"Woman" Series, HG/AW

Okay, so my small but amazing fan base has me grinding out the chappies. This is a delish over five thousand words for you ladies! Lots of hot action! Warning for blackmail, possible dub-con, humiliation and well, the stuff listed on the front. Enjoy.


Okay, so this is now in one spot and I hope it makes it easier for you peeps to find and stay updated. Expect another update over the Xmas break!


MarksPet: You're so loyal, thanks for keeping up and reviewing MWAH!

My college girl: Here is your naughty tidbit to help you get through finals~, you've earned it!!

Part 6- A Woman Embraced



Arthur’s heart was heavy, his hand pausing on the doorknob of his home. He could hear shouting inside. It was Molly cursing him for leaving his ‘fucking Muggle contraptions to clutter up and undo all her hard work on purpose.’ Arthur had never purposely left a mess to aggravate his wife. In fact, the reason some of it was still out was because Molly had bitched at him to get going to Hogwarts so he’d be home in time for dinner. He hadn’t had time to put it away yet.

It seemed she always set him up for failure.

Pushing his way inside, the tirade ended instantly but her narrowed eyes and hawk-like glare, hands on her hips and red hair frizzing out of the bun on top of her head made her look like the old mother harpy she had turned into. She still managed to stir the longing inside of him for the old Molly; the kind, motherly witch with a fierce temper but healing hand and gentle heart.

He couldn’t bring back their son. No one could, yet she seemed bound and determined to take it out on him for all eternity.

“Where in Merlin’s name have you been Arthur Weasley? I’ve had dinner waiting for nigh on an hour. Well, now it’s cold and you’re just going to have to warm it yourself. I haven’t the time with this horrid mess you’ve left behind. I swear to the high heavens, if it weren’t for me this poor excuse for a house would be piled high like a rubbish tip by now.”

She continued to rattle on as he hung up his jacket, headed to the table and cast a warming charm on his food. His appetite was gone but he chewed and swallowed nonetheless. He was shite at cooking and Molly was still the best cook he knew of.

Had she really insulted their home?

“Molly?”

“-and then there’s your dirty socks on the floor. Do you know they attract bugs? I swear I saw something crawl out of one the other day and-“

“MOLLY!” He hated shouted but goddamnit, she never shut up.

There went the hands on the hips again; no, fists.

“Would you shut it for two whole minutes? I’m trying to eat my supper in peace, woman. I can’t believe you think our home is a poor excuse to live in. I have worked hard to support this family.” He took another bite and chewed.

Molly stalked to the other side of the table and pressed her fingers over the top of a chair, her knuckles white and cheeks a rosy red. “Do you know what your problem is, Arthur? You take me for granted. All of you have! Not once have you bothered to fix this house. Do you know there are over one hundred simple charms to fix furniture alone? But far be it from me to teach you how to be a real wizard. After all, the Muggle world is far more interesting!”

Arthur did NOT like how this conversation was going. Over the past month Molly had made increasingly disparaging comments about Muggles and Muggleborns. He even thought she had been about to say Mudblood at one point, but had corrected herself too quickly for him to be sure as he’d been preoccupied at the time.

“I’m sorry you feel taken for granted, Molly. I will try to be more attentive.” Straightening up in his chair, he pushed the plate away. All he wanted was peace in the home and was willing to admit maybe he’d been a bit lax in positive attention towards her. She continued to regard him. “Please tell me how I can be a better husband to you.”

For once Molly was completely silent. As the minutes ticked by Arthur fought the urge to clear his throat, fidget with is collar, drum his fingers against the table; anything to break this tense stalemate with his lifelong partner and love. If she didn’t have anything to say, than what was the real issue?

“I have nothing more to say to you.”

Molly Weasley threw her apron at him and flounced up the stairs.

Confused and a little hurt, and feeling extremely guilty considering where he’d been a short time ago, Arthur sighed and went up to his room to turn in early. Patting down his robes for the little box, he panicked when he couldn’t find it. Taking a deep breath, he went slowly and methodically through the inner folds of the robes once more. It was gone.

“Damnit!”

That meant a trip back to Hogwarts to look for it. It was too late in the day now to head back. With all the junk he still had to clear out the next day, another trip to the Muggle Studies professor wouldn’t be out of order. Satisfied that he must have dropped it, the frustrated man took a shower, read for a while in front of the fire and fell asleep with his chin on his chest and a book dangling off one knee.


-----

It just had to be here! The stocky wizard clawed through the pine needles littering the forest floor, frantically searching for the box. He didn’t know why it was so important. It was just a stupid, ugly little box given to him by some crack job gypsy-witch, right?

Well, she had disappeared. And she had said some pretty fantastic things about his future. And she had known his name even though he hadn’t told her.

But he did work at the Ministry and was rather well known for his work on Muggle artifacts and for Head of Magical Creatures promotion, as well as his role in the war.

As the internal argument raged, the tips of his nails turned raw where he bit them down and became even more embedded with dirt. After a full hour of scraping about for a hundred meters in every direction he gave up and Apparated back home. What a drag! Gods, now what was he going to give Hermione?

Well, he hadn’t planned on giving her the box anyway until he figured out what its purpose was. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, he was dreadfully anxious about the upcoming dinner this evening with many of the former Order members including Harry and Ginny, Remus, Snape (if he decided to show up), McGonagall, and many others. Molly had been up since before dawn preparing and when he had offered to help, chased him out of the kitchen with a rolling pin. So much for making it up to her.

The worst of it was, well, best of it; Hermione was coming. Arthur didn’t know whether to play it down, act natural or hide, faking illness. Surely things had gone from casual to something more? How on earth was he supposed to play it down? Arthur was a wizard who normally didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but tonight it was bound to be painted on his forehead.

His trousers tented and he cursed. There was no stopping the man downstairs from having his way every time he thought of her. Arthur’s not-so-little Arthur wanted a piece of her at every opportunity and then some.

The bark of the tree felt cool and rough against his heated skin. Undoing his Muggle buckle and releasing his engorged member from its confines, he began to stroke it between the thumb and middle finger of his right hand. Viscous pre-come lathered his shaft. Closing his eyes, Arthur let his head fall back between his shoulder blades and lean one shoulder against the tree for support.

He relived their last encounter under that very tree. She was so fucking gorgeous. Any man would be the luckiest wizard alive to call her his wife. The living color fantasy forced him to grip his cock fully; his hand the imaginary tight sheath of her cunt.

“Ah!” He ground his teeth together, sharp stabs of pleasure rocketing through him like the aftershocks of lightning striking the ground, zapping everything in its path.

His balls tightened, release imminent.

“Mr. Weasley?”

Shock as he recognized the voice of Severus and then consuming bliss spurting thickly over his fist. The moment ruined, he turned slightly, flicked away the mess and promptly tucked himself away.

A tight smile, fake and polite.

“Severus.”

That goddamn smirk was firmly in place. Snape had known exactly what he was interrupting.

“My apologies for disturbing you, but I believe I have something of yours.”

“Oh really? And what might that be?” Arthur fidgeted with his hands in front of him, sorely lacking at covering up his nervousness and worried anticipation at what the Slytherin may have procured.

Fuck.

The box.

A cracked, weathered-looking hand held the ugly thing on the flat of his palm. His face a blank mask, Severus Snape extended it to the older wizard, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yours, I presume?”

Arthur made a face and stuttered.

“Uh, well I, um, that is to say that well, no. I mean yes. That is, well yes. Thank you Severus.”

He took a step forward and snatched it from his hand, stepping back quickly and vanishing the box into his robes.

Now he knew who had seen them the previous evening. Double fuck.

Arthur wanted to wipe that knowing smirk off his chiseled face. The man had some real big balls interrupting his wank.

“Well, thank you once again. I’ll just be on my way.”

“I’m sure you will, Mr. Weasley. I’m sure you will.”

Snape made a pointed look at Arthur’s groin before pursing his lips and turning away.

Just before Apparition, he heard the Potions master add, “Oh and Arthur? I’ll have your best Scotch, on the rocks, and I enjoy my lamb rare.”

Double fuck indeed.

-----


Had everyone showed up? Good God, the Burrow was packed. In fact, there were so many witches and wizards attending their little soiree’ it was stifling inside. Standing room only, he had transfigured three additional tables, four long benches and a lit walking path that wound through Molly’s garden and down a local path through the swamp. Not exactly romantic, but it would do.

At every turn he was accosted. There seemed to be no getting away from the small talk, but at least he hadn’t had to confront Hermione or Severus. Yet.

Speak of the devil! Arthur spied Hermione across the yard from where he stood engaged in an animated discussion with another witch. Arthur himself was bantering with Kingsley over Quidditch outcomes. A seeker couldn’t have stopped a tall, dark wizard from boring down on the unsuspecting witch. Arthur winced when Snape intercepted Hermione and took her firmly by the elbow, steering her gently but firmly around the house while whispering in her ear. A quick wink in his direction and they disappeared from sight.

“Excuse me, Kingsley. There are some other guests I haven’t greeted yet.”

“Of course. Carry on, excellent party.”

Extracting himself, Arthur failed to make himself inconspicuous as he charged across the yard, right through the middle of two dinner conversations and a swish and flick demonstration for the younger set.

Needless to say, more than a few sets of eyes followed his blazing path out of sheer curiosity.

Rounding the side of the house was a minor disappointment. Only a few lingering guests on this side facing the forest and a pair of snogging teenagers were in view. He impatiently separated the teens and plowed on ahead. He had to find out what that sneaky bastard was up to.

The fruitless search to the other side of the house again had him panicking. Where was she? He couldn’t even get inside the house now it was so full. There was no way he’d have taken her in there. He set off down the path with renewed determination. A narrowed set of eyes and several others murmured to one another and followed him at a discreet distance.

-----


Several hundred yards into the forest, Hermione was forced to hold on to the back of Snape’s robes to keep from losing him in the thickening brush and tangles of branches snapping back into her face, arms and legs.

“Would you stop? Where are you taking me?”

“Here.”

He stopped so abruptly Hermione ran into the back of his tall, lanky frame.

There didn’t seem to be anything special about this particular spot so Hermione assumed he had wanted to assure privacy for whatever discussion he had so urgently insisted they have in private.

She rolled her eyes mentally. “Well?”

“Patience, Miss Granger, never was one of your more…. alluring attributes.”

Releasing his robes, Hermione rubbed at a red mark on her arm where a branch had flipped back and stung her tender skin. Severus caught the tiny movement and flowed forward into her space, long, pale fingers whispering over the mark. As his touch brushed against the skin the mark vanished.

“I had forgotten you had such power with wandless magic,” she mused, satisfied he’d mended the mark.

“Are you injured elsewhere?” he inquired silkily, letting his voice drop an octave. He knew full well the effect it had on woman and had no qualms about using it to get him what he wanted now that his dues to society had been paid.

Hermione gestured to three other marks on her other arm and one knee. The same fluttering gesture was a soft, non-threatening caress and she murmured her thanks.

Backing up a step, he folded his arms over his chest and arched a crooked brow.

“What?”

“I think you know full well why I’ve pulled you aside, Hermione. Don’t play coy with me.”

Hermione surprised him by laughing. His lips thinned into a tight line, offended at her seeming mocking of his opening declaration.

“I can see that not much has changed over the years regarding the rudeness of the Gryffindor golden girl.”

“Oh, Snape. You can’t possibly be serious,” she grinned, slapping her thigh. “Honestly? It was the look on your face. You were so dead serious when you said that. How could I possibly know why I’m out in the middle of this thicket with my old potions teacher? You know damn well Divination was my worst subject.”

“Indeed.” She was a fascinating creature, and after what he had witnessed such a short time ago, she had fired his imagination even further. The young witch had displayed such wanton and open desire for her red-haired, wayward lover he had instantly had to release himself as well.

With a straight face once more she cocked her head. “Okay, I’m done now.”

He nodded once and turned slightly. “A little birdie has informed me of certain- indiscretions you’ve been carrying on with one Arthur Weasley.”

He tilted his head forward so he could look at her from the cover of his long, stringy black hair. Her face turned a shade paler than she had been. Good. It was a step in the right direction.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I would never-“

“Don’t. Even. Start. Miss. Granger!” he growled, suddenly in her face, his nose touching her own, and the curve of the hook was midline to her eyes.

The man still had the power to exude power, radiate intimidation and now that she was an adult, she immediately recognized a distinct, dark animal magnetism that came to him as naturally as breathing. Of course; it made sense as he was into the Dark Arts and had been a Death Eater for many years, if only in name for several of them.

“What do you want from me?” Her hand inched towards her disillusioned wand at the back of her trousers. His tight fist around her wrist had her gasping with pain.

“You will keep your hands where I can see them, witch,” he ground out tightly.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip. It had been a mistake to follow him out of sight of the house without telling anyone. Why, oh why was she so impulsive? Curiosity really would kill the cat one of these days, she reckoned. Hermione wasn’t really afraid of Snape. He just had a tendency to be unpredictable and manipulative. Well, she had learned a thing or two since graduation.

Severus sucked in a sharp breath. The way she bit her plump bottom lip left him breathless. It was such an innocent, sexual move and was even more alluring because she wasn’t aware it was such.

A long, slender finger traced her jawline. “What are you willing to give me, witch?”

Hermione jerked her head to the side. “Keep your hands off of me.”

“Feisty.” He moved his head around and gripped her chin more forcefully between his thumb and forefinger. His body surged forward, pressing her against the tree a little too intimately.

“I’ll fight you.”

“I hope that you do.”

Her other hand flew of its own accord to strike him a stinging slap across one cheek. Hermione knew that striking him would only enrage him and had probably hurt her hand more than it had his cheek. She was right.

“That was highly inadvisable at best, witch!” he ground out and thrust against her with his generous erection.

“You’ll have to force me if that’s what you want.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Hermione,” he sneered her name. “You will give to me what I saw you lavish so foolishly on that pathetic excuse for a wizard Arthur Weasley. And you will not only give it to me willingly, you will extract far more pleasure from the act of our coupling, guaranteed.”

“Nothing you can say will ever make me want you!”

His brutal, unwanted kiss made her spit in his mouth.

Severus pulled back his own hand as if he were going to strike at her but withheld his it when she tried to duck.

Very slowly, he appraised her and lowered his hand.

“No, Hermione. I shall never strike you, nor have I ever struck a woman out of anger. I will not start now. By the gods, woman but you do infuriate me so!”

Collecting both of her wrists in one hand, he held them over her head high against the rough bark, still pressed against her intimately.

The proximity of his body was doing things to her that she had no intention of following through on. Hermione would be damned before she’d be coerced into sexual relations with Severus Snape. The very idea repulsed her even as it attracted her. The fellow bibliophile, scholar and brilliant swot in her was desperately attracted to the same sort of brilliant mind. That was what drew her to Arthur initially. That, however, was where she drew the line. While she wasn’t picky about looks, the gall of Snape’s entitlement was a complete turn-off.

“There is nothing you can say, Severus, so you may as well release me before I am missed.”

That slow, nasty smirk lit up his dark features. “Oh my dear, wouldn’t it be a shame if news of your little tryst with your employer were to make the front page of the Daily Prophet?”

Hermione gasped. “You…. You snake! You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” He lowered his head and brushed her lips with his own. “Give yourself to me, Hermione, and I will make a vow to counter to that. I want to taste what you give so freely to a married wizard, no less the father of your ex. What would the blessed Harry Potter have to say?”

Hermione bit back a sob. So this is where she ended up; in the arms of a conniving, desperate man with the power to ruin not only her own career but the one of a man she loved still financing the further education of his remaining children who’d gone on to Uni.

“That’s right. Just think about it, Hermione. Poor, disgustingly sweet Arthur cannot afford to let this slip, can he?”

“I hate you!” She struggled against him when he chuckled at her outburst.

“Hate me all you want. You will give yourself to me. Kiss me willingly, Hermione. I need to feast on that filthy mouth to see what entices such a good, upstanding member of society to stoop to havean adulterous affair with an over-achieving, insufferable Know-It-All!”

She didn’t resist this time when he came down to claim her mouth. Her salty tears mixed with her kisses when he forced his tongue into her mouth and released her wrists, allowing his hands to roam through her tangled tresses and over her jumper, fondling the swell of breast just underneath.

“Don’t cry for him,” Snape whispered when he pulled away momentarily. “He’ll only break your heart, in the end. They always do.”

Hermione gave him a curious look at the out of character declaration from this cold-hearted man.

As if he’d never let down his guard he plundered her mouth again and allowed his hands to slide under her jumper to palm the plump globes encased in silky lace.

“Hermione, I need you. Give yourself to me.”

“Are you really going to make me do this?” She whimpered, fresh tears falling as he snatched her wand and tossed it away when she reached for it.

“I make you do nothing. It is your choice. Give yourself to me or I will go to the Prophet with your shameful affair with Weasley.”

Her lower lip trembled as her chin dropped. “Alright.” The subdued response earned a growl of satisfaction from Snape as he spun her around and pushed her against the tree.

“Brace yourself.”

He vanished her trousers but left her jumper and shoes on, kicking her legs apart with one dragon-hide boot. Swiftly releasing himself and not bothering to undress, his robes flowed around her when he moved forward to press against her wet, scorching heat.

“Yes!” he hissed, his thick cock slipping inside. He was longer and thicker than Arthur, too big for her small stature. She cried out as he slid home and his balls were nestled against her labia.

“You’re hurting me!”

Severus groaned and snapped at her. “Don’t be so melodramatic. You’ll adjust.”

He gave her a moment to do so, kissing a trail along her neck, hunched over her and primed to fuck this elusive piece of fluff. Gods, she was so tight it made him want to come on the spot. He had to think of various unsatisfying things to refrain from blowing it right then and there.

The plush curve of her arse made his balls nearly blue with discomfort. When he came, it was going to be long and hard, that was for sure.

“Just get it over with,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

A gasp escaped her traitorous lips when his fingers deftly found her clitoris and gently plied the sensitive nubbin. Merlin the man was talented! Against her will, she began to push back onto him as her pussy provided the ample lube he had been so desperate to wrench from her.

“Yes, you feel it, don’t you, witch? My hard cock inside of your tightness, legs spread, head down, subservient. Beg me, witch. I want to hear you beg.”

“No!” she cried but groaned when he pulled his fingers away. He began thrusting gently against her, rocking back and forth just enough to cause a growing ache to burn in her belly without actually stoking the flame any higher.

“Beg me and I shall grant you release.” Snape lightly brushed his fingers over her clitoris once more and she bucked against it, desperate for friction. He slapped her hand away when she tried to bring herself off.

“Never!” His cock disappeared from inside of her and nestled against her entrance. No! she cried internally.

“Are you making your choice, Hermione?” he asked almost conversationally.

“Please,” she whimpered again.

“I can’t hear you Hermione. What did you say?”

She grit her teeth. “I said, please! Don’t do this to me! Don’t make me beg!”

“It’s a simple enough request. I am a fair man, but my patience is wearing thin.” He rubbed his cock along her cleft and felt her wiggle against him. Those magical fingers teased her entrance and rubbed hard against her clit before retreating again.

“Severus, please!”

“Yes……?” he drawled, pushing his cock in an inch.

“Please fuck me,” she whispered, the tears falling freely to the forest floor from the tip of her nose.

“As you wish my dear,” he replied smugly, at last pushing his aching dick to the hilt and slamming it back home within her again and again. The tight, pulsing glove of her cunt was the best thing he’d ever felt. If there was heaven on earth it was right here between this witch’s thighs. Her breathing was becoming labored as he flicked, rubbed and tweaked her clit in rapid succession in time to his pounding.

“Beg me!”

“Please, Severus, fuck me harder!” she cried.

“Who’s fucking you, witch?”

“Severus Snape!”

“And don’t you ever forget it!”

“Gods almighty, fuck!” Her vaginal walls clamped down around his cock as she cried out incoherently, crying and coming on his pounding dick, the juice leaking profusely from her sopping cunt and he ground his teeth in a supreme effort to keep up the punishing rhythm he’d established.

Wet slapping continued as the witch under his cock slowly finished keening but continued to push against him, fully acclimated to his ginormous endowment.

The delicious tightness swelled with his balls. Sweet Merlin, he wanted so badly to release himself inside of her but pride forced him to pleasure her once more. He rode her hard and fast, humping her like two indigenous forest animals in a reckless mating dance against time and reason.

His hips began to burn, arse muscles clenching, fingers cramping over her clit as he ground his palm against her lips and pleasure center.

“Fuck yes, Severus!” she called out as an even more powerful orgasm shook her slight frame and at last milked the intense climax from the self-serving Potions master.

In a triumphant thrust at hearing her name spill from his lips he allowed himself to burst forth inside of her, thick jets of pent-up come soaking her cervix, womb and inner walls. His thrusts at last becoming shallow, the immensely satisfying climax now ebbing from his groin, he rested his head on her back and knew he would have to have her again.

Without a word they tidied themselves. Hermione tried to hide the look of disgust and shame from him but couldn’t manage. Her leaky eyes made her mad with herself.

“Come now. I ensured you were pleasured as well.”

“That’s not the point. You forced me!” she yelled, suddenly not caring if her voice would carry to the party goers.

“Shut your mouth!”

“I will not! You’re a rotten snake and I hate you!”

“I did not hold a wand to your throat, Miss Granger. You were a willing participant in the act, or was my name on your lips an auditory illusion?”

“You fucking bastard!”

“That, I am.”

At a stalemate, she retrieved her wand, making a show to holster it. Arms crossed, she raised her tear-stained cheeks and chin to him. “We made a deal. I want a vow from you.”

That smirk was back. Hermione’s stomach dropped into her shoes.

“You- you wouldn’t!”

“You seem to have a bad habit of repeating yourself, Miss Granger. What is it you think I wouldn’t do?”

“You have to honor our agreement! You said- you promised- I-“

“I made no such arrangement.”

“Goddamnit Snape!” She wanted to hex the sneer off his face forever. “What a low, sneaky, rotten person you are!”

“And your point is?”

“I’ll say you raped me.”

His rage from before was nothing compared to the dark wizard’s wand at her throat.

“You will do no such thing, Hermione. Under Veritaserum the truth will be revealed and not only will your sordid little affair come to light, so will your willingness to be blackmailed for sexual favors to your ex-professor.”

“You’ll lose your job.”

“So will you. I can start my own business and have nothing to lose. What have you to lose? And think hard on it, Hermione. I will not be forgiving if you choose unwisely.”

She could see in his glittering, cold black eyes that he meant every word.

“I won’t come to you again.”

“You will.”

He removed his wand and backed off, flipping the hair from his face.

“Don’t you have a party to attend, Miss Granger?”

With a huff she scurried past him back toward where they’d entered the forest. Hermione heard Arthur calling her name, thrashing around at the perimeter. Snape must have warded the area!

Determined to get back at him later, she emerged from the thick shrubs disheveled, tear-stained, her jumper snagged and trousers with stains on them. Arthur rushed to her and embraced her tightly.

“I was so worried when you disappeared with Severus. He knows about us, he-“

“I know,” she interrupted grimly.

He got a good look at her for the first time.

“What in god’s name happened to you?” His strong arms went around her once more and she clutched him to her as if he were a life preserver in the storm she was suddenly drowning in, alone in a vast sea of unfriendly and hostile forces.

Footsteps and mutterings reached their ears and curious onlookers closed in around them.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” accused an irate Molly. Hands on her hips, Harry, Ginny and a few other witches and wizards from the party cast dubious looks at the pair.

“Hermione was missing. I went to look for her.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me, Arthur!”

He took Hermione’s hand and grasped it firmly. Heart in her throat, Hermione felt her world spin when he started to say the words.

“Molly, there is something I need to tell you. Hermione and I, we-“

“Were just discussing the reason for her disappearance,” came the silky drawl emerging from the forest behind them.

Shocked and curious glances took in the immaculate form of the Potions professor. Molly looked confused, but none more so than Arthur and Hermione.

“As I was saying,” he continued, brushing imaginary dust from his robes, “he was about to tell you that she was with me. We had a row over private matters and took our time- making it up to one another. I apologize for worrying you.” The corner of his lip curled upwards at the flabbergasted faces in front of him. Mission accomplished, the Potions master blatantly zipped his fly and strode off in search of something to imbibe that had strong alcohol content.

Molly whipped her head around so fast it was a miracle it didn’t spin all the way off.

“Hermione? You and Professor Snape?” She let the question hang in the air between them all.

Harry stepped forward hesitantly.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Taking a noticeable few steps away from Hermione, Arthur gazed down at her incredulously. It wouldn’t do for him to contradict Snape, but he was as shocked as anyone else.

Hermione almost sobbed again when Arthur pulled his hand from her grasp. His accusing stare cut her like an iron-hot, serrated knife through the heart. In their depths she read the message written so plainly.

How could you do this to us?

Hermione had nothing to say.

With a flick of her wand, she Cracked away from the stunned group without warning.

The last thing she saw was the sadness and heartbreak in his eyes and she knew then, that he had loved her and had been about to tell Molly of their relationship, and quite possibly his intentions. It crashed down on her, all the times he had tried to tell her he loved her and she never listened, frightened of her own feelings for a married, older man.

Hermione threw herself onto her bed after throwing up every ward she could think of to keep people away from her and poured her angst, heartbreak, self-disgust and sorrow into her pillow until at long last, she fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep, bereft of his strong, warm embrace by her own weak-willed actions. The shadows grew long and slipped around her home and bedroom, a dark mantel oblivious to the frantic shouts fading to silence after giving up on gaining entrance to her home.

She shivered, curled in on herself even more and slumbered on.

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