Prisoners of Love - A Mystery - COMPLETE

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Updated 8-25-07


Thank you! This author is enthralled with all your analytical reviews (sets out a large platter of chocolate-filled croissants for everyone to enjoy). And welcome to my new reviewers. If it was your first time, I'm honored. Reviewing is fun and a wonderful gift for the lonely author.


Sorry, no Lucius yet. But there's Snape...oh, yes, and some smut (sorry again, NOT Snape smut).


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Chapter Fourteen

Harry, Hermione, and Hogwarts


Harry wasn’t wasting any time tracking down the contents of the stolen documents as he strode into the Minister’s office that afternoon. Harry was young, but he was one of the more powerful wizards already with his record against Voldemort as well as a lengthy reputation for bravery and a bit of hotheadedness, so he was allowed license not given to others. And he had shown the Ministry its recent mistake about Hermione, so Scrimgeour was inclined to accede to Harry’s request.

An hour later Harry left Scrimgeour’s office more puzzled than when he had entered it. Why would anyone want an accounting of toilet paper? Or of mundane supplies for all the agencies controlled by the Ministry? That’s what Hermione had been assigned to do during working hours. Why would anyone suppose she’d have to come back at night to steal what was in her hands all day? Harry shook his head. Apparently critical thinking wasn’t a well-developed attribute in the Ministry. But toilet paper? Wasn’t the world weird enough without someone having a fetish for arse-wipes?

When Harry told Hermione that the stolen papers contained nothing more than her inventories for toilet paper and other basic supplies for all the Ministry agencies including Azkaban, Hermione looked at him queerly, then said, “Omigosh, of course! I used the Daily Prophet!”

Harry said, “What? What Daily Prophet?” He scratched his head, making his black mop stand up even worse than usual, “Maybe you should sit down, Hermione.”

“I’ve got to see Snape. He can help me with this.” Hermione bustled out of her parlor where Harry had found her, and went for a light jacket, “I’ll see you later, Harry. And thank you!” Then she was gone. Harry decided to get a glass of water before he went home and wandered down the hall to the kitchen, but as he went by the open dining room door, he noticed stacks of parchments all over the table. Curious, he began to read a few.

“Shite!” he yelled, incensed, throwing down the parchment and instantly apparating too, forgetting about the water. Harry had a solid idea his loving wife knew more about this than he had been let in on, and she was going to tell him everything or she was destined for an uncomfortable night on the sofa. Women! Hermione was so innocent she didn’t know who she was tangling with - trying to spring that bastard Malfoy. Damn!

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Hermione entered the Headmaster’s office at Hogwarts using the password, ‘wolfsbane’. Gone were the days of various candy passwords. Snape was a more somber Headmaster and his secret words tended to be obscure potions or herbs.

“Hermione,” Snape rose from his desk chair and indicated that she be seated in one of the padded seats in front of his desk, then subsided back into his own chair. Hermione sat and looked around, noting that the room had been cleared of all the various artifacts Dumbledore had enjoyed and now the shelves were lined purely with books, dotted with a few glass jars of rare ingredients that Snape kept for his own personal research. A slight telltale scent of something recently brewed hung tantalizingly in the air and Hermione realized that she would forever associate that distinctive aroma with Severus. She smiled to herself – Snape would always be Snape.

Hermione almost wished she could just wander around gazing at the volumes and losing herself in the fine library Severus surrounded himself with, but she had more serious business today. Her research interests would have to wait for another time.

She saw Fawkes on his perch snoozing contentedly and she remembered Lucius had told her that the bird had unaccountably chosen to remain with Snape much to the surprise of many. The bird had been long associated with the Gryffindor house through Dumbledore; speculation also had the phoenix belonging to Godric Gryffindor long ago, so its willingness to stay with a Slytherin Headmaster was nearly unbelievable.

Lucius’ theory was that the bird had seen the light and the superiority of his Slytherin house, but Hermione’s idea was that she was seeing something remarkable. The fabled bird was, in its own quiet way, pointing to the merging of the differences between the two contentious houses, marking a new era of peace now that the Dark Lord was vanquished. Neither Malfoy had convinced the other and that particular argument remained unresolved between them. Hermione wasn’t bothered by their inability to reach agreement - that difference of opinion was only one among quite a few that livened up their marriage.

She saw the sorting hat was in its normal resting place atop the bookcases but the newest Mrs. Malfoy was surprised by all the empty portrait frames lining the wall. Snape saw the question in her expressive eyes and answered her silent puzzlement, “All the previous headmasters’ portraits now adorn the main hallways. They actually like it very well out there, being back in the hustle and bustle of the school, seeing and hearing the students as they move to and from their classes. If I need their counsel, I invite them into their frames here, but their admittance now is by invitation only.”

Snape scowled in remembered irritation at his first few days in his new role running the school, “The old headmasters were entirely too free with their opinions of my operations or any new system I introduced; I never got any work done with the constant kibitzing going on over my shoulders. This arrangement is better for everyone.” Snape had been within a kneazle’s whisker of lighting a bonfire and pitching all the old geezers’ pictures onto it.

He settled his hands together on the papers on his desk and asked, “How may I help you?”

Hermione leaned forward eagerly, “Severus, I suppose you already know Lucius and I were married in prison. He said you and he had business dealings together and I should come to you for information on his appeal and I’ll want to discuss that with you when I’ve done more research. For now, I have some information for you. We used your Daily Prophets for our toilet paper.” She sat back, an expectant look on her face at her revelation.

Snape merely eyed the little witch, wondering what Lucius had got himself into now, marrying someone who had come all the way to Hogwarts to share her preference in bathroom products. “I’m flattered, of course, Hermione …”

Hermione huffed at the obtuseness of her old professor and growled, “There WAS NO TOILET PAPER. We had to use your Daily Prophets, Severus. Harry said the missing documents that the Ministry thought I had stolen were inventories for all the supplies for the different agencies, including Azkaban. Somehow, those missing supplies are one key to this mess I’m embroiled in. There should have been toilet paper for all the prisoners, Severus. Where did it go?”

She explained, “I didn’t connect the two until Harry told me about the missing documents. I had just thought Lucius had used up the scarce supply of toilet paper he’d been allotted for our cell before I got there. Really, who thinks about toilet paper? Especially when one has been tossed into Azkaban unjustly? But the Warden was surprised we had so few supplies, too. At the time, I was about to be married to Lucius and I wasn’t thinking about the Warden’s remarks.” Hermione blushed at what she had been thinking about, then it made her sad again, feeling lost without her husband and her head started to hurt. The vague headaches were almost a constant occurrence lately and Hermione resolved to drop into the hospital to get checked out when she could feel safe enough to do so. It was one place she couldn’t really enter incognito if she wanted medical help.

Severus considered Hermione’s words while seeing her rub her temple in apparent pain. He silently attributed her headache to the connection to Lucius, but didn’t volunteer information that he felt was not his to offer. Hearing of Lucius’ marriage through their owl system, Snape had sent a return owl in amazed inquiry and learned of the mind bond that Lucius had reluctantly proffered as a reason. Snape knew Hermione wasn’t consciously aware of her emotional bridge to her husband, but Snape sincerely hoped Hermione would visit her new mate sooner rather than later as Lucius was probably suffering also.

“I shall ask around about those documents. Perhaps I may find out more than Harry has. Thank you for telling me this, Hermione. I know Lucius wants you protected until he can see to it himself and I will, of course, provide whatever details you deem useful for Lucius’ appeal.” Snape rose from his desk and escorted Hermione all the way to the entrance gates of the school, seeing her off. The dark-haired wizard strode back through the grounds to his office wrapped in thought, his black robes swirling about him in the stiff afternoon breeze blowing off the nearby lake. He would also be tracing any black market transactions made for large amounts of paper products and other supplies that should have gone to the prison. He didn’t tell Hermione of that plan, however, because he wasn’t about to explain how a Hogwarts Headmaster would have such equivocal contacts.

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“Honest, Harry love, I didn’t know anything about Hermione’s plans to appeal on her husband’s behalf.” Ginny didn’t know where Harry had got that piece of news but she hadn’t been privy to it. She’d only known about Hermione’s feeling for her dark wizard. Ginny bit her lip and gave her husband her best ‘poor little clueless me’ look.

“So what did you know? Your guilt stands out like a kneazle at a day camp for mice, just like the time you accidentally washed your red sweater with all my undershorts. Hell, I’m still wearing pink underwear.” He slammed his fists on his hips and glared at the little red-haired conspirator, leaning toward her and growling in frustrated anger, “You know something and now I’m going to know it too. This instant!”

“Well, it’s not a secret, Harry.” Ginny decided she’d better brush up on her innocent look if Harry could see through her so quickly. “Anyone could see Hermione is in love with her husband. And it’s NOT your Stockholm thing. Or was it Oslo?” Ginny shrugged away her uncertainty over the name. “It’s just love, pure and simple. I suppose you see it as a great tragedy, but if you stop growling and think a moment, you’ll realize those two are really so alike it’s amazing.”

She ticked off the similarities on her fingers, “Both overachievers. Both brainy. Both fond of and good at numbers, although personally, I think Arithmancy has to be the best antidote for insomnia ever invented. Both rather cool personalities taken singly. Both like to rule the roost. I bet they’re going to have some humdingers of arguments, both being so bossy,” Ginny grinned. “I can’t decide who would come out ahead. That brings me to both pigheaded. You see? A match made in heaven.”

“Except he’s a dangerous, murdering Death Eater and Hermione is so innocent she blushes when we hold hands.” Harry saw his wife’s face suddenly go guilty again. “What now?”

“Uh, Harry, I don’t think Hermione’s going to be blushing at that any more.” She winced as the full picture finally blossomed in Harry’s mind.

“SHITE!! Are you saying that she and that…that…monster have been…?” He got out his wand and said, “Wait here, Ginny. I’m going to make a short visit to a certain North Sea prison to see a wizard about his dick.”

Ginny dragged on Harry’s hand, dislodging his wand and making it fall to the floor. She kicked it away and held onto her husband’s arm with all her strength. “NO, you can’t. Harry James Idiot Potter – if you do that, you’ll be dead yourself within two minutes after Hermione finds out what you did. If you even TRY to kill or emasculate him, I’ll be a widow soon thereafter and Hermione will be back in Azkaban for murder - yours. Do you really want that?”

“Well at least she won’t be sleeping with him. Ugh! How could she?” But Harry slowly relaxed his stance and Ginny led him over to the sofa, sitting them both down with her arm around him just in case.

“He’s vicious, Ginny. I don’t want her hurt.”

“Look, Harry,” Ginny tried to reason with her narrow-minded husband, “Our Hermione is one of the strongest, most intelligent witches of our generation. She’s managed to get the most feared, calculating, powerful, rich wizard in the whole country to marry her instead of him just taking what he wanted. He could have, you know. This could have been an entirely different outcome for her. Broken, miserable, afraid of all men. But he married her. A Muggleborn. That to me is the strangest of all. I think he must love her. And she has so much to offer him – more than he’s even had time to discover, I’m sure.” Ginny squeezed her husband’s waist and said gently, “If you had to bet on which one of them has the stronger personality, who would you choose?”

Harry suddenly grinned at his little copper-haired wife. “Poor Malfoy. He’s got a Gryffindor lion by the tail – oh, ick, I didn’t mean it that way. But,” he sank back against the upholstery, “I just wish she could have chosen anyone else except him.”

“Oh, well, how about Goyle? He’s still single.” Ginny laughed at Harry’s flashing emerald eyes. “So there is worse out there than Malfoy – Slytherin AND stupid. Hermione has made her decision. We are here to support her, not make her more miserable than she already is.”

“Don’t ask me to be all chummy with that viper. I’ll stand clear and only help Hermione if she asks me. That’s all I’m willing to do.”

“Good enough,” replied Ginny, running her hand along Harry’s chest and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. “Now, love, I haven’t seen Cyclops for two days. Do you think your trouser snake is willing to poke itself out of those pink shorts for some afternoon delight?” She lingeringly kissed Harry and saw his expression change from anger to speculation as her fingers found the second button.

“I know you’re merely trying to distract me, Ginny.” Harry’s breathing began to get a little uneven as his softened green eyes tracked his wife’s fingers on his shirt.

“Sweetheart,” Ginny crooned, “There’s no ‘merely’ about it. I’m so wet I’m making a spot on the sofa. Shall we adjourn to our bedroom?”

Harry had just lost another argument to his wife with the oldest trick in the Grimoire, but sex was sex no matter how it was offered. “Oh, what the hell!” Harry lifted up his petite wife and disappeared with her into their bedroom.

“Harry, you’re tickling me,” Ginny complained, as her husband dropped her on the bed and began working on the row of tiny buttons down the front of his wife’s dress.

“Why in hell do you wear so many buttons?” Harry gave up and pointed his wand at the offending material, separating the small pearl fasteners from the dress in double quick time by popping them all off and sending them cascading around the room.

“Harry! That’s the third dress you’ve ruined this month. I refuse to pick up all the buttons this time.” She gave her unrepentant husband a gimlet stare as her dress was pulled off her shoulders and yanked away from her body.

“Zippers or Velcro, Ginny,” Harry said, not really paying any attention to his wife’s funk, “no more buttons.” He removed her stockings and shoes, then stood back and cocked his head, a feral smile blooming on his face as his eyes tracked his wife from her copper locks to her dainty blue toenails. Harry always got a kick out of his wife’s odd colors for her nail polish.

Ginny saw his smile for the impatient promise it was and quickly slipped out of her bra and knickers. Harry in a hurry was hell on her clothes. She vainly tried to remember just why she had lured him into a bout of afternoon sex. Her mind was turning to mush at the focused stare her husband was training on her. “Velcro?” she wondered aloud, then completely forgot the strange word as Harry came down onto her and shot his tongue down her throat.

Harry was still fully clothed as he went to work on Ginny’s mouth with his lips and tongue, finding every nook and cranny with a personal inspection of her oral cavity while his hands filled with her soft, plush breasts. His hands weren’t quite large enough to cover her overflowing bounty and he restlessly lifted, weighed, and squeezed, finally narrowing his touch to her puckered nipples, plucking and twisting, making his wife mewl with want, thrashing helplessly under his weight as he held her down.

He knew he’d been set up and offered sex to distract him and he was going to take full advantage of his wife’s little game to have payback for himself. They were both going to win in the end, but Harry wanted it clear that he wasn’t quite the manipulated pushover Ginny thought.

Ginny gasped, “Harry, the buckle on your belt is digging into me.” She writhed to relieve the discomfort.

“Live with it,” was Harry’s advice as he dove down onto her mouth again, swallowing her indignant huff with his marauding tongue. His hands followed the line of her ribcage down to her hips and he pressed his thumbs into the indentations of her pelvic bone, his dilatory strokes easing closer and closer to the place where Ginny wanted his fingers more than her next breath. His own hips began a slow rhythm between her legs, pushing his fly right where she wanted Cyclops to go.

Ginny was getting desperate for Harry’s cock, being teased by his trouser-covered erection and those hypnotic thumbs. Why couldn’t he move his thumbs to the center? He was taking forever!

Suddenly Harry reared up and used his knees to walk over Ginny’s thighs coming to rest straddling her; he ripped open the placket of his dress trousers, dug into his pink undershorts and withdrew a large, fiercely erect cock which he presented to his wife with the curt command, “Suck me.”

Ginny gazed at the stiff penis being pressed against her lips, then up at her forceful husband and his peremptory order. He gazed fixedly back, daring her to deny him. Two could play this little struggle for domination. She understood Harry was still angry about being kept out of the loop on Hermione’s marriage and he wanted – no needed – to feel her willingness to return him to his place as the most important person in her life. Ginny understood that her husband always needed to know he truly belonged to her; she was his rock in a world where he felt no one had really ever wanted him just for him.

Ginny reached around Harry, grabbed both his trousered butt cheeks in her hands and yanked him forward through her waiting lips. She immediately sucked hard, then rotated her tongue around the head of his organ, coming to rest at the sensitive spot on the underside and fluttered her tongue swiftly over it, causing Harry to buck farther into her mouth. She quickly brought one hand up and wrapped it around what length was still left outside her mouth, holding him with a tight squeeze, then skating her closed hand up and back over his shaft, while still sucking on the glans.

Harry moaned his defeat and slid his fingers into her shiny russet hair, praising her technique between loud groans of satisfaction, always watching as his staff was thoroughly polished by her tongue and her fingers. When he saw his wife using her other hand to reach into his pink shorts for his balls, he called a halt and lifted himself away from her moistened lips.

“No, Ginny,” he whispered, “I want both of us to enjoy this.” He quickly stripped off the rest of his clothing and came down over his precious little witch-wife again. He guided himself to his wife’s entrance and thrust deeply into her. Cyclops only had one eye, but he unerringly found his way to the promised land.

They both inhaled with the sensation of him stretching her inner passage, then Harry began their favorite rhythm – deep and hard in, slow out. Ginny clutched her mate’s shoulders, whimpering with her desire as they both climbed the erotic hill together. Harry took her hands off his shoulders and entwined the fingers of their hands; they looked unblinkingly into each other’s eyes as the rhythm undulated between them, increasing slowly until each stab of Harry’s cock made them both gasp with lascivious pleasure.

Faster and faster, Harry and Ginny both began bringing their bodies together in tandem until Ginny went rigid and suddenly convulsed. She gave a short scream, her fingers twisting in her husband’s and her slick channel clenched around Cyclops, strangling Harry’s demanding tool. Harry gave two more desperate lunges into his personal heaven and shouted out his release, also going rigid for a few seconds before collapsing limply onto his wife.

“I love you, Harry.” Ginny kissed Harry’s neck then relaxed back down onto the pillows in tired satiation. “I truly didn’t know about that Appeal.”

“I love you, too, Ginny. I believe you.” Harry slid off his wife and pulled her against him. “I just feel protective of Hermione sometimes. She’s so clueless about man-woman things with her nose stuck in a book so much. She thinks she can learn everything that way, but she can’t. She can’t learn about men like Malfoy.” The young wizard sighed, “I’ll have to trust her or lose her as a friend. I know that, really. But I still don’t like him.” Harry nuzzled his face into his wife’s hair, then dropped into a light doze. They mutually avoided any discussion of their friend’s marriage for the rest of the afternoon.

tbc...

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I haven't forgotten Lucius. How could I? He's the yin to Hermione's yang in this story. Fear not, he's back in the next chapter. But you should always be careful what you wish for... Sometimes I think I have a little Slytherin in me.

Well, there's a lot of meat for your reviews in this chapter - Snape, Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny, sex, toilet paper - oh, the list goes on. Plenty of material to pontificate on, rant about, or drool over, so have at it. I'll be writing furiously for you in the meantime. Hugs.
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