Hogwarts: The Legacy

(c)2005 by Josh Cohen. May not be reprinted, except for personal use. The Potterverse was created by JK Rowling, and remains her property. I\'m just borrowing it for a little while.

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THIRTEEN: FAMILY MATTERS

Warning: contains oral sex, spanking, regular sex, and Hermione\'s fingers.

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Hermione wiped her chin with the back of her hand. Sometimes, if she made him wait long enough, Draco would have orgasms copious enough that even she couldn’t swallow it all. This time, she had tormented and teased him for the better part of an hour.

“Hermione, love,” he gasped, “come up here.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

She slipped her way up his slick body – they were both covered with sandalwood oil, and she knew for a fact that without magic, the silver sheets on their bed would have had to go for rags – and kissed him. She’d always thought that men would find it strange to taste themselves when they kissed a woman. But then, Draco was the only man she’d done this to; maybe he was the only man who didn’t care. She certainly didn’t care what she tasted like, and she kissed Draco almost all the time, even after he’d gone down on her. “What is it, Draco?”

The way she said his name always made him twitch at the base of his spine. “I asked you to come up here. I meant all the way up here.”

“Why?”

He sighed at her, brushing her lips with his thumb. “If you’re going to remove the hair from between your legs, I’m damned if I’m not going to get a close-up look.”

“But Draco,” she mock-whined, playing along, “I already gave you a close-up look.”

“Ah, but I want another.”

“And how do you want it?”

He crooked his finger, a cruel look on his face.

Hermione chuckled and drew herself up Draco’s body, settling her knees on either side of his head, her sex over his mouth. Her hands tangled in his hair and she looked down, between the soft swells of her breasts, as his gray eyes stared at her.

Then his tongue delved into the warmth between her legs, and she was forced to close her eyes.

Draco loved the way his wife tasted. There was a hint of caramel in the charcoal-and-girl flavor of her core. His tongue flickered inside her, his fingers digging just enough into the smoothness of her bottom that he could move her with but a gentle urging. His upper lip brushed over her clitoris and she shuddered above him.

Hermione’s first orgasm was easy. It was the second one that was difficult. They were home for the spring holidays now – Caroline had chosen to stay at Hogwarts, to study with her friends, and neither Draco nor Hermione had found anything wrong with that – and with the house to themselves, they were making full use of the time together. Hermione had to be back at Hogwarts on Wednesday morning. It was Monday now. He had made her come quickly already, waking her with the length of his flesh brushing against her mound until she opened her legs. Still asleep, she had taken him inside her. It had been the orgasm that had woken her.

Then had come the mind-blowing blowjob she had bestowed upon him. It was his turn to reciprocate.

When he was younger, Draco had not given much thought to reciprocating when witches gave him head. But being with Hermione had changed his mind about that. She’d grown up with muggle parents, and muggle sensibilities, and had refused to get her mouth anywhere near his penis unless he vowed to return the favor. He had learned quickly; it was the Slytherin in him that said it would be worthwhile.

And it had been.

Hermione was only about halfway there when her back started to ache. Regretfully, she drew herself away from Draco’s mouth and rolled away. “What is it, love?” he asked, rolling in her direction.

“Just a twinge, that’s all.” She flicked her tongue over his lips and his chin, glistening from where she’d ground herself against him. “I can’t stay up there that long.”

“That’s what you get for bending over cauldrons all day.”

“I guess so.” She grinned at him. “Speaking of bending over...” Hermione flipped onto her stomach and turned herself half-off the bed, her toes on the floor, her chest pressed to the silk sheets. “Would you?”

Draco knew this game very well. “Would I what?” He levered himself into a sitting position, his back propped up by their pillows.

Hermione swallowed, a blush coming to her cheeks. Draco thought it amusing that she could be a complete hellcat in bed, but when it came to this one little kink she’d developed, she got bashful.

“Come on, love. Tell me what you want.”

Her eyes went downcast. “I want...” She cleared her throat. “I want you to punish your naughty little Gryffindor.”

“Oh, do you?” Draco leered at her. “And how should I do that?”

“Fuck,” she whispered.

“Excuse me? I don’t believe I caught that. Maybe you should try looking up at me.”

Hermione took a deep breath and stared into her husband’s eyes. “I said, ‘fuck.’ But what I meant was, I want you to put me over your lap and punish me for being a naughty Gryffindor girl.”

Draco took Hermione’s wrists in one large hand and pulled; she knew the game, and she scrambled up and over his lap. Her bottom tingled in the cool air of the bedroom, but only until he rested his hand upon it. A surge went through her body, filling her with warmth from her sex outward.

Then Draco held up his hand and called out “accio hairbrush!”

The game was on.

Draco rested his head on Hermione’s smooth thigh, watching the petals of her body as she came down from her orgasm. “Draco,” she murmured.

“Yes, love?”

“Why didn’t you just make love to me? I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“I know.” He pulled himself up her body, his erection nestling between her spread thighs. “I just thought you might prefer to get your pleasure first.”

“You lie.” She kissed him gently; she tried to lift her arms, but she was too drained. At the moment her orgasm had slowed, Draco had done something to her clitoris and a place deep inside her, and she’d come again, almost immediately. “You just don’t want to worry about getting me off while you’re fucking me.”

He slid himself a few inches into her. “You love to be dirty, don’t you.”

“You know it.”

“Want more?”

“Always.”

Draco slowly pressed the rest of his length into Hermione’s body, until he could feel the bare flesh between her legs pressed against him. Her sex was still quivering around him, and as he rocked back and forth, the head of him finding the deep place inside her, she clenched and gasped.

“You close?”

He thought about that. “Not terribly. Why?”

“No reason.” Hermione managed to lift one arm and run her palm down Draco’s shoulder and back, until she cupped one of the cheeks of his buttocks. “Just wanted to know.” Then her fingers moved downward a little and her whole body shifted.

Draco’s eyes snapped open when he realized what she was doing.

“Shh.” With her other hand, Hermione cupped Draco’s cheek. “Just relax.” She brought her hand back to her mouth and suckled lasciviously at it for a moment, then returned it to Draco’s rear. He continued rocking slowly inside her, only moving a couple of inches at a time.

“Hermione?”

Her slickened finger found the tight place between the cheeks of his buttocks, and he realized two things with a start: one, it brought him more than halfway there; and two, he wouldn’t mind if she–

She did. He moaned and pushed all the way into her, his come flooding her as the length of him jerked and spasmed.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked as she massaged Draco’s shoulders. He was on his stomach; she was straddling his hips.

“Fine. What made you want to do that?”

She shrugged, her hands molding his muscles like they were clay. She had amazingly-strong hands for someone so slender. “Read about it somewhere.”

“Probably in the same book you found out about your other little kink.” Draco’s voice was quiet and lazy. There was a pleasant tingling coming from the area behind his testicles, one that he hadn’t felt in all his years with Hermione. “How’s yours?”

She wriggled against him; the warmth coming from her bottom felt rather good on Draco’s lower back. “Stings a bit. That’s quite the killer brush you have.”

“It was my mother’s. And before you ask, no, she didn’t. But I think I’ve adapted it rather well to the purpose.”

“I’d have to agree.” Hermione stretched herself out, draping her body over Draco’s back. Her cheek nestled in between his shoulders, her breath warm on his back. “Thank you for not thinking it’s twisted.”

He chuckled, his voice deep, and Hermione knew he was close to dropping off. “I wouldn’t care. I love you, my twisted witch.”

“I love you too.”

Draco was still asleep when Hermione pulled on a robe and belted it tightly. She wasn’t by nature a prudish person, but she always felt odd when the house-elves saw her without clothes on.

Dobby appeared beside her as she made her way down the stairs. “Mistress Malfoy, Mistress Caroline is wanting to talk to you.”

Hermione had been luxuriating in the afterglow of sex, but this brought her out of it in a moment. “To me?”

Dobby nodded. “I was asking her if she is wanting to talk to Master Malfoy, but she is wanting to talk to you.”

“That’s strange. I didn’t think she liked me very much.”

“I is not one to judge,” Dobby said diplomatically, “but I is thinking that Mistress Caroline is missing Professor Dumbledore.”

Hermione swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. “So am I, Dobby.”

“Dobby is as well.”

Hermione walked into the informal living room – Malfoy Manor was large enough to have two – and sat down in front of the fireplace. There was an old, hand-knitted blanket her mother had made her when she was a baby, and Hermione pulled that over her lap. “Caroline?” she called. “Are you there?”

The flames shifted from orange to green, and Caroline’s green-tinged head – green from the Floo communication system – appeared. “Hello.”

“Is something the matter?” Hermione asked. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m not quite certain how to go about this.” Caroline’s face seemed more curious and introspective than worried. “Normally, I would have asked Grandfather, but I can’t. And I can’t ask Jason about this.”

“Why not?”

She offered a weak smile. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Hermione leaned forward on the couch. “It’s all right, Caroline. You can talk to me. Or I can get Dr– that is, your dad, if you want.”

Caroline shook her head. “I don’t know how father would react. I don’t know him well enough yet. But I know you because I’m in your class every week.”

“Caroline, when we’re talking like this, I’m just your mother.” Hermione felt a hiccup in her chest when she said that – a pleasant one, because she’d never thought she could have children; an unpleasant one, because she knew she was lying to what was, technically, her stepdaughter. “Just like when we’re in class, I’m your professor.”

“Whatever you say.” She smiled again, just a little. Hermione reflected that Caroline had a truly-dazzling smile. “I was wondering how I would go about asking a boy about his feelings for me.”

“I’m sorry?”

Caroline’s blush was more green than anything else, thanks to the Floo, but it was unmistakably a blush all the same. “I think I care more about a boy than just friends, and I would like to state my intentions toward him.”

“Caroline, are you sure? You’ve only been at Hogwarts for a few months, you’ve only spent time in the company of your peers for that long...”

Caroline shrugged. “I’ve spoken to Alison about it.” Hermione had noticed that, while they were different in many ways, Alison Tanner and Caroline seemed to get along quite well. “She suggests that I simply tell the boy how I feel. However, some of my other peers think it would be better for me to hint at it first, ‘feel him out,’ as they call it.”

Hermione thought about that for a moment. Part of her wanted to ask Caroline who she had her crush on, and part of her wondered about her past – if she hadn’t listened to Lavender Brown, maybe Ron might have known how she felt from the start, and maybe he would have had a relationship with her instead of Luna. Not that Hermione didn’t like Luna – the loopy-acting witch was actually quite witty and friendly when she got to know her better – and not that Hermione was unhappy that she’d ended up with Draco – not in the least. But sometimes she dwelled too much on things past.

“Mother?” Caroline prodded.

A flush of warmth suffused Hermione’s chest. Caroline had referred to her as her mother. In private. For the first time. “Sorry,” she said, fighting the urge to cry. “I got distracted.”

“I could tell.”

“I’m very much in favor of simply telling the boy how I feel, but I still want to know what you would do.”

“I tried hinting once, when I was in school. It didn’t work.” She pushed her hair off to one side, an easy out to surreptitiously brush the sleeve of her robe across her eyes.

“It wasn’t father, was it?”

Hermione shook her head. “It was someone who was a close friend of mine. He never picked up on what I was trying to hint.”

“Then I won’t hint.”

Her curiosity started to get the better of her. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me who this boy is?”

Caroline shrugged and grinned, a surprisingly-girlish gesture for someone so mature; being raised by Professor Dumbledore, without many children with whom she could socialize, she’d grown up much faster than anyone had expected. “Not just yet. But when something happens, I promise I will.”

“Thank you. And don’t do anything rash. Don’t jump into anything just because he wants you to. And if he tries to do anything you don’t think you’re ready for, you hex him as best you can and you run for help, understand?”

Caroline looked taken-aback by the vehemence in that last statement, but she nodded. “I will. I’ll be careful.”

“Good.”

Caroline looked around; Hermione knew she was looking around wherever she was, but it was still disconcerting to see a disembodied greenish head twist around like that, especially when she couldn’t see her daughter’s – her daughter’s; the very thought of it filled Hermione with joy – neck. “I have to go, mother. I’m using Professor Flitwick’s Floo, and he’s just knocked me up for a one-minute warning before my time is expired.”

“All right.”

“Thank you again, mother. I appreciate your insight.”

“Any time.”

Caroline’s head pulled backward and disappeared; the flames shifted from green to orange and yellow once more.

Dobby appeared next to Hermione and profferred her a handkerchief. She took it and pressed the square of linen to her eyes, one at a time.

“Is Mistress Malfoy all right?” the elf asked. “Is there anything Mistress Malfoy is wanting?”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s all right, Dobby. I’m not upset.”

“Mistress Malfoy is crying tears of happiness?” Hermione nodded, and Dobby’s pointed face broke into a smile, his huge eyes shining. “Dobby is happy that Mistress Malfoy is happy.”

“Thank you, Dobby,” Hermione said, her voice choked.

The elf disappeared. A few moments later, Hermione felt Draco’s hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right, love?” he asked.

She was still crying softly, so warm inside she was nearly shaking. “I’m fine, Draco.”

“What happened?”

She tilted her head back and smiled at him. “She called me ‘mother’.”

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Notes: My goodness, I\'ve turned Draco fluffy, haven\'t I. I figure he\'s due a little. I also figured we were due a little something from Draco and Hermione.

What Hermione did to Draco -- the position, the body shift, all that -- was inspired by an adult video I saw. A British woman did the same thing to her partner in it.

Questions asked in reviews will be answered in notes on future chapters.