Chapter Text
Hermione Granger didn't like lying to her family. She thought most people didn't like the act of lying to their family, but obviously they all did it for their own reasons, selfish or otherwise. The brunette haired witch tried not to judge; her situation being what it was she didn't like to put herself in such a hypocritical emotional state.
As it were, her family not being around as she packed was better for everyone. She wasn't forced to tell lies to their faces, and in the future they wouldn't have memories of her lying to their faces to look back on.
Hermione wasn't delusional. She was perhaps the most logical and intelligent witch since Minerva McGonagall in her prime, which was still ongoing in Hermione's opinion, and she knew very well that her lies would catch up to her eventually. The fact she continued to speak them anyway was very telling in that way.
She simply couldn't help herself.
Her two children were currently at the Potter's place and her husband, who hopefully was actually at work as he said he was, was soon to join them. Goodbyes had been said the night before. It was almost routine now; Hermione always took the same week long vacation in the middle of June. Her children thought it was normal for their mother to need a week away to recharge and complete her research and be away from the stress of life. Her husband liked it because he used the excuse of her "leaving him" to lessen his guilt about his own activities throughout the year.
Ronald Weasley wasn't a bad man, nor a bad father. But neither was he a good husband. Sometimes Hermione wondered what she had been thinking when she had married him. How she had possibly thought it would make her future self fulfilled.
Hermione banished those thoughts from her mind at the same time she flicked her wand and banished laundry to the hamper downstairs. Her bag was packed in another flick, shrunk down and stuffed unceremoniously inside her robes. She wanted to leave. She took barely a second to spin her wand around her hair and cast a silent spell to hold it in place, wand now pierced through the bun. She wore her hair much shorter and sleeker than in her youth, now only just reaching her jawline and barely long enough to pull back into that bun.
It was her no nonsense style for when she wanted to hurry. And right now she desperately wanted to hurry.
She jogged down the stairs of her London home and headed for the backyard where the wards allowed for apparition and disapparition. She knew the moment she crossed the boundary, she had cast all the wards herself after all, and without hesitation she spun on her heel. Her disapparition noise was only a whisper, the softest crack, and she never even broke stride as the scenery changed from her green and damp backyard to a rocky inlet beside the beach.
Hermione could feel the heat instantly; it always felt stifling after being in London.
But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered; not the instantly better weather, the beautiful view of a sunset over water which she didn’t even glance at, nor the surrounding jungle to her left. She didn’t take in the sounds of exotic birds or the waves crashing up to the shoreline. All of that was secondary.
The only thing that mattered was the cabin.
It looked almost out of place on the beach; it looked like it belonged in a dense forest. The logs which made up the cabin weren’t even native to the area. The chimney was brick, also uncommon, and the windows had glass as opposed to being just open holes for the ocean breeze. The patio that ringed the entire one floor cabin looked a little more beach-like with its railing crafted from white driftwood and wicker furniture.
Hermione jumped up the two steps to the patio in one bound and walked through the only door without knocking. Her heart was already in her throat. At the door she was able to shed her identity. The second she reached this property she was no longer Mrs. Hermione Granger Weasley. She was no longer a mother of two. She wasn’t the Golden Girl or the Brains of the Golden Trio or a decorated war hero. She wasn’t even Researcher Granger.
She was just Hermione.
She had arguably never been just Hermione since the very moment she had found herself locked in a bathroom with a troll. Her life had changed from that moment on and she was never just herself.
The brunette haired witch didn’t even know who she was when she was outside this cabin anymore.
She knew exactly who she was when she was inside of it.
The smell of cooking filled her sense instantly; a home cooked meal of pasta and baked bread created with taste and simplicity in mind. Under the layers of herbs and fresh bread Hermione could pick up the undertones of black orchids and vanilla. Hermione hated roses and the smell of them; other floral or homey scents always filled the cabin instead.
Hermione looked around almost desperately. Her eyes nearly frantic as she scanned the room. If she’d just calm down she would find her all the faster but her body was out of her control. It always was the first time she stepped inside the cabin for that year.
Her feet were moving before her brain had ever even given the signal to move. It was okay though, arms were already waiting for her; they would have already been waiting even if she had sprinted. Hermione let out a gasp as her body came almost forcefully into contact with another. Her arms wrapped around a thin waist, pulling the body closer, and arms came about her back in return. Her breath came out in a shudder. It was almost too much, her body in sensory overload just from finally being back in the arms she didn’t dare dream about it.
That was only allowed in the cabin.
One of the hands on her back trailed upward to the base of her neck where fingernails gently scraped along skin. “Baby.” The word was whispered in her ear on a breath just as weak and shaking as her own. Those fingernails scraped along the back of her neck again. Those talented fingers could make her melt; right now they were setting her on fire. “Baby. Baby.” It was almost a beg, a benediction from one who couldn’t believe what was happening before them. “Baby.” Those fingernails dug into the skin, gripping her just shy of hard.
Hermione was wet. Her body was surging with heat and it took nothing more than a whisper and a touch. God, how did she always forget how easy it was, how right it was every time she was finally allowed to return to this cabin. “My god, love.” Hermione’s own voice had dropped to a groan. Hermione’s hand drifted lower, moving from her lovers back to her ass. Hermione gripped her hard, knowing exactly how she wanted it, and almost lifted her up as she pulled her harder into Hermione’s body.
A groan in her ear was ripped from her lovers throat and the fingernails on the back of her neck were sure to leave marks. Often they had drawn blood. “Baby, I need you. I need you.”
That alone almost undid Hermione. The truth in those words, the desire, the passion. Hermione had never felt that way for someone, nor felt it directed towards her, until her lover. Her hands were clenching and gripping her lovers ass in an action that was practically subconscious. She had to grab her, had to pleasure her and make her feel good.
Hermione planned on spending every second she was in this cabin making her lover feel good.
Her feet started walking again without any direction from her brain. She was pushing her lover into walking backwards but keeping her tight against her body; she couldn’t handle being separated from her for even a second. Not when they had just been reunited.
“Mmm, wait baby.” Hermione felt one hand of resistance. Her lover wasn’t protesting, and Hermione was completely in tune with the woman in her arms. She knew instinctively what she was saying even with just a word and a moan. Hermione flicked her hand blindly over her shoulder and cast a silent, wandless spell. It put a stasis charm on their dinner, preserving her lovers effort and saving the meal for later when they would be starving. The fingernails gripping her neck forced her head backwards and Hermione’s eyes slammed shut even as she exposed her throat for her lovers lips. “What else can you do with those hands, baby?”
The taunt made Hermione smirk. She cast another charm and then used her grip on her lovers ass to lift her clear off the ground; lithe legs instinctively wrapped around Hermione’s waist. The charm Hermione had cast had taken away just enough weight for Hermione to be able to lift and manhandle her lover with ease. She groaned when her lovers hips started a gentle grind against her abdomen. They didn’t make it through the bedroom door; Hermione slammed the woman in her arms against the doorframe instead. She started pushing back with her own body, rocking into her lover until she could feel her heat against her abs. “Baby. Baby.” Her lovers voice was pleading, begging.
Hermione was in no mood to deny her. She needed her, needed to feel her, otherwise it felt like the fire in her soul would consume her. “Love. Love. I need you. I need to feel you.”
“You have me baby. Baby, you have me.”
Hermione felt blind walking into the bedroom, their bedroom, she had no sense for anything that wasn’t the woman in her arms.
Hermione wasn't rough when she tossed her lover down on the bed; but she wasn't gentle either. For the first moment since she walked through the front cabin door her body stopped all movement and stilled. Her lover was so beautiful. Insanely, almost brutally beautiful and Hermione knew better than anyone how well her lover could use her looks like a weapon.
But she wasn't doing it right now. Right now she was open, walls collapsed and masks pulled away to reveal the more pure person underneath. That was the beauty that took Hermione's breath away.
"I love you." It came out a whisper and Hermione almost shook her head. She didn't need to whisper here. "I love you." Her voice was shaking but it wasn't out of fear. Her body was simply overwhelmed with feeling. "I love you."
"I know baby." Hands were reaching up for her and Hermione dropped to the bed to crawl up an exquisite body. "I love you." Hermione never felt the words the same way compared to when her lover said them. "Let me love you baby."
Hermione laid her body on her lovers and it was with an impatient hand flick that banished their robes from their bodies. There would be other times to strip her lover slowly, to tease her with kisses and bites for every inch of skin revealed. Now she just needed her, needed to feel her in every way.
Both women groaned as skin slid across skin. Hermione kissed every inch she could reach, across a pale throat and down a slender neck to collarbones begging to be nibbled on.
Fingernails raked down her back, leaving marks, and Hermione only felt her blood, the fire inside her, burn hotter. Her kisses turned to bites, marking the pale skin beneath her, and she grinded her hips and pelvis down harder. The moan in her ear made her repeat the motion again and again.
Hermione's ass was grabbed and she felt her lover taking control, forcing her down harder and grinding in the way she wanted it. Hermione's lips were a smirk when she kissed her lover with bruising intensity. Later, she would tease her. Later, she would pull herself up and create separation so her lover couldn't get herself off against her body. Later, she would speak the filthy, dirty things that made her lover clench and pulse around her fingers.
For now she just kissed her again, desperate, unable to separate. She shifted so her thigh slid in between her lovers legs and her mouth practically watered at the wetness she could feel coating her skin. Her lover being wet for her, because of her, was always one of the greatest moments of pride and humble gratitude in her life.
Hermione knew she was just as wet. Her lover need only look at her and Hermione found her pussy, her whole body, responding to her. Her lover placed her foot flat on the bed, hardening her thigh for Hermione to ride on.
"That's it baby." Her voice was the sexiest thing Hermione could imagine. She knew she was the only person who ever heard it this way; unabashed and full of love. "Let me feel your love baby."
Hermione's eyes were clenched closed, her mouth was open as she panted, and she pressed her entire body, as much of herself as she could, down into her lover. She could come easily. She had been ready to come the second her skin had come into contact with the skin she had been craving for a year.
"I want..." Hermione was panting. "I need..."
"I'm going to come." Her lover answered on a breath. Her voice was strained; Hermione could feel the muscles in her lovers neck tensing. Her lover had known she wanted to pleasure her; they both always wanted the others pleasure more than their own.
The only time Hermione was even aware of her clit was when she was with her lover; how she pulsed and ached and how the buildup in her body made her feel like an elastic pulled tight enough it was about to snap. "Love. Love. I love..." Hermione was lost to speech, her body snapped, back arching as the fire racing along her spine consumed her. She could feel her lovers legs clenching, pulsing; the nails in her back were surely drawing blood but she had never experienced anything more euphoric than her lover coming against her skin just because she desired her so badly.
Hermione was in no way sated. The fire still burned, hot and heavy, her pussy empty and clenching and demanding more. Blue eyes were already locked onto her brown ones when she looked down in adoration.
"I love you so much, Cissa." Hermione breathed against Narcissa Black's lips and her heart, finally, felt full.
"As I love you, baby." Narcissa breathed back, almost into her mouth as her kisses turned desperate once again. "Merlin knows how I've missed you. Needed you."
"I know what you need, love." Hermione's eyes turned almost dangerous as she slid her hand along Narcissa's body. The woman underneath her opened her legs without hesitation, spreading herself wider in anticipation. Hermione slid two fingers slowly but deeply inside Narcissa's soaking pussy; Hermione lived for the sounds her lover made, breathing stalling and stuttering as she was filled.
"All for you baby." Narcissa gasped the last word as Hermione spread her fingers inside of her and teased them in circles. "Everything. All for you."
Hermione's eyes were still sparking. "All for me." She repeated. "Mine." Hermione was possessive but only with what had been freely and lovingly given.
"Yes." Narcissa was moving her hips now, fucking herself slowly on Hermione's fingers like she wasn't in control of her body any longer. "Yours. All yours."
"Let me show you how much that means to me." Hermione's gentle whisper against Narcissa's lips punctuated the last quiet moment before she started thrusting in and out of Narcissa's pussy, pushing as deep as she could go and fucking her in earnest. Hermione got up on her knees for more leverage to drive Narcissa higher, one hand reaching to clasp around an erect nipple to pinch and love on.
"Yes. Yes." Narcissa was gasping, driving her hips and meeting every thrust like her life depended on it. "Fuck me. Fuck me."
Hermione let go of Narcissa's breast only to grab her hip and tilt them as best she could to change the angle and drive even deeper into her lover, fuck her harder. "I'll fuck you forever my love."
And for hours Hermione made good on that vow.
#
Hermione was now the one laying on her back. Narcissa was laying a top her, so low her cheek was almost pillowed on Hermione’s mound. Their breathing had slowed and they had been enjoying the quiet and the stillness of the moment. Hermione was carding her fingers through Narcissa's silky blonde locks, almost putting the woman to sleep like a purring cat, and the elder witch was drawing aimless patterns on Hermione's bare thigh.
The fire that had raged through her body was still present; it never fully went away when she was with Narcissa. It had cooled to embers now at least and Hermione was craving different parts of her lover, for there was no part of Narcissa Hermione didn't love.
"Love." Hermione's voice was almost a croak, hoarse from being made to scream by her lovers tongue and talented fingers. Narcissa hummed against her skin to show she was listening. "I'm in need of something."
"What is it, darling?"
Hermione's lips turned up in a slow smile at the change. Narcissa only called her baby when she was desperate, horny and on fire; otherwise her elegant witch always called her darling. "Can you guess?" Hermione teased with a little tug to the locks of hair intertwined with her fingers.
"From the earthquake happening underneath my ear, yes, I have a guess darling." Narcissa teased back. She lifted her head so Hermione could see the simple happiness shining in her blue eyes.
Hermione had known her stomach was growling audibly enough to be heard, especially with Narcissa's ear pressed against her. "Good thing I have a wonderful lover who cooked prior to my arrival."
"Imagine that." Narcissa pressed a dozen kisses against Hermione's skin before finally coming up to her knees and then stepping off the bed. Hermione watched her, eyes hungry on her naked form even after hours of making love to her, as Narcissa stretched out her body. "Are you coming, darling."
"Not at the moment, but I probably could." Hermione teased. Narcissa shot her a glare, a playful one, and Hermione laughed. She bounded out of bed and managed to wrap her arms around Narcissa before the elder witch slid a simple silk robe around herself. "Covering your skin should be illegal." Hermione danced her fingers over pale smooth flesh. "I just," Hermione had no finish for her sentence so she merely groaned instead. She pulled Narcissa back into her a little harder. A gasp left the blonde witch's throat and she reached down to grip Hermione's forearms.
"I thought you were hungry."
"And then I saw you." Hermione said simply. Narcissa didn't try to hide her pleased smile; Hermione herself knew the feeling. There was something so intoxicating about knowing you were truly and wholeheartedly wanted.
"Well you're the reason I even got up from my very comfortable pillow, so you shall have to face the consequences." Narcissa informed her smartly.
"Yes Mistress." Hermione grinned. Narcissa flashed her a look, a dangerous look full of heat and promise, and Hermione felt it in her core like a bolt of lightning.
It was always this way between them. A look, a word, a fleeting touch; everything about them called to the other.
Narcissa tied the robe loosely about herself and conjured a matching one which she slid sensually over Hermione's body. "Thank you Cissa." Hermione murmured. Narcissa always did the little things, the little gestures, small acts so natural the blonde might not even know how much it meant to her.
Hermione glanced around for her wand and Narcissa pointed it out in the hallway. Hermione didn't even remember Narcissa pulling it from her hair so that her bun would fall loose. Hermione merely reached out her hand as she walked passed and her wand flew from the floor into her fingertips.
"You never cease to impress me." Narcissa murmured as she laid a kiss to Hermione's neck as she slid by.
"You're not used to it by now?"
"Used to you? Never." Narcissa's voice was matter of fact. "You're the most talented witch I've ever seen Hermione. I could never tell you that enough." Then she arched an eyebrow. "And there's no point in being humble about it."
Hermione raised her hands in defence. "Wouldn't dream of it. Have you been practicing?"
"In what spare time could I possibly have to practice magic?" Narcissa deadpanned sarcastically. She concentrated for a few seconds and then wandlessly, and silently, removed the stasis charm Hermione had placed on their meal. The smells of cooking permeated the small cabin once again.
Hermione grinned and darted over to practically pounce on Narcissa. "That was amazing! I'm so proud of you my love, that was absolutely perfect." Hermione held herself back from saying that it was an incredible improvement from the last attempt she witnessed because they were both well aware it would have been a year ago exactly.
They practically danced together in the kitchen, moving about each other with ease, gentle touches and smiles accompanying nearly every moment.
"Is this vegan?" Hermione asked as she plated the pasta dish Narcissa had made.
"Of course." Narcissa sounded so matter of fact. "I know you were only beginning to research it last year but I knew you would follow through. Once you thought about animals suffering you wouldn't be able to continue eating meat. It would remind you too much of torture." Narcissa accompanied her words by pressing her body along the length of Hermione's and holding her close.
Hermione loved the touch and appreciated the comfort but here, in this cabin with this woman, was where she had come to terms with her own wartime experiences. The aftereffects of being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange had been plaguing her more than she would have ever admitted to anybody; but Narcissa had seen right through her. Narcissa had always been able to see her.
"Thank you for the wonderful meal, love."
Narcissa gave a small gesture that on a less elegant person would have been a shrug. She was casual, like she had done nothing special. "I told you cream has no place in proper pasta anyway. And you haven't tasted it yet."
"I have faith in you." Hermione was telling the truth. It was still amazing to her sometimes how a pure-blooded witch who had never cooked before, for that was a job for House Elves, had taken to the kitchen.
Narcissa was a potioneer by trade and passion though, and that meant her skills translated easily over to cooking.
Hermione plated them each a portion and Narcissa poured them both a glass of wine. Narcissa was more of a connoisseur when it came to wine than Hermione was, but the elder witch also only stocked whites in the cabin because she knew Hermione would rather drink vinegar than a dry red.
They sat down together, side by side, practically sharing a spot at the table because they simply saw no reason to be separated by distance. Hermione moaned at the first taste of the dish her lover had made her. “Oh Merlin this is good.”
Narcissa smirked. “I wasn’t actually worried.”
“Of course not. Why be humble?” She teased. “Seriously though,” Hermione had to stop herself from shovelling her food like her ten year old son channeling his father, “this is impeccable. And exactly what I needed.”
“Good pasta?”
“Good pasta made by the witch I love.” Hermione smiled as Narcissa blushed around the rim of her wine glass.
“I adore cooking for the witch I love.” Narcissa said back softly. Speaking her emotions was a fairly new experience for the elder witch; something that directly correlated to Hermione. Growing up in a staunch pure-blooded traditional household meant she had been raised on rules like children should only be seen and heard when called upon or having opinions is not a woman’s place in a marriage. Narcissa had been cold and aloof even before her first year of Hogwarts. “How has the transition to vegan been at home?” Narcissa asked. They were both very careful in these questions because it was a tight rope that they walked.
They loved each other. Adored each other, wanted to know everything about the other. Hermione wanted to know what Narcissa felt and thought and believed. Wanted to know what she strived for and what was in her heart. She knew Narcissa felt the same. They wanted to be involved and included in the others life.
But they knew what they were doing. They knew they were having an affair that would be looked down upon by basically the entire wizarding world. Hermione was the Golden Girl; the pinnacle of standard that witches everywhere wanted to aspire to, a celebrity in all walks of life from academic to gossip. She had the, allegedly, perfect marriage that was celebrity in and of itself due to her fellow war hero husband.
Narcissa, on the other hand, was the disgraced former Mrs. Malfoy who had been on the wrong side of history in the worst wizarding war the modern community had ever seen. The popular public opinion was also that she had escaped punishment for her own wrong deeds throughout the years and was only walking free due to the last minute testimony of the Boy Who Lived himself. She was still thought of as a Dark Witch, the ice queen, one to be feared and ridiculed at every turn.
Hermione and Narcissa both rightfully feared the outcome should their affair ever go public. That meant their affair, their love, only ever existed in this cabin they called home for one week out of the year.
So asking questions about the rest of the year was sometimes tricky; especially asking about the other people in their life.
Hermione was careful not to mention Draco unless Narcissa brought him up first. She knew her lover felt the pain of Draco’s absence daily. Narcissa’s son had fled to France and started a new life without his mother almost as soon as the war trials were over. Hermione bled for Narcissa; she had given up every aspect of her life to save her son and now had to fight for even the smallest recognition from him. If Hermione ever came face to face with the last Malfoy she would likely slap him around the face once more. Lucius was easier to bring up since his passing in Azkaban; even before his death in prison Narcissa had been alright with the odd mention of her husband. There was no love lost there and any mention of him was an old story because Narcissa did not have visitation rights to see him; not that she’d have gone if she did.
No, it was Narcissa who was the most careful in her questions that could pertain to Hermione’s husband. The elder witch knew the situation. She knew Hermione left the cabin and went home to Ronald Weasley. She wasn’t prone to fits of jealousy but the red-headed wizard definitely wasn’t her favourite topic of conversation. Narcissa knew the younger witch’s marriage came down to nothing more than their children anymore.
But sometimes she still wanted to wring his neck for the way he’s treated the love of her life.
“It’s been mostly good.” Hermione brought them both out of their musing by answering the question that had been asked. “Hugo is still young enough he eats whatever I put in front of him. Rose I’ve actually been explaining things to, though. The child friendly version of course, but still explaining what meat really is and where it comes from.” She paused only for a breath. “He’s actually been the biggest issue.”
“Oh?” Narcissa’s face was carefully blank but Hermione could see through her. She could see the witch wanting to show her disdain for Ron but pure-blood politeness wouldn’t let her do it in front of his wife.
“It’s one of the biggest rows we got into this year actually. He refused to eat rabbit food,” she said this with a mocking tone, “said he was a man and other such nonsense. He actually expected I cook two completely different meals every day, one for myself and the kids and one for him.”
Narcissa actually smirked. “I would have liked to see your fire during that fight, darling.”
“There was definitely fire.” Hermione chuckled, amazed that Narcissa knew her well enough to always know when to make her chuckle and when to be serious. “He’s lucky he wasn’t actually set on fire.” Hermione drained her wine glass. “Harry became aware of the state of our marriage after that fight because I kicked him out for a weekend.”
Narcissa startled so badly her knife clanked against her plate and the blonde haired witch blushed. “My apologies, I just…”
“I know, love.” Hermione smiled lightly. “I…thought of you when I kicked him out. How could I not? I know it’s supposed to be here…only here. But…I kicked him out for the awful things he said and I thought of you.” Hermione was whispering by the time she was done.
At a touch from the younger witch Narcissa let more of her true emotions play across her features. “I’m sorry you were upset and hurt and that you live with someone who says awful things to you.”
“I’m sorry you’re alone in that big house without anyone to love you.”
They both chose to let the conversation drop. There was no point in dwelling on hard, sad conversations about things they couldn’t, wouldn’t, change. They only had so much time together in the cabin and they would be sad for as few seconds as possible. After all, Hermione had let Ron come home, of course, and Narcissa knew it. By the time the weekend was over the children were asking for their father and Hermione had decided years ago that she couldn’t rip the safety of their life away from her children.
“I loved the meal.” Hermione said warmly. She reached out for Narcissa’s hand and their fingers intertwined easily. “I love that you made it for me. I love you. I love the way you love me.”
“This is the only way I know how to love you.” Narcissa whispered. “My body, my soul, my brain, my heart… I…” She paused to gather her thoughts. She tried, and she was learning, but speaking straight off the cuff was still difficult for the elder witch. “I didn’t fall for you against my will. I didn’t fall, it wasn’t an accident. I chose to love you. I chose to let you in, I chose to see you. I made a choice, Hermione. And darling, it’s a choice that I make every day. Every day, I choose to love you in such a way that makes you want to love me back.”
Hermione’s eyes were welling by the time Narcissa had finished her little speech. Narcissa’s eyes were so blue in that moment, so deep, so open. The fire in her body ratcheted up a little. “How could I not? I fall in love with you over and over again. Every day, sometimes every minute, I fall in love with you. Falling in love with you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. You make it so easy.” Hermione leaned farther in her chair so she could kiss Narcissa’s lips gently. “You’re not my other half, I am a whole person. I could live without you, it’s not like I would die without you. But the whole person that I am is madly in love with you and I don’t want to live without you.”
“Then let’s spend some time truly living.” Narcissa whispered against her lips. Hermione reached out to touch her hair, her cheek, her neck, down her throat gently. They didn’t talk about how their time was limited; about how they could only do so much living.
“I want nothing more than to experience life with you, love.” Hermione touched Narcissa’s skin tenderly again; she was making direct eye contact with her. Her pupils dilated visibly. She loved this woman. This insanely beautiful woman with a past as convoluted as her own.
“Want to experience this life out on the beach with me, baby?”
Hermione’s answering grin was sultry and she couldn’t stop herself from biting her bottom lip in anticipation.