Rainy Day

Note: This story is mainly H/Hr, but it also contains some Harry/Hermione/Tonks, Ginny/Luna, and Ron/Quidditch. It also features a lot of bondage, leather, and straitjackets.

Comments and such are welcome. Enjoy!
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Rainy Day - A Hermione Granger Story

Hermione Granger sat in the window of her bedroom in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with her cheek pressed against the cool, damp glass, watching the rain pour down outside. The bedroom she shared with Harry was on the third floor of the house, giving her a decent view of the rain-drenched street. Cool, rainy days like this one were her favorites. She loved the way the light shifted and cast a blue grey tint over the world; the way the air smelled, so fresh and crisp; and the sound of raindrops tapping against the windows and the rooftop. She could hear them especially well today. The hulking mass of Number Twelve was empty save for the lone figure keeping watch from the upstairs window.

Besides Hermione and Harry, there was one other couple living in the large old house. Luna had convinced Ginny to take a summer job at The Quibbler just before their fifth year. Working for Mr. Lovegood had been surprisingly fun, and Ginny found that she greatly enjoyed the younger Lovegood's new, more openly affectionate attitude toward her. The two of them grew closer over the summer and were dating by the time they returned to Hogwarts that September.

Ginny and Luna had moved into Grimmauld Place with them after graduating, but today, they were still working at the Quibbler and wouldn't be home for several hours.

Harry was off watching Ron play Quidditch. Ron had been signed on to the Chudley Cannons as a keeper and had become one of their star players. While she enjoyed attending a game from time to time, Hermione had never had the same appetite for it that Harry and Ron did. Harry seldom missed one of his matches, and Hermione was more than content to let her boys go and have their fun.

Moving from her window perch, Hermione flopped onto the large double bed and gazed at the framed wizarding photo sitting atop the nightstand. It had been taken at her and Harry's graduation. In it, a smiling Harry picked up a beaming Hermione, twirling her around in mid-air before gently setting her back down and pulling her into a hug.

Photo-Hermione raised her head from Photo-Harry's shoulder to gaze into his bright green eyes. Slowly, she raised her lips to meet his. That part still made Hermione feel warm and gooey inside. The boy could kiss like a fiend.

Five years of dating had done nothing to dilute the passion they felt for each other. Sometimes, they just spent their day together, much as they had back when they were still "just friends," basking in each other's presence and enjoying a quiet, friendly intimacy that Hermione liked to believe was uniquely theirs. Other times, they were openly affectionate, sharing kisses, holding hands, walking arm-in-arm and occasionally swatting each other on the bum. They brought out a naughtier side of each other that they both found highly agreeable.

She could feel her naughty side beginning to stir. Rolling over slightly, Hermione pulled her wand from her pocket and tapped it on the frame twice, uttering the password known only to a select few people.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she said softly. The frame had been a present from Tonks. It could store multiple photos and display them as a slide show with just a tap of the wand.

Photo-Harry and Photo-Hermione both gave her a sly wink as their picture slid out of sight, seeming to vanish into thin air.

The second photo in the set showed the very bed she currently occupied. A female figure lay atop it on her back, held in the firm embrace of a black latex vacbed. The slick, shiny material clung to the contours of her nude body, accentuating all of her feminine curves while rendering her completely immobile.

Harry, fully clothed, lay propped up on one arm beside her. In the picture, his free hand roamed over her chest and stomach, pausing to tease her very visible, very hard nipples. Hermione vividly recalled moaning deep in her throat and thrusting up into her lover's touch. Her photo counterpart could still move a little, but the vacbed was so tight that it actually moved with her.

Harry's eyes showed the utmost attention and concern as he carefully checked the breathing tubes inserted in Hermione's nose, and it warmed her to the core. He always put her well-being before his own needs and desires, and it made Hermione feel like the most important thing in the world.

She tapped the frame with her wand again, and a new photo slid into focus.

The new photo was similar to the first, but with the roles reversed. Harry was now the one encased in the vacbed, and Hermione lay on her back next to him propped up on some pillows, completely nude and pretending to read a book. With her free hand, she lightly stroked Harry's member, held flat against his body by the latex sheet. Photo-Hermione's face lit up with a warm smile as he squirmed under her touch. The book was just her hamming it up for the camera. In truth, she was just as alert to Harry's safety as he was to hers.

The real Hermione sat up on the bed and shifted her legs slightly apart, letting her wandless hand drift down between them to curb the ache that was quickly building up. She tapped the frame a third time.

She and Harry were seated together in the back seat of a muggle bus. Both were wearing hoodies and had their hands concealed in the front pocket. The lower halves of their faces were wrapped in spell-o-tape from nose-to-chin, and though it wasn't apparent in the photo, their hands were bound together with loads of tape inside their pockets.

Public bondage in a muggle setting had been Tonks' idea. Being adventurous and pushing boundaries would be good for the two of them, she had said. A notice-me-not charm had protected them from muggle eyes, but the thrill came from the very distinct possibility of meeting another wizard or, Merlin forbid, someone they actually knew. Thankfully, no such encounter had occurred.

Hermione rubbed a little harder.

The next photo showed Tonks' room, as evidenced by the enormous Weird Sisters poster on the wall. Three people cuddled together or her large bed. The pink-haired auror lay in the middle, dressed in a black leather cat suit, a corset with bright pink trim that matched her hair, and a pair of low-heeled leather knee boots. Harry and Hermione lay pressed against her sides, Harry on the left and Hermione on the right, with their heads resting on her Tonks' shoulders. The older girl had an arm wrapped around each of them and was smiling at them warmly.

The younger witch and wizard were also dressed head-to-toe in black leather. Instead of cat suits, the two teens wore jeans, ankle length open-back hobble skirts, knee boots and straitjackets, all made of black leather, and all skin tight. Both wore blindfolds and had bright blue harness-style ballgags strapped into their mouths. They squirmed in Tonks' arms, but could do little else.

Hermione smiled to herself as she pondered the curious position that Tonks held in their lives. They'd met five years prior, just after Harry had moved in with Sirius following their third year, and had quickly formed a friendship. In many ways, she became the cool big sister that neither of them had. She'd offered a sympathetic ear when they had problems, and was fun to be around if you didn't mind a little chaos every now and then.

But Tonks was more than that, too. After catching them in a particularly embarrassing situation in their sixth year, she'd happily revealed that she was "into that sort of thing" herself. She'd offered to teach them some of the things she knew, but the lessons quickly shifted from "teaching" to "playing." Before long, Tonks had become their lover as well as their mistress. They still weren't allowed call her "Nymphadora," though.

But that was another story. Hermione changed the photo one more time.

The final picture in the rotation was one of her favorites. This time, she was sitting on her knees on the thick, deep red rug in front of the window in the Head Boy's dormitory. A tight black straitjacket, tailored to resemble her uniform jumper, kept her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. The jacket had red leather straps around her upper arms and over her crossed forearms to ensure that the bound Head Girl would stay that way. Around each ankle was a red and black leather cuff connected by tether to a large, heavy metal ball. Topping off her ensemble was a bright blue ball gag, also with red strapping, and a pair of zip-front leather panties that had a small gold lightning bolt charm dangling from the zipper.

The straitjacket also had a wide neck opening that showed off the collar of her white shirt and the knot of her Gryffindor necktie. She knew Harry loved the way she looked in her uniform and thanks partly to his endearing enthusiasm, she had actually developed a fetish for them herself.

Once they'd graduated, Hermione had kept some of her old uniforms for daily wear around the house and for teasing Harry. The rest had gone into her trunk for playtime uses. The ties made surprisingly good bindings and gags in a pinch.

NEWTs had been close at hand when the photo was taken, and Hermione had holed herself up in the library for hours on end, studying to the point of exhaustion. Harry, ever the worry-wart, had felt it necessary to intervene before she made herself seriously ill. His pampering and pleasuring in between study sessions ensured that any anger she felt toward him was very short lived indeed. She'd certainly thanked him properly once NEWTs were finished.

Something delightful started to coil in Hermione's lower body. The memories fed her arousal, causing it to build upon itself, growing stronger and stronger until it spread throughout her body. A single desire consumed her foggy mind.

Dropping her wand on the bed, Hermione unzipped her jeans and yanked them down to her knees with one swift motion. Laying back, she let her hands begin to wander...

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Stretching lazily across the bed, Hermione let out a small, contented sigh. Her own hands were perfectly capable of handling short-term arousal, but they just couldn't compare to the feel of Harry's hands exploring her body, touching her and loving her. Another ache was already building inside of her, and it was becoming increasingly clear that her hunger was not going to be easily satisfied.

Fortunately, she had a plan in place for such scenarios, but it would require a change of wardrobe. Rising languidly from her perch, Hermione peeled off her damp knickers and tossed them aside on the floor. Her white shirt followed soon after, and she shivered from the touch of the cool air on her bare skin. At least the carpet was keeping the soles of her feet warm.

Sitting at the foot of the bed was Hermione's old Hogwarts trunk. As she lifted the lid, Hermione was greeted by the aroma of aging paper, old leather, and bookbinding glue. Resting neatly inside the magically enlarged chest were rows upon rows of old textbooks. Some were the books Hermione herself had used, but most were far, far older.

Collecting old and rare textbooks was more than a hobby to her; she'd found that many of them contained remarkably useful spells that had been stricken from the more current editions, but had never been restricted. One such set, given to her personally by Professor Dumbledore, had a treasure trove of information in notes along the margins, but today wasn't a day to revolutionize modern magic.

Gingerly, she removed a worn, rough-looking blue leather book from the topmost row and placed it on the floor. The peeling gold letters on the cover read "Advanced Arithmancy – Obscure Theories and Improbable Applications."

"Finite incantatem," she said, pointing her wand at the book.

A large mahogany trunk sat in the spot where the book had rested a moment before. An intimidating combination lock held the lid shut. Working swiftly in eager anticipation, Hermione removed the lock and popped the lid. Another delightful smell wafted up out of the trunk, but this was not the smell of old books and rotting glue. It was the smell of rubber and latex and well-tended leather.

The trunk, also enchanted to be much deeper than it appeared, was stuffed full of Harry and Hermione's toys. On the underside of the lid was a cabinet containing any kind of gag she might have wanted. Ball gags, panel gags, muzzles and bits, they were all there. The bottom half of the trunk consisted of a set of stacking trays that could be removed from the trunk entirely. The ever-meticulous Hermione had arranged the items by their strictness; the topmost trays contained the least restrictive items, while the bottom trays held the most restraining goodies.

On the very top tray was their fetish related clothing – cat suits, corsets, bustiers, boots, and various other things they wore during bondage play that had no restraining value individually. From it, she selected her favorite pair of black leather jeans and set them neatly aside before removing that tray from the trunk.

The one beneath it contained handcuffs, meters upon meters of rope in various colors, rolls of tape, and other assorted 'light' bondage items. Grabbing a handful of padlocks, a single leather strap, a blindfold, and a pair of leather socks with straps around the top, she then set that tray aside as well.

The next piece of gear she wanted was on the tray devoted to their numerous straitjackets. Tonks loved seeing Harry and Hermione in straitjackets and they loved wearing them, so they had collected quite a few. Strappy mounds of canvas and leather in browns, blacks, whites, and a few other odd colors lay waiting before the young witch, yearning to hold her in their unrelenting embrace.

Hermione often sat staring at the jackets for several minutes, biting her lip thoughtfully as she mentally debated the individual merits of each one. For all that it annoyed Harry when she did this, he seldom, if ever, complained about her choice. Not that Harry was an objective judge; he'd often said that he thought she'd look sexy wearing even Dobby's tea cozy.

Today, Hermione Granger knew exactly which straitjacket she wanted and wasted no time extracting it from the neatly folded piles. It was jet black, and made of lightweight leather fashioned from dragon hide. The tailor who made it only used hides from dragons that died naturally, and dragons were notoriously long-lived, so while it had been obscenely expensive, the jacket's durability more than made up for it. Leather made from dragon hide was almost completely resistant to wear and tear, and could only be worked with special tools crafted from dragon teeth and claws. Hermione suspected the jacket would outlast her by several decades.

Harry had bought it for her as an anniversary present the year before, and after a vigorous test drive later that night, it had quickly cemented its place in Hermione's heart as her favorite piece of bondage gear. Saying her dragon hide jacket was inescapable was a gross understatement on the order of saying a basilisk is "just a snake." Harry and Hermione had each spent a day strapped in the jacket, and neither had been any closer to escaping at the end of the day than at the beginning.

A zipper and six buckling straps, all lockable, held the jacket to her body like a glove. Two crotch straps and a high collar ensured that the jacket could not be slipped over her head if she somehow got her arms free, "if" being the operative word. To keep her arms in place, the dragon hide jacket had three vertical straps across the front, plus a loop under each armpit. There were two straps running horizontally across the chest, one just above her breasts and one just below, that kept Hermione's arms pinned firmly to her sides and accented her somewhat small breasts.

Hermione looked over the items she'd laid out and ran down her mental checklist. Straitjacket? Check. Favorite leather pants? Check. Socks, blindfold, locks and strap? All accounted for. All but a gag.

Turning back to her trunk, Hermione appraised her inventory of gags. She'd likely be bound until Harry got home, which would still be several hours. She wanted something silencing, but soft enough that it didn't strain her jaw after hours of wear. She selected a nice harness panel gag with a plush stuffing for her mouth. It was soft, silencing, and she thought it would mesh nicely with the rest of her outfit.

Gathering up her toys and wand, Hermione set all of her goodies on the bed before picking up her leather pants again. She'd have to put on by herself, as they weren't a restraint; the spell she had in mind wouldn't affect them. It was a task she didn't mind. Getting ready was part of the fun, after all.

With some gentle coaxing, the cool, slick leather slipped up over her thighs and came to rest around her hips. Hermione cinched them tightly in place with a belt made of the same leather. The jeans clung greedily to her legs from her hips down to her knees, with just enough give from her calves to her ankles to slip on a pair of boots if she so desired.

Seating herself on the edge of the bed for better balance, Hermione picked up one of her leather socks and slipped it onto her bare right foot. She pulled the little zipper running along the top up to her ankle, closing the sock snugly around the contours of her foot, and secured it with a wide strap. Hermione moved her foot around a bit, testing the security of the sock. She still had the full range of motion in her foot, but the sock remained in place, not sliding, pinching, or chafing in the slightest. The second sock quickly found its way onto her other foot, leaving Hermione encased in luxurious leather from the hips down.

Finally, she was ready for her favorite part. Retrieving her wand once again, Hermione scooted over into the center of the bed. She waved her wand at the pile of restraints with an odd, corkscrew-like motion.

"Scortea restrictum maxima!" she incanted, a little louder than she had intended. She shot a quick, embarrassed glance at the door, even though she knew no one was around to actually hear her.

A fountain of electric blue sparks erupted from the tip of Hermione's wand. The little dots of light swarmed around the room before settling onto the bed and everything around it, including Hermione herself. She watched with rapt fascination as the blue sparks touched her skin and simply winked out of existence, leaving only a faint tingling sensation in their wake. The fountain quickly dissipated and everything returned to normal. The room was silent once again save for the tapping of the rain and the sound of her own breathing.

A brief moment of disorientation struck Hermione, like she'd suddenly lost her balance, and she found herself being slowly and gently levitated into the air. Hermione was certainly no fan of flying, despite Harry's persistent efforts, but this was different to her somehow. She felt supported, as though she were being held up by a giant invisible hand and not simply dangling in the air. Letting out a happy sigh, she relaxed her tense muscles and let her legs hang limp beneath her.

On the bed below, Hermione's restraints shifted slightly and then took to the air. Untangling themselves, the restraints spread out and began to orbit her like a tiny leather cyclone. The straitjacket slowed to a halt in front of her. Straps slid themselves out of buckles, the zipper pulled itself down and the jacket hung wide open in the air before her, as if it were beckoning Hermione to stick out her arms so it could get on with its business. She could imagine it cocking an eyebrow at her, as if to ask, "well?"

Whether she did so under her own power or with some assistance from the spell, she didn't know, but Hermione held her arms out. The straitjacket slid gently over them, coming to rest comfortably around her shoulders. The two halves wrapped around her body, pulling themselves together somewhere behind her back. She felt them shift around, trying to insert the tab into the zipper. After a bit of fumbling, the room filled with the metallic growl of the zipper as the spell pulled it up to her neck, pausing just long enough to lift her hair up out of the way.

Hermione marveled at how thoughtful, for lack of a better word, the spell had been thus far. When she'd read about it in The Wild Wench's Wicked Ways to Wrap Your Witch or Wizard, she'd gotten the impression that the spell might rough her up a bit and be more animalistic, jerking, pulling hair, pinching her soft parts, and generally behaving like some kind of barbarian. Thus far, to Hermione's great delight, it hadn't acted that way at all. It had been careful, patient and attentive. It acted not like a kidnapper, but like a lover. Like Harry.

The spell continued to hold her hair out of the way so that the jacket's wide collar strap could snake around her neck. It threaded itself through the buckle and locked down with a metallic jingle and a quick jerk. There was a slight rustle of leather against leather, which Hermione guessed was the end of the strap feeding into its keeper loop. Something moved at the back end of the strap, and the familiar "click" of a padlock clamping shut filled her ears. The spell quickly and methodically buckled and locked the other five straps, sealing Hermione into the jacket. Jingle. Jerk. Rustle. Click. Like clockwork.

The instant the last strap was locked, Hermione flexed her upper body around, reveling in the sound and the feeling of the jacket as she moved. The high collar pressed lightly against her neck, but it was a comfortable sort of pressure and didn't interfere with her breathing. Black leather hugged every inch of her increasingly sensitive body, caressing, teasing, and pressing against her soft, intimate places.

Awash in a haze of pleasure, Hermione hung limp in her restraints, offering no resistance to the spell. It buckled the two straps framing her breasts, pinning her arms at her sides. She stirred slightly when her arms were crossed over her stomach, each sleeve threading through a loop on her sides before the two ends buckled themselves together behind her back. The three straps that ran vertically over her crossed arms pulled themselves taut and were locked tight next, leaving the young witch's arms completely immobile.

Finally starting to regain her senses, Hermione came to just as the blindfold was pulled over her eyes. Having been robbed of her sight, Hermione found herself cast adrift in a world of sound and sensation. The quiet creak of the leather when she moved, the feeling of it holding her in its unbreakable embrace, filled her mind and nearly overwhelmed her. If she focused, she could clearly hear the impact of the rain on the roof and windows, and could smell that fresh, clean scent in the air, even through the scent of so much leather. It was magnificent.

Then she noticed something strange; a gentle tapping on the inside of each thigh, just above her knee.

That's odd, Hermione thought. Did it miss the crotch stra-AAH!

The unexpected feeling of something being pulled over her legs made her start. The identity of the mystery object was revealed when it contracted suddenly, encasing her legs and pinning them firmly together from thigh to ankle. She heard the metallic jingle and felt the quick jerk of straps being buckled, and heard the "clicks" of multiple padlocks. Somehow, the spell had gotten its magical mitts on one of her legbinders! It had receiving buckles on the front for the jacket's two crotch straps, and two short straps on the back so that the two restraints could be joined as a single body-binder.

"Stop!" she shouted. This wasn't part of the plan at all! Gathering her wits, she tried to cancel the spell. "Fin-ifeh! Nnnnnhhh…"

"Bhuddh ghaagh," Hermione fumed. She'd gotten halfway through "finite" before the gag had swooped in and pressed itself firmly against her mouth. In a matter of seconds, the harness had strapped itself about her head, sealing the panel to her face. Once the panel was secured, the leather plug attached to it began to inflate.

She bit down on it. The plug filled her entire mouth, but it was very soft and pliable and she could almost close her jaws around it despite its size. It was really quite comfortable, all things considered.

Grunting in frustration, Hermione thrashed against her bonds in earnest. She had learned both some wandless and some nonverbal magic from Harry, but she couldn't do both at once and certainly not at the level needed to call off her now-errant spell. At the very least, she would need her wand.

She wrenched her arms in opposite directions, hoping to loosen something up just enough to grab for her wand, which was either on the bed directly below, or more likely, given her current luck, somewhere on the floor. Try as she might, the writhing witch could not break free from the network of straps. The force of each jerk simply rolled her torso from side to side, just as the logical voice in her mind knew it would.

Still, she fought on until she felt her bushy hair being gathered up. A bag-like object was pulled over her head, and her heart skipped a beat. Surely the spell wasn't going to try to suffocate her?

She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when she realized that the object that had started to lace itself together behind her head was just one of her leather hoods. Once sealed, it clung tightly to her face, pressing the gag and blindfold lightly but not painfully into her skin. Cool air rushed through the grommets under her nose, and Hermione breathed in deeply.

She knew that the spell wasn't going to kill her. It was designed to be totally non-lethal, she remembered. That's why it was so popular among self-bondage enthusiasts. It could bind her into total immobility, it could even embarrass her, but it could not kill or otherwise harm her.

This hood, like all of her others, had large air holes and a number of safety charms to prevent shifting or suffocation. Hermione went slack in her bonds, feeling relieved and a bit silly. She'd never been in danger at all.

She rolled her eyes as best a blindfolded and hooded person could at the sound of yet more leather and metal shifting about somewhere nearby. Bloody spell, she grumbled mentally. She was already blind, mute, and encased in leather from head to foot to the point of near total immobility. What could it possibly be up to now?

"Mmph!" she yelped into her gag. She had been rotated a full forty-five degrees so that she lay flat, facing what she hoped was the ceiling. The mystery object had shifted around with her; the whatever-it-was was now directly beneath her and sounded like it was getting closer.

Something wrapped around her feet, enclosing them in what felt like a bag or some kind of single boot. The rest of it, or what she hoped was the rest, rose up against her back like a wave, pressing its round, leathery surface against her. It folded up around her and a heavy zipper raced from her knees to her neck, enclosing her in a tight leather cocoon. Hermione realized that the mystery object was one of their sleepsacks.

Its presence now confirmed Hermione's suspicions with almost absolute certainty. In her eagerness to be bound, she realized that she'd forgotten to clean up her mess and stow her trunk away. She would have slapped herself on the forehead if she could have. Given the circumstances, she had to make do with a mental one. She had wanted to spend a few hours tightly restrained, and now that she knew the binding spell had free run of her toy chest, there was no doubt she was going to get exactly that.

The very thought made her tingle in a nice way. This could be fun!

The spell swiftly laced up the sleepsack, tightening it around her like a giant snake. Seven straps sealed the sack off – one at the ankles, one at the neck, and five in between.

"Lahhpd, nahhurrawee," Hermione mumbled to herself, hearing the tell-tale "clicks" yet again. She'd not kept count, but she estimated that there had to be about 20 of the little locks holding her prisoner now. It's kind of flattering, she thought. All of that just to hold me?

A sensation like the one you get while speeding down a steep hill filled Hermione's stomach. It's putting me back on the bed, she realized. A slight feeling of disappointment washed over her, much to her own surprise. Is it over already? She was sure that she was already bound well beyond the possibility of escape, but it was rather exciting not knowing what the spell would pull next.

Ever curious, Hermione squirmed in her bonds experimentally. She rolled her straitjacketed torso from side to side, she kicked, and she pulled her arms and legs apart as hard as she could, fighting to break free from the tight package that confined her. Encased as she was in three layers of leather, she warmed up quickly and tired equally fast. As she lay there exhausted, she realized that the only thing she had accomplished was failing to loosen a single thing.

She found that the sleepsack added a whole new dimension to her feeling of restraint. Her straitjacket and legbinder each restricted a specific part of her, preventing any movement in that part beyond a certain point. The sleepsack managed to encase all of her, adding limitations upon limitations.

It's almost like being tied up in a bubble, she thought.

A new sound pulled Hermione out of her reverie. It sounded like bits of metal clinking together. There was a faint rustling of cloth as something moved across the comforter. Whatever was making that sound, there was a lot of it, and it seemed to be coming from both sides of her. Suddenly, something jerked at her ankles, and she gave them a questioning tug in return. They moved only a small bit before a tether on each side pulled tight and held them in place. A lock clicked shut somewhere beneath the bed.

Chain! she realized. The spell wasn't done. It was threading chains through the d-rings on the sides of her sleepsack and pinning her to the bed in the middle of a metallic web.

Bit by bit, Hermione was immobilized. The chains continued up her legs, securing her shins, then her knees, followed by her thighs and hips. They anchored her waist and then her stomach and upper arms. The tightening of each set of chains was punctuated by the click of a new padlock. One last pair of chains wound through the rings on her collar and locked themselves together.

A few moments later, the rustling sounds disappeared. Off to her right, something hit the floor with a soft thump.

"Muhff haff bhhn fhah ohffr fhrahp…" she said aloud to herself, turning her head toward the sound. The leather belt she'd picked out earlier was supposed to have been threaded through the d-rings on the tops of her socks to bind her ankles together, but once the legbinder had been brought into the game it had been left without anything to do. It dropping to the floor now indicated to Hermione that the spell had actually finished this time and wasn't simply plotting something else.

Writhing about in her bonds, she found herself thankful for that. She could still squirm around inside the sleepsack ever so slightly, even with the straitjacket and legbinder on underneath, but the network of chains prevented her from shifting it at all. Only her head could move about in relative freedom.

Hermione cooed happily, and let her imagination take command. For the moment, she was no longer Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age. That person was locked away somewhere under pounds of leather and metal. Now she was an innocent village girl, or perhaps a rebel, held captive by the wicked Harry Potter, ravisher of witches. She was tied up in his personal chambers and awaiting his return. When she thought of what would happen when he got back, Hermione shuddered. He'd do all sorts of evil, delicious things to her.

She did hope her black-hearted captor would be in a pampering mood after he'd had his wicked way with her. A long soak in a hot bath and a nice massage would be the perfect cure for the cramps she was certain to have. Being bound for several hours always made her a bit stiff.

She didn't mind, though. It just gave them another excuse to touch each other, not that they needed one. After-play care and maintenance wasn't about sex. It was loving each other and simply reveling in the other's presence. She looked forward to those quiet times almost as much as she looked forward to their play times.

An involuntary yawn slipped out around her gag. The soft bed and the three layers of warm leather around her were so very relaxing that she was finding it difficult to stay awake. Accepting the inevitable, she nestled into the bed as best she could and let the sound of her own steady breathing and the rhythmic tap of rain on the roof lull her into a deep, restful sleep. Her dreams were filled with visions of a green-eyed boy with unruly black hair and of the wonderful things they'd shared together.

===Finite===