Disguised Affections

A/N: Wow. This is a long chapter compared to my normal ones... Which I guess isn't saying too much, but my normal chaps are like 1900 words, and this one is 3000. Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed. I lurv you guys!

A bit of graphic smut in this chapter, so if you don't want to read it, I'd just skip on to the next one. ;)

Everything you recognize belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing with her goodies. And I mean that in an entirely non-sexy way.

---

Hermione and Neville were already in the jenett pond by the time Constantine arrived at Greenhouse Eleven. They were covered in mud from the tops of their heads to the soles of their feet, but the environment looked perfect. They’d scraped the slime off the wooden slats that made up the edges of the pond and laid a thick foundation of soil and nutrients at the bottom to nourish the water jenetts they were going to cultivate.

“I’d almost be offended that you didn’t wait for me to get started, but then again – you’re disgustingly dirty, and I am not.” His voice was smug.

“Don’t sound so pleased with yourself. We left the backbreaking labor to you. The pool needs to be filled with water.” Hermione slogged over to the shallow edge and raised a hand for Con to help her out.

He grasped her dirty hand in distaste and hoisted her over the three and a half foot lip. She caught her breath at his strength and at the calluses she could feel covering his blunt fingers. When Constantine surreptitiously tried to wipe his hands on the edge of her robe, Hermione felt a smile tug at the edge of her mouth. She pretended she didn’t notice.

He sighed, seeing Neville struggling to pull himself over the side. “Longbottom?” Con extended a hand to help Neville.

The Gryffindor looked up, surprised, and a smile bloomed on his face. Grasping the dark-haired boy’s hand, he allowed himself to be steadied as he clambered out of the jenett pond. As he stood up, his feet (which were absolutely covered with muck) slid out from under him and he began to fall.

His hand was still grasping Constantine’s.

With muffled curses, the two boys fell back into the pond in a tangle of muddy limbs.

“Oh, for Gods’ sakes,” Con mumbled, looking down at his clothes. Hermione choked on her laughter. He looked like a big, muddy bear as he crouched in the jenett pond with soil and muck in his hair and smeared on his school robes.

Neville was crouched against the wall of the pool, his eyes terrified. Hermione could see that his life was flashing before his eyes as he stared at Con, wondering when the bear was going to maul his little, fawn-like self. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, heedless of the mud. It stood straight up, plastered in place by the mire.

“I am so sorry. Con, I am so, so sorry. Are you… I just, I’m so clumsy sometimes. I am really sorry!”

Hermione watched the emotions chase across Constantine’s face. He was irritated. There was no doubt about it. At that particular moment, Constantine Prince wanted to lash out and tear Neville into little quivering, sobbing bits. Instead, he took a deep calming breath. It flowed in through his pinched nostrils and inflated his chest and sank down to his toes. When he breathed out, Hermione saw some of the tension leave his body.

“It’s okay, Neville. I know it was an accident. Besides,” he flashed his teeth, “I’ve got a lot of work to do myself, so I’d have been covered in muck in no time, eh?” He smacked Longbottom on the shoulder entirely too hard, causing the smaller boy to slip and fall into the mud again. Constantine sighed happily and climbed out.

“So, we’re ready for the water then?”

Hermione nodded. Con turned back to Neville who was still struggling to get out of the enclosure. “I know that we can’t use Augamenti because of the jenett’s hatred of magic. However, will it retard the growth of the plant if we carry water in transfigured buckets?”

Huffing and sweating, Neville sat on the floor. “No, that should be fine.” He wiped his moist brow and groaned. “I’ve still got to study up for that Potions quiz tomorrow. Hermione, I think I’ve done my duty for friendship. Do you mind if I leave you two to fill the pond? I’m knackered.”

“Of course, Neville! Get on with you now. I’ll see you up in the common room later tonight!” The boy smiled and took his leave, leaving Con and Hermione to puzzle out how to fill the jenett pond.

They transfigured buckets out of two branches he brought back from the Forbidden Forest. The water had to come from either the pump near Greenhouse 5 or the lake. The pump was considerably closer, but required a lot of effort to flex the arm that controlled the water. The lake was deemed to be a better choice. In the end, the two of them, working on the principle that magic was acceptable as long as the spells didn’t interact directly with the water, decided to expand the volume of the buckets and simultaneously lighten the load.

It took twenty treks out to the lake for each of them before the pond was filled. Hermione figured that really wasn’t so bad considering the size of the pool.

They threw themselves onto the floor of the abandoned greenhouse, panting and dirty. Hermione and Neville had repaired the panes of glass that had been broken over the years, and washed the entire structure until it gleamed. Where the old building had once been an eyesore, an aged fighter with its teeth knocked out, it now shined with like a diamond in the sun.

Before the glass had been refurbished, a tree had grown through a portion of the greenhouse’s skeleton in the westernmost corner. Hermione and Neville hadn’t had the heart to cut it back so they had sealed the building around it – leaving the branches partially inside and partially outside. It provided lovely shade, and the two Gryffindors were taking full advantage of it now.

“I talked to Professor Sprout today,” Hermione said sleepily.

“Uhm,” Con replied, unconcerned.

“She said the seedlings should be coming in by Owl Post in a day or two.”

“Hermione…”

“Hmm?”

Constantine rolled onto his side towards Hermione. She noticed his face was soft, and his eyes were gentle and sweet. He looked at her like something precious, and her heart sped up and yearned towards him like a river running towards the ocean, like something womanly and inevitable and precious. He touched her cheek and she blushed a furious red. Hermione worried it was unbecoming and so she focused instead on the pulse that she could see beating strongly in his throat.

“Hermione…”

“Yes?” Her voice was tender and expectant.

“Let’s go swimming.”

“What?” The girl’s voice had gone flat, and her arms were wrapped around her torso as if to prevent her ribs from splintering under the weight of her broken expectations.

“It’ll be lovely. It’s cool outside, but with the charmed panels you and Neville set in the roof to trap the heat to keep our jenetts toasty, it’ll be pleasant in the water.”

Hermione rather liked the way he had called them their jenetts. She blushed and spun around when she saw Con had already started to unbutton his shirt.

“Oh, stop that. I’m going to transfigure myself a swimsuit. You should do it, too.”

“We shouldn’t get into the jenett pool with transfigured suits on. We’ll pollute the pool with magic.”

“I was talking with Neville about that, and he said it was prolonged exposure to magic that stunted the growth of lotuses. So, it was bad to use magic to clean the wood that makes up the sides of the pool because that wood will trap the magic and slowly pollute the water. But it was okay to carry non-magicked water in a transfigured bucket.” Hermione squeaked when he grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. “It should be just fine to swim in transfigured suits. That is, unless you plan on moving into the pond permanently? I have to warn you, I don’t think your copy of Hogwarts: A History will take to the damp very well.”

Hermione wanted to be irritated with him, and she would be any second. … Just as soon as she was able to look away from his long, lean, lovely body. Constantine was standing in front of her with nothing on but swimming trunks and the copper cuff bracelet around his wrist. Her voice made a tiny, scraping noise as if it was trying to flee from her. His long black hair flowed down his back like dark waters. Muscles shifted in his chest and abdomen when he slid his weight from his left foot to his right. He was wiry and well-defined, but Hermione sucked in her breath when she saw the scar.

It meandered from his left collarbone to his right hip, a testament to the rigors of war. It was still red and angry.

“Oh, Con! How did this happen? It must have been very deep!” She reached out and touched it gently, surprised by its heat.

He froze when her hand touched him. Her eyes met his, surprised by the change.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

“Hermione,” he whispered, his voice pleading. “Please come swimming with me.”

And because his voice was one big, raw ache, she found herself nodding and unbuttoning her dirty robes. “Turn around,” she said, and he complied.

Her clothes came off, one piece of mental armor at a time, and her fingers lightly traced the imperfections in her skin. “Constantine, I don’t want you to be shocked when you see me.” Carefully, she transfigured her undergarments into a red bathing suit. Gryffindor courage, she reminded herself.

The boy made an enquiring noise in his throat.
“I’ve been scarred as well. My marks are… quite a bit worse than yours. Okay, you can turn around.”

His eyes burned where they touched, and Hermione had never felt so exposed in her life. Every mark on her body was a badge of courage, but she keenly felt the tug of her dual roles. She was Hermione Granger, war hero and best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived. But she was also a girl… a woman who wanted to be physically appealing to the man she desired.

Con stepped closer and ran his fingertip over the cross that covered part of her neck and chest.

“That was fifth year. Sectumsempra curse by Antonin Dolohov at the Department of Mysteries.”

He touched a set of four parallel scars that bisected her left bicep.

“McNair.”

He touched a series of round burns that hop-scotched almost playfully down her right arm.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

Con walked around her to look at her back, and she heard a soft, broken noise when he saw the state of her skin. He touched the brand that proclaimed her dirty blood.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

He touched a lash mark.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

The palm of his hand slid from her shoulder to the small of her back, covering the ridged terrain in its entirety.

“Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy.” Hermione stepped away from him and turned around, unable to bear any more. “I know it’s horrible looking, but - ”

“You’re so beautiful.” His eyes were intense, and he dragged his fingers possessively over the mark of Doholov’s curse. “Please… Please, come swimming with me.”

She nodded, and together they slid into the water.

As they floated there in the jenett pond of Greenhouse Eleven, the sky began to darken. The air was electric between them, and Hermione reached out towards him, unable to help herself. She touched his collarbone with tentative, questing fingers, and he sat up. The water sheeted off his neck and shoulders and fell back into the pond in intimate, musical notes.

“Hermione,” he said.

She looked at him and his eyes burned so fiercely she pushed away from him so she wouldn’t be consumed. Tiny water droplets clung to his eyelashes and his hair was a sleek cap against his head.

“Hermione,” Con said again, swimming forward. “Hermione, you have to know…”

Her back touched the edge of the pond, and he moved forward one more step bringing his body so close to hers that she could smell him. Constantine was all juniper and bayberry and so delicious that she wanted to bite him, and oh god, was that normal? That lovely skin on his neck was just begging for her mouth, and she could almost feel his pulse against her lips. Would he think her insane if she just leaned forward and devoured him?

“Hermione, you have to know how ardently I admire you.” His voice was a thready whisper, and his long fingers stretched forward and slid through the curls at the side of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact and her head tilted into his hand. “You… You’re so damn smart. It’s unbelievably sexy. Did you know? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are bent over a cauldron with your face flushed from the steam and your hair curling and frizzing? I find that I trust you more than I can fathom – with your ridiculous bravery and quiet heart. Do you… could you ever… return my feelings?”

His face was very close to hers and so earnest, his eyebrows drawn together in concern. Hermione was terrified and moved by his words. Could she return his feelings? Was the man blind? She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his inexpertly and allowed her arms to slide tight around his neck. Oh. The water made his skin so slick.

Constantine’s chest rose and fell quickly, and Hermione thought he was taking and releasing a relieved breath. His hands cupped her cheeks, and he gently tilted her head so that he could brush his lips more firmly against hers. As Constantine worshiped her mouth, she felt his thumbs slide down her neck and caress the sensitive skin by her jugular. She shivered, and he pulled back quickly in concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. More, please,” she said as she leaned in again. Hermione felt him smile against her mouth. His fingers slid into her wet curls, tipping her head back and she made a thrumming noise in her throat because his hands in her hair felt so good. So right. Con placed a gentle thumb on the skin below her lower lip, asking her to open her mouth so he could deepen their kiss. When she complied, his tongue flicked against her bottom lip and then slipped into her mouth.

When she felt the velvet slide of Con’s tongue on hers, Hermione’s eyes opened wide before fluttering shut again. It was shocking and intimate. His tongue was slick and hot and with every delicate flick, she felt desire pool between her legs like treacle. She became very focused on what his mouth was doing to hers, and determined to wring every last sensation from this kiss, she arched her body into his and fisted her hands in his thick, black hair. He went wild, pulling her up and tight against his body.

So, this was what she’d been missing. This was what Lavender and Parvati would whisper about at night in their beds when she’d roomed with them before becoming Head Girl. This amazing sensation of connection was what caused curfew breakers to risk getting caught for a few precious moments of the coast of hands on a body and soft moans and glorious, glorious aching. Hermione was ravenous for this boy. Her hands eagerly slid up his back, tracing each straining muscle as he pushed his body against hers and sucked and nibbled at her lips.

Con groaned against her mouth when he felt her questing hands. He rocked his body against hers, allowing her to feel his desire. One of her hands ventured upwards from where they rested on the bare skin of his waist and rubbed his chest. She sucked on his tongue, and ran her fingertips over the tight bud of his nipple. He cried out and tore his mouth from hers.

“Too fast,” he panted. His head dropped to the hollow between her neck and shoulder while he shuddered and tried to regain control of himself. Con removed his hands from her like it was the most difficult thing in the world and gripped the edge of the jenett pond.

Hermione touched her lips in curiosity. They felt hot and puffy and wonderful. Constantine Prince had done that to her. It was an exciting, erotic thought. He’d slid his hot tongue into her mouth and his big hands had been all over her. She whimpered a little and rubbed her thighs together. Con felt it, and his head jerked from off her shoulder, his eyes dark with lust. He ran his thumb gently over her lips. They parted and her tongue touched the pad of his finger. His breath caught.

With a regretful look, he stepped away from her. “I am perilously close to taking advantage of you, Hermione.”

She nodded, glazed.

“We still don’t know each other very well.”

She nodded again, her eyes skimming over his form. Her glance dropped to the front of his swim trunks and she licked her lips. Even through the obscuring water, she could see the tented front. She flexed her hand, wondering if she dared to touch him.

“I want to court you. You deserve to be courted, Hermione.”

Unable to help herself, her hand slid over the front of his trunks and Con groaned, his eyes slipping shut. His hand covered hers and pressed it harder against his erection.

“And then I’m going to take you and make you scream my name with such pleasure no one will have any doubt whose witch you are.”

She nodded and whispered. “I would like that, Constantine.”

His eyes flared and he leaned forward to kiss her again.

---

A/N: And there we have it. Con and Hermione are together now, although they are not without their opposing forces. I hope it lived up to your expectations! Like it, love it, hate it, review it. :)