"Woman" Series, HG/AW

Don't kill me! (Ducks all the spitballs and rotten veggies). I know, I know, I left you hanging despite promises to the contrary. College is well; college. If you've been there you understand. Add on top drama from my ex and sickness within the family equals one frazzled writer. So without further ado here you go, and no more promises from here on out but I do have the entire plot for the next chapter laid out already so hopefully that eases your mind!

A Woman Confronted

Hermione spent the worst night of her life in her flat. When she woke up the first thing she noticed was the raunchy stench emanating from in between her thighs. It all came rushing back. The party, the discussion and blackmail from Snape and then his filthy, gorgeous hands possessing her hips as he drove into her again and again, giving her two of the most intense orgasms of her life.

And she had allowed it to happen. Not only had she carried on with Arthur, but now had betrayed him as well. If he’d no respect for her before there certainly wouldn’t be any now. Hermione almost gagged when she hobbled to the loo, sore and boneless. Pulling down her soaked knickers nauseated her with Snape’s thick, musky scent souring her crotch. Gods she hated that smell. He probably had eaten onions or something horribly strong for it to affect her olfactory nerves to such an extent.

Wrinkling her nose and pushing all thoughts of the previous day from her mind, she turned on the shower and made it run as hot as she could stand it. After a time her skin turned beet red from scrubbing herself raw and the scorching water that scourged her entire body. No matter how much she scrubbed, Hermione couldn’t seem to get the icky feel of Snape off of her. She felt as if her skin was crawling with his lust and depravity. A sick part of her soul feasted on his darkness while the rest of her screamed that the whole thing was one fucked up, perverted mess that she’d never be able to unravel.

And the bastard had the audacity to think he’d keep blackmailing her to fuck him. Well, that bastard had another thing coming if he thought Hermione Granger was just going to turn tail and let him plug her. He’d crossed the wrong witch.

Hermione dressed sensibly and spent the day holed up in her flat. She had no wish to deal with the anger and finger pointing that was sure to await her on the other side of her wards. They’d all just have to wait. For a minute Hermione was tempted to remove the block on her Floo but decided against it. She wasn’t ready to deal with Harry either. In the end she thought she might be able to talk to Remus but considering who she’d let fuck her, didn’t feel he’d be very understanding of the situation either.

Hermione sighed and flopped back into her bed with a book. Her pretty brown eyes roamed the neat, organized, prized collection lining every inch of her walls. They were like her babies; her pride and joy. She’d collected or been gifted every one, able to tell a story as to where or whom they’d come from and what each one meant to her. They were her only true friends for many years.

The young witch summoned a glass of wine and proceeded to block out her thoughts, worries and what would happen at work the next day as she lost herself in the printed page and hazy glow of her floating lamps. At long last her head slumped over the book and her rooms grew dark once more as the day faded and another unsuccessful day had been spent outside her flat trying to break her wards.


--

“Goddamnit this is insane!” Harry ranted, pacing back and forth outside Hermione’s flat. Kingsley, Ron, Harry and Remus had spent the better part of the day applying every ward breaking spell, charm or curse they could think of to no avail.

There was no breaking through the powerful witch’s wards. They’d even tried to get Bill to come over but he was having none of it. In his opinion, a witch with wards that strong was one that didn’t want to be bothered and didn’t want to get in her line of fire.

Eventually Remus got tired of it all and left, advising them to do the same and just leave her be. If he knew the witch, she’d be extremely pissed off if she caught a bunch of wizards outside her flat trying to break in, never mind they were some of her closest friends.

Ron left as the sun was going down, mumbling something about not wanting to keep Lavender waiting. Harry gave Kingsley a pleading look right before he shrugged and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the horizon.

“It’s dinner time, mate. Leave her be. She’ll come around.”

“Fuck.”

Harry didn’t want to give up. Hermione had never given up on him. He wanted to know what the hell she had been thinking fucking Snape. It was so out of character and she hadn’t been herself, distancing herself from him the past couple of years. He wanted the camaraderie they once shared, even if Ron wasn’t a part of it. Harry missed his best friend. No one else had understood what the three of them had been through.

The young, determined wizard sat down on the sidewalk after casting a Cushioning Charm and Disillusioned himself, wrapped tightly in a thick robe. He would wait all fucking night and catch her on her way to work. She had to let the wards down sometime, even if it was only to Floo to the Ministry. He’d checked with Arthur and found she often spoke of a morning run. Hopefully, he’s catch her out at that time.


--

Hermione woke at four thirty in the morning and pulled on her jogging suit and trainers. She needed to let off some steam and allow her brain to sort itself out before she faced the wizarding world and the inevitable scandal that she was fucking the resident Bat of the Dungeons.

The lovely young witch lowered her wards and peeked outside the building. The street was deserted; good. As soon as her foot hit the pavement something grabbed her, causing her to shriek and plunge her elbow backwards. It was her favorite move and never failed to startle an opponent that tried to grab her from behind.

“Fuck, Hermione, it’s me!”

Strong arms let go of her as Harry appeared, doubling over in obvious pain where her sharp elbow had contacted Harry’s stomach.

The brassed witch stood with her hands on her hips, head cocked to one side. This ought to be good. She gave him exactly ten seconds to start explaining what he was doing ambushing her outside of her flat before she hexed him with something really nasty.

Harry recognized that steely look in her eyes and held up one hand, still gasping.

“No, wait! I can explain!”

“You’d better explain, Harry Potter! You had no right staking out my flat like I was a common criminal!” Hermione took a threatening step towards him, reaching for her wand.

“I was worried about you!” he cried, stepping back and falling on his arse in his haste to back away from her. “We were all worried about you when you just- just disappeared yesterday. I haven’t seen you that upset in a long time!”

Hermione’s eyes softened and she pursed her lips, taking into account what he had said and the emotion, the sincerity behind his statement. She supposed she could forgive him. After all, it was Harry. Leaning forward, she extended her hand instead and helped him up. Harry cast her a grateful look and regained his feet, pulling her into a powerful hug. In fact, he hugged her so hard she had to push against his shoulders before he released her.

The handsome young wizard implored Hermione with his brilliant green eyes.

“You really were worried about me, weren’t you?” she asked softly.

He nodded.

“Oh, Harry.”

She scuffed the toe of her trainer against the concrete step. When she raised her gaze once more the worry was still evident but there was something else; a questioning look in his eyes that said he wanted to know what had happened in the forest, but wouldn’t ask out of respect for her.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He simply nodded once more.

“Harry, I’m fine. I’m just going out for a run and I’ll find you after work, okay?”

With a small smile, he put one hand on her shoulder and gave it squeeze. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know.”

He turned to leave and turned back when she reached out for him once more.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for caring about me.”

“I’ll always care about you Hermione; you’re my best friend.”

His sincere smile melted her heart and warmed her inside. With a grin she took off on her run, easily falling into her quick, short stride that ate up the miles as the sun rose, her thoughts melting into a semblance of acceptance that nothing in her life was ever going to be easy. She just had to be true to what she believed in and stay on course.


--


Sweating, exhausted, but happy, the vibrant young witch shrugged off her worries and cleaned up, Flooing into work, intent on getting about her day as ostentatiously as possible and vowing not to let speculation and heartache get to her. After all, it wasn’t as if Arthur…. well, she wasn’t going to think about how he felt.

Hermione skirted his office, hoping to simply slip by to pick up her next assignment. Dressed in field garb, she quickly grabbed the standard paperwork and made to slip past his office again when the door opened and Minister Malfoy stepped out, gesticulating grandly.

“And therefore, I want to see improvements in all field agents by the end of the month Mr. Weasley.”

A pale, withdrawn and harried looking Arthur was nodding and murmuring assurances behind the self-important Minister.

Ruffling his robes and sneering down his nose at the Magical Creatures field operative, the peacock showpiece sidled around Hermione as if she were contaminated with some unknown carcinogen.

Hermione huffed her irritation at the retreating form of the hated man.

“Gods how I hate him!” she intoned, forgetting herself momentarily. She turned back to her assignment, startled when Arthur laid a warm hand over the sleeve of her robe.

“Please join me in my office for a moment?” he asked quietly, his striking blue eyes holding nothing but hurt and sincerity in them as he tried not to sound pleading.

Hermione had hoped to put this off a little longer until she had figured out a way to deal with Snape, but no such luck. With a simple nod she followed her employer and lover through the door to his office, an immediate ward and silencing charm put on behind her. She waited for him to speak, watching him pace back and forth over the plush carpeting to his desk and back, fingers locked together, held in a steeple at his chin in a way that reminded her sharply of the dark Potions Master. He came to a sudden stop in front of her, taking her by the shoulders unexpectedly.

“Hermione, please tell me. What do I mean to you?”

His grasp was rough, not at all like the gentle Arthur she was used to. While he was indeed passionate, and had bruised her with it on occasion, this urgency was altogether different from any other he’d expressed before.

“You-you’re hurting me!” she gasped, trying to wrench away. He simply held her tighter, agonized.

“You must tell me! I can’t go one this way; trapped between lust and love, worry and deceit. Do you have any idea the predicament you’ve placed me in? I trusted you!”

The irony of his latter statement didn’t escape either of them in the wake of their torrid affair, but nonetheless it still needed to be addressed.

“I know.” She spoke quietly. If she’d any doubt as to his feelings, it was laid to rest with his next utterance.

“I love you, Hermione Granger. Let there never be a doubt in your mind that I love you with every bit of my heart and then some. This isn’t just some random fling to me, a bit of fluff when I tire of my wife. YOU are the woman I want to be with, despite current circumstance, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” he ended sadly, tired as a tear slid down his weathered cheek. His hands fell from her then and he turned, a silent sob shaking his solid frame.

Hermione wanted to run to him, to reassure him and proclaim her love for him in return. The words were stuck in her throat; they felt oily and deceitful in the wake of his profession. How could she claim to love a man that was so forthright with her, when she herself allowed her own body to be used for blackmail? Hadn’t either of them the guts to sacrifice for one another, or was that not even an option when that decision would affect the well-being of so many others in ways that were unfathomable to them at the current moment?

He continued to stand, affected, his back to her as he seemed to sink to his knees and then was upon them on the floor, the fabric of his robes pooling uselessly around him.

Hermione still didn’t go to him. She needed to figure out what she was going to do. In the meantime, it was up to him to decide whether she was what he truly wanted, or if it wasn’t worth the price in the long term.

“I can’t apologize for what I’ve done. If you knew the reasons, they would surely sway you in a way that I don’t want. You must come to your own conclusions as to why I allowed Professor Snape to fuck me.”

Her crass language drew a harsh gasp from the ginger man and he regained his feet, rounding on her angrily.

“How dare you deny me an explanation! After what we’ve shared, and now I’ve opened the deepest part of myself to you, and you just had to throw it back in my face! Is this what you’ve turned into? A bitter old hag at such a young age, all due to a failed fuck with a married man over the rejection of his worthless git of a son’s actions?”

Hermione felt her head whip to the side of its own accord as if he’d struck her down. He might as well have for the force of his anger behind the angry accusations. And he had every right to be angry with her, as she’d afforded him no other option.

“I won’t explain myself to you. If you truly love me, you’ll trust that I am doing what I must to rectify the situation.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, finally closing them in defeat. A strong hand mussed his already messy hair as it drew over the back of his scalp.

“Trust is a scarce commodity these days. I wonder what the word means to you or anyone else for that matter. Are you deserving of my trust, Hermione?”

Hermione studied this man who had stolen her heart so completely. He did not belong to her in a traditional sense, but he’d given himself to her in every other way. It wasn’t enough. She selfishly wanted all of him, or none of him. This turning point was profound, an eye opening experience laid before them past the point of bluff.

“I would never betray you.”

Slowly, as if the lifting of a fog, the mood lightened and Arthur was embracing Hermione so tight she gasped for air. He twirled her around several times before placing her lightly back on her feet and dipped his face to hers for an engaging, lasting kiss.

At long last he pulled away, both of them panting heavily, star crossed eyes filled with longing for the other. Arthur’s thick erection was prominent through his robes, and Hermione wasted no time releasing it from behind the constraining fabric.

“Hermione!” he growled roughly, his voice thick with emotion. “We can’t! Not in here!”

“I can’t wait, I need you,” she hissed at him, soaked and melting beneath her own robes.

She pushed him to the floor and exposed just enough of him to allow herself to hike up her robes and impale herself on his thick erection. Her viscous fluids coated him from tip to base, creamy and hot in her rush to consume his length.

“Hermione, oh.. fuck!”

The normally conservative wizard uttering a four letter expletive had Hermione crowing inside. She lowered herself over his chest and rocked on his erection while kissing him, devouring his tongue in her mouth and giving him her own in return. Their touches were like they’d never been apart and the frantic wizard couldn’t contain his libido, his big hands grasping her hips and pulling her down hard even as he pushed into her. He swallowed her cries of pleasure as their ecstasy built quickly, spawned by the traumatic short term past but fueled by the intensity of their continued and building connection.

Neither would be denied.

“Want you, witch… need you…. Have you…. Going to lose it, oh Hermione, yes yes yes fuck yes Merlin!”

And he thrust into her violently on the last push, back arching off the floor as she bit down on his lip, igniting his orgasm that burst thickly from his cock, coating her cervix and inner walls with his pent up release.

Hermione brought her fingers down to her clit and brought herself over the edge with him, soaking his ginger curls with her secretions even as she spasmed strongly around his subsiding erection.

They breathed heavily against one another for several moments, trying to catch their breath and failing miserably. It was several more moments before Hermione was able to rise and cast a cleansing charm on her person and his. Each adjusted their robes and embraced.

“Don’t leave me, Hermione. I couldn’t bear it.”

Hermione quailed at his needy confession but didn’t feel that he was constraining her. It was a simple expression of the difficult position he was in.

“I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Arthur nodded into the top of her bushy curls, sighing after she took her leave and left on assignment. And for a long while after she had left, he simply stood in the middle of the room and inhaled deeply of her scent, allowing himself to entertain the memory of their coupling over and over again until finally a bell chimed him back to reality and the stuffy beauracracy of the Ministry.


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