Hogwarts: The Legacy

(c)2005 by Josh Cohen. May not be reprinted, except for personal use. The Potterverse was created by JK Rowling, and remains her property. I\'m just borrowing it for a little while.

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SIX: WINTER HOLIDAYS

Warning: contains consensual sex between a husband and wife.

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Christopher and Alison had gone home on the Hogwarts Express the day before. Dina and Jason were going to be picked up in Hogsmeade. Since Professor Granger was going home for the holidays by way of Hogsmeade, she had offered to attend the students who were going that way as well. There were only about three dozen who went home that way.

It was winter in the north of England, and it was cold. Jason and Dina were walking side-by-side, their gloved fingers intertwined, their suitcases – for they didn’t really need to pack their trunks, not for only two weeks – following them via the locomotor charm that Professor Flitwick had taught them toward the end of November.

Professor Granger was walking only a couple of yards ahead of Jason and Dina, and she slowed her pace slightly to draw aside them. “Mr Goldman, will your father be picking you up when we arrive at Hogsmeade?”

“I think so,” Jason said. Dina tugged gently, and her hand separated from Jason’s; she was still wary of others knowing how she felt about him. “He always does. He says his dad used to do the same, back when he was in Hogwarts.”

“That’s good.” Professor Granger huffed into her gloved hands as she cupped her face; the chill was turning her winter-pale skin red at the points of her cheeks and the tip of her nose. “I would like to see him again.”

Jason didn’t know what to say, and it seemed as though the professor picked up on that. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

“I didn’t think I could get in trouble from you, Professor,” he riposted.

The professor stopped in her tracks for a moment, then chuckled. “You be careful who you take that tone with, Mr Goldman. Excellence in Potions goes a long way, but not everyone is as nice as I am.”

“Sorry, Professor.”

Professor Granger favored Jason with a grin, then quickened her pace to lead the group once more. Dina drifted back toward Jason and slid her fingers between his.

“You know,” Jason said softly, “it’s not going to cause a scandal if people know we’re close.”

“It’s not that,” Dina said in her whispery voice, even lower because she was trying to keep Professor Granger or any of the other students from hearing.

“Then what is it?”

The chill was bringing out pale pinkness under Dina’s light-brown skin, and the flush of blood to her face from embarrassment actually felt good. “I just... I’ve never...”

Jason waited for her to finish. He had learned, in the two months they’d been close, that she sometimes needed time to get her thoughts out.

“I’ve never felt quite this way about anyone before,” she finally managed to force out.

Now it was Jason’s turn to blush. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate that. I feel quite strongly about you, too.”

“But you’ll not tell anyone, right?”

Jason nodded. “I won’t tell anyone until you say it’s all right.”

“Thank you.” And then, rather impulsively, Dina hugged him hard, but just for a moment. And although Jason didn’t often think of Dina in sexual terms, for that one moment, he felt a twitch in his trousers that he usually relegated to when he viewed the pocketwatch.

“All right, everyone,” Hermione Granger said to the gathered students. “I hope you have a good holiday, and I’ll see you all when you return in January. I’ll be staying in Hogsmeade for another hour, so if you need assistance, I can be found in the reading room at Novel Expectations.”

A chorus of “goodbye, Professor” echoed around Hermione, and she smiled. The way the students respected and looked up to her – even the old-school Slytherins who put bloodline ahead of ability, and there were only a few of them at Hogwarts anymore anyway, treated her with civility – brought a warm flush through her body. Although she’d spent years in potions research and a fair share of time simply relaxing at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, Hermione knew in her heart that this was where she wanted to be. At Hogwarts, as a professor.

There was a tap on her left shoulder; she turned to her right, but this time, Draco had anticipated her anticipation and stayed on the left. “Hello, love,” he said. Hermione wrapped her arms around him, inside his cloak, and Draco draped the cloak around her body. There was plenty of room for the slender witch, even though the cloak wasn’t at all oversized. “Something the matter?”

She looked up at him with shining eyes. “No, nothing. Just happy to be doing what I’m doing.”

“I’m happy for you, then.” He kissed her softly, and she returned the kiss.

Draco, however, was forced to pull back when her tongue brushed his lips. “What is it?” Hermione asked.

“There’s someone waving from across the square,” he said. “I think it’s one of your students, and what I assume is his father.”

Hermione turned around, staying within the warmth of Draco’s cloak, and squinted against the snow that was just beginning to fall. “Yes, it is. One of my better students, actually. Jason Goldman.”

Draco put his hands on Hermione’s shoulders. “I thought I recognized the man.”

“Sorry?” She stepped out of the circle of warmth inside the cloak and took his gloved hand in hers. “I didn’t realize you had any more enemies left over.”

Draco grinned down at his wife. “No, David Goldman and I came to an understanding, that first day before the Express left the station. Besides, shortly after that my father let on that Harry Potter would be at Hogwarts, and I was to try and befriend him at all costs.”

“And let me tell you, you certainly succeeded.”

They shared a serious look before bursting into laughter – gleeful from Hermione, restrained from Draco.

A few steps later, and they were in front of Jason and David Goldman. “Professor,” Jason said, “I believe you know my father, David Goldman?”

David held out his hand; Hermione took it and shook it. “David, it’s good to see you again. I missed you when you didn’t come back for fourth year.” Hermione meant it, too; she’d sent him a couple of owls, which he’d returned, but after a while, it became clear that the friendship was not to be. “You look absolutely lovely.”

“Thank you,” she said. She took David in as well; he was just over six feet tall and had a build that, under the winter clothes, seemed fairly similar to her husband’s, if not just a slight bit thicker. After all, he had been a Quidditch player, and as Hermione knew from first-hand experience, once bitten by the bug, the love never dies. “I believe you know my husband, Draco Malfoy?”

David’s eyebrows seemed to have some sort of desire to climb into the fringe of hair at the top of his high forehead. “Really?”

“Yes,” Draco said silkily, a bit of the old school-day prat coming back into his voice. “Really.” He offered his hand as well, and David shook it. “And my wife tells me you’re one of her best students, Mr Goldman.” He held out a hand to Jason, who shook it carefully.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hermione said, “he won’t hex you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

“Ah.” Jason put his hands in his pockets after the handshake ended. “That’s good, Professor.”

David thought for a moment, and then took a few galleons out of his pocket and passed them to his son. “Why don’t you go look for something to keep you busy over the break. Hermione – that is, Professor Malfoy–”

“Granger,” Hermione corrected.

“Ah. Right then. I’m going to talk to the professor for a few minutes.”

“We’ll be at Novel Expectations, like I said,” Hermione told Jason. He nodded and walked away, heading toward Quality Quidditch Supplies.

The three adults, all of whom were born within a few months of each other, all of them somewhere between 33 and 34 years old, went in the other direction. There was no Flourish & Blotts in Hogsmeade, but Novel Expectations, the other chain bookstore of the wizarding world, had things well in hand. Hermione likened them to a magical Waterstone’s, complete with a reading room and coffee bar on the top floor.

Hermione and Draco settled themselves on one of the two-seat couches in a corner, while David went to the counter to order coffees for himself and Draco, and a hot chocolate for Hermione, who avoided caffeine when she could. “Did he carry a torch for you?” Draco murmured into Hermione’s hair as he slid an arm around her waist.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“He seemed to have quite the thing for Padma Patil, although judging from the coloring of his son and the fact that Padma’s daughter is also in Ravenclaw, I don’t think that panned out.”

Draco digested this information, his now-bare fingertips resting casually on the outside of Hermione’s thigh, his arm long enough to hold her close and still touch her leg. “He does seem to have something for you, though.”

Hermione half-shrugged. “He never said. He was nice, and a good study partner for Arithmancy. That’s all I really remember.”

“More than I do.”

Hermione didn’t respond; David was on his way back with the drinks. He sat in the cane-back chair on the other side of the table. “So. I’d like to ask how this happened, but my wife reads the society pages, so I’m forced to listen to all the goings-on of the upper classes, both wizarding and muggle.”

Draco sipped his coffee and then said, “it sometimes surprises even me.”

Hermione looked up at him. “Why, Draco, I think that may be one of the most romantic things you’ve ever said.”

Draco glanced at David, who gave him a “women...” look. Draco actually laughed.

“So,” David said, “you’ve taken over for Snape, then?” Hermione nodded. “The students must be relieved.”

“Some of them. I think your son may actually have preferred Severus at first.”

David’s eyebrows rose again. “Severus?”

Draco put in, “he’s her peer, and my godfather. We get to call him Severus if we like.”

“Ron’s also at Hogwarts,” Hermione continued. “He took over for Rolanda Hooch, teaching Flying and overseeing Quidditch proceedings.”

“Well, that’s good. I always thought he got robbed at the World Cup.”

“I wouldn’t know. Someone didn’t save me a seat.” Hermione looked at Draco in an imploring-yet-teasing manner.

“That’s because someone always said she didn’t give a flip about the sport,” Draco shot back.

Hermione, Draco, and David joked and caught up for the better part of an hour before Jason finally reappeared, a take-away package with the QQS logo on the side in his right hand, his suitcase following him via the locomotor spell. “Ready to go home, Dad?” Jason asked tentatively; he always felt peculiar about interrupting a professor, even if he was tasked to do so by another one.

“I suppose so.” David stood up and offered his hand to Draco and Hermione in turn. “It’s been good to see you, Hermione. And you too, Draco.”

Draco inclined his head diffidently, but Hermione appeared to actually be sincere when she said, “you also, David. Do keep in touch.”

“I will. Have a good holiday.”

Jason followed his father down the staircase and out the front of Novel Expectations. They turned left, toward the Floo Center. “What was that all about, dad?” Jason asked.

“Just catching up with an old friend.”

“Until she turned up as my Potions professor, you never mentioned her.”

David flushed a little. “I realize that. Sometimes I have trouble keeping in touch with my friends.”

“Oh.” They arrived at the Floo Center and David dropped a sickle in the Longbottom Fund donation box as they passed. The line was mercifully short this time of day – last year, Professor Hagrid had accompanied the students to Hogsmeade, and it had been so busy by the time they arrived that David had Apparated back home and picked up his and Jason’s brooms – and they got their Floo powder quickly. David threw in a pinch and said, quite clearly, “Goldman House, Ottery-St-Catchpole!”, tossing in Jason’s suitcase. Then Jason stepped up and did the same, stepping into the Floo as the flames were at their greenest.

He was going home.

The moment David Goldman and his son had left Novel Expectations, Hermione and Draco got to their feet and simultaneously DisApparated. A scant few seconds later, they were in the main foyer of Malfoy Manor, the only part of the Manor where Apparition was even possible.

Hermione rounded on Draco and pushed him up against the wall, rising up on her toes to kiss him deeply. This time, he returned the kiss with full fervor, running his fingers down the seam of Hermione’s robe and pushing it and her cloak off her shoulders, leaving her only in a sweater, heavy trousers, and boots.

Hermione, meanwhile, had forsaken trying to get Draco’s clothes off and had simply undone two of the buttons at the bottom of his shirt, reaching inside to circle his body, skin to skin, her hands roaming his lower back, pulling his shirt out of his trousers to give herself easier access to his flesh.

“We really should go upstairs,” Draco said halfheartedly against Hermione’s mouth. “Before the elves see us.”

“How fast can you get us there?” Hermione’s hand had slipped into the top of Draco’s trousers and was rapidly making its way down the curve of his buttocks.

“Not fast enough.” He reached under Hermione’s body, lifting her; she squeaked with delight and surprise, wrapping her legs around his waist. His erection, even through both their winter-weight trousers, was noticeable as her sex nestled against him.

And then, suddenly, there was nothing between them and the thick length of Draco’s flesh slipped swiftly and easily into Hermione’s body. She moaned, loud enough to shake the bricks in the walls, as Draco carried her up the stairs and down the hall, each step jolting her, her clitoris bumping against the shaft of him with pleasant little shocks.

The moment the bedroom door closed, Draco and Hermione both murmured the word “divestus”, and when they fell on the bed, they were completely naked.

It was only luck that Hermione was on top.

The last time Draco and Hermione had had a chance to make love, it had been in the second weekend of December, after the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match – Gryffindor had won it, 210-100. After the match, they’d repaired to Hermione’s rooms and spent the rest of the day in various states of arousal. Normally, Draco would’ve been back within five days for a rematch, as it were, but there were far too many parties for even a disgraced pureblood to beg off from.

When they were living together, seeing each other every day, it was much easier for Draco and Hermione to make love at least once every two days – usually more often, but that was their minimum. Draco had been pleasantly surprised at just how much Hermione enjoyed sex, especially considering what Voldemort had done to her. But he also knew it had taken a lot of time.

The rumor mills around Hogwarts Head Girl for the 1997-1998 school year were completely wrong. She hadn’t lost her virginity to Ron Weasley, Harry Potter, or even Viktor Krum. No, she had lost it the summer after fifth year to a boy from her primary school who had looked her up. She hadn’t much minded, one way or the other – and she knew, thanks to tutoring from Lavender Brown, what an orgasm was and that the boy hadn’t given her one – but it had been a relief to get that onus off herself. She hadn’t shagged anyone at Hogwarts after that, preferring the quiet luxury of the prefects’ bathroom and the intense pressure its shower head provided.

Then had been Voldemort.

It had taken more than a year of therapy for Hermione to even consider kissing a man, let alone getting into a relationship with one. But Draco had been patient. In his callow youth, he might have said he was stockpiling goodwill so that when he finally did breach her, she would have no grounds to complain. However, with the changes he’d undergone in his last year at Hogwarts, he knew that Hermione was a friend he was not willing to hurt just for the sake of his own libido.

That was how Caroline had come along. But neither Draco nor Hermione were dwelling on her right now.

Draco had allowed Hermione to set the pace of the relationship. She had gone exceedingly slowly; they’d done nothing but kiss for six months. When she finally took his hand in hers, Draco had thought he would explode. He had had liaisons with at least twenty other witches – and two wizards – and had engaged in nearly every sexual position and activity known to his broad imagination, but when Hermione’s lips had skimmed over his fingertips, he’d felt closer to orgasm than he had even when he was last getting sucked off.

Six months later, they were making love for the first time. Draco had gone slowly, had gone down on Hermione for several minutes first. She was nervous, and she didn’t come, and Draco had treated that as a personal failing on his part. The next time, a few days later, she initiated sex with him, and she did come.

The dam was broken. They started shagging on a regular basis, and it was as if their relationship, already that of the closest variety of friendship either of them had ever imagined possible, was suddenly whole.

Marrying Draco, in Hermione’s mind, had been the next logical step.

Marrying Hermione, in Draco’s mind, had been worth waiting for.

Draco was spent, on his back, flesh flaccid, a light dew of sweat on his chest and forehead, but Hermione was still going, her fingers between her legs. Draco was halfheartedly caressing her smallish breasts, her nipples tightened to points sharp enough to cut silk, waiting for his erection to return.

It didn’t return quickly enough for Hermione’s next orgasm, but the moment he realized she was coming, he reached between her thighs and slipped a finger into her quaking sex.

She screamed his name.

It was still the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

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Notes: Novel Expectations is named for Gina L Dartt\'s website, http://www.northco.net'janeway. Ms Dartt is an excellent fanfic writer; she really made me believe in Seven of Nine and Captain Janeway getting together, and she made me realize that ST: Voyager wasn\'t as bad as Rick Berman & Brannon Braga made it. Her Millennium series is extremely good.

For some reason, Chapter 7 never existed. So the next update, later this week, will be Chapter 8. I implore you to read it when it arrives, for after Chapter 8 will come Chapter 9, and after Chapter 9 will come Chapter 10, which was the hardest chapter I have written, of the 17 or so I\'ve completed already. I finished it at the office, and I was quite emotional over it, so much so that I very nearly couldn\'t conceal it from my co-worker, about ten feet away.

There\'s more sex coming too. Promise.

And finally, at the risk of sounding like a review whore... well... you know what to do.