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A single beam of light from the edge of the curtain shone into Hermione Granger’s closed eyes. She blinked away the sleep and rubbed her eyes, tired from the last night. She had the most erotic dream. She was spanking her husband with a discarded leather corset and riding him hard. He was bound to the bed, but his arms were free and they set her flesh on fire with his caress. It felt so good….

Then she realized she was entirely nude, and that it wasn’t a dream. She rolled over. There he was, his legs still bound to the bed. Her sweet Neville was snoring, sound asleep. She smiled, kissed him on the forehead, and grabbed for her wand. She had unbound her future husband from various spells over the years, but never in this kind of situation. She kissed him again, this time on the neck

“Morning, Neville. You have to make breakfast and go to work”

“Saturday. Not hungry. Gotta sleep”

“Fine, but you’re getting up soon”

There was a few minutes of silence.

“Love?” the wizard broke the silence

“Hm?”

“Why did you do that, last night?”

“I felt like it”

“Where did you get the, um, the-“

“Fleur gave it to me”

“Told you you’d get along eventually. Was it her idea?”

“Just the outfit. I have to thank her for it”

“What about work?”

“It’s Saturday”

“Oh”


Finally, they had the strength to get up and have breakfast. Neville always did the cooking. While Hermione was talented at potions as she was almost everything else, she could not cook at all. She always lost her patience and ruined it. Neville, on the other hand, did the cooking for his gran when he lived with her, and Hermione had to admit he was quite good. His crumpets rivaled Mrs. Weasley’s.

As she finished cleaning and putting away the dishes, an idea entered the young woman’s head. She should remember to give Fleur’s loaned costume back. Today would be the best opportunity. She didn’t want to hold on to it, since she was sure she could find something herself, and she felt obliged to thank her unexpected friend. She explained this to Neville, and he seemed willing to go.


The Shell Cottage, unfortunately, was empty. When Hermione and Neville got there, a sheet of paper decorated with elegant handwriting was pinned on the door. It read:

Mr. And Mrs. Bill and Fleur Weasley are not at home at the moment. Please write your name(s) if you want to contact them at this time.

Neville and Hermione looked at each other, confused, but signed on the line. The signature faded and another line appeared on the paper.

Thank you. Both can be found at Polgaver Beach, St. Austell, Cornwall. They are sitting behind a magic sand screen behind the blue-haired muggle with the pink sun umbrella.

“Neville, do you have a bathing suit?”

“Yes. I still go to Blackpool every once in a while with Dean and Seamus. How about you?”

“I have one. We’ll have to go home and change”

The implication sank in.

“I will if you will” He said with a smile.

“Deal” She returned his smile.


The beach, while far from bare, was not as crowded as Hermione anticipated and Neville feared. It looked like all muggles, but it was impossible to tell. That’s one thing Hermione had always remembered. No matter what a person wears or what their abilities are, they’re still people. People like Voldemort and the Malfoys never understood that, and suffered for it.

She usually didn’t go to the beach. She was always too busy, and it felt frankly boring. She wasn’t comfortable exposing herself and killing time lounging around. Still, she had to admit the times she did go with her parents were a lot of fun, and with Neville holding her hand, the sun seems to be even more pleasant.

Hermione squeezed Neville’s hand, being proud of her husband and her own cunning. He smiled at her. She always knew what she was doing, and that gave his life certainty and stability. She was there for him the moment they first met, and he would do anything to do his part for her

“Where did they say they were?” he peered across the beach.

“Blue haired muggle with a pink sun umbrella”

“That’s not much in the way of-“

“Oh, there she is. This way”

Somehow, against the odds, Hermione spotted their quarry. Sure enough, there was a young muggle woman listening to her headset. Her hair seemed to have been a victim of numerous hair coloring experiments, the latest being blue, with red, white, and black hairs peering underneath the bizarre coat. When Tonks changed her hair color, she was always doing it just for fun, and perhaps this woman had the same idea. There was a pang of sorrow as Hermione remembered poor Tonks and the child she left behind.

Neville was more concerned with an immediate problem.

“Um, I don’t see them” He whispered into her ear.

“The note mentioned a magic sand screen. Try to walk along the beach past the sign”

He shrugged. Wouldn’t be the first time this kind of thing happened.

As they stepped forward, Neville noticed a magical hum in his inner ear. He kept on moving. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew a giant plume of sand right at him and Hermione. He raised his arms to protect his face and turned away from the wind instinctively.

“Go on. Keep walking” Hermione struggled to speak through the sandstorm

Neville trusted her with his life, and he kept moving forward. The wind got stronger and stronger, but he kept on going. Suddenly he felt as if he was caught up in the wind itself and his ears popped. He gasped out Hermione’s name as everything went black.


Neville woke up to an incredible feeling. Someone’s lips and tongue were playing on his manhood, teasing him incessantly. He gasped, moaned, and tried to open his eyes, but his eyes hurt from a combination of the lingering magic and the bright sun. Might as well make the most of it. It was probably Hermione, anyway. She had a talented tongue and incorrigible mouth, and while she hardly ever gave him a blowjob, the few times she had a whim to, she was surprisingly adept. At least, it was for Neville. After a few moments of this wonderful torture, the unknown person moved up his naked body, kissing his sensitive skin.

He had no idea how he lost his swim trunks. He hoped he could find them again. His thought processes only returned for a moment. The next moment, he found warm, soft, wonderful lips devouring his mouth and an eager tongue invading. Neville complied briefly, kissing his assailant back. All he could tell is that she was a woman, but not Hermione.

When she finally gave him breathing space, he tried to push her off. Her legs were firmly hooked around him, and all he managed to do was give her soft breasts an accidentally caress. The moan that ensued was certainly not Hermione’s, but he couldn’t place exactly who. It was someone very familiar, but not anyone he had seen in a long time. Whoever it was, it was a veteran of lovemaking, far more skilled than he ever could be, and she was not taking no for an answer.

He opened his mouth to call for help, but all that got him was the mysterious girl shoving his head onto her right breast. He struggled, mouthing around the flesh, but all he got as a reward was a stream of French exclamations. Fleur? He grabbed her legs to throw her off, and bit her breast to make her back off, but both only encouraged her to rub her hips against his heat. Hermione came to his rescue.

“Fleur, let him go. I’m done with Bill”

Fleur sighed in satisfaction as she finally got off the struggling herbologist. He finally situated himself; he was on the beach, laying face-up on a blanket. There was Fleur, topless, panting, and looking very pleased with herself. He tore his eyes away in shame to his wife, who had a similar satisfied expression as she sat on Bill Weasley’s hips.

“Your husband is excellent, Hermione” Fleur grinned at the younger witch. Hermione blushed as she stood up.

“So’s yours” Fortunately for Neville, Hermione was still wearing her bikini

“Hermione, I’m sorry-“

“It was my idea” the ex-Beuxbatons student interrupted, “I wanted to find out if what Hermione said was true about you”

Neville turned bright red.

“Neville, I hope you’re all right that I was on top of Bill when Fleur was-“

“Well, as long as this is the only time”

“This had better be” Hermione gave Fleur a dirty look.
“I should get dressed” the Frenchwoman shrugged innocently.

Bill had fallen asleep.

Neville reached for his trunks, but couldn’t find them.

“Lost something?”

There was his wonderful wife, triumphantly holding his swimming trunks and waving them tauntingly.

“Let me hold them” Fleur interrupted. Sure enough, she was wearing the leather outfit that she had given Hermione instead of anything sensible. “You won’t be needing any clothes for your last demonstration”

Hermione tossed the trunks to Fleur, confused on what she meant.

“I want to see you two make love, nothing more” she explained

Neville just looked at his wife. The decision was entirely hers, despite his misgivings on the situation. He had made sure their sex was always in private, but here he was being told to perform. Hermione would never stand for it.

“Fine” Neville jumped a foot in the air while sitting up at Hermione’s words

Hermione had something to prove. She was going to impress Fleur at her own game. Neville recognized the look in his wife’s eye.

Before he could protest, Hermione undid her bikini top and let it fall to the sand. He’d seen her topless before. He’d worshiped her body many nights. But he felt as if he was seeing her for the first time. Every curve, every inch of skin, every part of flesh shone in the sun. Hermione thought herself plain. Neville thought her perfection. Enrapt, he stood up and walked to her. He didn’t notice Fleur’s stare at his aroused member, nor did he care he was on a public beach. All he noticed was his wife’s expression turning from uncertainty to determination.

He embraced her tenderly. Whatever ambitions he had were nothing compared to the moment of being with her. All he could feel, and all he wanted to feel, was her skin against his, her back against his palms, her palms against his back, his arms around her, her arms around him, her hair against his face, and her breath against his neck.

“Are you sure you want to do this in front of Bill and Fleur?” Neville whispered

“I want to prove you’re wonderful”

“Can’t they just take your word for it, like I do?”

“No. Not this time” And she kissed him deeply.

Neville rubbed her bare back appreciatively, debating with himself but eventually deciding on agreeing with his wife. He returned her kiss, delving deeply into her mouth. She tasted so wonderful; he could pass out from lack of air in a kiss with her. It seemed to last like hours.

Fleur watched carefully. The kiss itself was incredibly arousing, as if they had planned all their life for it. She peered closer, pulse beginning to quicken as she saw the two young wizards devouring each other. She noticed her fingers rubbing her thigh rather anxiously, but tried to ignore it.

Neville reluctantly broke off the kiss, but moved on to kiss her neck. She moaned. God, he loved that moan. Hermione obviously wanted to invoke a moan herself, and nibbled an ear. Worked like a charm. It came without a conscious thought, but Neville made the desired sound.

They broke off again. Hermione casually ran her fingers through the light dusting of hair on his broad chest. She pinched the nipples playfully, but before she could take control, Neville’s hands were on her breasts. He watched her face contort in pleasure and arch her back. Her skin was so sensitive, and he remembered the exact same reaction when he massaged her their first time together. He lightly squeezed, moving in for another kiss.

She took in his kiss hungrily, fingers threading through his hair. Instinctively, he squeezed harder to inspire a gasp of joy. Suddenly, she shoved his head into her cleavage and held him there tightly. He responded by kissing and licking every part of her he could reach, but her grip on him pressed him hard into her chest and preventing him from moving. All he could do is rub his face against her sensitive skin, hands wandering down her sides, briefly stroking her abdomen before cupping her bum.

“So good….” She gasped out, loosening her grip. This was the opportunity Neville needed. First one breast, and then the other were licked enthusiastically. Hermione shoved his head onto a breast, but unlike his rude awakening with Fleur, Neville was ready this time. He noticed how her flesh had swelled slightly since he had first touched it, but nonetheless tried to take as much as possible into his mouth and sucking hard.

Fleur couldn’t help but caress her own breasts in reaction. She appreciated breast play, and the way Neville had bit her and accidentally sucked her was excellent. Bill was no amateur at it, and Fleur couldn’t help but be reminded of her now-sleeping husband’s technique. Did she look like that when she had her breasts teased? Her fingers played with her nipples in time with Longbottom’s suckling.

“So good…” Hermione repeated in a moan as she threw her head back at her husband’s suckling. Her grip tightened on Neville’s head, and he continued his ministrations. He moved to the other breast, swirling his tongue slowly around the aureole. She whimpered and forced his head against her chest once more. Hermione tasted as wonderful as always, and her vocalizations were music to his ears. He knew exactly how she liked to be touched, and demonstrated it all on his beautiful wife.

A deep suck combined with tongue work brought her to a scream. Encouraged, the herbologist plunged his hands into the bikini bottom and yanked the offending clothing to her knees. She would have fallen on the sand had not Fleur quickly summoned the towel to lie precisely underneath the collapsing witch. While her fingers clawed into her husband’s scalp, her legs went weak. Neville held on, falling to his knees as he moved to her belly. He only lasted a few seconds there, moving back to taste her lips again.

“On your back. I want you inside me” She whispered breathlessly as she kicked off her bikini bottom.

Obediently, Neville rolled over so that he was face-up on the towel and Hermione was perched on his hips and stroking his thighs.

“Are you ready?” he asked her, fingers probing for her thighs and clitoris before wandering up to caress the sensitive undersides of her chest.

“Oh, yes…”

And with that, she sank down onto him.

It felt like the first time, when he lost his virginity to his first and only love. It felt like someone had invented the opposite of a Cruciatus curse. It felt as if she was surrounding him with her love and concentrating her passion.

Hermione took control, leaning forward to kiss and caress his face. He ran his fingers through the bushy curls and down her soft back as she kissed the life out of him, then proceeded to nip his nipples and squeeze his chest. And then she began to grind against him. Short, slow thrusts, slowly building in intensity. They had done this countless times, and their experience showed.

Fleur could see the experience herself, imagining the sensation she had felt herself quite often. The more practice a couple had, the better they knew exactly how they liked to be touched and what would feel perfect for each other. As she saw Longbottom go deeper and Granger moan and arch herself backwards, the hand that wasn’t groping a breast was delving into her bikini bottom to finger herself.

Neville, to Hermione’s surprise, had learned quickly when they had first had sex. He had paid quiet attention to all of Hermione’s commands-don’t pull on the hair, don’t bite, be slow and gentle, don’t forget to kiss, the back is as good as the arse, the breasts are not just for decorations, etc. He had paid silent attention, then formed as well as he could.

And yet, every time felt like the first time. Sure enough, he had worked out the rhythm that drove them both wild. Sure enough, her hands were tight around his shoulders as she supported herself. Sure enough, his hands wandered from her beautiful face to her round breasts to her slightly curved hips to finally her most sensitive organs.

“Oh, oh, oh, do it now!” Hermione managed to moan.

That was the signal. Immediately, Neville flipped Hermione back to the towel, squeezed her breasts harder than he had done before, and began thrusting harder and faster. He wanted to explode in her. He wanted to pour his life into her. He wanted her to be proud of him, to be satisfied and triumphant over her self-doubt.

Unfortunately, he lost control of himself in the process. To his horror, he felt himself climax. In one last thrust he spent himself and rolled over again to lie on the towel, tears streaming down his face. It hadn’t happened for a while, but it always reminded him of Hermione’s standards, and how he could never live up to them

Hermione tried comforting him by kissing her way up his back, but he just lay there, shamed. Neville’s anticlimax stopped Fleur in mid-stroke of her fingers, and she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed herself. She didn’t come her for an orgasm…at least not just an orgasm…but to really try to understand other people.

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t….I’m sorry….I feel like a little boy again….” Neville was gasping, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I remember. I remember when you became confused, or lost, or needed help with homework. But you always found a way to persevere. You always persevered, and you kept what made you a wonderful person. And that’s why I love you. Because you tell me I can do the same “ She lay down next to him, giving the towel a tug to expand it and captured his dark blue eyes with her brown-eyed gaze.

“What can I do?” his voice came out in a whisper

“Neville, I want you to give me oral sex. Now”

There was a brief pause.

Neville looked at Fleur, who was standing there with her arms crossed across her chest, waiting, then at Hermione, giving him her wonderful smile.

“I can do that” he smiled in return, kissing her sweet lips goodbye as he scooted to her hips.

From her vantage point, Fleur watched carefully. It seemed to sum up how they both had changed over the years. Neville was cautious as ever, but he was precise and determined and masterful at making Hermione writhe and call out his name. Hermione herself had turned from the reserved, dominating drama queen to someone who was letting herself be fellated in a public beach. Still, Neville’s devotion to her and Hermione’s pride in him were keeping them together, and she saw that pride in their action.

At this, Fleur quietly returned her fingers to their former work, nipple and clitoris still begging for more. She had to come with Hermione, she had to see this challenge through. She had found a kinship with the younger girl before, and she felt obliged to keep going.

She couldn’t see the action itself, but Hermione’s high-pitched moans and energetic gyrations gave away the effect. Her orgasm kept roaring forward, but Neville, to both women’s surprise, moved his head to kiss her stomach. While one hand continued to stimulate her core, the other dragged him to the level of her chest.

Hermione was about to snap out at her husband, only to orgasm violently as he suckled her right nipple while squeezing the other. As she came, he abandoned the sweet nipple for the sweeter taste of her lips, swallowing her scream. Even as she came down from her intense wave of pleasure, Neville’s lips never left hers. His right hand rested comfortably on her abdomen, feeling her deep breaths as she regained herself.

Fleur’s hands followed the motions of the wizard’s, and her pleasure followed that of the witch. She would make sure that Bill took her that night just to release what she had seen that day. As Hermione screamed into Neville’s mouth, entire body vibrating, Fleur finally worked herself into a release. As she calmed with the other two, her eyes never left the couple.

There they lay for minutes on end, the wizard sleeping soundly with his arms around his wife and the witch propping up her head with her hands and staring into the blue sky.

“That was impressive” Fleur finally commented, having recovered before the couple. She tried to hide what she had been doing from Hermione, but something told her that Hermione somehow knew and took pride in what she and her husband had just accomplished.

“I love him. I’m proud that I love him” Hermione murmured half-to-Fleur, half-to-noone.

“My grandmere once told me “Great sex does not make love. Love makes great sex. I saw both. You are a good woman, Hermione, and you have a good husband”

“And he loves me. He loves me sincerely. I didn’t know I could ever find anyone like that” The younger witch was very quiet.

“I know” The response was equally quiet.

Hermione turned, kissed her snoring husband, and cuddled up into Neville’s sleeping form. Content.