They sat down together, side by side, practically sharing a spot at the table because they simply saw no reason to be separated by distance. Hermione moaned at the first taste of the dish her lover had made her. “Oh Merlin this is good.”

Narcissa smirked. “I wasn’t actually worried.”

“Of course not. Why be humble?” She teased. “Seriously though,” Hermione had to stop herself from shovelling her food like her ten year old son channeling his father, “this is impeccable. And exactly what I needed.”

“Good pasta?”

“Good pasta made by the witch I love.” Hermione smiled as Narcissa blushed around the rim of her wine glass.

“I adore cooking for the witch I love.” Narcissa said back softly. Speaking her emotions was a fairly new experience for the elder witch; something that directly correlated to Hermione. Growing up in a staunch pure-blooded traditional household meant she had been raised on rules like children should only be seen and heard when called upon or having opinions is not a woman’s place in a marriage. Narcissa had been cold and aloof even before her first year of Hogwarts. “How has the transition to vegan been at home?” Narcissa asked. They were both very careful in these questions because it was a tight rope that they walked.

They loved each other. Adored each other, wanted to know everything about the other. Hermione wanted to know what Narcissa felt and thought and believed. Wanted to know what she strived for and what was in her heart. She knew Narcissa felt the same. They wanted to be involved and included in the others life.

But they knew what they were doing. They knew they were having an affair that would be looked down upon by basically the entire wizarding world. Hermione was the Golden Girl; the pinnacle of standard that witches everywhere wanted to aspire to, a celebrity in all walks of life from academic to gossip. She had the, allegedly, perfect marriage that was celebrity in and of itself due to her fellow war hero husband.

Narcissa, on the other hand, was the disgraced former Mrs. Malfoy who had been on the wrong side of history in the worst wizarding war the modern community had ever seen. The popular public opinion was also that she had escaped punishment for her own wrong deeds throughout the years and was only walking free due to the last minute testimony of the Boy Who Lived himself. She was still thought of as a Dark Witch, the ice queen, one to be feared and ridiculed at every turn.

Hermione and Narcissa both rightfully feared the outcome should their affair ever go public. That meant their affair, their love, only ever existed in this cabin they called home for one week out of the year.

So asking questions about the rest of the year was sometimes tricky; especially asking about the other people in their life.

Hermione was careful not to mention Draco unless Narcissa brought him up first. She knew her lover felt the pain of Draco’s absence daily. Narcissa’s son had fled to France and started a new life without his mother almost as soon as the war trials were over. Hermione bled for Narcissa; she had given up every aspect of her life to save her son and now had to fight for even the smallest recognition from him. If Hermione ever came face to face with the last Malfoy she would likely slap him around the face once more. Lucius was easier to bring up since his passing in Azkaban; even before his death in prison Narcissa had been alright with the odd mention of her husband. There was no love lost there and any mention of him was an old story because Narcissa did not have visitation rights to see him; not that she’d have gone if she did.

No, it was Narcissa who was the most careful in her questions that could pertain to Hermione’s husband. The elder witch knew the situation. She knew Hermione left the cabin and went home to Ronald Weasley. She wasn’t prone to fits of jealousy but the red-headed wizard definitely wasn’t her favourite topic of conversation. Narcissa knew the younger witch’s marriage came down to nothing more than their children anymore.

But sometimes she still wanted to wring his neck for the way he’s treated the love of her life.

“It’s been mostly good.” Hermione brought them both out of their musing by answering the question that had been asked. “Hugo is still young enough he eats whatever I put in front of him. Rose I’ve actually been explaining things to, though. The child friendly version of course, but still explaining what meat really is and where it comes from.” She paused only for a breath. “He’s actually been the biggest issue.”

“Oh?” Narcissa’s face was carefully blank but Hermione could see through her. She could see the witch wanting to show her disdain for Ron but pure-blood politeness wouldn’t let her do it in front of his wife.

“It’s one of the biggest rows we got into this year actually. He refused to eat rabbit food,” she said this with a mocking tone, “said he was a man and other such nonsense. He actually expected I cook two completely different meals every day, one for myself and the kids and one for him.”

Narcissa actually smirked. “I would have liked to see your fire during that fight, darling.”

“There was definitely fire.” Hermione chuckled, amazed that Narcissa knew her well enough to always know when to make her chuckle and when to be serious. “He’s lucky he wasn’t actually set on fire.” Hermione drained her wine glass. “Harry became aware of the state of our marriage after that fight because I kicked him out for a weekend.”

Narcissa startled so badly her knife clanked against her plate and the blonde haired witch blushed. “My apologies, I just…”

“I know, love.” Hermione smiled lightly. “I…thought of you when I kicked him out. How could I not? I know it’s supposed to be here…only here. But…I kicked him out for the awful things he said and I thought of you.” Hermione was whispering by the time she was done.

At a touch from the younger witch Narcissa let more of her true emotions play across her features. “I’m sorry you were upset and hurt and that you live with someone who says awful things to you.”

“I’m sorry you’re alone in that big house without anyone to love you.”

They both chose to let the conversation drop. There was no point in dwelling on hard, sad conversations about things they couldn’t, wouldn’t, change. They only had so much time together in the cabin and they would be sad for as few seconds as possible. After all, Hermione had let Ron come home, of course, and Narcissa knew it. By the time the weekend was over the children were asking for their father and Hermione had decided years ago that she couldn’t rip the safety of their life away from her children.

“I loved the meal.” Hermione said warmly. She reached out for Narcissa’s hand and their fingers intertwined easily. “I love that you made it for me. I love you. I love the way you love me.”

“This is the only way I know how to love you.” Narcissa whispered. “My body, my soul, my brain, my heart… I…” She paused to gather her thoughts. She tried, and she was learning, but speaking straight off the cuff was still difficult for the elder witch. “I didn’t fall for you against my will. I didn’t fall, it wasn’t an accident. I chose to love you. I chose to let you in, I chose to see you. I made a choice, Hermione. And darling, it’s a choice that I make every day. Every day, I choose to love you in such a way that makes you want to love me back.”

Hermione’s eyes were welling by the time Narcissa had finished her little speech. Narcissa’s eyes were so blue in that moment, so deep, so open. The fire in her body ratcheted up a little. “How could I not? I fall in love with you over and over again. Every day, sometimes every minute, I fall in love with you. Falling in love with you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. You make it so easy.” Hermione leaned farther in her chair so she could kiss Narcissa’s lips gently. “You’re not my other half, I am a whole person. I could live without you, it’s not like I would die without you. But the whole person that I am is madly in love with you and I don’t want to live without you.”

“Then let’s spend some time truly living.” Narcissa whispered against her lips. Hermione reached out to touch her hair, her cheek, her neck, down her throat gently. They didn’t talk about how their time was limited; about how they could only do so much living.

“I want nothing more than to experience life with you, love.” Hermione touched Narcissa’s skin tenderly again; she was making direct eye contact with her. Her pupils dilated visibly. She loved this woman. This insanely beautiful woman with a past as convoluted as her own.

“Want to experience this life out on the beach with me, baby?”

Hermione’s answering grin was sultry and she couldn’t stop herself from biting her bottom lip in anticipation.

Chapter Text

Narcissa Black was perfectly in tune with her lover even when asleep. This sometimes surprised even Narcissa because she also never slept as comfortably, as deeply, as restfully as when she was sleeping beside Hermione.

Sleeping in the manor for the rest of the year was pitiful by comparison. Malfoy Manor was too dark, too drafty, too cold, too unbearable for her to get any actual sleep. Malfoy Manor haunted her almost as much as it haunted Hermione.

The Manor represented where everything in her life had gone wrong; though one could argue her life was already wrong long before that.

Wrong the moment she had been born into the Black household, into a household of biggoted, cruel, traditional pure-blooded people.

And it's not like Narcissa ever saw Malfoy Manor as an escape from that life. She had been the pride and joy of Druella Black and Narcissa had been in her iron grip for as far back as she could remember. Bellatrix was their fathers joy, wild and powerful and completely willing to follow in his footsteps of dark supremacy; and eventually even surpassing him. Andromeda had always been the black sheep of the Black family but Narcissa was everything a pure-blooded daughter should be.

Narcissa had only been in her third year of Hogwarts, thirteen, when her eligibility for arranged marriage was announced. It was only one year later when the Malfoy family had won the bid for Lucius and Narcissa had spent her remaining four years of school already engaged. Her wedding was planned for the weekend following graduation and that, as the pure-bloods saw it, was that.

Not once in any of her years had Narcissa ever been asked how she "felt" about any of it.

Hermione Granger was possibly the first person in her life to ask her how she felt.

Perhaps it was that tangible connection, something more than senses and a part of the soul, that let her always able to feel Hermione.

Narcissa woke and was already reaching over for her lover. Something was wrong and she knew it in her bones. Hermione hadn't even made a sound yet, had barely twitched her body, but Narcissa knew she was needed.

The elder witch could tell by the fluttering underneath Hermione's eyelids that she was having a nightmare. Narcissa gently slid her naked body along the length of Hermione's and caressed her gently.

This wasn't new; Narcissa was well aquatinted with Hermione's night terrors. In the cabin they usually only appeared, such as now, the day before they were due to leave. The morning of leaving they didn't sleep anyway.

"Darling." Narcissa kept her voice soft and calm. She knew better than to abruptly wake her sleeping love. "My darling, it's time to wake up. Can you wake up for me?" Narcissa watched with a pained expression as Hermione's own face twisted. She wasn't screaming in her sleep which Narcissa took as a blessing. Hermione usually only screamed when Narcissa's eldest sister visited her nightmares. "Darling." With care, and caution, Narcissa stroked the back of her fingers down Hermione's cheek. She was sweaty, a few strands of brunette hair stuck to her skin, but still the younger witch turned towards her lover even in nightmare. "Darling. Wake up for me." Narcissa's patience was infinite when it came to Hermione. Still she was gentle, even when a small whimper escaped Hermione's throat. She touched her face again, now almost hiding in Narcissa's neck, and pressed her lips against Hermione's hair. "Darling, please, for me, wake up."

She knew the moment Hermione woke for she flinched; Narcissa was careful not to in any way restrain her lover. She made sure her hands and even her arms were spread wide so Hermione was free to sit up and gather herself without feeling held down.

Narcissa simply watched her, watched the muscles in her back shift slightly and admired the beautifully smooth and tanned skin of her lover.
"Cissa." Hermione's voice was a whisper but it didn't tremble.

Narcissa took the word as permission and she sat up herself, pressing her chest against Hermione's back and wrapped one arm securely around her. She gently used her other hand, and fingernails, to scratch Hermione's scalp and card through her brunette locks. "Darling." Narcissa pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade. "I have you, darling."

"Yes you do." Hermione leaned back some more so that Narcissa was holding up more of her weight.

Narcissa didn't pry. She knew Hermione would need time to organize her thoughts and feelings. Narcissa understood how important it was in this moment to be still. Personally, she'd never had that before. Bellatrix was always action first and consequences never, and Andromeda was a fixer. She fixed problems, solved things, moved on before the person she was helping even had time to process. She was still very much a Black in that way. Narcissa would never have dreamed of going to her parents with a problem, and Lucius hadn't seen her show a true emotion in the entire length of time they had been married.

Narcissa knew that sometimes it was best to just be present. Be there. Send love and affection and let the one you're helping tell you what they need instead of the other way around.

"It wasn't that bad." Hermione finally murmured.

"You don't have to downplay anything, darling." Narcissa said with her lips still pressed against her hair.

"I'm not. It wasn't a memory." Narcissa knew this already but she hummed in affirmation. "I don't remember exactly. Just feelings."

"Would you like to talk more?" Narcissa left it open for her lover. Hermione was quiet while she got herself more comfortable against Narcissa.

"I think I was in the woods. Or...maybe a desert. I was somewhere." Hermione's voice had taken on a dreamy quality, like she was speaking from far away. "I was somewhere I kept getting lost. Or...I didn't know my way around. I couldn't get out."

"That sounds like it would make a person very anxious." Narcissa said softly. She knew that Hermione only told her about her dreams. Ronald wouldn't understand, she said. People often think that nightmares must be vicious flashbacks to be scary or traumatic; Hermione herself thought she wasn't allowed to complain unless it was the vision of Bellatrix swimming before her eyes that had haunted her.

But Narcissa was the queen of bottling her emotions and feelings and knew that sometimes the simplest feelings haunted someone the most.

"Do you feel lost?" Narcissa asked. Her words were accompanied with gentle touches and featherlight kisses.

"Not here. Never here. But outside the cabin..." Hermione didn't need to finish. Narcissa knew. "I was more than lost." She added after a moment.

"Oh?" Narcissa held her just a tiny bit tighter; Hermione could still pull loose without effort if she wanted to.

"No one could see me. I think there were other people there one could see I was lost."

"That must have made you feel very desolate. I'm sorry you went through this."

Hermione sighed. "I never like disrupting time with you for fears and night terrors."

"If you have fears and night terrors, I want them to be my night terrors." Narcissa said simply. "I'm glad I'm here and that this time you have someone." Narcissa realized what she'd said a second too late and felt terribly rude; even if what she'd said was accurate. She tried not to belittle Ronald Weasley openly in front of Hermione. Narcissa was raised on insults but also on class; insults were never given to someone’s face unless it was the most prudent moment. Insults were for at home, politics were for the public. A perfectly placed word here or there could topple someone's career but calling their face a trolls nutsack was only for when it was impossible for someone else to hear such uncouth talk.

Hermione, innocently muggleborn, didn't notice her slip of impropriety or at least chose not to comment on it. "I do have you. And I am grateful my love. I never thought I would truly have this."

"Neither did I." Narcissa had pure-blood matters on the brain and couldn't help but think about Lucius, or even Rodolphus Lestrange and Theo Nott. The men had been chosen by their family for Narcissa and her sisters and love, affection and devotion hadn't factored in the slightest. Bellatrix had done her duty and married Rod but if there was anything else to their marriage than the wedding Narcissa had never seen it. Bellatrix had shamed the family by being unable to carry on the line and only her position as the right hand of the Dark Lord had saved her. Andromeda had famously abandoned her betrothal union to Nott and run away from the Black family for the muggleborn Tonks boy. That shame had likely been what killed their father.

It all fell on Narcissa and she had done her duty with apparent grace. There were worse options than Lucius, she could admit that. He was handsome and intelligent, not a goon, and Narcissa knew he would work for the Ministry in a prestigious position.

But love him? She loved that he gave her Draco, who was the only thing that made her wretched life worth living until Hermione. Be devoted to him? She had never cheated on him nor desired to; but had he still been alive when she had properly met Hermione again she would have.

Nothing about her pure-blood upbringing prepared her for this. For this kind of love.

A love that doesn't ask you to change; but makes you want to change so you are the best version of yourself for them. A love that provides warmth as well as heat. A love that doesn't take, and doesn't even ask for anything in return; but merely is content and grateful with whatever is offered. A love that doesn't just exist, but pushes back and challenges and drives one to be better.

"I love you." The words were softly spoken but Narcissa felt them as deeply as she'd ever said them. Something about her tone made Hermione shift around and look at her. Narcissa still couldn't believe it. That a witch with her upbringing, her life, her mistakes...could have a beautiful, talented, kind witch such as Hermione sitting naked against her looking at her as if she was the lucky one. "I love you. I don't know how else to say it."

Hermione grinned a slow smile. "Every time I try to tell her how I feel it comes out I love you." She slightly sang the words and Narcissa arched an eyebrow.

"Are you quoting something muggle at me because you know I won't know it."


"Cheeky witch." Narcissa's tone was cold in a way that made most of the wizarding world shiver. Hermione giggled a churlish laugh at her instead. The elder witch scoffed, offended, but pressed a kiss against Hermione's crown.

"I'm better now." Hermione answered the unspoken question. "I never feel lost or unseen with you."

"Good." Narcissa kept her tone no nonsense but she knew Hermione would know that she was honoured and grateful for such a statement. The blonde haired witch glanced out the window at their beachside view. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Hermione turned her body even further before eventually slinging her one leg over Narcissa's lap so she could straddle her. A groan left Narcissa's lips at the sight of Hermione naked and spread open on her lap.

"Narcissa Black when did you plan a date for us without me knowing?" Hermione accused and Narcissa kept her face carefully blank; she could do nothing about the twinkle in her eyes she knew Hermione could see.

"Last night when you were in the shower."

"You mean last night when you suggested oh so casually that I wash all that chocolate and caramel off the muggle way so that you could join me in the shower after?" Narcissa gave her no answer but a smirk. "Cheeky witch." Hermione leaned down to kiss her and Narcissa slid her hands along the plains of Hermione's back.

"I planned it for the sunrise but," she gestured out the window, "moonlight will work too."

Hermione grinned and leaned forward to take Narcissa's lips. Narcissa adored the way Hermione kissed; and the many different kisses she had. This one was slow, caressing, instead of setting her on fire it was designed to spread warmth throughout her body.

"Take me on this date then, my love."

Minutes later found them on the beach wearing nothing but their silk robes, both short enough to show a tantalizing amount of thigh and cleavage. Narcissa felt positively scandalous in such an outfit outside of her home but she forced the innate feelings down. Druella was not here to call her a whore or a tramp. Here, at this cabin, on their private beach, Narcissa could be herself with Hermione.

"Are we having a picnic?" Hermione guessed. She was practically bouncing on her toes in anticipation and Narcissa felt at peace watching the happiness on her face.

Narcissa tutted. "So clichéd."

"Sometimes things are clichés because they're nice."

"Or because people are unimaginative bores." Narcissa huffed. "Dates should surprise, or excite or entice."

Hermione's grin turned wicked and Narcissa felt her stomach tighten automatically in response. "You excite and entice me in that robe, my love. Is your plan to see just how excited you can make me?"

"Maybe after." Narcissa said this as if she wasn't effected by her lovers words but it was a bold faced lie and they both knew it. Hermione looked ethereal in the moonlight, calm water behind her and everything reflected into shades of blue and hues of white. It was picturesque and made Narcissa wish for a camera.

A photo with Hermione was one thing she didn't have.

"After what?" Hermione's nightmare was long gone and the excitement on her face was pure.

"After we duel." Narcissa drew her wand from the sleeve of her silk robe; she watched Hermione's jaw drop.


Narcissa almost corrected her with a pardon, but knew her lover would squawk at her haughtiness. "Duel darling. Do you remember how?" That taunt had Hermione reaching slowly up into her hair and withdrawing her wand from the bun. She must have spelled her locks because the bun remained in place.

Hermione's face was cautious and puzzled. "I remember how." She said slowly.

"Hermione." Narcissa sighed like she was tired explaining something so simple to someone so bright, but her smile was still affectionate. "I know you feel lost. In so many ways. I know you feel like you've lost Hermione Granger. I know you're not happy being a researcher." Hermione's eyebrows shot up like she was genuinely surprised. "I know you. And I know everyone else thinks you must be so happy, know it all bookworm Hermione Granger, doing pure theoretical research on the side. And I'm not saying you hate it. But you don't love it. You're not fulfilled."


Narcissa ignored her. "You can't be. I know you were a bookworm and you love to read and love to learn but that girl grew up into one of the best magical practitioners I've ever seen. And you should be doing your own magic, not just reading about it. Does anyone in your life even know what you can do with a wand?" Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "Or what you can do without one?"

"Cissa." Hermione didn't seem capable of saying anything else. Narcissa wondered if her lover even knew she was expertly twirling her wand around and through her fingertips.

"When was the last time you really did anything magical Hermione? When was the last time you faced anything stronger than household dirt? When was the last time you even let loose? Felt your own power in your veins? You're being stifled Hermione and it breaks my heart. You're powerful. So prove it to yourself that you are."

"Narcissa." Something in Hermione's voice was different and it brought the elder witch up short.


"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Hermione's smirk didn't look like it belonged on the face of a simple witch, a Gryffindor and mother of two. She looked dangerous. Something in Narcissa, something distinctly Slytherin, welled up inside her at the challenge and the affront to her pride.

"You think you can handle me little witch? I'm a scary Dark witch remember?"

Hermione's pupils were blown wide and Narcissa knew she was no better. She licked her lips and Hermione watched her mouth carefully.

"Draw." Hermione demanded.

Narcissa gave her one last wink and then turned her back to count the traditional paces.

Truthfully, Narcissa was sure she was outmatched. She had been a Dark witch, was one her whole life, but mostly by extension. In school potions had been her forte; spells and dueling were more to Bella's tastes. Combined with the fact that the Black name still meant something at the time and its not like Narcissa was ever forced to defend herself from attackers. Once she was married Narcissa was a glorified house wife. She didn't work and she didn't conduct any business for the Dark Lord. She could duel better than the average housewife, she was a Black and a Slytherin after all, but she knew she wasn't in the same league as Hermione.

Narcissa kept her back turned. "One more pace." She knew Hermione would have been matching her step for step.

"I won't hurt you love." Hermione teased.

"As if you could, darling." They walked the final pace and Narcissa whirled, firing a stunning spell followed by a body bind. The jets of light flew from her wand in the blink of an eye; she barely managed to turn her head and let Hermione's own stunner whizz by her. Narcissa's wand flashed, again and again, spells hurling at the younger witch but nothing seemed to touch her. Narcissa had her hands full getting her blocks up in time; one of Hermione's spells cracked her shield and for a moment Narcissa thought she would be rendered sightless before she dove out of the way. The beach was a comfortable landing but without even looking Narcissa knew Hermione would be advancing in a fury. Narcissa rolled to her feet, graceful even in a scramble, and flashed her wand again. She summoned a potion vial from where she'd hidden a stash while her lover showered yesterday and hurled at it Hermione; Narcissa was a second too slow in a simultaneous block and felt magic strike her jaw. The younger witch blasted the potion vial from her path but it shattered and a rain of red smoke erupted covering Hermione completely.

Narcissa found that her jaw was clamped shut and she was incapable of speech. Hermione was drawing this out, wanting it to last.

If it had been a stunner the duel would be over.

Narcissa had to pull herself together because spells, even blindly cast, were jettisoning out of the smog she'd created to hamper Hermione and it was taking everything she had to block them all.

A crack of thunder and then a forked strike of lightning split the air and it started to rain; Hermione had conjured a thundercloud. Narcissa’s smog began to get drenched and dissipate away as soon as the thundercloud opened like the heavens and released its rain.

Narcissa was graced with a sight almost beyond her comprehension.

Hermione looked like a goddess from an ancient, mystical story. Her wet hair hung in strands about her face and her silk robe was soaked through and plastered to her tanned skin; her naked body showed easily through the wet material. The air around her positively crackled with power and in her eyes Narcissa swore she could see the face of magic itself.

It was a sight that people would worship like religion.

Narcissa raised her wand and fired spell after spell, her locked jaw making her cast silently, as she fired everything she could think of at the younger witch. Hermione walked through her rain storm easily batting away every attempt Narcissa made while firing her own volley. Her lips were stretched wide and Narcissa realized her younger lover was laughing.

And then the witch raised her left, wandless, hand. Hermione brought forth her magic even while her wand was still firing spell after spell.

Narcissa never saw the tsunami coming. Hermione brought the very sea on her side and forced a wave onto shore that absolutely leveled the elder witch. Narcissa had no defence against it. She brought her wand up but the water came for her anyway. It hit her with the force of a bludger and knocked her completely off her feet and swept her away and back out to sea. It was disorienting, being ripped off her feet and thrown about underwater, but Narcissa still had most of her faculties. Her robe was gone, torn off her body from the force of the wave, as was her wand. She was swimming, kicking her arms and legs and trying to bring herself to the surface again when sculpted arms wrapped around her from behind. An equally naked body was pressed against her.

"Do you yield?" Was whispered into her ear when they breached the surface of the water.

Narcissa was trying to remain dignified while sputtering water from her mouth and nose.

"I suppose." She admitted with a cough. "As I can't find my wand." Narcissa was realizing that as the wave retreated they weren't that deep out in the water; Narcissa could stand up and the water only reached her breasts.

Suddenly a slender piece of wood was slid between her fingers; she clenched onto it immediately knowing the feel of her own wand anywhere. Of course Hermione had protected it.

Narcissa turned around in the circle of her lovers arms so they were face to face; she sheathed her wand again and officially closed out the duel. "You're incredible. Absolutely breathtaking."

"Thank you."

It pleased Narcissa that Hermione didn't downplay it or humble herself. "You're welcome."

"This was..." Hermione couldn't speak but Narcissa didn't need her to.

"I've been waiting to see that woman again. The powerful, intelligent, skilled witch that could be doing absolutely anything." Narcissa still felt the effects of Hermione's magic crackling in the air and it was intoxicating; it was almost a tangible thing that Narcissa wanted to bottle and keep for herself to have on the loneliest nights away from the cabin.

"Will you promise me something?" Narcissa whispered her request because the moment felt almost overpowering. Narcissa slipped her hands inside Hermione's silk robe and started gently guiding it off her shoulders. The water had settled around them finally and they were standing in the sea together but Narcissa wanted no barriers between them.

"I'll promise you anything I can." Hermione flexed her shoulders back to help get the soaking wet material off her. "Anything I can give you I will."

When the robe finally slipped off Narcissa let it go and watched it start to drift away from them. The first initial rays of sunrise were coming up over the water and it turned Hermione's brown eyes a molten caramel.

"Do something for yourself this year." Narcissa leaned down to whisper her request against Hermione's lips. "Just for you. Something you've been wanting and desiring."


Narcissa interrupted her. "I was still speaking darling." Hermione rolled her eyes even as hands beneath the water found her hips to grip. "Rose is already attending Hogwarts and Hugo will be going for the first time in September." Narcissa could picture Rose; she had seen the young girl exactly twice in Diagon Alley over the last decade. But she had no visual for Hermione's son. "You've made sacrifices and been the best mother you could be. But now you can do something for yourself." Her hands were around Hermione's shoulders and she gripped the back of her neck, making sure even wet skin could feel her strength. "Promise me?"

"I promise, Cissa." Hermione closed any remaining gap between them to kiss her fiercely. Narcissa knew the power of her magic was still raging through her lovers system by the powerful way she kissed and took Narcissa's mouth. They were pressed tightly together, not even any water between their skin, and Narcissa moaned even as Hermione swallowed the sound.

Hermione moved her lips along Narcissa's cheek and then down to her throat. "Best date ever." She practically growled against flesh.

Narcissa smirked and then her own eyes flashed dangerously. She worked her hand into Hermione's hair, the wet strands feeling cool to the touch, and then yanked her head back. Hermione's back instantly arched and she gasped a delicious sound that was also partly a moan. "I'm the one who planned this date, baby. I decide how it ends." Hermione’s hands left Narcissa for the water as she tried to keep herself from being submerged.

Hermione opened her eyes and tried to look defiant even as she struggled a little, even with her head tipped back and her throat exposed. “But I won the duel.”

"Is that what you want then baby?" Narcissa's voice was like ice; only her lover knew her well enough to know it was a persona she put on. "A trophy for winning? Or do you want what only I can give you?" Water lapped around them and Narcissa still held Hermione’s pelvis close against her, one hand in her hair and one on her hip.


"Answer me." Narcissa knew she had already won. They loved trading places. Hermione had once led a thorough conversation about how sexuality and sex was thought of by muggles and what it meant when Hermione playfully declared herself a vers. Narcissa found she was the same. Sometimes she loved when Hermione took control and took care of her.

But other times she loved making her Gryffindor beg.

"Cissa. I want you."


"I want you. I need you love." Hermione already looked wrecked; her eyes were closed and her mouth was open as she panted. The water had calmed from the tsunami Hermione had made; now it had gentled and Narcissa took advantage of it.

“That’s it. That’s it baby. That’s my good girl.” Narcissa dropped her voice to an icy tone. “You want to please me, don’t you babygirl?”

“Yes yes.” Hermione’s eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide, and she tried to get even closer to the elder witch.

Narcissa pulled her hair and snapped her head back once again. “You don’t move until I tell you to.” Narcissa soothed the hair pull with her hand, underwater, on Hermione’s hip. She had her thumb in the dip of her hipbone and she rubbed in circles that she knew drove Hermione crazy. “You’ll do as I say?” Narcissa slid her hand out of Hermione’s hair but she kept her fingers sliding along wet skin, down her neck and forward across her collarbones until her fingers were skirting the edges of Hermione’s nipples.

“Yes yes.” Hermione kept her head back this time. “Yes Cissa.”

“Good.” Narcissa slid her hand under the water, still touching Hermione, until she was gripping her by both hips. “Good girl.” She purred. Her hands went lower, gripping hard, and she could hear Hermione panting thinking her ass was about to be kneaded. Narcissa smirked as she instead wrapped her long fingers around Hermione’s thighs. Narcissa knew she wasn’t the strongest witch physically; her job growing up had been to be beautiful, not strong, and that hadn’t changed when she’d become a wife. Narcissa survived using her brains and her magic and her wiles.

But she wanted to surprise Hermione.

In the water, with Hermione’s upper body leaned back and practically floating, she had the strength to heave Hermione upwards so that the younger witch wrapped her legs around her thin waist.

“Cissa!” Hermione’s first exclamation was shock. “Ciss-ah.” The second was a moan as she grinded her pussy against Narcissa’s skin.

“Good girl.” Narcissa kept one hand under Hermione, helping support her, and her other went to Hermione’s tensed abdomen. The younger witch had always been lean but over the last several years Narcissa had watched that lean body become firm. “Tense those muscles baby.” She played her fingers along Hermione’s stomach ridges. Hermione was leaned back, arms outstretched, and keeping her own upper body floating; from the tensing muscles beneath her touch Narcissa knew it was taking a lot of core strength as well.
“You’ll take everything I give you baby.” Narcissa demanded. “I don’t care if you start to drown, I’ll just keep fucking you.” Hermione rubbed her pussy harder on Narcissa.

“Please. Please please love, please fuck me.”

Now Narcissa did grab Hermione’s ass, supporting her weight and teasing her at the same time. She gripped her, hard, and then used her fingers to separate her ass cheeks. Narcissa’s other hand moved from Hermione’s stomach, down lower slowly, until she was touching the junction where their bodies met. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes yes. Please.” Hermione was panting, hands clenching and clasping with nothing to grip except water which kept sliding between her fingers.

“You want me to fuck you?” Narcissa kept her tone icy and cool. She knew that Hermione became more and more desperate to please her the longer she did it.

“Yes, Cissa, yes. I’ll be good, I’ll come so good for you, please.”

Narcissa had teased Hermione many times, brought her to the brink and held her there for so long she had cried; but she had never seen her witch quite like this before. Narcissa wondered if it was possible to bottle magic for too long and then become intoxicated on it when it was finally released.

The blonde haired witch forced her hand between them, Hermione made it difficult because she was grinding against her with everything she had, until her fingers came into contact with Hermione’s pussy. She couldn’t tease her like this, her hand was too constricted, too squished; she had no range of motion. So she did the only thing she could.
She slid three fingers deep inside Hermione’s pussy, stretching her and pulling out to fuck her practically in one breath. Hermione groaned, her head tipped back almost under the water and her stomach muscles, already tensed, worked hard to bring her sprawled upper body back to floating.

Narcissa herself moaned and Hermione was so lost she didn’t bother biting back the sound in an attempt to preserve her role. Her witch’s pussy was completely constricting her fingers, clenching and pulling; Hermione’s pussy was begging to be fucked harder and deeper.

“Fuck yourself.” Narcissa demanded in that icy tone. “You want me to do all the work? Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Hermione already was by the time she finished speaking, using her heels digging into Narcissa’s back to drive her pussy onto the fingers fucking her deep. “Yes yes yes.”

“More baby.” Narcissa moaned. She had never seen anything like this before; Hermione looked like something otherworldly. Her tits were bouncing, her hair was haloed out around her on the water and all her muscles flexed and tensed and she brought herself, again and again, down on Narcissa’s fingers.

Narcissa’s long fingers.

The blonde haired witch knew Hermione was already close; she was close the second the blonde haired witch started touching her skin with unparalleled magic running through her veins and unbottled for the first time in years. Narcissa started circling her fingers, spreading them against Hermione’s walls that clenched so tightly Narcissa could feel the spasms in her pussy. “Come, baby.” Narcissa demanded it. “Come for me. You’re my good girl, come.” Narcissa gripped her ass, digging her nails in, and fucked Hermione harder. “Come.”

Hermione screamed, noises strangled from her throat even as she kept tensing her legs, fucking herself and pounding her pussy against her lover. Narcissa didn’t withdraw even when Hermione gave a final shudder, she couldn’t; Hermione’s pussy clenched and milked Narcissa’s fingers, pulled them deeper and begged to be fucked again.

Only the threat of her lover drowning as Hermione lost the ability to hold herself afloat made Narcissa release her ass and slide a hand up her back to hold her upright and closer.

“Oh.” Hermione’s face twisted in both pain and pleasurable aftershocks. “Don’t- don’t move yet.”

“Whatever you need my love.” Narcissa pulled her against her body and supported her weight easily; the water also seemed to be innately supporting them both. Narcissa's fingers were still inside, teasing Hermione's pussy again.

“You.” Hermione whispered. “I told you. All I need is you.”

Chapter Text

Hermione inhaled the salty, sea breeze practically in the same breath as her apparation rematerialized her; the fury that had been ripping through her system, making her magic spark dangerously, began to calm at once. Her magic responded to her emotion and moments prior it had been ready to defend her, ready to lash out in response to her anger; now it was soothing along her skin and retreating back to where it would wait to be called upon. Even her magic knew there was no need for defence or anger here.

Still, Hermione took her time to walk to the cabin. Her heart demanded she run; every second counted when she only had a week and it had been even longer than normal. Her new schedule meant that their usual vacation dates had to be pushed back several weeks.

Instead of her heart, it was Hermione’s mind that made her walk slowly across the path at the edge of beach sand and forest to the wrap around porch their cabin had. Her hands still trembled, her jaw still clenched and she didn’t want to face her love for the first time in over a year looking distraught. Narcissa would know, Cissa knew her better than anyone, but Hermione wanted to let everything else melt away before she was in the arms of her beloved.

Her dragon hide boots thunked onto the wooden steps and alerted Narcissa to her presence though surely the wards around their property had already done so. Hermione breathed in deeply and pulled open the simple swinging door without knocking.

Narcissa was waiting, of course. She had a glass of white wine extended for Hermione and her other arm open for a hug. Hermione could have cried; her eyes did well a little bit. Narcissa’s easy acceptance was something Hermione craved. Narcissa knew, intuitively or by deduction, that Hermione couldn’t jump right into bed this second. Narcissa knew, even if she didn’t know the reason, that Hermione needed her comfort first.

The younger witch ignored the wine glass for pressing her body along Narcissa’s length and feeling a thin but strong arm wrap around her shoulders. Something in Hermione’s heart righted itself.

“Hello, love.” Hermione breathed against the dark purple but thin, sleek robes that Narcissa was wearing. Hermione might wear something similar to a professional function; Narcissa wore them to lounge about the house.

Narcissa hummed low in the throat. “Hello to you as well, Professor Granger.”

Hermione chuckled an embarrassed sound and pulled away just far enough to look into ice blue eyes; the pride, adoration and affection shining in them openly was enough for Hermione to fall in love all over again. She leaned up on her toes naturally and Narcissa met her in a kiss.

The younger witch’s lips felt touched by an older, pure kind of magic as she was able to kiss the one her soul craved again. Narcissa caressed her, kissing her lips over and over again without any rush or pressure.

Hermione felt loved, comforted, warmer and known all at once and Narcissa kissed her exactly how she needed it. Hermione hummed against the blondes lips and kept their bodies close together. “You taste of wine.” Hermione smirked.

“I did bring you a glass.” Narcissa’s voice was haughty but Hermione could hear the tease. She always could.

“My apologies for ignoring it.” Hermione carefully took possession of the glass, though not by the stem, and gulped a mouthful purposefully so that Narcissa would tut.

“So uncouth.”

“You love me.”

“I do.” Narcissa said it quite simply. A statement of fact that needed no further pomp. “Would you like dinner? We could discuss what’s bothering you if you need it?”

Now that Narcissa had brought attention to it the smells once again permeating the cabin for her arrival made her mouth water almost as much as the stunning witch before her did. “Mmm, you cooked for me again?” It was said needlessly; Narcissa always cooked for Hermione’s arrival. The elder witch arrived in the cabin first and cooked so that they didn’t have to spend their first evening together doing so.

“Of course. The Tiefenbrunner will pair delightfully but if you’d like something other than Pinot Grigio, something more suitable for chugging, I’m sure I can find some ale in a barrel out back.”

Hermione laughed easily, tilting her head down onto Narcissa’s shoulder even as she slid one hand down her back dangerously close to her ass. Narcissa’s breathing never even changed and Hermione suddenly sensed that later, it would be a teasing kind of night. “If we’re chugging, perhaps we should do shots?” Hermione smirked and moved her hand in little circles, fingertips digging in for a breath only to gentle a heartbeat later. “If that’s not too uncouth for you, Lady Black.”

Ice blue eyes danced in amusement, and also shined with heat. There was only a specific set of circumstances where Hermione called her lover Lady. “Then I suppose we must see who can handle themselves with more dignity later, shant we darling?”

Hermione had a witty retort ready on her lips but instead a gasp was stolen from her throat as she turned towards the kitchen. A veritable feast was laid out on their simple, circular, pine wood table. It looked like a holiday meal with dishes upon dishes laid out before them. The spread could undoubtedly feed four, if not more, and Narcissa had gone so far above and beyond anything Hermione had seen before. Narcissa’s own wine glass was waiting for her and in the centre of the table sat a simple mason jar filled with Hermione’s signature blue flame. “Oh my love.” Hermione’s eyes filled with tears even as a grin stretched across her features. Narcissa wrapped her arms around Hermione’s waist from behind and Hermione instinctively leaned her weight backwards into the elder woman. “Oh you lovely witch.” Narisssa only hummed. “Cissa. I don’t even have words. This is so wonderful. What’s the occasion?”

“Your celebration dinner, darling.” Narcissa gently pressed her lips against the skin behind Hermione’s ear and continued to whisper. “I never got to congratulate you on becoming a Hogwarts professor.” Narcissa’s breath against her skin sent shivers down her spine but Hermione made herself focus just a little to turn her head to catch Narcissa’s gaze. She had heard the self-incrimination in her lovers words. She had heard the pain, knew how much Narcissa wished that she could have been included in the dozens and dozens, if not hundreds, of witches and wizards who had congratulated the Golden Girl on returning to Hogwarts.

“My love. Listen to me.” Hermione turned in the circle of Narcissa’s arms. She set her wine glass down on a tiny section of the table not covered with food so her hands were free to slide up Narcissa’s arms and loop around her neck. “I only have that job because of you. I would still be a researcher, writing down formulas and doing purely theoretical work if not for you. Now,” Hermione was almost crying again, “I have life again, Cissa. I’m a professor. The dream I had since the very first time Minerva came into my home at eleven years old and told me I was a witch. I have achieved that dream. And it is because you my love.” Hermione yanked the blonde witch down and kissed her almost violently, practically forcing Narcissa against her lips as hard as she could. “You.” She kissed her again. “You did this.” Narcissa’s hands had a grip on her shirt that might tear the fabric. They leaned their foreheads against each other and breathed almost harshly into each other’s space. “It was not me who needed to hear your congratulations, though I love you for it. It is you who needs to hear my thank you. You saw me, love. You saw me drowning. And you saved me.” This time Hermione’s kiss was as gentle as she could make it. Barely a whisper against lips that trembled in return. “I’m not supposed to think about you throughout the year but it was impossible. Because I thanked you every day. Every single day I walked into my classroom I thanked you for seeing me. And for pushing me. And believing in me.”

Narcissa finally gave a wet chuckle that was almost a sob. “I have no choice but to see you and want the best for you, darling. I love you.”

“And I you.” Hermione kissed her, lingering this time, teasing her tongue against Narcissa’s lips until she could stroke into her mouth. They pushed their bodies closer even as they parted. “Thank you. For your love. For your courage. For your belief. For your idea. For this meal.”

Narcissa’s watery eyes had darkened from ice blue to sapphire with her emotion and her smile seemed without the restraint she was known for. “You’re welcome, darling.”

Hermione broke the tension with a laugh and pulled Narcissa towards the table; the elder witch squawked as she almost lost her footing. “You put so much effort into this meal, and I am going to put so much effort into eating it.” She eyed the amount of food. “For the entire week, probably.”

Narcissa hummed as she pulled out Hermione’s chair like a gentlewoman. “Less time cooking then, more time for,” her voice trailed away and Hermione groaned. One word, one innuendo, and the fire was suddenly raging hotter in her body.

“Sneaky witch.” Hermione never doubted Narcissa’s ability to tease her.

“I am a Slytherin, darling.”

“Indeed you are.” Hermione smirked but soon her attention was drawn to the dishes and she almost clapped her hands in anticipation. She delighted in listening to Narcissa talk. The blonde witch told her about various dishes and different things she had tried at her own home over the year to perfect them before cooking them here for Hermione. They ate slowly, most of the food sitting under stasis charms until they were ready for it, talking and laughing and sharing food off of one fork more than not.

“I read that article in the Prophet.” Narcissa commented after Hermione had enthusiastically told her all about her first day as the new Transfiguration professor. “The one about your new appointment and how it was perfect, magical, fated timing that as McGonagall wanted to give up the post there her protégée suddenly was.”

Hermione smirked. “You don’t believe that’s what happened?”

“More like you told McGonagall that you had come around and wanted the job and she sent up a thank you to Merlin that she could finally stop doing two jobs at once.”

The younger witch smirked a little. “Fine, perhaps it was more like that. I never even gave a Prophet interview but I’m not surprised in the least that they just went around and wrote something anyway.”

Narcissa grinned; Hermione’s rants about the Daily Prophet were borderline legendary by this point and undoubtedly her lover could probably recite them verbatim. Narcissa seemed grateful for Hermione dominating the conversation with stories and joy about her year and everything good that had come from her becoming a professor though. Hermione wasn’t ignoring her; she always asked Narcissa’s opinion and theories and wanted her to comment on every single detail. But the younger witch also knew better than to repeatedly ask the obligatory so how was your year and tell me everything you did in the last year because Narcissa had far less to occupy her time than Hermione did. The blonde haired witch was more than content, seemingly living the dream actually, just to be with Hermione while her joy was contagious.

But the elder witch knew Hermione well.

Narcissa swirled her third glass of wine; Hermione noticed she hadn’t sipped it yet. “Giving up already?” Hermione teased. The blonde merely arched an eyebrow.

“No, darling. Just pausing. If you do want to talk about what’s bothering you so there isn’t a shadow in your eyes for the rest of your vacation I don’t want to be on my way towards intoxicated.”

Hermione immediately looked down, as if to hide that very shadow from Narcissa, but she looked up quickly again after the reflex had passed. She didn’t have to hide from Narcissa; this was the place she didn’t have to hide her emotions like she did everywhere else in her life. When Hermione reached over, for they were sitting side by side as opposed to across from each other, Narcissa already had her hand waiting to interlock their fingers.

“I don’t like to complain about him to you.”

“I know.”

Hermione knew that Narcissa was employing all of her considerable years showing no emotion to great effect right now because they could have been discussing the weather for all the emotion Narcissa displayed. “Will you tell me how you’re feeling as well? During me talking and after?” Hermione stroked the pale hand clutched between her own fingers like a lifeline.

“I already know how I will feel. Like he doesn’t deserve you. Maybe he did, once. Maybe a seventeen year old boy once deserved a chance with the seventeen year old girl he fought beside. But those days are long over.”

Hermione suddenly felt old. “They are indeed.” She neglected reaching for her wineglass because Narcissa had wanted them sober for this conversation. She let out a sigh instead. “I can’t completely blame Ronald.” She arched an eyebrow at their hands and their current location but Narcissa scoffed.

“You Gryffindors and your two wrongs and all that, but Ronald was cheating on you long before our relationship. I remember the first time you confessed to me that he was an unfaithful, inattentive husband.”

Hermione grinned and blushed simultaneously. “We were hardly even friends yet. Acquaintances.”

The elder witch swallowed. “The bravery you showed being vulnerable, being open with merely an acquaintance. Well,” her chin lifted reflexively as it did when she spoke of her past, “I had never experienced anything quite like it before. As a Slytherin, a Black or a Malfoy.” Hermione pulled their hands closer to kiss Narcissa’s smooth skin; it was enough to pull Narcissa from her pureblooded past. “That’s another thing for you Gryffindors, bluster and emotion and pride without any thought of the consequences.”

“You’re right.” Hermione murmured, lips still against skin so that she caressed her love with each word. “I didn’t think. You asked me how I was, purely because respectful conversation demands it I’m sure, and suddenly I was faced with someone that wasn’t related to Ron. Wasn’t his family and didn’t have a stake in what I said about him. And it all just came spilling out.” Narcissa used her free hand to gently stroke Hermione’s cheek.

“And I told you then that he was completely beneath you and undeserving of you.”

“You did.” Hermione smiled but tears welled in her eyes. She looked down almost into her own lap. “This was probably Ron and my worst year.” She admitted. Narcissa’s hand finally fell away from her lips but now it was the blonde witch holding her. “Which is odd, because I was at Hogwarts for ten months of it.” She tried to crack that fact as a joke but Narcissa wasn’t laughing. She sighed. “Sometimes…” Hermione hesitated but it had been a long time since she held anything back from Narcissa, “it was easy to pretend I wasn’t married at all.” It came out like a dirty secret but Narcissa hardly reacted.

“I’m sure that was reprieve for you.”

“It was.” Hermione’s lips trembled. “God, that’s where we are, aren’t we? Both unfaithful, both unhappy. Why are we even still married?” Hermione gasped a second late, words already out of her mouth, and Narcissa was rigid in her seat. Hermione had been very careful never to say those words before because she didn’t want to put Narcissa in that place. God, what was the elder witch supposed to do? Advocate for them divorcing and splitting up their children’s lives? Or advocate for her lover staying with the husband that kept her on the sidelines as a mistress? It was more complicated than that, they both knew it, but Hermione suddenly had the urge to get up from the table and start cleaning dishes because that penetrating ice blue gaze had her adrenaline surging.


“What happened today? Why was this the worst year?”

Hermione hated the tone of Narcissa’s voice because she knew, for this moment at least, she had lost the pure-blood witch to the disinterested and haughty expression that was her upbringing. “We fought. We always fight. I’m not spending enough time with him, or with the kids, or giving my attention elsewhere. That me being gone for ten months of the year wasn’t what he signed up for. Today, the tipping point was honestly so stupid.” Narcissa only arched an eyebrow in question. Now Hermione really did stand from the table to give them both a moment. “It was because I signed my paperwork for Minerva under my birth name. I really am Professor Granger. Not Weasley.”

Hermione was placing a dish beside the sink when she felt heat behind her. Narcissa hadn’t touched her yet but God if Hermione didn’t always know when she was near. She was hyper attuned to it after missing her for a year. She waited patiently until the blonde gently put hands on her hips. “I’m sorry.”

The brunette kept stacking dishes to wash them the muggle way. “We have no reason to apologize to each other, as much as I want to say those words back to you. Obviously our situation is unique and…fraught, with potential conversation breaking landmines. But we’re honest, you and me. That’s the part that matters. Everything else is just a moment.”

“That was beautifully said. You should be a teacher.”

Hermione grinned at the remark and leaned back into Narcissa. Already tension was leaching from the both of them. This was how it was supposed to be. A moment. Of course not every conversation was perfect, but they were just moments. The love, the respect, that was always there.

It shouldn’t be yelling and harsh words and petty grudges and negativity that extends into each new moment and the next.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione whispered.

“Jealous of course. So base I’m almost embarrassed. Sad for you,” she hesitated for only a breath, “for your children.” Hermione shuddered but Narcissa was there to hold her steady. “I know you do everything for them. We’re mothers, that’s what we do. I’m glad they were at Hogwarts for those ten months with you instead of their father.”

“Ron would never do anything to them. That’s somewhat the point though. He likes having kids, likes being able to say he’s a father and brag about having children and what they’ve done. But he doesn’t really, enjoy them.”

“Lucius was the same.” Narcissa murmured. “Draco was more of a thing, than a son.”

Hermione gave up fiddling with the plates and turned to face Narcissa again. “I don’t like that I showed up here still thinking of Ron. I think that’s most of where my fury came from. He knew I was leaving for my vacation and knew how important this is to me and he picked a fight with me anyway. Accused me of a riot of things, some true,” Hermione shrugged a shoulder and attempted a Slytherin smirk that made Narcissa grin, “but others horribly off base.”

“As I said, sometimes when it is two wrongs the wrong that was committed first is worse.”

“You snake.”

“You love me.” Narcissa smiled. Her haughty attitude had fled by now and Hermione loved her for working so hard on changing decades worth of behaviour, abuse and brainwashing.

“I do. Very much. For a multitude of reasons. Not the least of which is how amazing you are.”

Narcissa scoffed. “Please, you’re the-”

“Oh I meant in bed.” Hermione depended. “Did you think I meant your character? Please.” Hermione felt Narcissa’s nails like bites as she practically clawed at Hermione throat to tilt her head back and kiss her with bruising force.

“You will pay for that, baby.” Narcissa didn’t growl, but her voice became a whisper that made Hermione shiver. “You think I’m only good in bed, you haven’t seen anything. You haven’t experienced anything. You will listen to your Lady.” Her nails raked Hermione’s skin and the younger witch had no doubt that tonight, she would bleed.


Narcissa listened to Hermione’s pleas that she would die with a smirk painted across her blood red lips. There wasn’t anything that compared to the sound of her lover in the midst of pleasure; and if sometimes that pleasure included practically sobbing while she begged and pleaded and promised that she would be only the very best good girl for her Lady then, all the better.

The blonde witch was even still completely dressed compared to her lover who was sprawled out on the bed with her arms and legs bound. Narcissa never bound her witch with magic; Hermione had never told her that she couldn’t but Narcissa found it distasteful.

Thoughts of the first time Narcissa had ever seen Hermione bound down helpless by magic had no place in their bedroom.

Instead beautiful silk ties physically tied her to the bed the muggle way. The silk had cost more than Hermione usually spent on an outfit but they had been a gift she had presented to her Lady some time ago. Hermione’s wand was right beside her on the nightstand and both witches were well aware that if Hermione didn’t want to be laying there anymore than she wouldn’t be.

The fact that she still was even after all these hours and denials and withheld orgasms made Narcissa positively clench.

The elder witch had only had one orgasm herself. She’d blindfolded Hermione and then laid practically on top of her prone form to fuck herself so that Hermione could feel every second of it. Narcissa had merely rucked her robes up and rubbed her clit furiously; the sounds Hermione was making were enough for her to come with hardly any other stimulation. She’d soaked her fingers, practically gathered her own essence in her palm before slapping a hand down just shy of hard on Hermione’s bared abdomen.

By the time Hermione’s blindfold had come off Narcissa had fixed her clothes and her hair and was merely looking at her fingernails while sitting on the edge of the bed. Hermione had been brought to the edge of orgasm, denied, overstimulated and cooled down so many times now that Narcissa didn’t even know if Hermione was capable of orgasming anymore.

But she was going to find out.

She moaned low in her throat. “Baby.” She dropped her tone and voice and Hermione’s back arched on the bed.

“Please, Cissa. Please, my Lady. Please, please.” Hermione was still sobbing but the actual tears had long since dried up; she had nothing more to cry. Her voice was a croak and though her lips kept moving no further words were apparent.

“What baby?” Narcissa touched her nails to Hermione’s bare thigh; she trailed over marks and lines she’d draw previously but this time she used such light pressure that to Hermione’s sweat slick skin it felt like a wisp of wind. “What?”

Hermione couldn’t speak. Her hair was soaked and plastered to her skin; it was bushy once again from the static against the sheets and the younger witch whipping her head back and forth. Her hands clenched and flexed uselessly because she didn’t even have the strength left to fist the cotton sheet.

“You’re so good baby.” Narcissa placed her other hand on Hermione’s skin, this time up by her hip. She used her thumb to caress the jut and hollow of her hipbone. Hermione tried to curl towards the touch as much as her bound legs would allow. “You’ve been so good. You haven’t come out of turn. You haven’t disobeyed me. You’re so, so beautiful. But I need you to speak now. You need to tell me what you need. Can you do that for me baby?”

By all accounts it looked like Hermione couldn’t. Her muscles were tensed and she looked ready to snap but her eyes looked delirious. Narcissa wouldn’t have pushed her so hard, so far, if she didn’t have some inside knowledge however.

With feline grace Narcissa crawled up the bed over Hermione’s body and the younger witch arched like all she needed was to rub her naked body on Narcissa to break apart. Narcissa hovered over Hermione, hands on the bed beside her head, while her lover rocked back and forth. “Baby. Look at me. Baby. Baby. Hermione.” This last was a command snapped in her Lady Black voice and Hermione’s eyes snapped open.


Narcissa almost orgasmed on the spot just from brushing her mind across the torment of pain and denial and pleasure that had become of the brilliant professors mind. Hermione’s lips might not be producing coherent words but her mind was screaming.

Oh god, oh god please. I can’t take anymore, mmm, oh god.

Hermione’s bottom lip was clamped between her teeth and Narcissa dropped down to steal a kiss against bruised lips; it tasted of blood.

Oh fuck, oh fuck me, oh god please, please, please Cissa. I’ll do anything oh god just make it stop make me come, please.

Narcissa was dripping wet and the second she wasn’t wearing her robes anymore she was going to paint Hermione’s skin with it.

Fuck me please, fuck me please, oh god just let me come I’ll do anything.

Hermione. Speak. Speak out loud baby, do that for me and I’ll let you come.

Narcissa withdrew slowly from Hermione’s mind, caressing as she went, repeating her words and making sure that Hermione was capable of doing the one thing she required of her.

“Please Cissa, please fuck me. Fuck me please, my Lady.”

The blondes grin was quite literally feral. “Good girl.” Narcissa vanished her robes with a wave of her wand before tossing it carelessly aside. The blonde witch instantly brought her body down against Hermione’s overheated and sweat slicked skin.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Hermione instantly was rubbing every inch of herself against her lover. Narcissa’s pussy clenched and she almost came herself before Hermione did. That wouldn’t do; her lover deserved this for being such a good girl for her.

Narcissa used one hand to grab Hermione’s breast but she avoided the already punished nipple; Hermione’s own hands clasped the silk ties that restrained her and she whined pathetically in the back of her throat. “Hold on baby, just hold on one more second.” Naricssa slid down the younger witch’s body, dropping kisses and licks across skin marked by teeth and nails, and she settled herself between Hermione’s thighs.

The brunette was still rolling and thrashing on the bed as much as her bonds would allow and Narcissa blew cool air over Hermione’s beautiful, glistening and swollen sex. The sheets beneath her were soaked and Narcissa’s mouth went dry at the sight of her entrance dripping in tandem with Narcissa’s own. Hermione’s whine became higher pitched at the cool air Narcissa blew on her again and again as the blonde knew better than to touch her overstimulated clit. Instead, she pressed kisses against the skin of her thighs, inching closer and closer to her lips and trying to make sure Hermione could feel every ounce of her love in every touch.

Narcissa’s free hand slid two fingers into Hermione without any teasing and the brunette was so soaked and well fucked that Hermione hardly reacted; her whine finally cut off with a strangled moan when Narcissa curled those fingers upwards and pressed into her spot with unrelenting and rubbing pressure.

When Hermione finally came it brought a sudden quiet and stillness to her body that hadn’t been seen in hours since Narcissa had first started to tease her. Hermione’s body was basically only touching the bed by her shoulders and feet her back was so dramatically arched and Narcissa kept gently rubbing inside her pussy until the younger witch finally slumped down limp.

The blonde felt her own pussy pulsing in time, she’d orgasmed at the sight and sounds and smell of her lover overwhelming her, and the feel of Hermione’s pussy still clenching around her even while the witch herself was quite unconscious made her grin. She withdrew soaked fingers finally, licking them clean and licking her lips wishing that Hermione could see the sight herself. Usually when Hermione saw Narcissa enjoying her flavour she pounced in a sexual fury; though Hermione wouldn’t be up for any sort of activity for a while.

Narcissa untied the silk ties by hand and positioned Hermione in a more comfortable way on the bed. She looked down at the witch that had changed her life in every conceivable way. Narcissa hadn’t known trust before this, hadn’t known passion, hadn’t known true love.

Hermione was everything.

And as she had done for years now, she would take everything she could from their situation.


Hermione came to slowly, and with a whimper. She felt her lovers hands on her and shivered deliciously. She knew, from how her body felt, that her aftercare was already well underway. “How long?” It was more of a croak than the sexy sounding murmur she’d been intending and beside her the blonde witch chuckled.

“Almost an hour. I darted inside your mind to make sure your rest was peaceful.”

“Thank you love.” The brunette had no fear of Narcissa inside her mind; she had no secrets from Narcissa and the witch’s natural skill in legilimency was part of who she was. Only someone like Lucius would try to ban her from using it.

Hermione was still trying to blink her eyes awake when gentle hands fell on her shoulder to help her up into a more reclined position than flat on her back. “Here, darling.” A potion bottle was handed to her and she drank it without hesitation. She knew from the taste afterwards and the brief pressure behind her eyes that it was an Invigoration Draught.

“Whew. You brewed that yourself.” It wasn’t a question. Narcissa was a potion mistress at heart and Hermione could always tell when a potion had some of her extra kick. Within a few seconds she was able to finally open her eyes fully and crack her neck. “Hello beautiful.” Were her first words when she’d finally taken in Narcissa. The blonde witch looked ethereal; her hair was down and loose which it wasn’t very often, her face was free of makeup and her robe was silk and draped about her body without being tied. “My god. Mortals would worship at your alter.”

“As they should.” Narcissa replied with an arched eyebrow and a deadpanned expression. Hermione’s body was still flooded with an excess of natural chemicals and she ended up giggling uncontrollably.

The younger witch knew that Narcissa had already finished most of her aftercare; she knew that from the state of her body immediately. She was dressed in her comfiest shorts and a t-shirt and there weren’t any marks visible on her body anymore. No nail marks down her thighs or bites on her exposed collarbone. The welts were gone and the blood from her lips had been cleaned. Hermione rotated her shoulders and hips and there was no residual ache from being strapped to the bed spread out for so long. Her sex was no longer throbbing and painful; but Narcissa had left that after sex stretched feeling that made Hermione smirk. The brunette witch was pretty sure even her hair had been brushed because it was neatly parted and away from her face. “Thank you for taking care of me my love.” Hermione’s look turned lecherous. “After you…took care of me.”

“My pleasure. On both counts.” Narcissa slid a little closer on the bed and Hermione’s eye couldn’t help but trailing down her slender neck, across flawless pale skin to her chest and biting her bottom lip slightly at hard and tightened nipples.

“Do you need me, lover?” Hermione’s voice was low. Without Narcissa’s care she would undoubtedly be in too much pain to move; but as it was she just wanted her witch. She wanted her badly.

“I’m not finished with you yet.” The younger witch had just enough time to lick her lips before Narcissa smiled a shy smile; one of the rarest expressions seen on the elder witch’s face. “Would you like to be on top, on the bottom, the big spoon or the little spoon?”

Hermione positively melted. Everything about this witch was perfect. From her filthy mind to the care in which she learned Hermione’s slang muggle language, Hermione loved her. The fire never died in her, not for Narcissa, not ever; but it did spread. Her entire body felt warm and loved and it almost brought tears to her eyes. “Little spoon, please.”

Narcissa wasted no time in shimmying down the bed and pulling Hermione comfortably into her arms. Hermione pressed her back and ass backwards until she felt surrounded. “This is important.” Narcissa murmured in her ear. Hermione felt like she could have produced a very easy and yet immensely powerful patronus in this moment.

“Yes it is. Is there anything you need to talk about?” Hermione kept her voice low. There was no judgement in her voice, just curiosity and understanding.

“I don’t believe so.” Narcissa murmured back. “I know from your mind I didn’t go too far.”

Hermione chuckled. “No. It’s been a few days or years since making me cry is going too far. I love what you can do to me. Like no one else can.” She added and even without looking she knew her Slytherin preened. “Was there some jealousy involved?” She asked the question because she wanted to know, and she didn’t want any negativity involved in their play.

“No.” Narcssa answered quickly but not without thought. Hermione let the elder witch gather herself. “You’d think there would be. Anyone would assume I was jealous of your husband. And sometimes I am. But, not when you’re here. Not when you’re with me. And when you’re not with me, it’s less about the fact you’re with him. I don’t think about the fact that you’re with him as the most important part.”

“What is the most important part?”

“That I miss you. And that I love you.” Narcissa punctuated her words with a kiss to the back of Hermione’s head, gently against her hair. She let her lips linger and Hermione let her eyes fall closed.

“As I both miss, and love you too.”

Chapter Text

Narcissa was taking a quiet moment for herself. She talked more during her week with Hermione than she did arguably for the rest of the year combined. Hermione never, ever begrudged her these moments and often found subtle but kind ways to make sure she had them. Tonight, the brunette witch had offered to do the dishes from their midnight meal by hand the muggle way. Hermione always said she found the activity relaxing. She offered for Narcissa to take their wine and head out to the porch and she would be with her when she was finished.

The blonde witch did have the wine siting on the small rod iron table between their two Adirondack chairs. It was already poured into chilled wine glasses though Narcissa hadn’t taken a sip yet without her lover.

Her gaze was drawn outward. This section of their porch, towards the back, had no railing and the wooden deck boards simply stopped and became white beach sand. Their sand was untouched except by the wildlife living there naturally and themselves; Narcissa had bought the entire island with their cabin on it.

The Maldives were a chain of over a thousand islands and most of them had no human presence at all. More witches and wizards would buy a private island for themselves if the price wasn’t exorbitant; Narcissa hadn’t even flinched at it. The South Asian Ministry kept the prices almost unpayable on purpose so that they didn’t lose the splendor of their nature. Narcissa had respectfully paid over asking for their own small, out of the way island; Galleons meant little to nothing to her anymore after inheriting the entirety of the Black estate and half of the Malfoy one.

Hermione herself had charmed their island with everything she knew to cast and had researched even more. It would be just as difficult for a muggle to wander onto their island as it would be for a muggle to wander into Hogwarts.

This late at night with only the sounds of the jungle behind her and the waves in front of her, Narcissa’s gaze was drawn upwards. The ocean itself was a reflective black pool, glittering white from the moon hanging overheard and the canvas of stars the likes of which Narcissa had never seen before coming here to their island.

Hermione had explained to her about light pollution. Narcissa loved hearing Hermione talk and she was an incredible teacher; even before she was one. Hermione never talked down to her and explained even muggle concepts in a way that was easy for the pureblood to understand. It made Narcissa smile; she knew her lover had been a bit of a know-it-all in school, but she still had little doubt that whenever a Gryffindor needed some private tutoring it was to their resident Gryffindor Princess that they came to.

The stars were phenomenal. With no unnatural light for hundreds of miles in any direction the sky was a splendor of constellations. As a Black, Narcissa was dutifully aware of the constellations. They had all been named after one, after all. Narcissa smiled lightly at the reminder of Hermione shyly, years into their relationship, asking why Narcissa herself was the only Black who hadn’t been named after a constellation, and was named after a flower instead.

“I wasn’t.” Narcissa was confused, and eyed the brunette witch curiously.


“Named after a flower. I was named after a constellation.”

Hermione had furrowed her eyebrows. “The narcissus is a flower. A daffodil.”

Narcissa had eyed her lover blankly. “The narcissus is a constellation. In the sky.” Her deadpanned expression finally made Hermione giggle and she tackled her on the bed. Narcissa had to hold back an unladylike grunt as she fell backwards and tried to hold Hermione to her.

“Say it’s a flower!” Hermione had started to tickle her and Narcissa was desperately trying to reach for her wand to cast a tickling charm on Hermione. “Say it’s a flower!”

“A star!” Narcissa had giggled back. She hadn’t felt so young and carefree even when she had been a little girl. They had slept on the beach that night, wrapped up in each other and several blankets. Narcissa had delighted in finally being right against the brilliant witch as she pointed out the, apparently only magical, constellation that was named Narcissus.

“A galleon for your thoughts.” Hermione’s voice broke her memories and she smiled as Hermione leaned down to kiss her lips gently before sliding into her own chair beside her with a moan.

“Expensive thoughts I must be having.” Narcissa smirked as she clinked wineglasses gently against Hermione’s and they both took a sip.

“Well, you are a classy bitch.” Hermione smirked back and giggled at Narcissa’s offended look. “Witch. I meant witch.” Hermione’s eyes also fell upwards after a moment. “Have you found your namesake?” The smile on her lips let Narcissa know she was also thinking about their playful debate from the past.

Narcissa only hummed and pointed upwards, off to the left, as if Hermione hadn’t memorized exactly where it could be found as soon as she’d been proven wrong. The next year they had reunited Hermione had delighted in telling her all the constellations that only one side of society had, either muggle or magical, and some that were the same technically but named differently.

Hermione had fallen silent. She slouched further in her chair, getting comfortable, and Narcissa sensed that the younger witch was letting her lead the conversation. “I can’t see him.” She finally murmured.

The brunette needed no further explanation than that. “We’re in the wrong hemisphere to see Draco.” She said quietly. “I know of an apparation point in Anchorage. It’s in Alaska.” Hermione continued when Narcissa said nothing. “You would see the dragon constellation like never before.”

“I can’t see my son.” The words burned Narcissa’s throat like she’d just ingested acid.

“I know.”

“I haven’t seen my son in years.”

“I know.”

Narcissa sighed. Of all the times she wished her lover had a brilliant magical plan to save the day, but there was nothing she could do. Nothing either of them could do.

Draco had moved to France to start his life over. She understood the compulsion; she did. She knew what living in wizarding Britain was like for them; she was still experiencing the harsh effects over a decade later. No one spoke to her willingly and without necessity. Some shops in Diagon Alley still refused her business. If it was coming towards the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts Narcissa was safer not to leave her manor because she was likely to be spelled or cursed in the street. Whispers and sneers followed her everywhere she went; it was a good day in public if she wasn’t called a Death Eater at least once. Narcissa grit her teeth over that one. Her arms were bare. And she knew, better than anyone else except her son, that not everyone who wore that mark was proud of it.

Narcissa accepted all of these things. She accepted her fate as part of her consequences. But she accepted it for herself; never for her son. Draco deserved better, deserved more.

The blonde witch glanced over and noticed that Hermione was calm, respectfully quiet with her hand outstretched over the arm of her own chair. Not touching her, but close enough to give Narcissa the choice. She laced their fingers together easily.

She knew what it sounded like. Narcissa knew she was a mother and everyone thought her too bias to say anything about what her son deserved. But quiet conversations with Hermione had brought clarity because even the brunette witch had spoken up in his defence.

The magical world didn’t have much thought on mental health bar from insanity and madness but Hermione was patient in teaching her.

“I agree with you, Cissa.” Hermione said quietly while they rested in their favourite Adirondack chairs on the porch. “Draco does deserve better.”

Narcissa scoffed. “You don’t have to agree with me just because we’re sleeping together, Hermione.”

The brunette witch looked hurt. “We’re more than sleeping together, Cissa.”

Narcissa swallowed thickly. She knew that. She loved the younger witch entirely; she wouldn’t be here, doing what they did if she didn’t. “I’m sorry.” She forced the words out; she would not hold back an apology to Hermione just because she had been taught to never give one.

“I know this conversation is hard for you. And as long as you don’t take it out on me, I don’t mind discussing the hard things with you, Cissa. We’re more than sex. We’re the hard conversations too.” Narcissa felt thoroughly put in her place and Hermione merely nodded at her sadly. “And I wasn’t just saying that. I do think that Draco deserves better. The trauma and the PTSD alone…” she trailed off when she noticed Narcissa’s confused face.


“I just mean…I can’t imagine what he went through.”

Narcissa fought against her nature to scoff again. “Most people can’t imagine what you and your friends went through.”

Hermione was quiet for a moment as she collected her thoughts. Narcissa knew it was recent behaviour; she used to spout any fact she knew in any order to make a point or teach something. “We went through something, yes. And honestly, what we went through and what Draco went through was very much the same, just different sides of the same coin.”
Narcissa’s hands were shaking a little. “Will you explain it to me? Please?”

“I told you we spent most of our time on the run, living in a tent, running from snatchers and the Ministry and whatever else. It was huge chunks of time that was just boredom, mostly, interspersed with crazy adrenalin and fear. But even the times of boredom, it wasn’t peaceful. We couldn’t rest and relax. We were always on guard, always alert, always dreading what would come next. I imagine it was much the same for Draco. Not every moment was absolute insanity but he couldn’t rest. Every moment would be spent on alert, waiting. Is this the moment my Dark Mark burns and I have to face Voldemort? Is this the moment Voldemort loses his patience and kills me? Kills my family? Is this the moment Bellatrix,” there was a small hitch in Hermione’s voice that made her heart clench, “goes insane and does something even more drastic? That kind of fear, and alertness, takes a great toil on a person’s psyche.”

“I…” Narcissa didn’t really know what to say. “I never thought of the comparison like that.”

“Oh there’s more undoubtedly. Harry was faced with this impossible task and this unbelievable amount of pressure because of Dumbledore. What that wizard did to Harry, justifiable or not, was absolutely abusive. To put the fate of the wizarding world on one boy’s shoulders is a fate no one should experience. I watched the unrelenting amount of pressure eat Harry alive and it nearly broke him so many times. And in that way, Draco really is the other side of his coin. The amount of pressure that Lucius put on him because he himself had fallen out of favour with Voldemort is insane. Draco thinking he had to not only commit a murder but to murder Dumbledore, one thought to be unkillable, is the kind of pressure that breaks a person. And I watched that school year as it did. Even I knew that Draco looked sick and unwell. Thinking he had to do this insurmountable thing or else his father, his mother, his family would die… that too wrecks a person.”

Narcissa was crying now. Silently, as befits a lady, but tears were streaming down her cheeks nonetheless. She’d be alone since the end of the war. Lucius was in Azkaban and while he deserved it, and she didn’t mourn him, he had at least been a companion. Anyone on the side of the light had abandoned her and anyone still free who had been on the side of the dark she didn’t want to associate with anymore. She’d had no one to talk to until this brunette witch who had saved her from her loneliness and now, who had saved her again with her words about her son.

“I failed my son.” Narcissa said softly. Hermione’s thumb began stroking a gentle rhythm across the back of her hand. “I failed my son in every way that a mother can fail her child.”

“Narcissa.” It was said so softly, and with so much grief. Narcissa actually appreciated that Hermione didn’t immediately jump to her defence.

“I raised my son in the same bigotry and hatred that I was raised in because I knew nothing else. I knew no other way, thought I had no choice in the matter, even though I knew what being raised like a Black had done to me. Everything that it cost me. I didn’t save him from his father’s outrageous expectations. And that happened long before the war. Not being the top of the class, the best of the best, everything was shamed. Draco spent his life following his father and doing anything he could just to get a hint of approval from him. And I didn’t shield him from it. I didn’t take him and run when he was a toddler like I should have.”

“Narcissa. You would have been hunted down.” Hermione’s voice was still soft and tender, but she didn’t mince her words either. “I don’t know what would have happened to you after you were found, but you would have been hunted. Even vanishing into the muggle world wouldn’t have been an option because you didn’t know how.”

Narcissa knew that, later, those words would eventually bring some comfort and realism. But now she could feel nothing over her own grief. “The darkest, evilest wizard ever known to mankind and I let him get his claws into my son. I did everything I could and yet I did nothing.”

“You said yourself you did everything you could. You wouldn’t let Draco darken his soul with murder. You risked your life against Voldemort, against Bellatrix, and you were the one who made Snape make the Vow.” Hermione’s thumb still hadn’t stopped its gentle ministrations. Narcissa had heard these words from Hermione many times and she knew her lover would keep saying them until the blonde believed them.

“Even Draco blames me.”

“He doesn’t.” This, for the first time, had some fire from Hermione. “Don’t let your mind make up facts to use against you. Draco has never said he blamed you for any of it. Your feelings are always valid but only the ones that are based in truth. When your mind turns against you, you have to have the strength to push it aside. Draco does not blame you. Mistakes were made and you both made what you could of an impossible situation. Draco knows that.”

Narcissa’s eye dripped a tear and Hermione twisted in her chair to reach out with her free hand to brush over it gently. “I miss my son.” She said this so quietly it was almost just mouthed around an exhale.

“I know. I know, my love.”

Draco had left for France as soon as he was able to. Lucius was still alive at the time but Gringotts had reverted control of the Malfoy holdings to the two of them as soon as Lucius’s sentence in Azkaban had been official. Draco had taken the money and fled seemingly without a backwards glance.

And Narcissa had been unable to follow.

Her own sentence from the British Wizangamot had been twenty-seven years of probation to prove that her “last minute” change to the side of the light by lying to Voldemort was a change that she could make permanent. Twenty-seven years was deemed what was needed to change a lifetime of ideology and brainwashing.

She hadn’t needed twenty-seven years. She had only needed to meet and fall in love with a brunette witch named Hermione Granger.

Narcissa cared little for the conviction. She didn’t care that a conviction by the Wizangamot restricted her from gaining employment almost anywhere. She didn’t care that a conviction meant she had to submit her wand to the ministry once a year to examine everything she had cast. She didn’t care that a conviction meant that aurors could come into her home whenever they wished to search it. She didn’t care that she could even be forced to submit to memory scanning and legilimency without any warning.

She only cared that a conviction by the British Ministry caused a sentence to be dolled out that she was still paying. And while actively serving a sentence Narcissa was not allowed to leave Britain. She was granted two weeks a year to use as vacation or necessary travel. One week she used to see Hermione here at their cabin. The other week she always saved in case she was ever asked by her dragon to see him in France. It had only happened twice.

Once for his wedding. And once for the birth of her grandchild.

“You have seen my grandson more recently than I have.” Narcissa took care not to let that sentence out of her mouth as bitterly as she was capable of making it.

Hermione didn’t deny it. “I have.”

Of course she had; she was his professor. Narcissa didn’t even know why Draco enrolled his son in Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons like she expected him to. She wondered if his wife Astoria had been the deciding factor. She had to wonder because letters from Draco were few and far between; firecalls even more rare.

And Narcissa understood. She knew she was a part of his past when all he wanted to do was move forward into the future. She knew she reminded him of the most terrible and traumatizing moments of his life. And Narcissa was his mother, she swore to always do her best and do right by him, and so she hadn’t pushed.

She didn’t push for more than Draco was willing and able to give. She didn’t force a situation that would make him uncomfortable. She didn’t ask for anything that would make him feel guilty even though the distance and the separation broke her heart every day.

She didn’t push even though she hadn’t seen her grandson since he was born.

“What is Scorpius like?” She practically sobbed the name. Hermione held her hand tighter.

“He’s bright. Very intelligent, and very quick too. He doesn’t just master a spell, he does it quickly.” Hermione answered promptly. “He looks just like Draco. That hair, those grey eyes, that bone structure.” The brunette smirked. “He pulls it off beautifully, even more so than Draco. And I told you he’s best friends with Albus. It was really something to see that in action. Harry told me how it all developed over their first year.”

“And Harry had no problem with this?”

“No. They’re both a little outcasted. Scorpius is still a Malfoy, and Albus is the son of Harry sorted into Slytherin. They make a wonderful team. Rose knows him well because he’s always with her cousin.” Hermione actually smirked a little. “Rose told me she thought Scorpius might even have a crush on her and I promptly told her she was too young for boys and to go back to the library.”

Narcissa gave a watery smile. “Did she listen?”

“Probably not. Probably got into trouble with all the boys and just nobody told me about it.”

“Will you tell me some more stories? About Scorpius?” Narcissa asked shyly. She didn’t know why her instinct was to be quiet. Hermione was nothing like Lucius and it had been over a decade she she’d been rebuked by him for asking a question.

“Of course, come here.” Hermione tugged her by the hand and Narcissa was confused until she finally stood and lowered herself down carefully onto Hermione’s lap. The brunette laughed. “Narcissa, you weight like a hundred pounds soaking wet, come here.” Hermione wrapped her arms around Narcissa’s waist and pulled her back more comfortably resting against her chest. “Now, Scorpius and Albus have definitely gotten themselves into trouble but there was this one time…”

Narcissa found herself snuggling in closer, pulling up her legs and giving herself over completely to Hermione’s comfort. Hermione’s voice soothed her soul and she closed her eyes so that all she could hear was her lovers voice telling story after story, everything and anything she could think to give Narcissa a piece of her grandson.


Hermione knew that Narcissa was a moment from waking up. The blonde had fallen asleep in her lap after over an hour of listening to her talk. Hermione tried to put everything she could into her stories about Scorpius; and she had an abundance of them. Hermione didn’t want to be perceived as having favourites as a teacher; and it would be very easy for someone to excuse her what with her own children and her nieces and nephews attending the school. But she couldn’t help but keep an eye out for her family.

And for the youngest Malfoy.

It had been almost bizarre seeing Draco’s son; the spitting image of his father had taken her right back to the first time she’d seen Draco himself. But it hadn’t been memories of the past that had overwhelmed her; it had been pain for her lover.

Narcissa’s heart bled every day at the absence of her son and the family that he’d made. Hermione wasn’t lying when she said that she understood, because she did. But she also thought about Narcissa more than anything else and sometimes she just wanted to punch Draco in the nose.


It had felt nice, telling stories, and finally feeling like she could really do something to help Narcissa. She was bitter about the fact that there was nothing else she could do. In some distant future when they could potentially at some point ever be together…she knew full well that Narcissa would never allow it. The magical media shitstorm that would commence if it came out that the Golden Girl was dating, was in love, with the Death Eater’s Wife; well it wouldn’t allow anyone in their families any peace.

Including Draco.

Narcissa’s body twitched minutely again and Hermione knew she was going to wake. She hadn’t expected her to nap long curled up in the chair and still in her evening outfit. Everything that Narcissa did was quiet and subtle; she had been trained that way. She didn’t wake with a yawn or a stretch or any other normal behaviour. She woke with a blink; with a quiet breath and a mind that shifted directly into calculating.

The blonde had told her once it was so a wife didn’t disturb a husband should he still be sleeping; and if she woke alone she had to figure out as quickly as possible where he was and what mood he was in.

Hermione had wanted to puke.

With the smallest breath and a blink she was awake and Hermione leaned down to gently press a kiss against her hair. “Good evening my love.”

“Darling.” Narcissa’s voice didn’t sound overly sleepy but it had a rasp that made Hermione’s knees weak. “Have I made you go numb?” Even that made Hermione almost frown. Her first thought was always Hermione’s wellbeing as if Narcissa herself had been a bother or an inconvenience.

“I am perfectly content and happy and honoured to sit here for the reminder of the night, my love.” Hermione whispered back. Her arms were wrapped around the blonde’s waist in an affectionate loving hold; but her hands were not locked and Narcissa could get up easily if she wanted to.

Instead she burrowed down in closer.

“I am quite content as well.” The elder witch murmured. Her head was resting in the crook of Hermione’s neck and she tilted her gaze back upwards.

“Are you feeling any better, my love?”

“I’m fine.” Narcissa’s voice was quiet and Hermione did nothing but accept the answer and wait. “In this moment I am okay, for I have accepted the facts I cannot change. Britain will not let me live in France to be closer to my son until my sentence is over. I deserve my sentence. Draco does not want to live in Britain as is his right. It is what is best for him and his family.” Narcissa stated the facts with a touch of cold weariness. “And I will not hurt him further. I will not make a spectacle of his life in the media once again.”

Hermione murmured her response. “Which would happen if he was suddenly the stepson of the Golden Girl.” Narcissa jolted in her arms so suddenly and with almost violence that Hermione whipped out her wand as her heart jumped into her throat. A spell was on her lips to reveal the threat, but there wasn’t one; only Narcissa staring at her with widened ice blue eyes filling with tears.

“You.” Her voice was choked. Hermione slowly slid her wand away but she didn’t know what to do with her hands; Narcissa was trembling in her lap and she wanted to pull her closer but the moment felt charged and she was frozen still. “You want to marry me?”

“Cis.” Hermione was now the one who choked her answer. Had she failed so completely? Had she completely missed the mark and failed to show and tell this woman exactly how she felt about her? “Cissa I,” Hermione finally laid her hands gently on Narcissa’s back, “Cissa I love you. With everything I am I love you. You treat me the way I didn’t even know I could be treated. You love me, but you respect me. You listen to me, but you push me. You take my thoughts and feelings into account. You and your mind and your body set my soul on fire. Our passion knows no bounds.” A tear streaked from the corner of her eye. “If I have failed to show you the same-”

“You do.” Narcissa pressed herself closer, desperately. “Darling, you do. In every one of those ways and a thousand other ones. I love you. I love you.”

Hermione’s tears still fell but now they accompanied soft laughter. “Of course I would marry you. I would love nothing more than to be yours.”

“You already are mine.” Narcissa’s lips quirked into a smirk briefly before gentling. “And I am yours.”

“Yes.” Hermione agreed. It was a simple truth she knew in her soul. “And I have every want to be yours in every other way too. I would be yours walking down the street, or down Diagon Alley. Yours attending a function we don’t want to be at except for the excuse to dress up and dance. Yours in our home we share where our friends and family can visit.” Hermione breathed the words into life and though Narcissa was smiling her heart breaking was an audible sound that Hermione felt attuned to. “I know.” It was another simple truth.

That her wishes could not be.

“I know my love.” Hermione whispered. “We have here. We have each other here.” Hermione held Narcissa a little tighter. “Here, on our island, where we found peace, will you marry me my love? On this island and in this cabin will you be my wife?”

Narcissa was too refined to sob, but she came closer than Hermione had ever seen her. “Yes, darling. Yes, I will marry you.” Narcissa joined them together in a kiss and Hermione swore she felt it in her very magic. She kissed her love, the wife of her heart, again and again with increasing fire until Narcissa was almost panting into her mouth.

“Should we take this inside, baby?” Narcissa breathed against her lips.

“We can stay out here for a little longer.” Hermione whispered back. She used her grip on Narcissa’s hips to straighten her out again; the blondes back was once again pressed against her own chest and they looked outward together. Narcissa went to speak but Hermione gently raised a hand to touch her chest where her button up blouse spread and gave her access to lovely collarbones. Narcissa fell silent at the touch on her skin. “Keep your eyes open love.” Hermione whispered as she trailed her fingers ever so slowly upwards until they touched Narcissa’s pale throat. Hermione gently wrapped her fingers around the blonde’s neck and tilted her head backwards.

Narcissa’s hands wrapped around the arms of the chair with increasing tightness. Her breathing changed instantly and Hermione gave a devilish smirk that the blonde witch couldn’t see.

“Let me take care of you.” Hermione whispered into her lover’s ear. She licked out with her tongue and tightened the fingers wrapped around Narcissa’s elegant throat ever so slightly.

“Baby.” Narcissa almost panted the word; her ass started a slow grind in Hermione’s lap.

“That’s it.” Hermione’s free hand came to touch Narcissa’s collarbones lightly as well. This time she slid her hand down, taking her time to undo each button on her shirt and spread it a little more and a little more.

“Baby-ah.” Narcissa tried to growl, to get Hermione to move faster, but the younger witch tightened her grip on Narcissa’s throat.

“You’re not in charge right now, lover. You just have to let me do what I do. Let me touch you, love.” Hermione pulled on Narcissa’s shirt to untuck it from her slacks and then undid the last button. The night air was still warm, it always was, but Narcissa still shivered as her skin was exposed.

Hermione lightly traced her finger tips over Narcissa’s flat stomach and then back over to the lace covering her breasts.

“Touch me.” Narcissa moaned. Hermione could feel the vibration in her hand every time Narcissa spoke.

Hermione slid her hand into one bra cup and palmed her breast; she pinched Narcissa’s nipple between two fingers and plucked it lightly.


“No.” Hermione kept the motion soft, alternating between squeezing her palm and pinching her nipple; she knew Narcissa was getting hot because her hips rocked back and forth a little harder. Hermione bit her lip at the feeling of Narcissa’s ass grinding into her with more urgency.


“No.” The brunette slid her hand out of Narcissa’s bra only to move over and tease her slowly some more; she found the elder witch’s nipple already hard and begging for her. Hermione was starting to breathe harder herself and she brought her head forward so she could scrape her teeth along the back of Narcissa’s neck. “Let me touch you, love. Let me enjoy your body.”

“Yes. Yes.” Narcissa closed her eyes and Hermione twisted her nipple to make her gasp.

“Eyes open. Look out there, love.” Hermione bit into the back of Narcissa’s neck again. “Let me take your body love, let me make you feel good.” Hermione started to use her own hips to move in tandem with Naricssa; the blonde witch moaned. Hermione finally slid her hand down, trailing her fingertips over deliciously smooth skin, and undid the button on Narcissa’s slacks. “Am I going to find you wet, lover? Are you wet for me?”


“Tell me.” Hermione loved to hear Narcissa talk; she knew it was something the blonde witch had only ever done with her. “Tell me.”

“Yes, I’m wet for you, baby.” Narcissa didn’t hesitate; she groaned when Hermione slid her fingers inside her pants. “You make me so hot, baby.”

“Fuck, Cissa.” Hermione bit and licked at the back of Narcissa’s neck. She felt the lace of Narcissa’s underwear and moaned into her lover’s ear. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good.” Hermione slid her hand inside Narcissa’s underwear so she could cup her hand against her pussy; the blonde witch immediately tried to thrust against her to relieve the pressure. “Let me touch you. Let me touch you, love.” Hermione’s hand could feel the heat and she gently used her middle finger to tease at the wetness she found. At the same moment her grip on Narcissa’s throat shifted just enough so that her thumb and middle finger were under her jawbone and she practically stretched her lover’s back into arching. Her finger teased through wet folds and Narcissa whimpered.

Hermione circled her lovers clit while making sure Narcissa could feel her gripping her throat. She wasn’t restricting her breathing, not really, but the thought was there and the blonde witch leaned into the touch. Her hips rocked, thrusting herself against Hermione’s finger as she worked herself up even more.

Narcissa could fight her own orgasm, especially like this, Hermione was plainly aware. If she gave the order into Narcissa’s ear the blonde witch wouldn’t come until allowed or until she broke; it wasn’t often that Hermione was able to do that before breaking herself and making her lover come.

But that wasn’t what this was. She wanted Narcissa to come for her however it happened while Hermione could feel her in her lap and trusting her for every second of it.

“Let yourself come, love.” Hermione whispered hotly in Narcissa’s ear. “I just want to feel it, I want to feel you against me. Come, Cissa.” Narcissa was wet and her pussy was slick and Hermione basically held her fingers still while Narcissa rubbed herself against them. The blondes neck tightened and her throat closed and Hermione pulled her just that little bit tighter by the neck. “Come, Cissa.”

Narcissa’s eyes finally snapped closed and her back, already arched, tightened like a bowstring. Hermione forced her hand deeper inside Narcissa’s tight pants so she could get an angle to slide two fingers into her still clenching and pulsing pussy. The blonde exhaled a shaking whimper. Hermione couldn’t thrust with her hand restricted by Narcissa’s pants; but she could curl her fingers and help her lover ride through her orgasm.

“Ah, ah, yes.”

Hermione felt it when Narcissa finally went limp in her lap and she gentled her hold on her lover’s throat. She pulled her closer so that Narcissa could rest her head against her neck and shoulder. “You.” Narcissa murmured; the pureblooded witch managed to make the one syllable full of playful derision and affection.

“Me.” Hermione grinned as she withdrew her fingers from her lover and Narcissa moaned lowly.

“Now is it time to take this inside?” Narcissa looked up in time to see Hermione sliding wet fingers into her mouth lick them clean; the blondes pupils blew wide and her look changed from satisfied to hungry.

“I don’t know.” Hermione smirked. “I actually think you’re good for another.” In that moment Hermione felt complete with the taste of Narcissa on her lips and the blonde looking at her as if she wanted to eat her alive.