Archive of Our Own

They weren’t a secret, not really. The fact that they hadn’t told anyone about their… connection, or that Hermione had disabused Ginny of the notion that her association with Narcissa Black went any further than a hot but ill-fated one-nightstand, wasn’t keeping a secret. It was more that they were protective of what had grown between them, and that they still couldn’t quite name what was going on in the first place.

Hermione worried that she’d jinx their easy-going relationship, though was it a relationship if you didn’t call it that? She supposed a glass of water was still a glass of water, even if you called it a banana, or nothing. She hated overthinking, sadly her brain didn’t share that particular distaste. Thinking within Narcissa’s vicinity was also an adventure, though Hermione would freely admit that Narcissa was careful and considerate, always trying to avoid invading Hermione’s privacy. Well, she was all that unless it came to sex, then all bets were off. And they did indulge a lot in each other.

At first, Hermione had worried that that was all there was between them (then she fretted over worrying about that when she wasn’t supposed to want a relationship). After all, it had started out that way, as they’d admitted to each other a month later—that both had been looking for a night of fun and expected their encounter to be just that, yet, after that first month where they had spent half of all nights in each other’s beds, they admitted that a one-nightstand this was not. Still, they refused to name it.

The second time they met happened three days after their first run-in at the club. Both of them worked at the Ministry, though in different departments. They rarely interacted there, only during extradepartmental meetings did their paths even cross, so Hermione had been surprised one morning at work when a memo fluttered onto her desk, containing Narcissa’s elaborate and beautiful handwriting, asking her for tea that evening.

Hermione had grinned like an idiot before stilling as a frown spread over her features. Was that a real invitation for tea or a euphemism for sex? Their walk in the very early morning hours after that most spectacular first night had been full of whispered secrets and soft giggles, intermixed with pleasant silence as they’d strolled along the winding path of a nearby park. That meant they’d had more than sex that night, right? There was a connection. So, this was an invitation for tea?

She’d spent so much time lost in thought and worrying about the request that almost an hour later, a new memo drew her out of her reverie and the mechanical rote of completing paperwork she’d picked up again after a while.

‘ I apologize. I didn’t mean to be too forward. Please ignore my last message. NB’

“An invitation to tea is more forward than pushing your fingers inside me?” Hermione mumbled, then flushed, grateful she didn’t share her office with anyone else. But this now meant the previous note was an invitation for sex?

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” Hermione muttered and penned an answer. ‘I’d love to have tea with you. See you soon.’And off it went, and with it, their month of tea started, and oh, what a month it had been.

Then, came the Christmas holiday celebration at Andy’s, and with that, the near murder of one Ginevra Molly Potter, née Weasley. Though Andromeda also barely escaped her sister’s wrath.

They hadn’t even had dinner yet, but Hermione was pleasantly buzzed on eggnog—she couldn’t hold her liquor and feared Bill and Fleur’s offspring could soon drink her under the table—and, admittedly, also from ogling Narcissa in her breathtaking deep purple dress that clung to her figure like a second skin, accentuating those infernal hips (Hermione knew she’d done that on purpose), and only her wrapped jacket thingie made her outfit halfway decent, when Ginny settled down next to her on the couch.

“So, does Andy know you’ve shagged her baby sister? Do you think she’d be more upset about that or that her sister was robbing the cradle?” Ginny asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

Hermione sputtered, relieved she’d just emptied her glass, though she also regretted it from the perspective of not being able to pour it over Ginny’s head.

“Hush! What is wrong with you?” she hissed.

Ginny sighed. “That list is endless. To be honest, the kids are a lot, and so I gotta live vicariously through others, namely you. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you two have been… staring at each other. It’s a wonder you’re both still dressed. Where did you disappear to earlier? You were both suddenly gone.”

Hermione flushed and longed to wipe that smug, knowing grin off Ginny’s mouth. So what if they had made out in the hallway closet for a few minutes? They hadn’t seen each other in almost a week.

“Here’s the thing.” Ginny leaned closer. “If you don’t want people to catch on to your so-called one-nightstand, fix your face, because there’s a bit of drool. Right there,” she mumbled, pointing at Hermione’s mouth.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and glared at Ginny, unaware that across the room, Narcissa was mimicking Hermione’s expression.

Ginny chuckled and rose. “I gotta check on Harry. The twins were talking about the surprising wonders of the punch, and that has always been Harry’s favorite drink.” She left, leaving a pouting Hermione behind.

A moment later, Andromeda joined Hermione. “Hey. You’re all by yourself. Aren’t you having fun?” Before Hermione could reply, Andromeda turned toward Narcissa, who stood with a glass of wine in her hand next to the Christmas tree. “Cissa, while I know you love nature, I doubt the tree is good company. Not to mention, the colors clash with your outfit. Come over and join us. Go sit next to Hermione.”

Right. Because that was just what Hermione needed, to sit between the two Black sisters, right after Ginny had put into her head all the thoughts she had been trying (and failing) to suppress since leaving the closet. All the while, she struggled to block out the fact that she had spent most of her free time over the past six weeks having sex with her friend’s younger sister, who was thankfully not a Legilimens and who would probably kick her out of the house if she knew all the wicked things she had done to... Right. Plus, she was also sitting next to the subject of her musing, who was a bloody Legilimens, while she rambled on in her head.

That may also explain Narcissa’s expression—resembling a cat about to eat the canary (Hermione hoped she’d be Tweety in such a scenario)—as she sat down.

“You two need to bury the hatchet. The war’s been over for a long time, and you’re both my family. I want you to get along.”

“What?” Hermione asked and almost dropped the glass of wine that had been flown into her hand. She glared at Ginny who waved at her from across the room, seemingly having taken a break from trying to sober up Harry.

“Narcissa, that poor girl is frightened of you. Ginny told me she saw Hermione rush off the moment you arrived. This is getting ridiculous.”

Hermione clenched her jaw while trying not to shatter the glass in her hand.

“Are you afraid of me, Ms. Granger?” Narcissa’s eyes lit up, she crossed her legs and leaned closer to Hermione, who could smell her scent mixed with jasmine and had to stifle a groan as she recalled the last time they had been able to spend some time alone.

“No,” she croaked. Her voice actually cracked.

“For Salazar’s sake. You can’t ask such a question! Of course she’s going to deny it. And drop that ridiculous formality. We’re all family here. Hermione is practically our younger sister.”

Now it was Narcissa’s turn to sputter and Hermione was no longer the only one who was so uncomfortable she wanted to jump out of her skin.

Narcissa cleared her throat. “Andy, I think that’s taking things a bit too far.”

“Why? Don’t tell me you still believe all that blood purity nonsense, because I swear Cissa—”

“Of course not,” Narcissa’s tone was harsh and brooked no argument.

“Then what is it? You should invite Hermione over for tea. You could clear the air.”

“Oh, I’d love to have Hermione over for tea,” Narcissa said and dared to bat her eyes at Hermione who choked on her sip of wine while her ears burned.

Andy patted her back. “Are you OK?”

Hermione nodded through a few wheezes. The number of people she wanted to murder grew by the minute, though killing Narcissa would only gravely injure herself. She frowned while Narcissa laughed. Fine, two could play this game. If Narcissa felt the need to listen to Hermione’s thoughts, she’d show her something. She narrowed her eyes and sought Narcissa’s gaze whose eyes immediately widened as a flush spread over her face at the images Hermione sent her way.

“Cissa, are you all right? Are you coming down with something?” Andromeda rose and touched Narcissa’s forehead. “You’re all flushed. Do you need a potion? I have some in my bathroom cabinet.”

“I’m fine,” Narcissa snapped before rising. “If you’ll excuse me,” she pressed out before striding toward the bathroom.

Hermione, feeling both smug and jubilant, leaned back against the couch.

“I still think you should meet for tea,” Andy said.

“You and me both,” Hermione said with a sigh.

***

Narcissa splashed water into her face. Hermione would pay for this little interlude she’d sent her way. Merlin, what had she gotten herself into? Doubts or questions never crossed her mind when Hermione was with her, but when she was alone… That was another situation. She had a foot long list of reasons why she should end whatever was going on between her and the wizarding world’s Golden Girl, for Hermione was still that. The public still adored her and was waiting with bated breath for when she’d settle down like Weasley and Potter. How disappointed they’d been when Hermione had ended things with the youngest Weasley boy. Narcissa scoffed. As if he ever could have satisfied Hermione, and here, Narcissa wasn’t even just talking about the bedroom. Her problem was that this footlong list was always countered with one sentence marked down in the other column. She wanted Hermione. Fiercely. Impossibly.

She raised her head and glanced at her reflection before casting the spell to fix her make-up. She sighed. Her eyes still looked feverish. But damn that witch! Hermione was well aware that they hadn’t been together like that in what felt like forever. Work and family obligations had kept them apart. And that short moment in the closet hadn’t improved that situation one bit. To be fair, she likely shouldn’t have teased Hermione like that with Andy around—she knew how sensitive Hermione was when it came to anyone else knowing about their… not relationship. Her shoulders slumped. However, projecting the image and sound of Hermione coming on Narcissa’s tongue into her mind was uncalled for. She closed her eyes and tried to suppress the memory popping up again.

The main issue was Hermione’s mind. She’d never met a person with such an open, and intriguing mind. She’d always been sensitive to other people’s thoughts, but most of the minds she’d encountered weren’t interesting or were downright unpleasant, especially when their focus shifted on her. There were usually two reactions: disdain or lust. She couldn’t tell which one was easier to handle. Narcissa supposed it depended on how explicit and detailed their thoughts were. It had also led Narcissa to learn how to shield her mind at a young age, for puberty had been too generous right away. She generally excelled at shielding her mind.

Yet, for some unknown reason, and Narcissa may or may not have researched this, Hermione’s thoughts went through every shield she tried to erect. It wasn’t that she desired to keep Hermione out—it had been more of an effort in curiosity—no, she loved the privilege of being privy to Hermione’s thoughts, especially during their more intimate moments. Narcissa shuddered. She did worry though about invading Hermione’s privacy. Would Hermione one day grow uncomfortable with Narcissa’s skill and what it meant for them, for her, and so she’d walk away?

Narcissa chastised herself for such thoughts. She was jumping ahead, on the sure track to getting her heart broken, given Hermione’s reluctance to share what was going on between them with anyone. Why was that? Narcissa didn’t dare to ask for she was afraid of the answer, but that reluctance left her with more questions than answers, and sometimes the mind conjured up worse fears than reality could create. Yet, how could she not fear losing something she’d never experienced before and didn’t even realize she’d wanted, no, needed? No one had ever seen her the way Hermione did, and she genuinely doubted that anyone had ever wanted her more than Hermione did.

But that was the crux of the issue. What exactly did Hermione want? She wanted them to be a secret, yet she couldn’t wait to spend more time with Narcissa. Not once had Hermione declined an invitation. She’d even rearranged her schedule and altered a previous engagement when Narcissa had asked her to come over for tea. Narcissa chuckled. She never thought she’d use that as a euphemism, though it wasn’t intended as such at the start.

They hadn’t yet met without having sex, and that too worried Narcissa because it seemed to give credence to the theory that that was all Hermione wanted from her. Then it would also make sense why Hermione wanted them to remain discreet. Was it her heritage? The occurrences during the war? The fear of the reactions of others—strangers or loved ones alike—when they found out who was sharing the bed of their war hero? Was it Draco? The age difference? Narcissa blanched. There was nothing she could do about that. In fact, there wasn’t anything she could do about a single one of these potentially ruinous issues.   

“Cissa? Are you all right? If you don’t answer, I’m coming in right now!” Andy called, knocking on the bathroom door.

“I’m fine,” Narcissa replied. “I’ll be right out.”

“You better. Dinner is served.”

Narcissa exhaled harshly and pulled at her dress, straightening it before exiting the loo. Before she could reach the formal dining room, Andromeda grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side.

“What is it with you?”

“I’m fine. Not everyone appreciates your… peacemaking efforts.”

“You have no reason to hold any grudges against that girl. She, on the other hand—”

“She’s not a girl,” Narcissa hissed. 

“What, she’s half our age. Of course she’s a girl. That’s beside the point, though. She’s a truly sweet and genuine person. She’s helped me a lot after the war, with Teddy and Dora.” She sighed and averted her gaze.

Narcissa reached out and squeezed her upper arm. “Why is this so important to you?”

“I don’t know. Hermione seems… lonely.” She tilted her head. “Or she seemed lonely and sullen until she finally broke up with that moron she’d dated for two years. But no, even after that… She felt off, but now…” She placed her index finger on her lips. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Salazar, help me! I think Hermione might have a new beau.”

Narcissa clenched her jaw. “I’m sure if there were someone new in Ms. Granger’s life, she’d have not appeared alone tonight.”

Andy waved her off. “You don’t know her.”

Narcissa feared she would have to visit a dentist after all considering the way she was grinding her teeth to keep from lashing out.

“She’s not open about her feelings. Never has been. You’ve to pry everything out of her.”

Now Narcissa’s eyebrows rose. Perhaps it was her sister who did not know Hermione at all.

Andy sighed.

“Why are we standing here discussing Ms. Granger when you said the food was ready?”

“Because you need to stop scaring the child!”

“She’s not a child!”

“Whatever. Come on. I’m hungry. Try to be nice.”

Narcissa chose to fume in silence and followed Andromeda into the dining room. After her sister had sat down, naturally, the only remaining seat was next to Hermione. She straightened her posture and strode to her seat before settling next to her… whatever she was. “Ms. Granger,” she mumbled.

“Ms. Black,” Hermione replied in an equally hushed tone.

They started to eat, and after a moment, when Narcissa felt that all potential attention—she may have lowered her shields to make sure—was off them, she slipped off her shoes and pressed one of her legs against Hermione before trailing her foot up her lower leg. Narcissa had been delighted to see Hermione wearing a skirt when she’d arrived, though this current occurrence had not been in her thoughts then. Still, the skirt had also proven beneficial during their earlier stolen moment in the closet.

Hermione, who had been in the process of eating a bite, froze but didn’t shift her attention toward Narcissa. After a short moment, she continued eating and ignored—outwardly—Narcissa’s caresses.

Narcissa continued to eat, allowing Hermione to lull herself into believing that this was it, that Narcissa would only take this game so far.

Once dessert was served, Narcissa dropped her right hand into her lap, once more ensuring a level of privacy before she glided her hand along Hermione’s thigh.

Hermione coughed.

“Are you all right, dear?” Molly asked.

“Yes, yes. Wrong pipe,” Hermione replied, adding a fake cough before she glared at Narcissa who merely smiled at her, then squeezed her thigh again.

Ginny eyed them for a moment, but then Harry thankfully distracted her. The young man was growing on Narcissa after all.

She let another minute pass before she bunched up Hermione’s skirt and settled her hand on Hermione’s warm, naked thigh.

Hermione worried her lower lip but remained still and silent.

Luna, the queen of oblivious wisdom, who sat on the other side of Hermione, chose that moment to involve Hermione in a conversation.

Narcissa smiled. This should be fun.

“I think there’s a strange energy in this house,” Luna said between bites of her chocolate mousse.

“What?” Hermione frowned but allowed Narcissa to spread her legs farther.

“At first I thought it’s because Andy didn’t hang up the right number of Mistletoes. I told her there needed to be fifty-three all across the house, but…”

At this point, Narcissa tuned Luna out and instead shifted all her attention to Hermione’s physical and mental reactions to her scratching her semi-blunt nails up Hermione’s inner thigh.

Hermione held back a gasp, but Narcissa heard her groan in her head, and she also felt the wave of excitement that drummed through Hermione. It was a conflicted mixture of delight and worry. How far would Narcissa go? How far did Hermione want her to go? Hermione’s emotions and arousal slammed into Narcissa like the bludger that had knocked her unconscious in fifth year.

Narcissa grabbed her glass and gulped down a large sip of water, unaware that she’d tightened her grip on Hermione’s leg and was digging her nails into soft, sensitive flesh until she heard Hermione’s whimper of “Cissa,” in her head.

Narcissa released her grip and slammed down her glass.

All eyes turned to her.

She cleared her throat. “Spicy,” she croaked.

“The chocolate mousse?” Ginny asked in an incredulous voice.

“Some people taste spice differently,” Luna chimed it. “I always thought milk is spicy.”

“Right,” Ginny drawled, shifting her gaze between Narcissa and Hermione.

Narcissa startled when Hermione found her hand and squeezed it before continuing her discussion with Luna.

Narcissa wanted to stop here, the game she’d started was slowly going over her head. As always, Hermione was forever apt at turning the tables.

 Narcissa continued her dessert before she choked, and while chocolate mousse was thankfully a forgiving substance when it came to choking, she didn’t need anyone’s attention when Hermione was drawing Narcissa’s hand up between her thighs.

Yet, Hermione continued her conversation with Luna as if nothing had happened.

Narcissa stifled a muffled groan at the copious amount of wet heat her trembling fingers encountered once Hermione shifted her fingers beneath her panties to feel the sodden flesh between Hermione’s spread legs, but at least she still had enough wherewithal to register the tremble that ran through Hermione at her touch.

Narcissa loved how responsive Hermione was, how she reacted to Narcissa and was open to Narcissa’s many delicious ideas for their nights between soft sheets. She adored how Hermione held nothing back, least of all how much she enjoyed what they were doing.

Now, though, Narcissa shuddered with surprise and elation, but there were limits to how far they could take this here, amongst their family and friends.

Still, how could she resist? She drew her fingers up and swirled them over Hermione’s swollen nub.

Hermione cleared her throat and closed her legs, trapping Narcissa’s hand which had stilled, then rubbed her fingertips over Narcissa’s fingers.

“Wait a moment,” Hermione said to Luna before turning to Narcissa and leaning close to whisper into her ear, “I know you could’ve heard that in your head, too, but I want you to feel my breath when I say this. After this party is over, we’ll head to your flat and I’ll fuck you until your voice is hoarse and you pass out.”

Narcissa’s eyes fell shut and a shudder travelled through her frame as a wave of hot arousal coiled low in her stomach and her panties grew damper than they’d already been. She held Hermione’s hand in a vise grip, trying to regulate her breathing.

“Don’t worry. They can’t hear or see us. I cast the notice-me-not and muffilato spells,” Hermione breathed, licking up the shell of Narcissa’s ear.

Narcissa clenched her jaw. “So does that mean no one would notice it if I placed you on the table, dropped to my knees and buried my head between your legs?”

Hermione groaned. “Don’t give me any ideas, Cissa. You’ve not been playing nice since the moment in the closet.”

“And whose fault was that?”

Hermione grinned.

“Never mind that little memory you sent my way.” She pouted.

“It’s not my fault you are brilliant at making me come.”

Narcissa sighed and closed her eyes.

“How long do you think we have to stay before we can leave without upsetting your sister?”

“Andromeda deserves to be upset,” Narcissa grumbled.

“Well, her suggestion about having tea wasn’t terrible.”

Narcissa chuckled.

“We have to make sure no one suspects anything, so we can’t leave together.”

“Naturally,” Narcissa said with a heavy sigh. All excitement drained out of her. This truly was just about sex.

Hermione frowned. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” As if she’d talk about this. Now and here of all places.

“Right.” Hermione tilted her head.

Silence stretched and Narcissa was about to undo Hermione’s spells, no longer able to bear all that wasn’t said between them, when Hermione removed her hand from between her legs, brought it up to her mouth and kissed her fingers.

“I believe you’re misunderstanding me.”

“I doubt that.”

“I’m not ashamed of you. Of… us.”

“Of course.” She wanted to pull her hand back, but Hermione held on tight.

“I never dared to talk about what is going on between us because I was worried you’d slip away.”

Narcissa’s brows furrowed.

“You’re like this delicate bird, a hummingbird. I feel alive in your presence, but I always… It seems too good to be true. We shouldn’t be so compatible, but we are. In every aspect.”

Hermione was right. She’d marveled at this as well.

“There’s all this baggage between us, and most of it wasn’t our own doing. People still have so many ideas about who I am. Who I should be or how I should live my life.”

“And you don’t want to disappoint them by being associated with the ex-wife of a former Death Eater.”

“What? No! I don’t care what other people think about me. My life is my own, and I’m not going to waste it by trying to please other people or fulfill their ideas about who I am, not to mention, they neither know me nor do they care about me.” Hermione shook her head.

Narcissa remained quiet but Hermione held her entire attention.

“Even if they did. Even if they loved me and I loved them. I cannot be who I am not. And if someone were to leave me because they can’t handle all of me?” She shrugged. “So be it.”

Narcissa felt her heart stutter. Hermione was magnificent.

“I didn’t want anyone to know about us because I don’t want them to intrude.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m selfish. I want you all to myself. I don’t want double dates with Ginny and Harry. I don’t want lunches with Andromeda. I don’t want supper with Draco and his family.”

Narcissa shook her head. “I don’t understand. Those are your people, too.”

“Yes.” She squeezed Narcissa’s hand again. “And down the road, if you… if we last and you want the same, I want all that, too. But right now…” Hermione flushed. “My thoughts are full of you. Of us. I want you all the time, and it’s so hard to think of anything or anyone else when you’re there. And a lot of my thoughts are not… suitable for mixed company.”

“I’m quite aware of that.”

“Yes, you are. So how can you believe that I’m ashamed of you?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

Narcissa shook her head. “I know you want me.” Her gaze flickered to Hermione’s lap.

Hermione crossed her legs.

“But do you want more than that?”

***

Hermione struggled to voice her thoughts as her emotions ran rampant and were all over the place. Narcissa had to believe her. Did she truly think that all Hermione wanted was sex? Yes, they’ve had a lot of sex these last six weeks, but they had more than that. Didn’t they?”

“I want all of you. Or whatever you’re ready and willing to give me.” In for a penny.

Narcissa’s eyes widened, and she opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“I understand if this is too much for you. That’s why I didn’t say anything, and—”  

Narcissa surged forward and pressed her mouth against Hermione’s lips. “I want all of you, too.” She smiled and tears welled in her eyes. She pulled Hermione’s hand up to her chest. “I don’t know how, but you’ve had all of me from the start.”

Hermione laughed as tears streamed down her face and she pulled Narcissa close, kissing her deeply.   

When they pulled back, Narcissa released a shuddering breath. “Maybe we can leave in half an hour?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. We will stay for another hour. Consider it delayed gratification.”

Narcissa groaned.

Two hours later, they apparated inside Narcissa’s flat, and Hermione stopped them, pulling Narcissa close when the older witch tried to pull her into the bedroom.

“What now? Hasn’t the gratification been delayed enough? I might murder my sister, yet.” she growled.

Hermione laughed. “Only if I can murder Ginny. We can help each other bury the bodies?”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. A Muggle saying.”

“Instead of contemplating annihilation of our closest friends, why don’t you tell me why I shouldn’t drag you to my bedroom?

“Because I want to taste you on your island.”

Narcissa groaned. “Believe me, dear, that’s more fun in theory than in practice.”

“Oh? You’ve done that before?” Hermione hated how her voice sounded, and how her stomach turned into knots at the thought of Narcissa with anyone else—anyone else doing that to her. She knew Narcissa hadn’t been a virgin before she met her, Draco alone, not to mention, being married to that peacock obsessed prick, and that there were others. It still stung.

“You’re jealous.” Narcissa’s tone was full of wonder.

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not.” She sighed. “Fine. I don’t want to be. It’s an unpleasant and destructive emotion. I don’t own you, nor do I want to do so. You’ve had a life before me, as did I, and the past doesn’t matter anyway. We haven’t even really said what we are, and—”

“Hush, darling,” Narcissa soothed. “I generally enjoy your ramblings, but not when they cause you grief. It will take me some time to adjust to this… to the fact that it wasn’t just me who got lost in this, and who wants more than the physical.”

“I still want the physical.”

Narcissa chuckled. “Oh, that definitely remains on the table.”

“You mean on the island?”

Narcissa shook her head. “No one else has ever been here before.”

“Huh?”

“Everyone else I’ve enjoyed for a night of fun… It was never here.”

“But you took me here that first night.”

Narcissa raised one eyebrow.

“Oh,” Hermione breathed as pure joy spread through her. “So this island…”

“Has never seen any other action than cutting or making cookies.”

“But you said...”

“I can imagine how something will be, dear. Just like I might find the idea of driving a camper through Britain appealing, but I don’t do it because I know I’d hate every second of it.”

“You do?”

“What?”

“Want to drive a camper through Britain?”

“No! Of course not. Muggles have their ingenious ways, but that’s not one of them.” She shuddered. “It was merely an example to show how yes, I can see the appeal of the island, but it won’t be worth it in the morning. Not when we have a supremely comfortable bed just across the room.”

Hermione smiled, leaned closer and claimed Narcissa’s lips in a kiss. “Do you trust me?”

“I believe we’ve established that.”

“I’ve had this fantasy, and… I’ve put a lot of thought into it.”

“Into the fantasy? Of me on the island?”

“Yes. Of you on the island with your legs spread and my mouth on you.”

Narcissa swallowed hard, and her gaze drifted from Hermione to said island.

“And quite a few of those thoughts dealt with making this fantasy a reality.”

“I see.”

Hermione pulled at Narcissa’s hand and guided her to the island where she vanished the fruit bowl before lifting Narcissa on top of it.

“Oh.” Narcissa inhaled sharply. “When? How?”

“We’re witches, Cissa.” Hermione rose onto her tiptoes and kissed Narcissa again, sucking at her lower lip.

“I love it when you surprise me.” Narcissa returned and deepened the kiss.

Hermione’s heart swelled, and she congratulated herself on adding a warming and cushioning charm onto the island’s marble surface. Her fantasy had very much included Narcissa being comfortable and able to concentrate on Hermione’s ministrations. “As much as I love this dress and the way it accentuates your hips, it needs to go,” Hermione rasped.

“Does it now?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then. Since you’ve made this island so comfortable…” Narcissa trailed off.

Then the dress disappeared.

Hermione groaned. “This is what you’ve been wearing underneath and I didn’t know!”

Narcissa smiled, then spread her legs, seemingly to offer Hermione a better view of a black lace thong and a lace suspenders belt. “You can’t wear any different underwear with this dress without seeing lines. It’s cold outside, and I dislike stockings that are sliding.”

Hermione groaned again and covered her face with her hands before dropping them right away as she wanted nothing to inhibit her vision. She caught Narcissa’s gaze. Despite her matter-of-fact tone and the sliver of amusement in her voice, Hermione noted her accelerated breathing, the slight tremble in her legs, and her fidgeting fingers. “Is that so?” Hermione asked and stepped closer, right between the v of Narcissa’s legs.

Narcissa held her gaze but the tension between them only grew.

“You didn’t by any chance envision me finding out about your attire in that closet?”

“You’re the one who dragged me in there.”

“Because you’re you and you were wearing that dress! Then that stunt at the table!”

“That you thoroughly enjoyed and escalated. You were so wet. You ached for my touch.”

Hermione clenched her jaw. Narcissa was right and she knew it, so why should Hermione confess to a truth they were both cognizant of?

“So you didn’t picture me seeing this, or doing that?” Hermione drew her hands from the belt down over the bare lace of her thong, down to the suspenders and moved to unsnap them before halting.

“I didn’t say that,” Narcissa said with a tremulous voice.

Hermione smiled and shifted to take off Narcissa’s underwear, but while doing so, she ran her fingers over the cloth, slow and with minimal pressure. “It’s so soft,” she mumbled.

Narcissa moaned and the veins on her arms grew more prominent when she leaned back and dropped her head.

“That bra is also a sight to behold.” Hermione leaned forward and sucked at Narcissa’s nipple through the fabric of her maroon-colored bra.

Narcissa panted, then lifted her hips to aid Hermione in taking off her panties.  

Hermione slowly rolled the fabric down Narcissa’s legs placing kisses on her thighs, knees, then lower legs along the way. “I think we’ll leave on the belt and the stockings,” Hermione whispered while rising back to her feet.

Narcissa groaned and reclined on the island, letting her legs fall open.

Hermione’s heart clenched before seemingly bursting free of her chest for how fast it was racing. The sight of Narcissa spread out on the island like that? Her fantasy was rubbish because this was… she had no words. Thankfully, her body knew what to do.

Hermione rushed forward, kissing Narcissa’s trembling belly before sinking down to nuzzle between her legs. She pulled back a bit to take in Narcissa’s red, glistening folds and the way her legs shook when Hermione trailed her fingers from Narcissa’s knee up to her mound.

With a sudden dash forward, Hermione lowered her head to finally taste the slick heat between Narcissa’s legs.

Narcissa moaned and ground her hips hard against Hermione’s face.

Hermione ran her tongue up Narcissa’s length before returning to her entrance to play with fast licks, then she added slow circles, all the while enjoying Narcissa getting louder. Finally, she pushed her tongue inside and delighted in Narcissa’s helpless groans and whimpers. She loved how loud Narcissa could get during their love making.

***

Narcissa couldn’t believe this. Not only was she lying almost completely nude on her kitchen island, warm and comfortable, thanks to Hermione’s foresight, but she’d also learned that her feelings were reciprocated, and this wasn’t just about sex.

She’d been worked up for most of the holiday celebration and her body practically hummed with arousal. Hermione’s reaction to her underwear had been better than she’d hoped, and it had only heightened her excitement.

Now, Hermione seemed determined to kill her with foreplay. Hadn’t the evening at Andromeda’s more than fulfilled that quota? She wanted to feel Hermione inside her, and she wanted her mouth on her clit. Yet, while Hermione had teased her with pushing her tongue inside for a short moment, it only worsened her ache.

“Hermione,” she whimpered. “Please.”  Narcissa didn’t beg in the bedroom. At least she hadn’t before now. Then again, this was the kitchen, not the bedroom, so did that even count?

She shuddered when Hermione once more pressed her tongue inside.

Narcissa wanted more. Her hands grasped for Hermione’s head, and she tried to move her up, willed her to find her way to…

Narcissa fell back down and almost screamed at the wave of emotions and images—Hermione’s fantasies, her arousal from earlier tonight plus her happiness and affection during their confession washed over Narcissa, inundating her, soaking her to the bone with lust and something so warm and tender, she thought her heart would explode.

Hermione tightened her grip on Narcissa’s thighs before finally moving up and sucking the blonde witch’s clit into her mouth, combining pressure with hard and fast strokes while pushing two fingers into Narcissa.

“Yes!” Narcissa called out, her body shook as she undulated her hips in the rhythm of Hermione’s clever tongue and fingers. “More,” she ground out, and Hermione complied and with a groan of her own, pushed the remaining fingers inside Narcissa.

Narcissa’s eyes fell shut and her chest heaved with hard pants as her body adjusted to the size of Hermione inside her.

Hermione sped up her thrusts while also increasing the pace of her tongue, sucking hard at Narcissa’s clit.

Both women were covered in a sheen of sweat as their harsh breathing rang through the stillness of the room.

Narcissa’s body grew taut, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to last, though she wanted to desperately. She tried to hold on, but then Hermione managed to hit that perfect spot inside while her searing tongue offered the perfect counterpoint, and with a shout, Narcissa fell into an almost violent release as her body quaked and shivered. Narcissa seemed unable to stop shaking as a series of aftershocks flitted through her frame.

Hermione kept sucking and licking her until Narcissa grasped her head and pulled her up. “Enough,” she croaked, hardly recognizing her own voice.

“You’re so delicious,” Hermione mumbled before climbing on top of Narcissa, who was surprised when she realized that Hermione was completely naked, and connected their lips in a fervent kiss.

Narcissa had never enjoyed her own taste on anyone’s lips before, but like with everything else, Hermione had changed even that, and so she greedily sucked Hermione’s tongue into her mouth while sneaking one hand between Hermione’s legs. Narcissa closed her eyes and moaned. “You’re so wet.”

“Because you’re stupidly sexy,” Hermione pressed out, then groaned when Narcissa pushed three fingers inside while using her thumb to play with her swollen clit.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is a compliment,” Hermione relayed in a strained voice before kissing Narcissa again. Then she pulled back. “I’m not going to last.”

“We have all night,” Narcissa murmured, picking up the pace of her ministrations, needing to see Hermione get lost in her pleasure.

After a few more strokes, Hermione froze, and while clawing at Narcissa’s back, she shuddered and trembled in a hard release before sinking bonelessly onto Narcissa and leaving sloppy kisses on her neck.

Narcissa idly caressed Hermione’s back and after a moment of stillness, she asked, “can we continue this in the bedroom?”

Hermione laughed. “Yes. As soon as my legs stop trembling.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you the younger one here?”

“Yes, but I’m also the last one who’s had an orgasm.”

“The latest one, dear,” Narcissa corrected her.

“Right. My bad.” Hermione kissed Narcissa’s neck again before sliding off her and holding out her hand. “Come on. I have plans for you.”

“I thought we’d just fulfilled your plans for the night.”

“You’re still conscious, aren’t you?”

Narcissa narrowed her eyes, jumped off the island and slapped Hermione’s butt.

“Hey! Not fair. Why do I get punished for trying to make good on my promises?”

Narcissa laughed. “Yes, why indeed. Though for the record, this wasn’t a punishment. You’d know the difference, believe me.”

“Right,” Hermione said with wide eyes, but followed Narcissa as she interlocked their hands, and together, they padded toward the bedroom.