FIC: Devotion of Mine (Harry Potter) (Patreon)

Summary: A drunken boob grope that Hermione accepts with a smile is the catalyst that leads to Harry discovering just how devoted his best friend is to him. (Harry/Hermione)

Content Warnings/Themes: Public sex, Hermione is Bellatrix levels of devoted to Harry (I don’t know how to turn this into a pretty theme label, but yeah, it’s there)

Patreon Exclusive/Early Access

It all started when Harry and Hermione spent Halloween getting sloshed at her flat.

That had become a tradition that had started the first Halloween after the end of the war. Harry had always been so focused on staying alive and dealing with whatever the current threat was that he hadn’t had much time to mourn his parents on their anniversary of their murders, but with Voldemort dead and Hogwarts in his past, Halloween had become a night where his best friend helped him talk through his grief. She kept refilling his glass with Firewhisky, having stated quite logically the first time they did this three years ago to the day that getting drunk allowed Harry to talk about his feelings openly rather than bottling them up. She wasn’t wrong about that, but that was no surprise. In his experience, Hermione was rarely ever wrong about anything.

His grief for his murdered parents and lost childhood wasn’t the only thing that the alcohol helped to bring out of him though. It also allowed him, or more like forced him, to be honest about his sexual desires. He didn’t like to think about it, and wouldn’t dare to ever tell her, but the truth was that Harry thought Hermione was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

He’d first become aware of her as a girl rather than his brilliant best friend when he’d seen her in her dress robes at the Yule Ball, and for the rest of their time at Hogwarts he’d tried to distract himself from that realization, first with Cho and later with Ginny. Ron was obviously interested in her, but more importantly, she was his best friend and the most important person in his life. He couldn’t risk letting his hormones ruin that, and that was why he spent 364 days a year repressing any and all physical attraction to Hermione Granger.

This day was different, though. This was the one night a year where Hermione encouraged him to keep drinking until he’d gotten his feelings out in the open, and along with his feelings came his lust. This was the night where he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t find his best friend incredibly sexy, that he couldn’t forget how often he’d had to lie in the tent in the middle of the night waiting for his erection to go down after he’d accidentally caught of glimpse of her and seen more of her body than he was meant to. On Halloween, his desire became hard to ignore. And something about this year made it harder than ever before.

Had he gotten more drunk than usual? Was her recent break-up with Ron removing one of his big sources of guilt and letting his eyes linger? Or did her body just look too fucking incredible in her skirt that displayed a generous amount of thigh and her too-tight jumper that allowed him to ogle her breasts far better than he could in the Ministry while she was wearing her bulky work robes?

Whatever was at the root of it, Harry found his body moving before his brain could work through its drunken haze and shut it down. He leaned across the couch, and just as Hermione put the empty bottle of Firewhisky down and turned towards him, his arms stretched out towards her chest. His movements were clumsy enough in his drunken state that Hermione probably should have had time to swat his hands away before they reached their target, but maybe her own drunkenness had dulled her senses as well. She generally handled her liquor very well, admittedly, and it was true that he hadn’t seen her refill her glass nearly as often as she’d topped his up, but still, that had to be the reason she didn’t stop him, right?

There could be no other reason that, when Harry’s hands landed on her breasts, Hermione just sat there calmly, not looking the least bit bothered. Only her drunkenness could explain why she allowed him to squeeze her tits through her jumper and still did not grab his wrists and pull his hands off of her, and instead just sat and smiled at him. There was no way that a sober Hermione would have let him squeeze her tits through her jumper, and she certainly wouldn’t have actually pulled the jumper up to allow him to grope her boobs with only her bra in the way.

Would she? Drunk Harry couldn’t make sense of it, but before his vision went blurry and he had to rush off to the toilet, he remembered thinking that the Harry of November 1st was going to be spending the whole day trying to figure this out.

Or maybe that would be up to the Harry of November 2nd. November 1st Harry might be too hung-over to do anything but curse his throbbing headache and vow that he would never let a drop of alcohol touch his lips ever again.

--

November 2nd Harry did do plenty of thinking, as did November 3rd Harry, and November 4th Harry. By the time the 5th rolled around, he was ready to try and find out what in the hell was going on.

He’d talked to Hermione two days after his drunken Halloween grope, but she hadn’t reacted at all how he had expected her to. Yes, she remembered everything that happened on Halloween night, but no, she had not had any need of a hangover potion the following morning. According to her, she’d actually had even less Firewhisky than she had the previous year. She’d woken the next morning with not even the mildest headache, and she’d had plenty of energy to attack her work at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures with all of her customary efficiency and enthusiasm. She claimed to have not been the least bit affected by the relatively small amount of Firewhisky on Halloween, either afterwards or during the night itself.

So why had she allowed him to grope her tits through her jumper? Why had she even pulled the jumper up around her neck to let him grope her over her bra? When Harry had asked her this question (after he was confident that she wasn’t angry at him), her answer had stunned him.

“Because it’s you, Harry,” she’d said, matter-of-factly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” She’d said it like it was the most natural thing in the world; like it was so obvious that she couldn’t even understand why he’d asked her. He could never have asked for a more loyal friend, and he’d never doubted that she would be there for him. But didn’t she realize that this wasn’t a normal attitude for one friend to have about another? Last night, Harry had decided that he was going to put her statement to the test. He was going to find out just how deep Hermione’s devotion to him ran.

She was currently presenting him with the perfect opportunity, too. They were in the Ministry of Magic cafeteria line, and Hermione was bending over to scoop salad onto her plate. She’d taken off her robes before heading down for lunch, so her arse looked incredible in her smart trousers. Before, Harry would have felt guilty about staring. But this time, he didn’t stop at staring. He reached out and placed his hand on her hip, giving it a squeeze and letting her feel it there. Then he slowly moved it towards her arse, giving her all the time in the world to shoo his hand away or even simply step back if she didn’t want to draw attention to it.

But she didn’t. Hermione just stood there as his fingers reached her bum and rubbed back and forth. His fellow auror and former dorm mate Neville gasped in surprise, having a perfect view of Harry’s arm and seeing where his hand was and what it was doing. Harry went still, leaving his hand on Hermione’s bum and waiting to see how she would react now that he was touching her arse with one of their friends there to see it?

Still there was no reaction from her, other than spooning her chosen toppings onto her salad. Getting bolder, Harry put his left hand on her other cheek and gave her arse a firm squeeze. A few more Ministry workers saw that, and they stopped to gawk at the public groping. But Hermione didn’t even flinch.

“Can we claim a table? I would like to eat my lunch before I have to go back, Harry,” she said calmly. He started to pull his hand back, but she reached around to hold it in place on her arse. “But I can eat standing up if you like. That way I can eat my salad, and you can sit down and eat with one hand while you use the other to play with my bum.”

--

Minister Shacklebolt, or simply Kingsley to Harry (at the Minister’s insistence), sat on the opposite side of Harry’s desk, shifting uneasily. He had come to try and discuss the upcoming raid on the latest group of wannabe Death Eater sympathizers, but he kept losing his train of thought.

Harry could understand why. For someone who wasn’t used to it, the sound of Hermione Granger bobbing on his cock was probably incredibly distracting. For his part, though, Harry had been given plenty of time to get used to it over the last several weeks.

Yes, Hermione’s devotion to him really did seem to know no bounds. That arse-groping in the Ministry cafeteria had only been the beginning. Nearly every day since then, he had made requests of Hermione that no reasonable best friend would do for another, and she had carried out every single one of them without even the slightest hesitation or hint of embarrassment. He couldn’t understand what it was, but something about taking care of him seemed to cut through her usual morals, her sense of right and wrong and her modesty. He’d had an enormous amount of fun exploring this unexpected side of his best friend, whether it was with a handjob under the table at a Weasley family dinner, a tittyfuck in the stall of the loo, or even her pulling her knickers off and spreading her legs so he could go down on her at lunch.

Her mouth was his favorite, though. He hadn’t allowed himself to fuck her properly; something about that felt permanent, and he still wasn’t sure where this was heading. Even though he knew the depths of her devotion for him by now, and knew that she would have allowed him to fuck her as easily as she’d done everything else, that was a line he still hadn’t been willing to cross. She’d made casual mention of having gone on a few dates with a new guy, and even if that hadn’t stopped her from doing whatever Harry wanted her to, it had made him pause and question how far he should push this and how long it could go on.

That uncertainty had not stopped him from enjoying her mouth, however. Ginny had given him a couple of blowjobs during their relationship, but Hermione quite literally blew her away. She was incredibly skilled, but it was the enthusiasm that really did it. Ginny’s sucking had always been tentative, like she was afraid to get dirty or make herself choke on his thickness. Hermione was just the opposite. She didn’t mind getting the mess on her face that was a byproduct of a nice, sloppy blowjob, and gagging and choking was nothing to be feared either.

In fact, it was the sound of her pushing through her gag reflex and taking his cock all the way down her throat that had to be the biggest factor behind Kingsley’s failure to get his point across. Harry wondered how much harder Kingsley would struggle to concentrate if he could feel Hermione’s throat vibrating around his cock as she hummed, rather than just hearing it from the other side of the desk. It wasn’t like there was any chance of that happening, though. When it came to everyone but him, Hermione was the same person he’d known for a decade. It was only his desk she would crawl under for some late afternoon cocksucking if he so much as suggested it. Harry wondered if this new guy of hers would ever get his cock worshipped so easily by her.

“Something the matter, Kingsley?” Harry asked when the man’s mouth opened and closed several times without anything coming out.

“Err, no,” the Minister mumbled, averting his eyes. “I think you understand the plan for the raid well enough, don’t you?”

“I do,” Harry said, nodding. “And I’ll be ready for it.”

“Good,” Kingsley said. Whatever he’d been about to say next was lost, because it was at that moment that Hermione loudly gulped down Harry’s seed. “Err, thank you for your discretion, Harry.”

“Of course, Kingsley,” Harry said with a smile. The story of him groping Hermione’s arse in the cafeteria had made its way as far as the Daily Prophet, though it had been dismissed by most that hadn’t seen it as mere tawdry gossip about two of the biggest heroes of the war, who were surely too upstanding to do something like that. Harry had been more careful about where and when he exploited Hermione’s devotion after that, per Kingsley’s private request. No one else around the Ministry had seen anything scandalous since then, and Hermione was a hard enough worker that she easily completed all of her tasks regardless of how busy Harry might keep her at various points throughout the workday. Around Kingsley, though, Harry didn’t care much. He knew that it was in the Minister’s best interests to act as if nothing was amiss.

“Thank you for your discretion, Harry,” Kingsley said, getting up quickly and heading for the door. Harry reached underneath the desk and caressed Hermione’s bushy brown hair while he watched the Minister leave.

--

“It was so nice of the Grangers to invite us both along, don’t you think, seeing as neither of us had anywhere else to spend our Christmas? Though I suppose my attendance was a given. I am, after all, Hermione’s boyfriend, so it was only natural that I come along with my parents spending the holiday in Naples. But that they would allow one of her old school friends to come to the family Christmas gathering so he didn’t have to spend it all alone? It really shows you just how fine a family the Grangers are, hmm?”

To say that Hermione’s boyfriend was getting underneath Harry’s skin during their first meeting would be a massive understatement. When Hermione had mentioned to him that the guy she’d gone on a few dates with had become her boyfriend officially, he’d made the decision to stop asking her for overtly sexual favors. She hadn’t even hinted that those favors were no longer on the table; in fact, she had informed him of the mystery bloke’s upgrade from casual dates to actual boyfriend status only after he had hotdogged his cock between her arse cheeks in the kitchen of her flat, as she prepared lunch for them with his cum all over her back and onto her bum.

However reluctant he had been to stop fooling around with his gorgeous best friend, who clearly would let him do whatever he wanted to her, she meant too much to him. If she wanted to try dating some muggle dentist acquaintance of her parents, he shouldn’t get in the way of that. From that day on, Harry hadn’t exploited Hermione’s unwavering, limitless devotion to him. The obscenest thing he’d asked her for in over two weeks had been a back rub—and he’d even kept his shirt on. After a glorious month or so where he had gotten used to going to Hermione whenever he had the need and knowing she would drop whatever she was doing to give him what he needed, this had been a rough couple of weeks. But it had been worth it in his mind, because if this new guy was good enough for Hermione to date, he deserved a chance with her.

That had been Harry’s mindset, but Thomas Sampson was rapidly making him kick himself for his decision. The young dentist (or maybe he was still in training to become a dentist? Harry had stopped paying attention halfway through the man blathering on about himself) had an incredibly high opinion of himself. He far too closely resembled a muggle version of Draco Malfoy for Harry’s comfort, and he was baffled that Hermione felt a prick like this was worthy of a second date, much less elevation to actual boyfriend status.

He was far less baffled at how readily Hermione’s parents, particularly her mum, laughed a little too loudly or nodded a little too firmly at any of the frequent moments in which Thomas attempted to assert his place as the most important man in Hermione’s life. With all the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the face, this arrogant dentist or (dentist-in-training, whatever) consistently tried to raise himself up by cutting Harry down, and the tacit endorsement of Hermione’s mum made it even more grating. Harry knew that things were still strained between Hermione and her parents after the obliviation, and he’d already known before today that her mum blamed him for that.

She’d never made her preferences clearer than she was making them today though. Hermione had said that it had actually been her mum’s idea to invite Harry to Christmas; she’d been quite enthusiastic, even. That was why Harry was here rather than spending the holiday at the Burrow, or with Teddy and Andromeda. But it seemed that Hermione’s mum had invited him only in an attempt to ‘subtly’ persuade Hermione to disassociate from her best friend the wizard and spend more time around her new boyfriend the muggle dentist.

Fuck that. Fuck this arsehole, and if Hermione’s mum wanted to come between them, fuck her too. He’d had enough of this. Who did they think they were, deciding what was best for Hermione? This prick didn’t know the first thing about her. And as for her parents? He’d tried to be civil, not wanting to be the cause of any more friction between Hermione and her family. But if they were going to persist in trying to push his best friend away from him, it was time to stop playing nice and start showing everyone that no one knew Hermione like he did.

“There’s no reason for you to be here,” Harry said, abruptly cutting off the windbag before he could get going again.

“Excuse me?” Thomas said, looking surprised. “Whatever do you mean, Mister Potter? I am Hermione’s boyfriend—her beau, if you will. You are merely her childhood friend. Without trying to be a boor, I would humbly suggest that if anyone does not have a reason to be here, it is you.”

Hermione, who was sitting next to Thomas on the couch, looked like she was about to finally respond now that her boyfriend had gone from taking little digs at Harry to outright claiming that he, Thomas, should logically be her priority. Harry didn’t doubt how Hermione would respond, but he made eye contact with her and shook his head, silently telling her not to say a word. As always, she did what he wanted and stayed silent. Harry didn’t need her to speak on his behalf. He would settle this himself, once and for all.

“You don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head at the arrogant prick who was about to have his delusions shattered. “It doesn’t matter that Hermione has inexplicably allowed you to get this far, and it doesn’t matter that her mum is singing your praises and taking little digs at me whenever she can. No one will ever be more important to Hermione than I am.”

Thomas started to reply, but Harry ignored him. “Hermione,” Harry said, snapping his fingers. “Come to me.”

--

Hermione, as ever, was there to give Harry whatever he needed, just as she’d vowed to do a decade earlier. The night that he had rushed into that loo and saved her from the troll, she’d lain in her bed and sworn to herself that she would always be at Harry Potter’s side. He thought he’d gained a friend that night, and he had. But her friendship wasn’t all that Harry had earned that night with his foolhardy bravery. He’d also earned the lifelong devotion of a girl who had expected to die in that loo, alone, friendless and forgotten after being rejected and insulted by her peers in two worlds, both the muggle and the magical. From that moment on, taking care of Harry had become the number one priority in her life, even if he hadn’t seemed to fully realize that until recently.

Thomas tried to stop her by grabbing her hand as she got off of the couch, but she shook his hand off and walked over to stand in front of Harry, who stood up from his chair just as she reached him. He casually put his hand on her shoulder and gently pressed down on it, and Hermione immediately dropped to her knees in front of him, assuming a position that had become quite familiar to her over the last month and a half or so. It had been weeks since he’d requested this of her, and she’d begun to fear that she had failed or disappointed him in some way. It was a relief to know that such was not the case.

There was an odd choking, coughing sound from off to the side when Harry unzipped his trousers and pulled his cock out, as if someone had just tasted something foul. But Hermione was not concerned with that. Harry was her one and only concern, and when he pressed his quickly hardening cock against her mouth, she opened up and took the tip inside so she could begin to be of service.

“What in the world are you doing, Hermione?!” Thomas asked as Hermione began to bob her head on her best friend’s dick. “Stop this at once!”

Hermione’s eyes flicked over in his direction, confused as to why he would even ask that. She’d made it very clear to him right from their first date that Harry was the most important person in the world to her, and he would always remain such. Why in the name of Merlin would she stop just because he asked her to? Harry wanted his cock sucked, and it was now Hermione’s duty as well as her privilege to be the one he asked to do it. She put her boyfriend out of her mind and turned her eyes and her focus back to the most important man in her life, ready to take good care of him on this Christmas afternoon.

Harry didn’t seem to be in the mood to passively accept her service at the moment, though, because his hands reached around to grab the back of her head and hold it in place while his hips rocked forward to shove his cock deeper into her mouth. Hermione relaxed and folded her hands in her lap, accepting that Harry would prefer to fuck her face this time.

Thomas was still talking; actually it was closer to shouting now. But what exactly it was that he was shouting, Hermione hadn’t the faintest clue. She was down on her knees helping Harry by letting him fuck her throat, and that was her sole concern. The cock slamming down her throat and the balls smacking against her chin were far more important to her than anything her boyfriend might have to say, because they belonged to Harry.

“What did I tell you?” Harry said. Unlike with Thomas, Hermione paid close attention when Harry spoke. “You’re nothing to her, mate. Not compared to me. Listen to her choke on my cock. Could you ever make her sound like that? Would she even let you try?”

Thomas had not, in fact, ever had his cock down her throat, or in her mouth at all. She’d never touched it or even seen it, and she didn’t know if she ever would. She liked him well enough, at least when he wasn’t being pompous and self-important, but it wasn’t easy for any man to get into Hermione Granger’s knickers. The only man who would have been able to get inside of them, inside of her without any effort was Harry, who had not as yet actually done so.

Hermione was aware of several pairs of feet racing down the stairs, and in the back of her mind she remembered that her mother, aunts and cousins had all gone upstairs to pack the gifts away. Her mother abhorred mess, and normally Hermione would have been right there with her helping her tidy up. But this year her mother had suggested that Hermione, Thomas and Harry relax in the sitting room while they cleaned.

Hermione was no fool. She knew what her mother was scheming, but it was really all rather silly. She’d told her parents repeatedly that Harry was the most important person in her life; that she would do anything for him, and nothing would ever come between them. Any attempts to make her think less of him were futile, because her fate had been sealed many years in the past. If Thomas, her parents or anyone else wanted to have any form of relationship with her, they were just going to have to accept that nothing meant more to her than taking care of Harry. Perhaps her mother racing down the stairs to see Harry fucking her throat in front of the Christmas tree was for the best. She needed to learn that Hermione’s priorities were not going to budge, now or ever.

“Hermione!” her mother shouted. “You are disgracing your family and yourself! You will stop at once!”

“No, she won’t,” Harry said bluntly. “She’ll stay down on her knees with my cock in her throat all the way to Boxing Day if that’s what I want her to do. Fuck, she’ll keep choking on it straight through into the New Year if I feel like it.” He was right, and if he hadn’t been holding her head still while slamming his dick deep down her throat and making her choke on it, she would have nodded her head in agreement.

“You!” Hermione’s mother hissed, shouting loudly enough to be heard clearly over the uproar from the others present. “This is all your doing, young man! You have corrupted my daughter, and I won’t stand for it any longer! You are going to leave my home now, and never return!”

“With pleasure,” Harry said, pulling his cock out of Hermione’s mouth and releasing her head. She panted heavily, grateful for the chance to catch her breath, but even more grateful to have been able to make him happy. “But if I go, Hermione’s coming too. I tried to play nice, for her sake, but it’s about time that you accept how things are. Hermione is mine, and that’s how she wants it. If you force her to choose, you aren’t going to like how it turns out for you.”

Hermione did nod now. She loved her parents, despite the tension that had started to form cracks when she first went to Hogwarts and turned into a full-blown chasm after she’d tracked them down in Australia and undone her memory charm. But if her mother gave her an ultimatum and forced her to choose, her answer was obvious. There wasn’t even a choice to make. Her life was Harry’s, to do with as he would. In their Hogwarts years he had seemed to only want her as a friend, someone to help him get through his classes, accompany him on his adventures and even give him a bit of scolding when necessary, so that’s the role she had filled in his life. But he’d developed an interest in using her body recently, and if that change would force her to sever her relationship with her parents for good, that was a sacrifice she would make without a second’s thought.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re forcing her somehow!” Her mother sounded hysterical now; like she was trying to change the facts that were staring her right in the face. “This is some kind of magic spell or something, but you’re going to break it, and then you’re never going to interfere in Hermione’s life or come between our family ever again!”

“Is that so?” Harry said flatly. He walked away, leaving his trousers and underwear behind and not trying to cover himself up. Hermione noticed a few of her cousins staring at Harry’s erection with flustered looks on their faces, but she didn’t care about that. She was just trying to determine what he wanted her to do now. Should she crawl after him, or should she wait for him to give her an instruction?

He sat down in the most comfortable armchair in the Granger residence—her father’s favorite chair, in fact. “Hermione,” he called. “You’re free to do whatever you want to do. I swear on my magic that I am not holding you against your will, influencing your mind or threatening you in any way. Your choices are your own.” His hand glowed for a second, and Hermione’s muggle relatives stared dumbly, clueless as to what any of this was about. But Hermione understood. She knew a magical vow when she saw one.

“Now,” Harry continued, “what happens next is up to you. We can either do it your mother’s way, I can leave, and that’ll be it. Or we can do it my way, which means you can come over here and ride my cock. What’ll it be, Hermione? It’s your decision.”

There was no decision. Hermione was already pulling her trousers and knickers off as she got up from her knees, and she was naked below the waist by the time she crossed the room and reached him in her father’s—no, his—chair. She climbed onto his lap, grabbed his cock and sank straight down onto it, sighing with relief and contentment as she finally took Harry inside of her. His was just the third cock she’d ever been penetrated by, but it was the only one that mattered. It was his.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, Hermione!” Harry groaned as she dropped down lower on him. “We should have done this weeks ago—hell, we should have done it years ago!”

“I quite agree,” she said, moaning happily as she started to rock back and forth on his cock, getting herself used to him. He was far thicker than anything she’d taken, and her body needed a chance to adjust. But she was thrilled to be able to learn how to take Harry’s cock. “I was always yours, Harry. You only ever needed to ask, and I would have given you everything you wanted.” She wasn’t sure why it had taken this long, considering he’d finally started making use of her body nearly two months ago. It couldn’t be that he’d held back from actually shagging her because of Thomas, could it? That was too silly to even think about. As if some silly boyfriend could even compare to Harry!

“I’m sorry I was such a clueless idiot,” he said, chuckling. Then it turned into a groan as Hermione, more comfortable and confident now, began to bounce in his lap, driving herself down so her arse clapped against his thighs. “But I promise I’ll never overlook it again.” His hands grabbed her jumper and pulled it up her body, and Hermione raised her arms into the air to make it easier for him to get it off. He unhooked her bra and tossed that aside next, leaving her naked.

“This body is mine,” he said, cupping her breasts and squeezing them. Hermione moaned, only now noticing that aside from the noise the two of them were making, the room was much quieter than it had been. Had her family left, had they been shocked into silence, or had Harry cast a silencing charm on the room without her noticing? It didn’t really matter. She was finally sharing her body with Harry, and whether her mother, aunts and cousins were there to watch it or not made no difference to her.

“Yes!” she shouted, almost delirious with the excitement. Bouncing on his cock felt wonderful physically, but it was the mental high of him declaring his ownership of her that Hermione had been waiting for even longer. “It’s yours! I’m all yours, Harry! I always have been!” She’d just been waiting for him to notice, and now he had.

“I know it,” Harry said. His voice was getting deeper now, which probably was because of how hard she was slamming down onto his cock. It must feel good for him, and knowing that was all the motivation she needed to bounce even harder. “For years I never noticed, and even when I did, I didn’t know what to do about it. You showed me how devoted you were to me, but I still held myself back. I had the most amazing, loyal, wonderful witch in the world ready to give herself to me, body and soul, and I didn’t make the most of it. Until now. Now I know, Hermione. You’re all mine, and I’m going to let the whole world know it.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Hermione sobbed. It was all she’d ever wanted, ever since October the 31st of 1991 when he’d both saved her life and given it meaning. She fucked herself on his cock as if her life depended on it, because as far as she was concerned, it did. There were many great things that she hoped to accomplish in her life, but none of them would ever mean as much to her personally as pleasing Harry did. If slamming herself down onto his cock hard enough that she was pretty sure she heard something inside of her father’s chair snap was how she could please him, that’s just what Hermione would do.

“Mine,” Harry growled, squeezing her breasts. “Cum for me, Mine.”

Hermione was pretty sure she had just been given a new pet name, and it was the greatest Christmas gift he or anyone else could have given her. She came with a howl, and her entire body shook violently as she was hit by the biggest climax of her life. Thinking back on any that had come before it would only make her laugh, because the pleasure that rocked her body as Harry claimed her and named her had changed everything. She squirted all over him and also onto her father’s ruined chair beneath her, marking it just as Harry had marked her.

Then he left an even deeper mark on her, moving his hands to her arse and holding her arse against his legs as he came inside of her. Hermione continued to sob, overcome by happiness as she felt Harry fill her body with his seed at the end of their joining. She’d taken it down her throat, across her face, on her breasts and back and on her arse, but now she had it where she’d always wanted it. Harry had finally seen her devotion, understood how she lived to take care of him, and had claimed her body for his own.

She was his. Whether he would want her to be his best friend that he fucked when he had the urge, his sex toy at work, his wife and mother of his children or his slut that he and his future lovers shagged together, Hermione would be there for him however he wanted her. He had already given her a label that she would treasure, regardless of any other he might give her in the future. She was Mine, and it was everything she’d ever wanted.