Chapter 11: Wagers and Too Much?
Author's Notes: Here it is gang, the new chapter of Two Little Words. It's been a rough few months and life's been kicking my ass. Apologies for the delay but I've got another chapter after this one that's about half finished already, so hopefully it shouldn't be long before the next update.
I wanted to point out something. There's another author out there, Neptune20 with a fix titled, 'The Brightest Witch'. I've had one reader question if Neptune and I were actually the same person, I can assure that is not the case, we are two entirely different individuals. The other day Neptune messaged me on their discord server, amused that a reader said they like 'The Brightest Witch' less than the original story it was based on 'Two Little Words'. Let me clear up that confusion now. TBW came first. Neptune had published four chapters I think when I came across the story and in reading it gave me an idea, more like a question occurred to me, and from that question TLW came.
Don't get me wrong, if you like my story, fantastic, I'm thrilled to hear it. But let's give credit where it's due. Neptune started this all off with TBW and without that story, this one would not exist. Also, Neptune and I chat frequently. We bat ideas back and forth, we use each other as sounding boards, so any similarity in appearance to some scenes... it really is entirely accidental, though perhaps not coincidental. We do try to keep these stories separate but we've both found that we've had similar ideas, entirely separate from each other when we've discussed specific scenes and things we want to happen in our individual fics.
All that being said, let's move on.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, possibly not even my own soul, the wife might have a claim on that that could stand up in court.
Two Little Words
by,
Kender Speak
Harry groaned as he cleared the last step leading up to the seventh floor, broom slung over one shoulder, Quidditch robes soaked through and caked with mud as he left a trail of water behind him on his path through the castle.
Just a little farther, he thought as the entrance to Gryffindor Tower came into view at the end of the corridor in front of him. That evening's practice had been particularly brutal and he found himself wondering if perhaps Oliver was taking things a little too far in his eagerness to insure that Gryffindor took the cup this year. The burly seventh year's apparent obsession had resulted in practice running for three hours after dinner before Fred and George had threatened severe pranking retribution if he didn't let them go.
While the rest of the team had made a run for the locker room and the showers, Harry had decided to get back to the tower as quickly as possible where he could be reasonably sure he'd have the dorm showers entirely to himself.
And you wanted to see Mine, he added mentally, a small smile tugging at his lips at the thought. The poor girl had been in a rather severe state since the Sunday evening three days before when he'd made her spend an hour playing with herself in the Common Room without allowing her to actually cum. He found that he loved watching her try to act as if everything was perfectly normal even though he could see the little signs that told him she was close to losing her mind.
"Potter?"
Harry stopped a dozen feet from the entrance as a voice intruded on his thoughts and turned to find a slender girl with bright blue eyes, long, straight blond hair, and Slytherin green trim on her robes standing a few feet away.
"Daphne?" he asked, surprised to find the Slytherin girl so near Gryffindor Tower. "What are you doing all the way up here?"
In the few short weeks that he'd known the girl, since joining the Ancient Runes course, Harry had learned a small handful of things about her. Daphne Greengrass was a pureblood witch from an old family, one on par with his own as an original founding member of the Wizengamot, but she didn't act like the blood purists they usually dealt with. Names like Malfoy, Nott, and Parkinson came to mind. She was also rather less emotive even than he was, her facial expressions rarely giving away anything more than placid indifference.
He also knew that she didn't do anything without a reason. If she was here then there was no coincidence about her presence.
"I wanted to ask you something, Potter," she said in the cool, even tones he'd come to expect from her.
One brow arched questioningly in her direction and Harry turned a little more so he was facing her more fully and waved his free hand in her direction for her to continue.
"You are going to be the Head of a Most Ancient and Noble House," she said. "Why is it that you don't know more about your station or the history of our world?"
Harry shrugged. "Because no one ever explained it to me."
A slender brow rose, matching his earlier expression and her head tilted slightly to one side as she regarded him curiously. "How is that possible?"
He shrugged again. "I grew up with my muggle relatives," he explained. "They didn't know much about magic or about my dad's side of the family."
Her head tilted the other way, both brows rising for a moment that time before falling back into her usual emotionless mask. He'd realized quickly that it was a mask. No one was that consistently calm and even tempered. He wasn't entirely sure why she'd chosen to don that particular mask to show the rest of them, but he knew it wasn't his business. If she wanted to share the why with him that would be up to her, and they'd have to be much better friends, first, something he could see happening as long as she gave him a chance. She'd been pleasant enough to him and she wasn't mean to, or dismissive of Hermione; that alone gave her serious points in his book.
"That actually explains a few things… but opens up so many other questions at the same time," she murmured, her gaze holding him in place as she continued to study him.
"If there's nothing else? I'd really like to get cleaned up," he said after a minute of silence passed them by.
"I'd like to offer my assistance, teaching you what you should have learned years ago," she said, stopping him in the middle of turning away toward the Tower and he spun back to her, surprise etched on his face.
His eyes narrowed a moment later. "What do you want for that?" he asked hesitantly, hoping his question didn't come across as an accusation.
"Nothing."
"That's not like you," he said.
"You don't know me," came her quick response.
"I know a few things," he countered. "I know that, aside from being a Slytherin, which alone implies the sort of cunning that would preclude offering something for nothing, you are particularly shrewd and wouldn't likely give away something that you might use to your advantage. So, for you to say you don't want anything for helping me? I find that suspicious at best."
She said nothing for a time, only continued to stare at him before she suddenly seemed to slump slightly, her shoulders lowering and some apparent tension easing out of her frame as her posture relaxed, just a touch.
"I don't hate you," she said causing him to blink in surprise. "A lot of us in the snake pit go on about hating the Great Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and all that other rubbish. My family has never stood behind blood purity or any of the garbage those people espouse. But we have stood by our traditions, our culture, and history. Something people like Malfoy and the rest claim you to be actively against."
"And?"
"And I want something from you."
"I don't understand," he admitted with a frown. "You say you'll help for nothing, but you want something? And what do your traditions have to do with it?"
A small smirk twisted a full pair of lips. "It's about building trust, Potter. You don't trust me. You probably shouldn't trust me. You're right, I am a Slytherin, and I am ambitious and I have goals and plans. But if I give you what you want, in this case my assistance in learning what you need to know, I believe that I'll eventually get what I want. And I can promise you that you would be giving it freely at that point, and it wouldn't harm you."
"And if I actually don't want to help you with whatever it is you're looking for by that time?" he couldn't help but ask.
Daphne shrugged, somehow managing to make the action seem elegant. "Then that's the risk I run. We Slytherins try to get things to work out in our favor… good Slytherins, at least, we can't include Malfoy in that list, but the reality is things don't always go according to plan."
Harry considered that, letting silence fall between them again for a time before speaking. "For a Slytherin you're being very straightforward. I gotta admit, that makes me more than a little nervous," he admitted.
"Trust, Potter. If I was disingenuous about my intentions any trust we do build would be damaged if you were to find out about it. You Gryffindors are usually so straight forward, I felt it was in my best interests to be up front from the beginning."
"This help you offered, teaching me what I should already know… what's to stop me from asking Susan, or Neville? They're purebloods from old family lines as well and could just as easily help," he pointed out.
"You could do that," she agreed with a small nod of her head. "I honestly wouldn't blame you. I'm hoping that Gryffindor nobility of yours won't let you turn down my offer. What I want from you… well… might want, as it's by no means a sure thing at this point, it's important to me. Very important. I've heard you don't mind helping people that need it."
That comment worried him a bit and he took a step toward her, lowering his broom to his side. "Is something wrong?" he asked. "And why me? If you need help there must be other people you could go to. One of the professors?"
He was surprised when her response was to let out an extremely unladylike snort, waving one hand dismissively at his suggestion.
"Believe me, Potter. If it becomes an issue, this is absolutely not something one of the professors can help me with. As for why you…" She trailed off, studying him carefully for a few seconds before another smirk tugged at one corner of her mouth. "How about this? A wager. I will definitely gain something from this situation, and what that is would be fairly easy to guess for anyone that had grown up in a traditional pureblood home. You agree to these lessons, and if you can figure it out before I ask, then I'll explain 'why you?'."
"And if I can't figure it out by then? For all I know you could decide to ask me next week. Your condition might be that I have to agree to whatever this favor you want is if I lose your little wager."
"True, I could," she admitted. "But we wouldn't have built up anywhere near the level of trust for me to ask by that time. And yes, I could put that as the stakes but you wouldn't likely accept that." She paused thinking carefully for a moment on the situation. "We have a set deadline, if you can't make a guess by the train ride home at the end of the year then I win. But if you guess correctly, then you win."
He nodded silently at that.
"I'm impressed," she said, eyeing him curiously. "Obviously you saw that potential pitfall so I wouldn't be able to trick you with that, even if I'd intended to." Her head tilted to the side again. "Actually… you're rather more clever than I expected you to be. Why haven't you shown more of that?"
"So what do you get if I lose this wager of yours?" he asked, ignoring her question. He could see by the way she looked at him that she wasn't going to let his avoidance go, but thankfully she didn't press the issue, yet.
"At present you already owe me an open favor, a small one, admittedly, but a favor."
"And you want to add a second open favor to your tally? Taking up a collection?" he asked.
Daphne shook her head. "No, Potter, that would be too much to expect…" She trailed off for a moment, thinking carefully before she suddenly began rummaging in her robes. Eventually, she retrieved a scrap of parchment and a self-inking quill.
"Turn around," she commanded and he quirked a brow at her without otherwise making any effort to move. She rolled her eyes, probably the most childish thing he'd yet seen her do. "Please? I need to write something and it would be much easier if I could borrow your back."
Harry held his position for several seconds before he let the smug smirk that had become such a fixture with him of late twist his lips and he slowly turned to present his back to her, his head turned to look over his shoulder at her.
Taking a step forward she pressed the piece of parchment to his back and wrote carefully for a few moments before she stepped away and folded the parchment in half. A tap of her wand and a muttered spell had the piece of parchment glowing brightly for a few seconds before the light faded leaving it looking just the same as always.
"What was that?" he asked, turning back around to face her.
"This is the favor I want if I win our wager. It's something small, though it does involve Granger. It would be insulting of me to expect another open favor from you, and if you were willing to accept that than you probably aren't who I think you are. But I don't really want you to know what I'm asking for at this time, so here it is, already written down from the outset."
His expression morphed into shock at that before his brow furrowed into a frown.
"It's not a big favor, it's a small thing, really, so you can be sure that I won't ask for something difficult in the event that I win in the future, but you can't look at what it is until either you win, or I do."
Harry's frown would have deepend if that were possible. He really wasn't sure that he liked the sound of that and expressed that aloud. "I can't make deals or agreements for Hermione," he said. "Personally, I'm not certain I like not knowing what stakes I'd be playing for. Added onto that, it doesn't sound like I'm the one that'd be paying the stake if I lose. What is it you want from Hermione?"
"Nothing terrible, I promise you that," she said, holding the parchment out to him. "And the stakes are for both of you, not just her. Discuss it with Granger, by all means, and you can hold onto this so you can be certain I don't change it or replace it with something else. The charm I cast seals it until our wager is concluded and you won't be able to open it until then, but at least you'll know that I haven't done anything to change things past this point."
Hesitantly he reached out and took the parchment in his free hand, showing that he'd been palming his wand where it had been tucked up his sleeve. She quirked her own brow at that and shot him an approving look as the smirk made its way back onto his face.
"Like I was really going to turn my back on you without taking some kind of precaution," he told her in an admonishing tone that had a hint of color rushing to her cheeks. "I'm a Gryffindor, not stupid."
"I do believe I'm beginning to learn that about you, Potter, and I'm looking forward to learning more." Turning on her heel she started walking away, only stopping when Harry called out to her.
"Daphne?"
"What is it, Potter?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder at him.
"If you're honestly interested in trying to be friends, you should know that my friends call me Harry, not Potter."
Her expression was inscrutable once again and he couldn't begin to guess what she might have been thinking but after a few seconds she nodded once and started walking away again. Just before she turned the corner her voice floated back toward him. "I'll be seeing you… Harry."
#####
Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut UP! Hermione demanded of her brain, staring at the folded piece of parchment that she held in her hands. She'd tried everything she could think of to break whatever charm Daphne had cast on the thing but she had to admit she really wasn't feeling at her best.
Half an hour earlier Harry had come into the Tower and briefly told her what happened in the corridor outside before giving her the parchment to hold onto while he ran to shower and change into some clean clothes and she was expecting him back any minute. The problem was that she couldn't fucking concentrate!
Since discovering the joys of masturbation at the beginning of the previous summer, Hermione had never gone more than a day or two without some form of self gratification. During those times she hadn't felt remotely as turned on and out of control as she did now.
She'd also never had a plug in her arse, or been forced to masturbate but forbidden from actually reaching orgasm. She couldn't tell if she'd always been such a slut and just hadn't known it, or if the things Harry was doing to her, making her do, and what he said to her in quiet whispers where no one else could hear had turned her into what she had now become.
She was certain that she was nothing more than a slave to her cunt and the pleasure that it could give her. Her. Hermione Granger, the Brightest Witch of her Age, couldn't concentrate because she wanted to jam her fingers into her cunt and play with her clit until she had no choice but to scream out her relief.
Monday hadn't been too bad. She'd been highly aroused the entire day but she was able to focus on her classes and her assignments and largely ignore the signals her body was sending her brain. Until that night when she'd tried to sleep. Multiple times she'd caught her hands wandering across her body without her realizing it and forced herself not to give in. Sir hadn't said she could cum and she hadn't asked his permission to get herself off either.
She'd not had a restful night's sleep.
Tuesday had been worse, and Tuesday evening had made Monday seem simple in comparison. Now, on the third day of being denied an orgasm while the plug in her arse kept her body nearly constantly stimulated, she was ready to cave. The only reason she hadn't done so before was her utter mortification at the very thought of asking him for permission to masturbate. Knowing that he'd know exactly what she was doing left her simultaneously ashamed and even more aroused.
She had to talk to Sir. She couldn't continue like this for much longer. It had been fun, in its own way, at first. Frustrating as hell, yes, but fun. The feeling she got from obeying her Sir… it filled her with a warmth and joy she couldn't properly express, but this denial… she was on the cusp, and her school work was beginning to suffer for it which was absolutely not supposed to be part of the plan with their relationship. This was all supposed to help her deal with the stress she had placed on herself, not drive her to the brink of insanity, and if she didn't get some kind of relief soon she didn't know what she'd-
"Hermione? Are you okay?"
She jumped, startled by the sound of Sir's voice and looked up to see him standing near the couch where she was sitting before the fire, a concerned look on his face as he carefully studied her. He was dressed in a pair of black sleep pants and one of those oversized t-shirts she knew came from his horribly obese cousin. His hair was tousled and still damp from his shower and she didn't think he'd ever looked sexier to her than he did in that moment.
She hesitated for a second, chewing hard on her bottom lip before she slowly shook her head and the concern on his face double as he dropped into a seat next to her, his arms going around her and drawing her close to him.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice echoing the worry etched on his face.
Merlin's beard, I actually have to say it out loud!
"I… I can't concentrate," she whispered, extremely worried about being too loud. The Common Room wasn't nearly as crowded as it'd been Sunday night, but there were still students about and the thrill she'd felt at the thought of someone discovering what they were talking about wasn't present tonight.
"What's wrong?" he repeated.
"Oh, God," she moaned and buried her head against his neck, humiliated to have to say this. "Please… let me cum?" she pleaded quietly and she felt him jerk slightly back so he could look down at her.
"What?" he asked, sounding startled.
"Sir… I'm… I can't take it anymore. I need to cum. Please, you said if I wanted to get myself off I had to ask you for permission first. I'm not asking, I'm begging. I'm… this is too much. I had to cast a drying charm on my seat and the back of my robes before I left after my Arithmancy class earlier. I'm so wet I literally soaked through my clothes."
She tilted her head back, looking him in the eyes and prayed that he'd be able to see just how serious she was. In his gaze, a war seemed to be taking place. If there was one thing that she had always prided herself on, it was her ability to read the emotional state of one Harry James Potter. Since the beginning of their relationship as a couple that had been a more difficult thing to do. His growing confidence, self assurance, and command of her made him harder for her to read, but she'd started relearning him and she felt she was making excellent progress.
She could easily see a bit of pride, pride that he'd reduced her to this, that he'd been the cause of getting her so worked up that she could barely stand it. But behind that pride, uncertainty roiled around like storm clouds in those expressive green eyes. No matter how much control over himself he learned, she didn't think he'd ever be able to stop her from reading his eyes, they gave away so much about what he was feeling whether he wanted them to or not.
"If this has gotten to be too much you know you have a safeword you can use," he reminded her.
She shook her head. "No, I don't want us to stop I just… I…" Her head dropped back onto his shoulder as her voice fell to a whisper, "fuck," she hissed. "I just need to cum. Please, Sir. Please."
She knew she was begging. She knew she was acting the desperate, needy slut, but she knew the only other option was to stop what they were doing and she really didn't want to do that, not even temporarily.
"There's nothing wrong with using your safeword if you feel something has gotten to be too much for you," he reminded her and she rapidly nodded her head.
"I know, Sir," she whimpered.
"And you remember I don't want you hiding how you're feeling from me. If I'd known it was this hard on you I'd have done something before now."
"I'm sorry, Sir," she said, the words coming out as a piteous whine that she couldn't suppress.
Sighing wordlessly he lifted one hand and gently tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear before he let his hand drop back to his lap. "That's something we'll have to discuss in a bit, but for right now you're not focused enough for it, so I'm going to give you a choice, Mine," he whispered to her. "Option one, you can go ahead and get yourself off if that will help you focus."
Her head popped up off of his shoulder, mouth already opening to eagerly accept the first offer but he kept speaking, keeping his voice low.
"You may go ahead and cum," he said, "but you have to do it here, sitting next to me. Or, option two, you can decide not to and see how you handle waiting until our session on Saturday. If you choose that option, then the plug will be coming out of your arse until then as well, and I will consider that your punishment for this latest issue."
By the time he finished speaking her mouth was simply hanging open, her eyes wide in dumbfounded shock. If she wanted relief she had to do it right here? That, or suffer the rest of the night and two more days before their next session?
Yes, it wasn't something entirely new, she had spent an hour stroking and fingering her needy cunt just two days ago in this very spot. This was a different breed of animal, however. She'd always silenced her bed curtains in the past to cover her moans and she was more worked up at that precise moment than she had ever been in her life. And punishment? Punishment for what? What issue was he talking about?
"I… I'm not… I don't know if I can keep quiet," she slowly admitted, a shamed flush coloring her cheeks even as her eyes darted around the sparsely populated room.
"Then you're welcome to wait if you don't think you can," he whispered back, his tone firm, showing he wouldn't be moved on the subject. She had her choices and there would be no deviating from the options he'd laid out for her, apparently.
Fuck, she thought. Can I really manage it without getting us in trouble? But if you don't, your classwork and focus will continue to suffer and who knows how bad you'll be if you have to wait.
There really wasn't much of a decision to be made and she soon found herself reaching for the blanket from Sunday that was once again folded and draped across the back of the couch. In less than a minute she was under the blanket, half lying down along the couch with her upper body leaning against Harry, his left arm wrapped around her, with her skirt around her waist, and her own left hand buried between her legs.
The first touch of a finger against her clit had her letting out a long, shuddering breath as she struggled not to moan loudly. Her fingers were instantly soaked as she parted her outer lips and slid down through her slick folds to her entrance.
"God, that feels good," she hissed quietly as she slid one finger as far into her body as she could, wiggling that invading digit slightly once she was at the limit of how far she could reach. She wanted nothing more than to cum right then, to fuck herself with her fingers and rub at her clit until she fell over that edge into oblivion. That would make what she was doing way too obvious though, so she was forced to keep her actions slow and small, which only served to draw out her torture.
"Hey, Harry, got a minute?"
Terror shot through her and she froze, her body stiffening up as Neville's voice reached them, finger still buried to the hilt in her soaked and swollen cunt. Harry rubbed her arm gently through the blanket that covered her.
"Yeah, Mate, what's up?"
Neville came into view around the edge of the couch and Hermione quickly closed her eyes, forcing her body to relax against Harry.
"Oh… I didn't realize she was sleeping," she heard Neville say, his voice suddenly pitched much more softly than it had been at first. "I can talk to you about it later, Harry-"
"No, it's fine, Nev. Have a seat."
What? she thought when Harry invited Neville to stay. No, no, no… don't let him stay! Please, make him leave!
It took a great deal of restraint not to let out a loud, frustrated groan and a moment later she felt Harry move, then his lips pressed against the side of her head as he gently kissed her.
"No one said you could stop, Mine," he whispered before he sat back up.
Blind shock shot through her. There was no way he was honestly expecting her to… with Neville sitting right there?
"I was hoping that I could ask you for some help, Harry," Neville said, his voice still pitched low.
"What'd you need, Neville?" Sir asked, his left hand resting on her hip.
"Well, you've got the highest marks for Defense in our year," Neville pointed out as Sir subtly pinched her hip between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing just hard enough for it to begin to hurt and to reinforce his order not to stop what she was doing.
The sub is to respond quickly, without hesitation or question, she reminded herself. Very slowly, moving only her hand, she pulled her finger from her body before just as slowly easing it back inside.
"I do?" Sir asked, sounding surprised to learn he was the best in their year in Defense and she had to hold back an indelicate snort at that thought. He was so humble at times, better than being arrogant and full of himself, but there were times it drove her mad that he seemed incapable of accepting praise or recognition for his accomplishments.
She let their conversation wash over her, only partly listening as she continued to slowly fuck herself with one slender finger. Silently, she lamented the fact that it was her finger invading her body, and not her Sir's. His fingers were thicker than her own, rough and calloused from years of hard work and from riding his broom and she couldn't help but remember how wonderfully they'd filled her while his tongue and lips had danced over her cunt just a few days ago.
This isn't going to work, she thought after ten minutes of sawing her finger back and forth. It was too gentle, too slow. While it felt good, it would never be enough to get her off, and her orders, the choice of orders that she'd picked, was to actually cum, right there in the Common Room. She'd already hesitated to follow his orders and she didn't want to disappoint him any further.
Shifting her weight, she turned slightly, as if moving in her 'sleep' and both boys fell silent until she went still again, Sir's hand gently stroking her arm. Her new position allowed her to move her right hand to join her left between her legs. Immediately, her middle finger found and began rubbing firm circles around her clit.
"It's a clockwise twist of the wrist," Sir was saying, explaining some spell to Neville. She'd long ago lost track of their discussion and she felt his arm tighten around her as a series of tremors ran through her body with each brush of her finger over that swollen bundle of nerves.
Oh, God, she moaned mentally, shocks of pleasure radiating out from her cunt. She bit the inside of her cheek as she simultaneously shoved one finger inside herself and pressed down hard directly over her clit until she was seeing sparks of light behind her closed eyelids.
"Breathe, Mine," Sir murmured in her ear and her eyes popped open in surprise, two things becoming immediately clear. First, Neville had apparently left at some point while she was busy pleasuring herself and she was once again alone with her Sir in their little corner of the Common Room. Second, she was holding her breath and had no idea how long she'd been doing so.
Her lips parted and the air rushed out of her lungs, pulling a low moan with it that she muffled as best she could.
"I'm s-so close, Sir," she hissed, rubbing faster over her clit, her breath coming in short gasps.
She felt him move and a moment later he was pushing against her body, moving her so she was laying down more fully, her head resting on a cushion he'd set on his lap. "You have permission to cum," he whispered to her, bright green eyes darker than she'd ever seen them as she looked up from her position on his lap. "Use the cushion to muffle your sounds if you need to."
A flood of gratitude rushed through her and she immediately turned and moaned into the cushion, practically smothering herself as she pinched her clit between her thumb and forefinger. A tense feeling had been building in her stomach for some time. A slow coiling of muscles as pressure built higher and higher until she was ready to burst.
Her Sir's hand slid along her back under the blanket until she felt him cup her bared arse, gently squeezing and massaging her flesh and she involuntarily tightened around her plug, adding an entirely new sensation to her rapidly approaching release. Her next moan turned into a short scream when he suddenly pulled the plug half way from her body, only to shove it back in a moment later.
Oh my fucking God, she thought, as he started fucking her arse with her plug, soft grunts escaping her each time the object was thrust back into her body. That new and absolutely wonderful sensation, combined with the finger she still had buried in her cunt and the ones rubbing her clit, sent her over the edge within half a dozen strokes.
The tightly coiled spring at her center erupted and she could do nothing to hold back a loud scream into the cushion as she rode the waves of her orgasm. Her cunt clamped down tightly on her finger even as her arse gripped her plug, her entire body shaking uncontrollably as her mind drifted away in a sea of pleasure as the world around her dropped away, leaving nothing but the intense sensations coursing through her.
She came back to herself rather quickly, she thought. She hadn't moved, or been moved in the time that she lost awareness of everything else. She was still lying on her side with her head in Sir's lap, both of her hands shoved between her legs, and Sir was still fucking her arse with her plug, gently moving it back and forth inside her shivering, over stimulated body in short, easy motions. She shuddered, another soft moan slipping past her lips and she felt his other hand stroking her hair.
Hermione took a few moments to simply bask in the afterglow of her release and the comforting sensation of his strong hand stroking her hair so gently and tenderly before she opened her eyes and turned enough that she could look up at him again.
"Thank you, Sir," she whispered.
"For what?" he asked, smirk in place and one brow arched questioningly at her. He knew, she could tell. He wasn't asking out of any confusion but because he wanted to make her say it.
"For letting me cum, Sir. And for helping me," she added the second part with a deep flush burning in her cheeks.
"Helping you?" he asked, pulling her plug a bit further out before pushing it back in, harder than before, pulling a gasping moan from her as her body was forced to stretch and shift around that wonderfully invasive toy. "How did I help you?"
She wanted to hide her face, she tried to chew on her lip, but just barely stopped herself. She couldn't look away. Sir didn't like it when she hid her face, or hid how she was feeling, and he loved embarrassing her.
"Y-you helped," she gasped as he twisted her plug, "when you started f-fucking my arse w-with my plug."
The smirk on his lips grew, amusement and lust clear in his eyes. "You have no idea how sexy you look when you fall apart like that," he said. "My slutty Mine, loudly cumming your brains out right in the Common Room."
Her eyes widened immediately and she tried to sit up but his hand quickly moved from her hair to her shoulder, holding her down as he made soothing noises to her in the face of her sudden panic.
"Merlin, they heard me!" she hissed, completely and utterly mortified. Dammit, she knew it, she knew she wouldn't be able to keep quiet. She wouldn't be able to look at anyone in the Tower again. She would probably have to leave the school, transfer somewhere else to escape the rumors and gossip and-
"Did you honestly think that I would let anything like that happen?" he asked, his voice hard and a touch… hurt?
She blinked several times, panic falling away into confusion as she stopped trying to get up and looked up at him, her bemusement clear in her expression.
"That first day when we wrote up the first version of our contract," he explained, "I… I was disappointed in myself. When you sealed the door to our old classroom, I remember thinking that was something that I should have done. Basic security, protecting you during our fun and making sure that no one else finds out unless we decide to let them know… that's part of my responsibility." He looked away from her for a moment, his eyes scanning the portion of the room that he could see from his seat on the couch before he turned his attention back to her.
"I've been looking up spells and charms like that. Things that could be useful. I'm guessing you didn't notice, based on your reaction, but when Neville left I told him I was going to put up an interesting little privacy charm that I found in the Library. It's not exceptionally powerful, and it wouldn't keep people from ignoring or seeing us entirely, but with you muffling yourself in the cushion it did the job. My excuse to Neville was that I didn't want anyone else in the room to bother you since you were resting."
"When you wrote up our contract, you asked for me not to just control you, but to own you. Shouldn't that mean that you trust I will make things work out for you, even when it seems like they won't? You know I would never give you an order that would really hurt you. If I ask you to do something, you have to trust that doing it is safe, even if it doesn't seem that way to you.
"That requires trust in my abilities to plan, and I'd like to think I'm showing I can do that, at least when it comes to making you my own, personal, begging, little slut. If you're not comfortable with that, I understand. As far as I understand it, though, that's the difference between controlling you and owning you. Am I wrong?"
Hermione was impressed, gaping at him in equal parts open shock and shame. She should have known better, she admonished herself, her mouth snapping closed as her brow furrowed. She knew he was planning ahead more, he was thinking more clearly and logically than she'd ever seen from him. She knew that, but in a moment of panic that had fled her mind entirely and she'd hurt him. She'd hurt him by not having faith that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. He would never let her reputation be damaged that way if there was anything he could do to stop it.
Slowly, she sat up as he'd long since moved his hand from her arse while he was talking and she carefully pulled him into her arms. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Sir. I should have known better than that. You're right, I didn't hear you talking to Neville about that, but I still should have known better. I do want you to own me, and I shouldn't have doubted you."
His own arms came up and enfolded her body, almost as if by reflex, and he let out a deep sigh.
"To be fair," he mused, "I can't really blame you for thinking the worst."
She immediately drew back to protest, but he kept talking before she could give voice to the words that waited on the tip of her tongue.
"You said it yourself, I've never been one to actually have a plan, most of the time. I shouldn't be surprised that you wouldn't expect me to be better than I've always shown up till now, at least not right away. I'd like to hope that you might start to feel more comfortable that, at least with us, I'm definitely putting in a lot more thought and planning into what I do."
Her head nodded rapidly, wild curls bouncing around her head and shoulders. "I do," she insisted. "I have noticed that, I just panicked for a moment there."
He leaned closer, placing a gentle kiss to her lips before he drew back, his signature lopsided smile in place and she returned it with a broad grin of her own, pleased to have worked past this small hurdle in their relationship.
She turned, carefully repositioning her blanket so that it covered the both of them and, pulling her skirt back down, just in case, leaned against him again, her head resting on his shoulder.
"So… does that mean that you've been planning this?" she asked, her curiosity getting the best of her once again.
He chuckled quietly. "It's all part of what I've been planning for you, Mine," he responded. "I wanted to see how long, how much it took to get you really worked up." He paused for a moment and when he resumed talking his voice was firmer, even a touch stern. "And while we're on that subject… do you remember us putting in a rule that you were not allowed to let yourself get to the point where I might need to spring a session on you?"
Crap.
"I remember, Sir," she whispered, her head dipping slightly against his shoulder as she almost instinctively shrank in on herself in shame and remorse.
"I admit, I wanted you worked up, but I didn't mean for it to get thisbad. Why didn't you ask me sooner?"
She fidgeted in place for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I was embarrassed," she finally admitted.
"Embarrassed?"
She nodded. "I… I just couldn't bring myself to ask you for permission. I couldn't pluck up the courage to ask, knowing that if you said I could, you'd know what I was doing."
"But…" His tone was confused. "But I already know. Hell, I've gotten you off myself more than once, Mine."
"I know," she said, blowing out a frustrated sigh. "I know, it's just… different, somehow."
Harry hummed wordlessly, unconsciously pulling her closer to him while he thought over what she'd just said. "So, is it different in a bad way?"
She shrugged. "I don't really know."
He hummed again, frowning slightly. "Well, let me know if you come to a conclusion. In the meantime, I think we need to discuss Daphne."
Hermione blinked a couple of times in surprise as she shifted mental gears and lifted her head, looking about wildly for a moment before she spotted the folded piece of parchment that Harry had handed to her earlier lying on the floor.
After retrieving it she settled back against her boyfriend's side and looked it over again as Harry explained his encounter with the beautiful Slytherin in more detail.
"So, Daphne offered a wager," she summarized after he finished. "If you can figure out what it is she might one day want your help with, she'll tell why she picked you as the person to help her. If you can't, then she gets whatever it is she wrote on this parchment?"
"That's about the size of it," he said. "Also, whatever it is that she wrote, she swears it's a small thing, but she gets it from both of us, you and me."
"You sound like you want to accept her wager," Hermione pointed out and he shrugged his free shoulder.
"I'm not entirely certain, but I've been giving things a lot of thought recently." He gave her a sidelong look. "You've had me thinking a lot, I should say." He paused and let out a sigh. "Let's be honest, before you approached me about all of this… I've never been one to put in the work. I've never really thought everything through. You changed that."
She had been about to defend him, her mouth already open to blame his relatives for his poor performance habits when his final statement caused her to ask, "what did I do?"
When he turned more fully toward her, the look in his eyes caused her breath to catch in her throat. "You trusted me with something precious. Yourself. Me, an underachieving, Quidditch obsessed, trouble magnet who has put your life in danger more times than I could count.
"But, even with all that against me, you still trust me to do this, to be this person that you need. I couldn't understand what it was that you saw in me that made you think that I was worthy of that level of trust. So, I decided I needed to step up and take your advice, look for some control in my life. My classes and grades were a first step. Having to plan our sessions was another. Then, finding out about my family and the legacy I have to live up to…"
He let out a long breath as she sat in shock at what her request had wrought in him. She knew he wasn't living up to his potential, but he was honestly exceeding all expectations that she might have had of him.
"In regards to Daphne… her family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, like my own. She's much more politically savvy than I likely will ever be, and having her as a friend and a potential ally could be extremely valuable in the future. A reasonably friendly wager with relatively small stakes seems like a good way to gauge if we can actually be friends with her, and I don't think that either of us can say that we have too many friends, can you?"
Dumbly, Hermione shook her head. Everything he was saying made sense, and she was thrilled and so proud that he was finally, really using that intelligence she'd just known that he was capable of. What she hadn't counted on was just how sexy and attractive she found it.
So… I guess I'm a sapiosexual, she though, not too surprised to realize that she was sexually attracted to her partner's intelligence.
She realized, suddenly, that he was looking at her expectantly and her mouth felt dry as she licked her lips. "You've made some very good points," she started slowly, attempting to organize her thoughts. "Honestly, I can't say that I really like the idea of befriending someone based on what potential benefits they might bring… but she does appear to be doing the same thing. It couldn't hurt to try and see how genuine she is about wanting to be friends, either way."
"So, you think we should accept her wager?"
"I think we might be missing out on a potential opportunity if we didn't. Besides, if this stake she wants really is no big deal, I don't see what we really have to lose."
He nodded. "I don't like having to wonder if she wants to be friends, honestly, or if it's just a means to an end, which makes the entire friendship potentially tainted."
"Why do they have to be mutually exclusive?"
"You think she could actually want to be friends with me, of all people, and still want to use me for something at the same time?" He seemed skeptical.
"Well, isn't that kind of what we're doing?" she asked. "We're together because we want to be together, but we also get something out of it at the same time. All human interaction is like that, to a degree. I don't like it, but I recognize the truth of it. And who knows? Giving her a chance might see us getting a good friend out of the experience."
Harry thought that over for a moment before he nodded again and tapped the parchment in her hand with the tip of one finger. "All right. Put that away somewhere safe and tomorrow I'll let Daphne know that we'll play her game."
It was Hermione's turn to nod, all the while hoping that they were right, and that this decision wouldn't come back to bite them. Before she could think more on it, he started speaking again.
"Saturday is our next session… do you need one sooner?"
She shook her head. "No, Sir. I will ask if I need to between now and then but I'm fairly content at the moment."
His eyes searched her face briefly before he let it go. "Okay," he murmured. His hand slid down and tapped the end of her plug through her skirt, pulling a surprised squeak from her and a deep flush rose in her cheeks.
"Go ahead and take this out before you go to bed," he told her. "I think you've earned a bit of a break, but it goes back in as soon as you wake up tomorrow morning and I'll be thinking over your punishment before Saturday, understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"I think I'm gonna head to bed now, it's late and Oliver is insane." A boyish smile turned up his lips and she couldn't help but smile in return, leaning forward to give him a soft kiss.
"Goodnight, Mine," he murmured against her lips.
"Goodnight, Sir."
He stood and made his way across the room and started up the stairs toward the boys dorm, disappearing quickly. It wasn't more than a few minutes before Hermione decided she was ready to sleep as well, so she headed upstairs and quickly got ready for bed.
Slipping into her bed she tucked the plug, cleaned and wrapped in a small hand towel, into a drawer in her nightstand before she pulled her curtains shut and burrowed her way down under her sheets and blankets. In minutes she was fast asleep, a small smile curving her lips.