Together We're Harmony Chapter 4 (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Teasing, Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Gags, Ice, Food play (Whipped Cream)

"Ron and Lavender seemed happy," Hermione murmured as she scrubbed her cheeks with a cotton swab, looking at her boyfriend through the mirror. As per his rules (she honestly didn't mind, a set schedule kept her from going haywire), the girl had to change the moment she got home. It was as much a physical task as a mental one, with the woman dropping her work-related stress and worries along with the clothes. Harry had worked on the dresser for months, and he joked the mirror was a portion from Erised, for he saw her in it every night. She still recalled the thick blush that had coated her cheeks the first time he had made the joke. Being someone's greatest desire felt like high praise to the girl indeed.

"Do you think Ron should do it? Write books on our adventures?" she continued, wiping her lips clean with the swab before tossing it into the dustbin. She had applied make-up for the first time at fourteen, for the Yule Ball. The terrible direction the night had taken had ensured she hadn't used it again for two... three years? It had been a traumatic few years for the girl. She was attacked for being smart, and then for being beautiful. At least that was what it had felt like. She knew now that Ron had done what he did out of jealousy, and that the boy could be incredibly petty at times. But to her, at that moment, it made her feel unappreciated and utterly alone. It had wrecked her confidence, and the girl had resisted all attempts by Lavender, Parvati, and even Ginny to give her a makeover. She had finally relented to Ginny's badgering the night before her first date with Harry, submitting to her demands and agreeing to use lipstick and mascara, and taming her bushy hair into a slightly manageable hairdo. She could still vividly recall Harry's reaction as she descended the staircase…

Gryffindor Girl's Dormitory, 6th Year:

"I agreed to the make-up, and to you fiddling around with my hair. I did not agree to this!" Hermione said, glaring at the redhead sitting on her bed. The girl was holding up the clothes Ginny had pushed into the bathroom for her.

"What's wrong with those clothes Hermione?" Ginny asked lazily, not lifting her eyes from the Quidditch supplies catalog, not even to react when her friend grumpily tossed the garments towards her.

"I-I, well-"

"I'm not asking you to step down those stairs wearing lingerie Hermione. It's a nice skirt and a very simple blouse."

"The skirt is too short!"

"No sweetie. It's high-waisted and ends up just above your knees. So, the boy will see some leg. The scandal." Ginny chuckled, tossing the skirt back at the brunette. "I thought it was us Purebloods stuck in the past. Don't worry. The boy seeing your knees and ankles won't cause an uproar," she teased, an impish smile on her face.

"I know, it's just-"

"You're not used to feeling pretty? You don't think you can take it if Harry doesn't notice? Or maybe you think he won't like it," Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she answered, suddenly sounding very small as she moved to sit on the stool in front of the dresser. The girl's words were bringing out all of the insecurities she had successfully buried for nearly two years, and it only served to drive her anxiety through the roof.

"The two of you are acting like you're going on a blind date with someone you've never met before. Ron told me Harry didn't sleep all night. He is worried that you'll suddenly start disliking him because he doesn't have anything to wear except for Dudley's clothes." Ginny tutted, climbing onto her feet and padding over to stand behind the girl, starting to push a brush through her hair.

"What?! Of course not! I like Harry because he's Harry, not because of what he wears." Hermione groused, before letting loose a very un-lady-like snort, "Besides, we all know he can afford good clothes. It's smarter not to buy any and let the Dursleys know how much money he has. He's smarter than he lets on."

"I bet. Nothing but the best for Miss Granger huh?" Ginny teased, patting her head after she had managed to corral her hair into a ponytail. "There. Make-up, hair, done. Now all you need to do is put on that skirt and you're ready to sweep your date off his feet."

"Please. It's going to be a nice quiet afternoon. He's probably taking me out to The Three Broomsticks for butterbeer and a light lunch." Hermione muttered, pulling the skirt up her legs, "Maybe some kissing," she continued, unable to stop the wistful tone in her voice.

"Go get him, tiger. And remember, it's perfectly alright for you to snog him senseless." Ginny smirked, giving the girl a small shove.

"I'll try," Hermione mumbled, suddenly feeling very small. Could she send Ginny downstairs to tell Harry she wasn't feeling well? No. He deserved better than that. This was a new chapter in their lives, and she was determined to get off on the right foot, despite how scary it all felt.

Number 12, Grimauld Place:

"Penny for your thoughts?" Harry murmured, his arms snaking around her waist, breaking the girl free from her trip down nostalgia lane.

"I would say they're worth at least a galleon, Mr. Potter," Hermione replied with a soft smile, leaning back into his broad chest.

"I do declare that they are priceless. Miss Granger," Harry whispered, his lips inches from her ear, hot breath tickling her sensitive skin.

"I was just thinking about our first date," Hermione said, an impish grin, shifting as she felt his hands snake up to her breasts. She had a good idea where their night was going. A very good idea. "But now I'm thinking about St. Mungo's."

"St. Mungo's?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow as his nimble fingers set to work on the buttons of her blouse. Who knew being a seeker would be this handy? Speaking of seekers... "Where did we keep the snitch?"

"This is exactly why I'm thinking about St, Mungo's sir," She shot back playfully, biting her lower lip as he pulled her blouse down her shoulders, revealing the frilly lace of her white bra inch by inch. The lingerie had been a recent development as well. She had never been one for lingerie and had always thought that the pieces bought by Lavender and Parvati on their occasional shopping sprees had been impractical at best and very uncomfortable at worst. Why would a sane person spend that much money on flimsy pieces of lace?

It all changed on her birthday. Harry had bought her a set of ruby red lingerie as a part of his gift to her, and she had worked up the courage to wear it a few nights later, mostly to humor Harry. She had intended to use it for a night of debauchery, before folding it up neatly and storing it in her closet. Her boyfriend would be satiated and it would be back to practical cotton panties for her. Harry had not spoken, but his actions had been a high compliment in itself. The man had bent her over every possible flat surface in the house and made love to her till they were both sore and could barely stand. The realization that she had the power to evoke such emotion from the man she loved had been more of a turn-on than anything else they did that night and had immediately changed her mind on the ‘overpriced pieces of lace’. It made her feel powerful, it made her feel wanted, and that was worth any amount of money she would have to spend. Deep down, the girl had always wanted to be valued for something other than her brains, to be more than just the smart friend. Everyone called her smart, but Harry thought she was hot.

"Oh?" Harry asked, pulling the girl free from her thoughts once more. He decided to play along with her, his eyebrow quirking as he continued to pull the blouse down her body, freeing more and more of her tanned skin.

"If you touch my ass again tonight sir, you'll have to get me a new one from the hospital," She sighed; her eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her breasts.

"I promise you, I have no intention of going anywhere near your ass Miss Granger. I have something very different in mind tonight." Harry whispered, pulling the blouse down to her waist. "On your feet little one."

"Yes sir," Hermione answered meekly, groaning internally as she slipped into subspace. She usually loved being a cheeky little bastard around her dominant, bending his rules without breaking them. But then there were nights when she felt so needy that all her brain wanted was for her to be pinned under him and for him to claim her body, psyche, and soul. Tonight, was evidently one such night.

She was on her feet within seconds, head bowed as she waited for her next command.

"I remember our first date quite vividly. You walked down those stairs and suddenly I was very glad that I was wearing Dudley's oversized trousers," Harry teased as he bent over, pulling their chest of naughtiness from under the bed, and popping open the lid. He retrieved the black silk blindfold from it, straightening and padding over to the girl.

"You made me feel beautiful. You still do. For the first time in my life, a boy wanted me for something more than my help with homework," Hermione mumbled, pulling off the blouse and folding it carefully, placing it onto the footstool. She turned to face her dominant with a small smile, her eyes glassy. "You never made me feel like I was just another book to be used and discarded when done."

"I didn't think it was possible, but you've only gotten smarter and more beautiful with every passing day. I love you for everything that you are little one. To me, you can be both beautiful and smart," Harry murmured, gently wrapping the black fabric around her eyes, circling behind the girl to secure the blindfold. "Do you trust me?"

It was a question he asked every night. It was the question to which she had the exact same answer ready for him.

"Forever and always," she replied with every bit of conviction she could muster, her eyes fluttering shut. It didn't matter, the girl was already blindfolded, and the room was dark to her. She relaxed, letting her mind slip deeper into subspace, her limp and relaxed body a sign of her complete trust in her dominant. Her ears quivered; every sound amplified. She knew it wouldn't last; her dominant would soon be taking every sense she could use to connect herself to the outside world away from her. It had terrified her the first time they had tried it, and if she was being completely honest, it still did. She was vulnerable, completely vulnerable, and it was only Harry that she trusted to do this to her.

"What is our non-verbal safe word?" Harry asked softly, reaching over to the nightstand for his wand.

The girl raised her right hand without hesitation, rotating her pinkie in the air. Right as usual. Like she had guessed, she would soon be gagged, and quite possibly unable to hear. It just added to the excitement and the girl could feel herself grow damp. Fuck. Harry liked to toy with his prey, and she knew she'd be sopping wet before any part of his body ended up anywhere close to her cunt.

"Such a smart little girl. There hasn't been a lesson that you've ever forgotten, has there?" Harry teased, digging into the chest, finally locating the case that housed their very special gag. "Except one. Miss Granger shouldn't cuss. But I'm sure your stinging ass will act as a good reminder," Harry said, grinning as he popped the golden ball into her mouth when she opened it to complain. It was a highly modified snitch, stripped of its wings and charmed to vibrate instead of fly. It fit snugly inside her mouth; her lips stretched around the soft metal. Hermione had come up with an ingenious way to make the ball as soft as rubber, while still retaining the look and texture of a snitch. A symbol of her dominant right by her lips, while ensuring she didn't accidentally chip a tooth if she bit down too hard.

"I love you," Harry whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek, before pressing his wand to her temple. A simple muffliato and the job was done. A loud buzzing filled her ears, shutting off sounds from the outside world and completing the deprivation of her senses. She was completely at his mercy, and the part of her brain submerged in subspace thought it was the best fucking thing in the entire world. He loved her. She knew he loved her, so why did it affect her so when he said it out loud?

She didn't have much time to ruminate however, Harry's hands were back on her breasts, his slender fingers digging into her skin. "Khep ith ohn," Hermione mumbled thickly through her gag, knowing Harry was torn between simply ripping the bra off her body and freeing her pert breasts, or keeping the lingerie on for the time being. If one agreed with Lavender's theory that all men preferred either the ass or the breasts, Hermione knew for sure that her boyfriend was a boob man through and through.

She was surprised when his hands wrapped around her back, nimble fingers deftly pushing the clasp, unhooking her bra. The straps were pushed down her shoulders within seconds, the bra falling down to the floor by her feet.

Naked immediately? Why? He didn't plan to do anything with her while the lingerie was still on her body?

Harry wordlessly set to work on her skirt, unzipping it and pulling down her legs before taking her hand and helping her step out of the pooled fabric. Keeping her hand clasped in his, he led her towards the bed, roughly bending her over the mattress, her ass raised up for him and the rapidly growing damp spot on full display.

Rough. Oh. He was in a mood. Oh my.

If it was possible for women to have blue balls, Hermione was sure she already had them. She was certain she'd explode if Harry's actions aroused her any further, and the man had barely touched her. The snitch was gently vibrating in her mouth, almost mimicking the twitching of a cock and the girl was rapidly losing a sense of her surroundings, her mind unable to formulate any coherent thought. After the stress of the day, this was exactly what she needed. People always commented that she seemed much calmer than the high-strung days of her school life and she was almost tempted to reply that all she had been missing was a spanking a week.

I wonder why they consider spanking a punishment. It's catharsis.

She wiggled her bum playfully despite her better judgment, knowing Harry wouldn't be able to resist a swat. Her dominant was apparently preoccupied with other things, however, for he didn't appear to notice. The cause was evident moments later when he pushed his vibrating wand between her thighs, the coarse wood providing much-needed friction through the thin lace. The girl moaned, her face buried inside the soft woolen blanket, quickly losing the will to move. Would her legs be next? She knew Harry wouldn't bind her hands while she was gagged, but a part of her was curious what it felt like, to be completely bound and gagged and at the mercy of her dominant.

"I'll be back in a minute kitten. Don't move," Harry said, patting her bum, not that the girl could hear what he had said. She just felt the pat, mentally steeling herself for what came next. The girl was completely oblivious to her surroundings, and to the absence of her dominant, simply moaning and drooling into the blanket as both ends of her body were assaulted with vibrations. The snitch in her mouth was extremely gentle, humming along as the girl bit down on it. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out what Harry was going to do next. He had promised not to touch her ass. What then? A leg spreader? A messy blow-job?

No, not a blow-job. He wouldn't have gagged me. Or blindfolded me, for that matter. I know exactly how much he likes me looking up at him with my big brown eyes, pretending to be his innocent kitten.

It was a full two minutes before the man returned, carrying a small bowl full of ice chips and a canned of whipped cream. He set them down on the nightstand before turning his attention to the girl, still bent over the bed, immobile except for the slight shaking of legs that he knew heralded an imminent orgasm. Not yet, love, he thought, pulling the wand free from her thighs. The cry of disappointment was immediate, and the boy smiled, knowing the girl had been aroused since the spanking and was quite obviously craving release.

He pressed the tip of the wand against her lower back, and the girl stiffened, suddenly realizing where he was going with all of this.

Oh. Fuck.

Her brain didn't have the capacity for more thought as Harry murmured a spell, and suddenly her skin was on fire. She could feel the satin of her blindfold, the wool of the blanket, and the cold hard floor, every sensation multiplied and heightened. The girl groaned as her dominant turned her over, hoping the man didn't have clamps in his hands. That was what he usually went with, and clamped nipples with that particular spell was a delicious torture she was never quite prepared for.

Harry didn't say anything, there was no point in talking. The girl couldn't hear him, and he was playing for an audience of one. He simply grabbed her arm, gently pulling her up on the bed, arranging her arms and legs so she was spread-eagled on the four-poster, laid out for his pleasure.

Every touch set her skin aflame, but the girl simply moaned and complied, surer than ever that clamps were next. She resisted the urge to look up and peek from under her blindfold, lying still as Harry arranged her arms and legs, every inch now bare for his gaze. She could feel her panties sliding down her legs before they were pulled apart, and could only blush as she imagined her beloved looking at the soaked fabric and smirking.

And he has the audacity to call me a minx.

The girl bucked as Harry used an ice chip to trace the outline of her sole, a strangled moan escaping her parted lips. "Iche?" She asked, panting as the sensation slowly subsided, the spell amplifying the cold to almost unbearable levels.

"Ice," Harry confirmed, not that it mattered to the girl. Her mind had wiped out every rational thought from her consciousness, focusing its entire attention on the cold, wet trail now tracing its way over her other foot.

The girl was absolutely oblivious to the location of Harry's next assault and when the ice chip pressed against the pink areola, the girl gasped, the cold shooting currents through her spine. She arched her back, fighting the urge to pull away from the cold, hoping its intensity would numb her skin.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'll take the clamps, Merlin, Fuck!

She had no way of knowing about Harry's actions, of the fact that his lips were inches from her breast. She had no warning before his teeth grazed her stiff, sensitive nipple and the girl moaned as his lips clamped down on her soft skin, the man gently tugging on the pink nub.

"Obh Merlinh," she mumbled, her hands feeling as heavy as lead, the girl struggling to lift them and thread her fingers through the boy's messy black locks. His tongue was now drawing circles around her areola, the rough texture feeling heavenly against her soft skin. She groaned in complaint as he pulled away, her arms weakly waving about in the air, searching for her dominant. The combination of the cold, the pain, and the usual haze of subspace had been overwhelmingly arousing for the girl, and she could already feel herself on the threshold of orgasm, threatening to spill over even as the boy pulled away.

Please. Merlin, please.

Harry evidently had no intention of letting her off that easy, for the boy retrieved another chip from the bowl, teasingly tracing his way from her calf up to her thigh. He paused inches away from her dripping cunt, before pulling away again, looking at the panting girl. The procedure was soon repeated on the next leg, the girl writhing and mewling, her hands having moved to absentmindedly toy with her stiff nipples.

Where next? There was only one logical place. Not inside, please not inside.

Harry appeared to be thinking along the same lines as her, however, the cube gently and slowly traced her puffy lips as the girl moaned and bucked her hips, her hand traveling downwards only to be roughly swatted away.

"Pleash," she mumbled through the gag, slightly leaning forward to look at him. Her face was a mess, mascara running down her cheeks and mingling with the drool. She dropped her head back with a sigh as the man's rough, calloused fingers expertly located her clit, the ice cube having been tossed away in favor of direct stimulation. She was undone within seconds, crying into the gag as his fingers elicited the first of what she hoped would be many orgasms that night.

Harry's fingers pulled away as the girl went limp, her drained and hazy mind trying its best to ride out the orgasm. Even as the girl was coming down from her high, she could feel a wet cold material oozing onto her nipples. She had no idea what it was, only that it wasn't as cold as ice.

Harry, what are you doing?

The petite brunette had no idea what was in store for her, but if there was one thing she knew, it was that a certain Hermione Granger was about to have a very long night.