The Problem of Pain

UNBETA'D!!!


Title: The Problem of Pain (2/2)

Author: moirasfate/ianthe_waiting

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling and Scholastic Books. This is a work of fanfiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story.

Pairing:Hermione/Percy

Rating: NC-17/MA

Summary: Years after the end of the War, Hermione Granger has had enough of Ronald Weasley. After breaking off her relationship, Hermione is faced with new emotions, partly from self-realization and partly from a new love interest named Percy Weasley.

Warnings: Not too much to warn readers about, part one is rather tame…part two: M/F, oral…and WAFF.

Genre: Romance, Drama, some attempts at humor.

Author’s Notes: This is my second Hermione/Percy fic…in two parts. The title is from a book by C.S. Lewis, as are the titles of the 2 parts. I love Lewis’s work…and if you like my managing of Lewis’s titles, read the DM/HG fic ‘Out of the Silent Planet.’


ADDITIONAL NOTE: This is an extremely rough version...will definitely going back and revising later.

Part Two
Surprised by Joy





“... joy and sorrow are inseparable. . . together they come and when one sits alone with you . . . remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.” --Kahlil Gibran


Four days had passed since Hermione had stumbled away from Percy Weasley and fallen on her face in the Great Hall after trying to hurry a bit to quickly to the safety of her apartments. Besides Argus Filch having his jollies on Hermione’s behalf, Hermione escaped to her bed where she collapsed face first again, this time into soft sheets.

She wanted to pull her hair out every hour that passed since fleeing like a coward from Percy Weasley’s arms.

It was just too hard…too hard to let herself fall again. She tried not to count the minutes from the point in which she had fled and until she received an owl from the Wizengamot Interrogator…she waited and glanced at the windows, stiffened when the post came in the morning and the owls swooped about the Great Hall and the small, summer staff table. She waited for the Floo to activate, even, and waited for a glimpse of green eyes…but nothing came…for FOUR days.

Hermione was beginning to think it had all been a mistake…taking Percy up on his offer, ever thinking that she could give Ron up for the unknown… But when the owl came, a gorgeous Ministry eagle owl, at breakfast on the fifth day, Hermione nearly passed out when the owl planted a sealed scroll in her lap. She could feel the eyes of the staff upon her, wondering curiously, but saying nothing.

After working several years at Hogwarts as Minerva as Headmistress, Hermione had found her true home. She was friendly with all the staff, even spoke in jest to Sibyll Trelawny, and sometimes walked the halls with Argus Filch when she found herself too manic to sleep at night. So when Hermione broke the ornate wax seal on the scroll, the eyes of the staff quickly looked away, allowing their youngest staff member a modicum of privacy.

Amber eyes quickly scanned the four lines and the signature…and her heart soared.

“Hermione,
I apologize for the awkwardness the other night and for not owling you sooner. If you are not adverse to the idea, I propose dinner at my flat in London. Menu to be Italian flavored. Bring your favorite white wine if you like, and of course, yourself. I will be waiting for your RSVP.

With the warmest regards,
P.I. Weasley”

Hermione’s face felt as if it were on fire from her blushing. She quickly rolled up the parchment scroll and tucked into her light summer robe. Ignoring the amused glances from her colleagues, Hermione began eating with fervor.

There was so much to do…decide what to wear, buy a nice bottle of Chardonnay, and do something with her hair… However, a scathing, familiar sound distracted Hermione from her mental checklist and she found herself being dive-bombed kamikaze style by a very energetic, very obnoxious Pigwidgeon, and Hermione felt heart sink.

Hermione snatched the tiny owl from the air with a bit more force than she would have liked, and gently took the small envelope from its beak.

“Have bacon, Pig…” Hermione whispered to the little Scops owl, rolling the creature onto the table before her. Again, she could feel the eyes upon her, cautiously studying the young woman, expecting to flee as soon as she read the letter.

Hermione sighed, opening the envelope and pulling out a small sheet of paper with Ron Weasley’s horrible scrawl. She held her breath as she read, and felt the color, which had filled her cheeks upon receiving Percy’s letter, drawn away completely.

“’Mione,

I want to apologize for being such an ass at Mum and Dad’s… I want to see you, straighten some things out. Harry is giving me hell for yelling at you, even Ginny is snubbing me. Please ‘Mione, give me a chance to make things right.
I cannot stop thinking about you, wondering what you’re doing, if you’re alright. Please say you’ll see me?

Love always,
Ron.

P.S. – I miss you, babe.”

Hermione took a deep breath. It was perhaps one of Ron’s more elegant letters, but she could still feel the burning of her anger towards him deep in her belly. She had not missed him, and had actually thought nothing of him ever since her date with Percy. The fact that Ron was writing her at all angered her…hadn’t she said it was over, hadn’t she said for him not to contact her?

Crumpling the letter and shooing Pig from the table, Hermione rose, nodding to her colleagues and made a hasty exit out into the Entrance Hall to be alone. The eyes that followed her were concerned, and when she was out of earshot, it was Sybill Trelawny who spoke first: “I foresee Ronald Weasley coming to a sticky end if ‘this’ continues…”

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had to begrudgingly agree. The sight of Hermione’s face upon receiving word from Percy Weasley had warmed her heart. Finally Hermione was being paid the attention she deserved by someone who was worth respect. But when Ronald Weasley’s familiar little owl had brought the small note, Minerva McGonagall saw all the cheer and excitement drain from her junior as if it had been sucked away by a Dementor.

The entire staff thought highly of Hermione Granger, and since she was the youngest member of the staff ever since the hiring of a former Potions Master, the staff wished Hermione all the happiness in the world as well as hoping that she would stay on at Hogwarts for many years to come. But most of the staff members knew that whomever Hermione Granger would settle her heart upon would have to be someone who understood her overwhelming need and talent for learning and teaching. It was obvious, and had been obvious for many years, Ronald Weasley was not the sort of man who let his significant other have much of a life outside his own. Minerva McGonagall had warm feelings for Ronald, a Gryffindor alum, an excellent Keeper and strategist, but his issues with attention, with fame even, were obviously keeping Hermione Granger from attaining her own fame as a Potions Mistress or from even making it through her thesis in University. The stress of her relationship with Ronald Weasley was blaringly obvious to the older, wizened staff members, but no one had the heart to advise her away from her childhood friend and now lover. Everyone just assumed that Hermione would figure it out on her own, which she had…but to see her suffering was almost too much to watch. Even Argus Filch felt badly for the girl…

Meanwhile, Hermione was pacing the length of the Entrance Hall, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. One moment she felt as if she would explode with fiery anger, the next moment she was feel tears form in the corners of her eyes…she was considering Apparating to Harry and Ron’s and beg that Ron either drop off the face of the earth and leave her alone, or beg for forgiveness and be taken back.

“So stupid…so utterly stupid,” she muttered as her pacing had become so frenetic that she was nearly running from the door to the base of the main staircase out of frustration. She wanted to pull her hair out from the root, she wanted to bang her head repeatedly against the stone floor, she wanted to kill Ron Weasley and she wanted to disappear off the face of the earth and never have to feel as conflicted as she did at that very moment.

What could she do, she wondered. Ignore it, burn the letter and pretend as if it had never been delivered. No…if she did not reply she knew Ron would make an appearance, albeit unwelcome, awkward and potentially stressful…he would want to know if Hermione had gotten the letter.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione stopped her pacing and moved toward the passage to her dungeon apartments, planning what to pen in a note in return to Ron.

* * *


The next day, Hermione slept in late since she had literally kept herself awake the night before worrying. She had hastily written to Percy that she would be delighted to come to dinner, but with the thoughts of writing to Ron, she could not think long upon a dinner date later in the week. But instead of dreaming through the morning, the alarm on the Floo sounded softly, rousing a very grumpy Hermione out of bed, into a dressing robe and to the fireplace across the room.

The green flames flared for a moment as Hermione knelt before the grate, groggy eyed and immediately she was face to face with Harry Potter.

“Harry…morning…” Hermione yawned, rubbing a hand over her face to push back a nest of unruly caramel hair sticking up at every possibly angle.

“Hermione…did I wake you?” Harry asked with a frown, his green eyes moving to look about the room behind Hermione and the unmade bed.

“Yes…and I would like to get back to sleep, if you don’t mind. So, why do I have the honor of answering your fire when I should be sleeping?” Hermione growled, her eyes still gooey and her mouth dry.

Harry sighed and tried to smile, but the more Hermione gazed at her best friend through hazy eyes, the more she noticed the distress clearly written on his face.

“It’s the note you sent Ron…he’s asked me to speak to you in his stead since you made it very clear that you will not longer have any communication with him.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Why would you do this, Harry? Don’t you know that Ron is just going to nag your death to keep trying to convince me that I have made the biggest mistake of my life?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Hermione continued.

“Well, I haven’t. In fact I believe I have made the best choice for both of us… Why can’t he just accept it and move on?” Hermione whined, her voice beginning to reach a high pitch that was not settling well on Harry’s ears. She continued to screech, babbling on the pros and cons of ending a relationship with Ronald Bilius Weasley, how she loved the freedom she was beginning to experience…

Harry winced and quickly sighed in relief when Hermione finally stopped talking, noticing that his friend was red in the face and wild eyed with anger.

“I did not Floo to convince you of anything, Hermione. I am just Flooing because Ron begged me to…he doesn’t need to know that I am not trying to help him ‘win’ you back…”

Hermione blinked. “You actually think that me breaking it off with Ron was a good thing?” she asked incredulously.

Harry grinned. “Yes, actually.”

A spark of suspicion flitted across Hermione’s face and Harry immediate began moving his jaw to speak, but could not for some reason.

“He’s been cheating on me, hasn’t he?” Hermione asked darkly.

“N-no! Of course not…and that isn’t why I think that this arrangement is for the best! It’s just…just that I thought you two were not getting on as well as you would have liked to think.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. What in the seven hells did that mean?

Harry took a deep breath and continued, “It seemed like you were slowly fading away, Hermione. As if you were resigned to do whatever it took to keep things normal…boring…safe. And Ron was taking advantage of that… And as far as I know, he didn’t cheat on you, but I honestly believe that if things were to continue the way they were…he would have… Does that make sense, Hermione?”

Hermione blinked again, this time with a feeling of awe. Harry had never been so right…everything he had said was true…and Hermione wondered who was really the brain of the ‘Golden Trio.’ Harry had always been the empathetic one, Ron the impulsive and Hermione the logical…

“It makes perfect sense,” Hermione whispered, looking down at the hearthstone and wishing her eyes were not filling with tears.

“I never had the heart to bring it up to either of you…I didn’t want to be the one to have to bring it up. That’s why I’m glad you figured it out, Hermione, because Ron never would.”

Hermione nodded, feeling a few stray tears fall from her gooey lashes to her folded knees beneath her.

“Hey…don’t cry, Hermione, it will all be okay…with time. Ron will lay off, he’s still in shock, you know?”

“Yeah…”

“But what about you? Are you doing alright?” Harry asked, his honest concern clear in his voice.

Hermione wiped away her tears and tried to smile. “I am doing fine. I keep thinking that I may have made a mistake, but then there is always something to prove that I had made the right choice. I am even seeing someone…not seriously…just talking, but someone more on my level…”

Harry smiled. “That’s great, Hermione. I just want you to be happy…hell, I even want Ron to be happy…he’s can be such a git sometimes, but he’s still my best mate.”

Tears threatened to come again at Harry’s words, but Hermione held them back, her lips quivering.

“What is it?” Harry asked quickly, noticing Hermione’s distress.

“Oh Harry…I don’t know if I can even be friends with Ron…not now. I have ruined everything!”

Harry wanted to come through the fire and hug his friend, but he knew that it might just make matters worse…instead he spoke with the most soothing voice he could muster.

“Listen, Hermione. It is going to take time…you didn’t ruin anything, you and Ron have changed, that’s all. You still love each other, deep down, but not as lovers… If you remember, we were all great friends before we all decided to grow up.”

At this, Hermione laughed, snorting on snot and tears. “Yeah…”

“Just give it time, and in the meantime I’ll try my best to keep Ron from making an arse out of himself. He won’t write again…I’ll see to it.”

“Thanks, Harry. And Harry, don’t mention that I’m seeing anyone to Ron, okay?”

“Sure thing, Hermione. I should go, I’ll Floo you again?”

Hermione nodded and Harry winked and was soon gone from the fire. Hermione sat sniffling at the hearthstone, wiping her eyes and nose with the back of her dressing robe sleeve. She felt wrung out, exhausted, but suddenly unburdened. If Harry was going to manage Ron, she knew Harry would do a fine job. It was just time she needed…a great bit of time before she could feel anything but anger at her old friend and ex-lover.

She rose from before the fire and trudged back to her bed, flopping face first into the sheets. In the meantime, she was going to put Ron far from her mind. She was going to get some rest, and then she was going to face the rest of her life free of any regret.

* * *


Moaning out of frustration, Hermione decided to slick her hair down for a sleek look which went well with her sleek black dress with the square neckline, long sleeves and slinky material. Percy had not specified that she dress too formally, but Hermione wanted to look sexy. She had rarely gotten a chance to dress in any fashion other than functional with Ron… Sexy was the way to go if she wanted anything to happen; sexy was the way to go if she wanted to change her life.

When she glanced herself in the wardrobe mirror, she could not help but feel her stomach roil. She looked like someone foreign and strange and not Hermione Granger. But the longer she looked and turned to see other angles of her body, hair and conservative application of cosmetics, she began to see herself more clearly…and she liked what she saw.

“Well, old girl, this is it…are you ready?” she whispered to herself, smoothing the slinky material down so that the skirt of the dress rested just three inches above her knee. “Yes, I think I am,” she whispered in response.

Picking up a cloak, tucking her want into her sleeve and gathering up a bottle of white wine from a table near the entrance of her apartments, Hermione took a deep breath and left her apartment. Moving through the dark dungeon corridors and up to the Entrance Hall, Hermione could feel her heart pounding against her breasts. Quickly wishing Mr. Filch a good evening, Hermione passed through the protective door and out onto the grounds. She knew she would be early, but she was far too nervous to wait any longer.

Once past the gates, Hermione sighed, holding her bottle against her under her cloak and concentrating on the point of apparition Percy had instructed her to arrive at. With a movement, Hermione was gone with a soft pop…and suddenly standing just at the apparition point outside the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley. It was just ten before seven by a clock over Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, and Hermione glanced about the street and the milling witches and wizards doing a bit of late evening shopping. Finally she spotted a dark clothed Percy Weasley approaching, his hair a gorgeous shade of crimson in the gas lights, his eyes bright and his smile, when he reached Hermione’s side, intoxicating.

Hermione was suddenly very nervous, and as they made small talk, she was self conscious of how her voice sounded.

“Are you ready?” Percy asked finally, moving Hermione to the edge of the Apparition point.

Hermione blinked.

“We can apparate just outside my apartment, if you’ll just take my arm…I left my guests entertained with tales ala Mr. Fortescue,” Percy laughed as Hermione took hold of her host’s arm.

She was suddenly squeezed against him before she could ask what Percy had meant by guests, and as soon as the apparition began, it was over. Hermione stumbled away from Percy unintentionally, nearly dropping her bottle of wine, but Percy caught Hermione before she fell and she found herself face to face and inside the arms of the man who had offered her an option past the pain of ending her relationship… In his arms she could smell him…sandalwood, musk, soap…clean and masculine.

With a smile he released her, adjusting her cloak and motioning to the door. Hermione blinked, suddenly taking in her surroundings. They stood in a corridor lit with electric lights; the doors along the corridor were rich polished oak doors, the carpet underfoot plush and thick. She was not in just any apartment building, but a high end, high rent building.

Percy laid his hand on the knob and paused, Hermione could feel the buzz of wards lowering, impressed with Percy’s subtle weaving of magic, and into the apartment they went.

The immediate thing Hermione noticed was the sound of several voices, laughing. Secondly, the scent of food wafted from an unseen place, making Hermione’s mouth water. Doffing her cloak, Percy placed it on an ornate wrought iron rack along with a few others. Hermione tried to smile when Percy took the bottle of wine and then took her hand.

“I know I did not mention that our dinner would include a few guests, but when Tiberius Ogden heard that I was planning dinner…for us…he begged to make it an event.”

Hermione made her confusion clear by her expression and Percy chuckled.

“One thing about being the son of Molly Weasley is that you inherit a talent with cooking. I, for one, love to cook, and am apparently very skilled... I cooked a dinner for some of my colleagues a few years ago, and ever since I have gained a reputation for producing a meal one cannot pass up.”

Hermione smirked as they moved through the small entrance hall and into a living room swathed in rich colors of cream, crimsons and silvers. Candles were lit on the mantle of a large fireplace with a low fire, the heat insignificant with large windows open to a view of London, unobstructed by other buildings…surely a charmed window. Around a wall was the dining room with a large tabled dressed to opulence and beyond that, through a swinging door now standing open, a full and professional kitchen. Hermione noticed that there was an elf peering around the edge of the door, grinning happily at the sound of the guests talking congenially and laughing.

“Everyone, I would like to introduce Hermione Granger,” Percy said over the other voices, addressing a group of witches and wizards, which Hermione counted to be only four in total.

All eyes fell upon her and she suddenly felt as if she had dressed inappropriately. She recognized Florean Fortescue and his warm eyes and smile. She had spoken to the elderly gentlemen many times, often learning something new every time they had had the chance to speak. He was one figure in the Wizarding world she was glad to see again after the War. She also noticed Madam Milking sitting next to Mr. Fortescue, sipping on a flute of champagne.

“Hermione, I believe you know Mr. Fortescue and Madam Malkin,” Percy began, and then motioned to the other two people in the living room, one standing next to the window and the other sitting in a large armchair upholstered in what looked like cream Italian silk. “The sulky looking fellow is Mr. Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office, and this portly gentlemen is Mr. Tiberius Ogden, my senior in the Wizengamot.”

Hermione nodded to both of the men, and took Mr. Ogden’s hand after he managed to make it to his feet. Mr. Robards simple nodded in return. She knew of both men, reading about them occasionally in the Daily Prophet, but had never been formally introduced. Tiberius Ogden was a man of considerable fame, having replaced Albus Dumbledore as Chief Warlock after his death and maintained the post even after the War. As for Gawain Robards, Hermione had seen only photographs of the man in the papers. Gawain Robards was a stone faced middle aged man, very large and very intimidating having been an Auror for many years before taking Rufus Scrimgeor’s place back in 1996.

“Now, I must check on how dinner is progressing. Tiberius, won’t you keep Hermione amused while I’m gone… Excuse me.”

Hermione found herself standing alone before the living room, her nerves frayed after being thrown into the mix with three older wizards and Madame Malkin who seemed to come to the event paired with Mr. Fortescue.

“Percy told us that you are a teacher at Hogwarts, Miss Granger, but he did not mention what area of expertise you preside over,” Mr. Ogden began, motioning for Hermione to take a seat on the divan next to the fire, Mr. Fortescue and Madame Malkin on the adjacent couch.

“Potions, I am only a year away from obtaining my certification to be a Potions Mistress,” Hermione answered politely wishing that Madam Malkin would not eye her dress so disdainfully. Hermione had not anticipated an audience, or a critic on fashion…

“Ah yes, old Sluggy retired for good and well…Severus Snape is dead…” Mr. Ogden mused.

“Such a shame about Severus Snape, isn’t it Tiberius,” Mr. Fortescue began.

“Not too much of a shame if you ask me,” Mr. Robards growled from the window.

“Hush, Gawain, my boy…Severus Snape played his part in the War, and you cannot deny he was a fantastic Potions Master,” Mr. Ogden chided.

The conversation twisted and turned all around Hermione, and she listened. It was obvious that the three older guests were of different opinions about a great deal of things, but Hermione could also notice the age gap in the opinions of guests and herself. As ethical as Mr. Ogden seemed, he was biased due to his age. Mr. Fortescue was a true historian, and Madam Malkin the more empathetic. But it was Mr. Robards that left Hermione ill at ease. It was clear that Mr. Robards was a curmudgeon…there was no other word for it, and when he did speak, it was always negatively.

When Hermione spoke about her work with her thesis, Mr. Fortescue commented that he was looking forward to reading Hermione’s papers. When Hermione spoke about the state of affairs in Wizarding Britain, Mr. Ogden smiled and praised Hermione for being so well informed. When Hermione spoke about the newest generation of Aurors and the advancements in law enforcement she even made Mr. Robards crack a crooked grin. Even Madam Malkin beamed at Hermione after several minutes when Hermione commented that she was happy to see older fashions reintroduced with a modern twist. The conversation was getting very comfortable with the inclusion of Hermione by the time Percy announced that dinner was served.

Hermione sat to the right of Percy, next to Mr. Robards, Madam Malkin and Mr. Fortescue across the table and Mr. Ogden at the opposite end of Percy. Dinner began with a salad of wild greens with a raspberry vinaigrette and fresh Italian bread. The conversation turned to praising Percy for the meal, and by the time the main course of Asiago chicken with a side of mushroom risotto appeared, the entire dining room was relishing the meal.

“Well, I know that if you should want to leave the Wizengamot, Percy, you would have a fantastic career as a chef,” Mr. Fortescue commented, toasting the host with an upraised wine glass. The rest of the guests agreed.

Dessert was an orange cheesecake with mango sauce, and when the plates were emptied and the guests sat back with satisfied and full bellies, the elderly guests could only smile fondly at their young host.

Hermione had cleaned every plate, they had, the meal was memorable, pleasurable and delicious. However, Hermione sat with not only a full belly, but with a blush. Through the entire meal she could feel the curious and kind glances of the other guests, their eyes moving between her and Percy. Even Percy had gazed at Hermione often through the meal, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight and a smile, warm and proud, set upon his lips the whole time.

Retiring to the living room again, Madam Malkin glanced back at Percy who was instructing his house elf, a young elf by the name of Grugwun, to mind the dishes and retire early. When Hermione sat on the divan by the fire again, Madame Malkin sat next to her, smiling.

“When Percy Weasley was a boy, I always thought he was an odd one…not like his brothers. And when I heard from Molly that he had been sorted into Gryffindor, I was shocked…I always thought he would the first Weasley sorted into Slytherin in an age. But I am glad to see him doing so well…Florean adores the boy…” Madam Malkin said softly as the other gentlemen began talking of history and Quidditch.

Hermione felt uncomfortable with the close proximity of the older woman, as well as the personal manner in which she insinuated that Percy Weasley was more to Hermione than he really was…

“He would be a fine catch, Miss Granger. He is rich, sophisticated, handsome, and most of all, available…”

“I’m sorry, Madam, we are only friends…recently reacquainted, but friends,” Hermione said as kindly as she could. Hermione was never one for small talk or gossip, and that was probably why she had only one or two female friends, Ginny Weasley being the only constant.

Madam Malkin clicked her tongue and smiled, “That is fine and good, Miss Granger, but I would advise you not to rule out the possibility of allowing Percy Weasley to court you. I know a great deal of young, single women your age that have their eyes upon young Mr. Weasley…”

Hermione hoped that the older woman did not see her rolling her eyes, and soon, Mr. Florean rescued her…and Hermione would have loved to kiss the man… The dinner party was winding down. Hermione kept her seat, shaking hands with Mr. Fortescue with promises to stop by for a chat, and a promise to Madam Malkin for a fitting for new teaching robes with a small discount… Then Mr. Robards who tried to smile when he nearly and unconsciously crushed Hermione’s hand in his large paw. Finally, Mr. Ogden expressed his delight in meeting her in person and wished her well with her thesis…and finally, Hermione sat alone in the living room with Percy Weasley gazing at her from the kitchen door, wiping his hands off with a dish towel, quietly wishing Grugwun a good night.

“You seem as if you were overwhelmed there for a while, Hermione,” Percy said, breaking into Hermione’s thoughts as she gazed at the smoldering fire in the fireplace.

“I was, for a while…they were all very nice…” she said absently as Percy moved to sit next to her on the divan. She glanced over at the rolled up shirtsleeves and the unbuttoned collar of his white dress shirt. He truly was delicious to look at with the ruffled shirt, ruffled fringed hair and his glasses low on his nose. He still smelled of sandalwood and musk, and Hermione caught herself leaning to fall against him, and quickly straightened.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked softly, his voice taking on a seductive tone…or so Hermione thought.

“Dinner was unbelievable, and conversation was interesting…so, yes…I had a nice time,” Hermione whispered, wondering if it was just her imagination or had Percy moved a bit closer.

“Then one of my goals have been met…”

“One?”

Percy grinned and Hermione wanted to melt.

“I had not originally planned for guests, but like I said, once Tiberius caught wind of a planned dinner…”

Hermione smirked, she could understand Percy’s situation after having met the older man.

“It was fine, really…”

“But it was not what I originally had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind, originally?” Hermione dared, turning slightly toward her host.

Percy smiled, reaching out a hand to swipe a strand of hair from Hermione’s cheek. Hermione noted that Percy had done this several times since the day she had exploded at the Burrow. It was gesture that made Hermione’s heart skip a beat every time.

“I had planned that we have dinner, drink some wine, talk about whatever came to mind, and that I would push my seduction a step forward…and kiss you…” he purred, his fingers moving from behind her ear along her jaw.

“But you had to improvise in light of a larger dinner party?” Hermione whispered, Percy’s touch electric and sending shivers down her spine.

“Yes…but I have learned to improvise…it is essential for any one with a career in the law…” he whispered in return, leaning closer to Hermione.

His lips were only a few centimeters from hers, and Hermione held her breath as the gap was closed…Percy tilting his head slightly, his hand moving to cradle her face, and his lips met hers gently, experimentally.

Hermione let her eyes slid shut and she reached toward Percy, her blind hands finding his chest and burying her hands in the fabric of his shirt.

If Hermione were forced to describe Percy’s kiss, she would be at a loss. His lips were soft and his kisses were nothing like Ron’s. It seemed as if Percy, although Ron’s older brother, was a different type of Weasley. Percy tasted different, his kisses were not sloppy, and as Hermione opened her mouth slightly, he did not immediately invade her mouth like Ron had… The kiss deepened and Hermione moaned softly…no, it was not like Ron at all…it was better.

Percy’s hands held Hermione’s face and with a subtle movement, urged Hermione to move closer, which she did willingly. He moved slowly, not demanding anything more than the opportunity to taste Hermione’s mouth at his leisure, move his lips to kiss her chin, moving down to her neck.

Hermione gasped at the incredible sensation of Percy’s lips against her pulse and she moved her hands to wrap her arms about his neck, moving ever closer so that she was nearly laying upon his lap. She was not so overwhelmed that she had given in completely to the raw power of desire, she knew what she was allowing, knew what she was doing…and it felt perfectly correct… She wanted Percy Weasley to kiss her…show her what it would be liked to be worshipped. Ron’s attentions to her body had almost been perfunctory, but it was obvious that Percy’s attentions were out of a desire to honor her and make her burn from the inside out with intense pleasure.

As his lips moved to her shoulder, she found herself panting, her hands moving to his hair and burying her fingers in the silken, crimson strands. She could feel that Percy too was breathing rapidly, and with much trepidation, pulled away to gaze at Hermione. He slid his glasses off his nose, which were crooked upon his face and slightly steamed. Hermione could not help but smile at the sight of a thoroughly snogged Percy Weasley, his lips lush with blood and his eyes almost glowing with desire.

Setting his glasses on a low coffee table before the couch, he turned to Hermione, cautiously studying to gauge her reaction. Hermione knew she was blushing and that her lips were swollen with kisses, she knew she was breathing hard and she knew that if Percy did not touch her again she would scream.

“I…” Percy began. “I am sorry if I…”

Hermione moved to kick off her shoes, and grasped Percy’s shirt to pull him closer. When she pressed her lips to his, moving so that she literally sat on his lap, she knew that there was no going back. She wanted this…she wanted to see where it would take her…

It was Hermione’s turn to kiss Percy’s face, lips and neck, her kisses a bit more forceful, not as cautious and far more demanding. Percy met Hermione’s ardor, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her so that her chest was flush with his.

“I…want…this…” Hermione panted between kissing Percy’s lips and jaw.

Percy pulled away slightly, meeting eyes with Hermione. “I wanted to be sure…because I have wanted this for a long time.”

Hermione smirked. “Have you?”

“Yes…for a long time…”

For some reason, Hermione felt as if her heart were going to burst. To know that she was wanted was so important. Ron had not wanted her so much…he needed her…as a constant. Percy, on the other hand, was independent, successful, and mature. He did not need her like Ron had needed her…Percy wanted her, and that meant so much more.

Their lips met again and Hermione’s hands began to roam. Her fingers moved to undo all of the buttons on Percy’s shirt and when it was open, she groaned at the feel of his chest, the soft nearly blond hair and the muscles. He was built lean and strong, not as tall as Ron, but defiantly built as a more refined and slimmer version of Ron… Hermione paused only slightly at this thought…Percy was not Ron and she derided herself mentally for even thinking about her ex-lover at that very moment.

Her hands roamed Percy’s chest, moving to his shoulders, pushing the shirt back. When her lips moved to his shoulders, Percy sighed, finally moving his hands up and down Hermione’s back along the slinky fabric of her dress. It was obvious that he wanted to touch her, and Hermione paused to lean back slightly and gaze at Percy. His eyes were hooded and clouded with desire. Hermione moved in his lap, causing him to grunt. She stretched her left leg so that she straddled Percy’s waist and she felt a hot flush run through her at the feeling of Percy’s arousal against her thighs. She could not deny that she as aroused as well, the dampness in her knickers becoming slightly uncomfortable.

Cupping his jaw, Hermione moved over Percy, kissing his lips as if drinking deeply from a glass of fine wine. As she leaned upward, Percy took the opportunity to run his fingers up the outsides of her thighs and under the hem of her dress. Hermione did not complain as he hands moved slowly up her sides to the waistband of her underwear. In return for his gesture, she bucked her hips, eliciting a deep and hungry growl. Hermione removed her wand from her sleeve and set it on the divan next to her leg, and with a glance down at Percy, she was slowly unclothed, her dress coming off easily so that she was left in her knickers and bra. Tossing the dress onto the divan, Percy’s hands were magnetically drawn to Hermione’s bare skin, his palms skimming her ribs, down to her hips.

Hermione moved her mouth along Percy’s brow and met his lips again, her tongue twisting with his, struggling for dominance. She was sure that she was so wet that her core was beginning to dampen Percy’s trousers as she straddled him, but it did not seem to matter. She was too far into relishing Percy Weasley’s kisses and touches to care.

Percy pulled his lips away to kiss down her shoulder to the tops of her breasts. He was teasing her by not touching his breasts directly, but kissing closer and closer to her hardened nipples. She was whimpering when he kissed the hardened nubs through the silky fabric of her black bra…she wanted more…needed more. In response she tilted her hips, rubbing herself against him, rewarded with another growl.

“Percy…” Hermione breathed, her hands in his hair, her lips brushing his right ear as she bent to press his face to her chest. “I want…” she whispered as Percy ran his open mouth along her ribs. “I want…” she began again, but could not form the words.

Percy sighed as Hermione released him, leaning back to sit on his knees, her short hair, straightened and falling just her jaw was falling into her eyes. Her lips were parted as she panted and her entire body screamed the words she could not say…she wanted him.

Percy rested his large hands upon her hips and gazed at her, amazed at how beautiful she was in the candlelight falling from the mantelpiece…how utterly gorgeous her full breasts were…the slight swelling of her belly…her full hips and her pale flesh. The feeling of want was mutual.

She felt as if her brain were literally convulsing, so overwhelmed with lust she could only think of how to get him closer to her skin, how to get him in a position to feel more… Apparently Percy had been thinking along the same lines for her gripped Hermione by the hips and with an impressive feat of strength, lifted her and moved so that she was lying back into the length the divan. Momentarily moving to jerk her wand tip out of her back and tossing it to the lush cream carpet below, Hermione licked her lips as Percy knelt over her, the bulge in his trousers almost obscene.

Reaching toward him, Hermione’s fingertips found the buckle of his belt and the fly of his trousers. He was panting hard when she managed to undo all that was restricting his flesh and when her cool fingers made contact with his skin, he hissed, a hand snatching her wrist and ending the lovely feeling. He was too aroused, too hard, and if she had touched him any longer he knew he would end up embarrassing himself. Hermione whined softly as Percy pressed her hand to her own damp center. She knew he was close, she knew that she wanted more…

Shuffling slightly on the divan, Percy released Hermione’s hand so that he could curl his own fingers at the sides of her knickers, gently working the black fabric down her hips, thighs to her cute knees and ankles. His emerald eyes devoured every inch of her legs, the pale expanse of her thighs and the flare of her hips to the dark curls at the apex of her thighs…shaved into a patch of curls just above her engorged clit poking past the juicy lips of her labia… He swallowed thickly, his nose flaring at the scent of her…his mouth beginning to water.

When Percy took hold of her knees, pulling them up and apart, Hermione moaned. She was open to his scrutiny, and making short order of his shirt, she was not so concerned about how she appeared in his eyes…her own eyes were riveted to his chest, to the chiseled abs and the sight of his hips. She swore softly feeling that she was growing ever more wet…one a tiny thought to staining the rich fabric of the divan gliding as a sub thought through her mind.

The backs of her knees rest over his shoulders and the initial contact of his mouth made her arch and gasp so deeply she feels like she is near to drowning. His tongue swirls over her, licking, lapping, tasting and relishing… He found her clit easily, his lips taking it and applying brutal suction…the effect is instantaneous. Hermione’s fingers wrap into his shaggy hair, her eyes slam shut and her mouth opens to emit the most beautiful moan he has ever heard. With the inclusion of a long digit into her body, she bucks…then a second…she starts to clench at his fingers. Glancing up at her, over the subtle swell of her belly, over the still fabric-clad breasts, he hums into her at the sight of her face. He closed his eyes, pulling his lips away to swipe her with his tongue again, each flick making her pant harder, squeeze his fingers tighter. He could not help but to try and grin, thrusting his fingers in and out of her delicious core.

She was grasping his hair as if it were her only anchor to reality, but kept one coherent thought not to pull too roughly. Her toes were curling as she felt the steep incline toward climax, and when she dropped off the precipice and into swirling light and release, the force of her climax nearly dislodged Percy’s fingers. With a growl he thrust harder, curling his fingers upward in a beckoning motion. To Hermione, it was the orgasm that did not seem to end…and Percy cursed swiftly, growling as his hand and wrist was coated with hot and delicious juices.

“Gods…” Hermione choked as she finally began to float back down to earth. She could never remember cumming so hard in her life…

But time for reflection was apparently out of the question as Percy moved over Hermione’s boneless body, pushing and kicking out of his trousers so that he pressed himself, skin to skin against Hermione’s hips. The heat of his body, his arousal made Hermione sober and gaze upwards at the face above her. The smile playing upon his lips, the desire in his eyes, all forced Hermione to reach upwards to wrap her arms about his neck and pull him close so that her lips found his once again. She could taste herself, and she was struck by the notion that Ron had never liked to taste her…never liked to go down on her…never liked to kiss her afterwards. Why had Ron thought lovemaking to be so…so dirty?

She could feel his length against her, literally throbbing, exuding heat and she was restless to feel that heat inside her… Hermione twisted her hips and sighed into her kiss as the tip of his cock just missed entering her. Percy broke the kiss to peer down between their bodies, to her dark curls, to his crimson curls, to the purple head of his leaking cock and to the slick flushed lips of her pussy.

“Hermione…” Percy breathed, resting his forehead against her shoulder and pushing his hips forward so that he barely entered her. Hermione whimpered, he was so close, only centimeters, why was he stopping.

“I want you…” she growled and with a forceful buck of her hips, Percy was seated deep inside. His mouth was open, his eyes squeezed shut tightly…it was heaven, it was hell, and instinct took over.

It had been a long time since he had felt so driven…a long time since he had felt the pleasure of sinking into a woman. But this was no ordinary woman, and the vaginal walls that compressed and released were unlike anything he had ever know. Percy had half a mind to kill his baby brother for ever mishandling something so…so…he could not think of a word suitable to describe it. He began moving against her, his hands running up her sides to rip away her bra so that he could take one dusky nipple between his teeth.

Her fingers tore along Percy’s back, grasping for an anchor…she thought she could be dying, every thrust pushing her closer to the most exquisite death. Her eyes rolled back into her skull, her heels dug into the rippling of his buttocks, and her voice rang out with his name, with curses and praises. She could feel his sweat dripping onto her breasts, she could smell the musky odor of his exertion, and she could feel his heart pounding through every part of his body that touched her.

Is this what it was to be thoroughly ravished, she wondered… Why had she never felt this way before?

To add to the furious and fast mating, to fuel them both towards the ultimate goal…the sounds of their flesh meshing together, the audible breaths, the grunts, the curses…sex was an act that stimulated every sense, and both parties were beginning to feel the overload.

Hermione came first, her body stiffening and her back arching off the divan. Percy rested his damp forehead against her breast, pushing back against her, the force of her climax forcing him away as well as pulling him in. She clawed his back, but Percy was oblivious to the pain. She was sobbing, her voice ragged as she collapsed back onto the divan. Percy could just make out her glowing face through his long lashes, and when her pink tongue swiped slowly at her bruised lips, he followed along the familiar path… His voice rang out, startling Hermione to open her eyes, to watch his face contort and his crimson brow furrow.

So unlike Ron…so much more…

He jerked once, twice and the third time growled like a beast excited to begin devouring a kill. Droplets of sweat dripped off the end of his sharp nose and from the tips of his eyelashes. Hermione noticed that he visibly shook as he held himself above her and the muscles in his long arms were twitching. When he pulled from her body, spent, he hissed at the sensation, Hermione’s body unwilling to relinquish him. He could not see her well, his eyes so clouded with the power of his climax and the lack of spectacles, but he could see her smiling, glowing even with a light that seemed to make her almost golden, flawless and perfect in his eyes.

So Percy watched her breathing calm, his own beginning to take the form of normal breaths instead of wild gasps. He moved to sit on the divan, her legs still slightly about his waist. He did not speak, so overwrought and for once without thought. He kissed her knee and ran a hand down her thigh.

Hermione slowly rose and wrapped her arms about his neck, pulling him into a sweet, unhurried kiss. All of her being was loaded into the kiss, all her appreciation, all of her happiness…all of her joy.

Joy? She pulled her lips away slowly, her thoughts disturbing her.

The thought of what could result from this coupling was quickly pushing out all thoughts of sexual satisfaction. What would happen next?

“Hermione…” Percy began, his arms reaching out and plucking her off the divan so that she was once again sitting across his legs. “I know that expression…and don’t you dare force yourself to regret this.”

Hermione blinked at Percy’s tone, so commanding it was that she was afraid to think any more. Were her thoughts so evident on her face?

“I’m not…” she began, Percy pulling her close so that their heated flesh met, her chest against his.

“Do not make yourself believe things that might not be true?” he growled.

“Such as?” she asked softly, taking him into another embrace, too consumed and too troubled to look her lover in the eye.

“Us…this…it does not mean that you have given yourself up to me…it does not mean that you have to love me…” he whispered. “It does not mean that we would have to take on the role as lovers…not if you don’t want to.”

Hermione frowned. Was he saying that their coupling meant nothing more than just mere sex? Fucking?

“I want to see you happy, I want to see you sated, and if you’ll let me, I’ll try to be the one to make you feel that way.”

Hermione felt her eyes beginning to water. Maybe it was because she was tired, maybe the mind-blowing sex had addled her brain, or maybe it was because Percy Weasley wanted her, she did not know for sure.

No one, not even Ron, had ever told her that they would try to make her happy, or try to see to making her feel fulfilled. No one…

“I don’t want to make promises that I know I cannot keep…but I know that I want you…for however long you will have me…”

Hermione closed her eyes. Those were words she never thought she would hear. No promises, no rejections, no restrictions. It was too much, and too good to be true.

Percy held her close, and adequately regaining his composure, lifted her up into his arms, rising from the divan. Hermione clung to him, her hair no longer slicked back, but swirling into damp waves into Percy’s eyes. He carried her through the flat and into his bedroom, laying her on his bed and sitting next to her, catching that tears were shimmering in the corners of her eyes.

“Don’t cry, Hermione…I never want to see you cry…” he whispered, catching half a tears rolling from her lashes on the back of his thumb.

Hermione slowly opened her eyes to the shadowy figure of Percy Weasley leaning over her.

“I never want to regret anything in my life again, Percy. Don’t make me promises…but one,” she whispered.

“What’s that, love?”

“Always be you, and always let me be me…”

Percy grinned, “I would not have it any other way, Hermione.”

And with that, she pulled him into another kiss, realizing that her tears had not been tears of sadness and the tightening in her chest had not been from fear…it had been from joy.

The joy of freedom, the joy of finding some one with the potential to be everything Ronald Weasley was not…the joy of finding someone who wanted her…Hermione Granger just the way Hermione Granger truly was…herself.


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