Her Bound Heart Chapter 11. (Patreon)

Notes: For people who want to get caught up with the story the earlier chapters are available as a PDF and EPUB through the Google Drive Link in my pinned post! I've been experimenting with longer chapters so there's more to read, hope you enjoy it!

Content Warnings: Bondage, Rough, Body Writing, Teasing, Painplay, Aftercare

Hermione leaned over and kissed Harry shyly before climbing out of the car. There didn’t seem any point in trying to hide her feelings for him, not after Skeeter had splashed it all on the front pages for everyone to see.

While her stunt in front of Pansy the night of the party had felt supremely satisfying (and given the chance, she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again), the vindictive girl had blabbed to perhaps the worst scourge Wizarding Britain had ever been cursed with. Skeeter had the dubiously admirable talent of complying with each and every one of the restrictions set by James Potter on covering his family and still churning out article after article every day of the week that insinuated she was everything from a sinister gold digger to a classless whore.

“Stay safe?” Harry whispered, reaching out and grabbing her hand as she climbed out of the car.

Hermione smiled. “It’s a mock trial. I’m not going into actual battle.”

“You’re up against Daphne Greengrass, sweetie. I wouldn’t be surprised if she brings a wand to a law fight.”

“Well, she won’t be doing anything today. We just get the assignment today. The actual trial starts tomorrow. I haven’t lost a single trial to date, and I don’t plan to start now.”

“Didn’t you tell me this will be your first time going up against Daphne? That the two of you have always been on the same team in the past?”

Hermione leaned back in and brushed her lips against him once more. “You’re cute when you worry. What do I get if I wipe the floor with her?”

His quiet, ever-present confidence in her abilities and the interest he took in her life had done wonders for her self-esteem.

“What would you like, princess?”

“I want you to take me shopping.”

“Darling, you can buy-”

Hermione shook her head, her curls flying free from her simple ponytail and framing her face. “I want you to take me shopping. I don’t want a card. I don’t want a sack of money. I want my dominant to buy me clothes and whatever else he’d like to see me wear,” Hermione whispered, gently nipping at his lower lip. “And then I want him to take me to a fancy place where the waiters judge me.”

Harry chuckled. “How about I take you shopping and then we grab a pizza for dinner?”

“No judgy waiters and three different types of forks I have no idea how to use?” Hermione asked, faking a pout.

“We already have to suffer through that at the Ministry luncheon at the end of this month. When you win, I think I’d prefer to celebrate with a pizza and soda party with my gir- gorgeous kitten,” Harry whispered, quickly correcting himself.

“It’s a date, Mr. Potter.” Hermione giggled, reluctantly pulling away from him. She climbed out of the car, managing just a few steps before she was accosted by her ex-boyfriend.

“Mione,” Ron called out, causing Hermione to freeze in her tracks.

She whirled, nervously tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You can’t call me that,” she hissed, anger lacing her voice. Her eyes drifted to the paper in the redhead’s hand. Of course, he’d read the latest article. The one that mentioned the nickname and insinuated she’d dosed Harry with a love potion. ‘A love-struck idiot’, Skeeter had called him, implying that his behavior was not natural. And knowing Ron, he probably believed every single line printed in the bloody article. “Ron, you can’t call me that,” she repeated, forcing herself to stay calm. It was a nickname. Only a nickname. Not something worth losing her shit over in a public setting. Not when she had Skeeter breathing down her neck, gleefully waiting to cover every misstep and mistake.

A nickname he gave you. Something special. Something uniquely yours.

“That’s what he calls you, innit?” Ron nodded to the folded paper in his hand.

Hermione groaned, wondering just how long Pansy had been listening through the shut door. “Yes, he does. And you can see why I’d want you to respect my request to not use the special nickname my boyfriend has for me.”

“Is he?”

“Is he what?” Hermione asked, rapidly losing her patience. Why couldn’t he ever talk straight?

“Your boyfriend?”

“You can choose to believe the lies in the article,” Hermione replied coldly. “But I won’t dignify that question with a response. Good day, Ron.”

“Hermione, wait.”

Hermione slowly turned around, sighing softly. “What do you want, Ron?”

“I thought we could have dinner? I want to apologize for how we ended things.”

Hermione flinched at his loud tone. Several students passing by them were staring at the duo.  “We’ve had this apology dinner three times, Ron. Every time you asked for another chance and every single time… against my better judgment I somehow gave it to you. I accept your apology and I’m sorry for my part in our breakup, but we’re not having dinner again.” She gave him an apologetic smile and turned to leave once more.

“So that’s it, huh? Got yourself a rich bloke with a fancy car. That’s all you birds want, isn’t it? Why go for the man who took you in when you can have Harry Potter.”

Hermione whirled, her eyes flashing. “Don’t you ever…” She took a deep breath, her anger seeping out of her, replaced with a deep sadness. “I tried to hide my relationship with Harry from you because I didn’t want to hurt you, Ron. Despite everything, a part of me feels sorry for the way things ended. But I want you to listen to me closely,” Hermione whispered, stepping closer to the redhead. She was finally out of patience with the man’s utter inability to function as an adult. “He could be living on the streets and you could have a mansion, and I’d still choose him. There were a lot of reasons why we broke up Ron, but never once did I think less of you because of your circumstances. But bringing up-” She ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “There is no universe in which I pick you over Harry. And no amount of dinners will change that. So I think I’ll save you the trouble and politely decline.” She patted his shoulder before running up the steps into the building, angrily wiping the tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

She kept her head low as she avoided all other students and slipped into the back staircase in an effort to avoid Ginny. Thankfully the redhead was nowhere to be seen and Hermione emerged onto the third floor, her short heels clacking against the polished wooden floor of the hallway, her feet carrying her to the mock courtroom constructed for the trial. Her mind stayed focused on Ron and the scene he’d caused on the steps. Surely they weren’t the first couple in history to break up. Why did he refuse to let her go gracefully? He acted like he had an automatic claim on her, which was insane.

And yet, when Harry exerts his claim, we like it, her mind reminded her.

Harry’s different, she reasoned.

How?

That was a question she found herself unable to answer.

She pushed her relationship woes out of her mind as she pushed open the heavy oak doors and slipped into the quiet classroom that was to serve as their courtroom for the next few days.

---

Harry unlocked the front door and slipped into the house, his hand immediately digging into the pocket of his pants. His fingers wrapped around his wand as he surveyed the mess in the living room. He slowly stepped inside, making sure he didn’t make a sound. Whoever the intruder was, he planned to-

“Sir!” Hermione emerged from his study, a stack of books in her arms. She frowned at Harry’s tense body. “Is everything alright? Hard day at work?” She dumped the books on their couch and walked up to him, gently taking the briefcase and the purse she had forgotten in the car that morning from his hand. “I’ll run you a hot bath,” she said with a smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“You’re home,” Harry murmured, surveying his living room.

Hermione ignored the strange observation, opting instead to follow his gaze. “I’m sorry about the room. I’ve been trying to prepare for the case all evening and I got carried away. I promise to clean it up before bed, and I also promise that my sore ass will be in bed well before bedtime,” Hermione said, leading him to the stairs.

Harry followed her in silence, confusion raging in his mind. He hadn’t expected her to be home, and he certainly hadn’t imagined she’d be knee-deep in books, doing research for her case.

They walked into his bedroom, Hermione humming quietly as she led him into the ornate bathroom.

“You know, you didn’t have to send Patricia to pick me up if you were busy. I can take the bus home on days you can’t swing by to get me,” Hermione said, turning the taps. She watched the water fill the tub, slowly dripping the lavender-scented bubble bath he loved into the water.

“I just wanted you to be comfortable.”

Hermione turned around and gently kissed him, smiling against his lips. “The bus is comfortable. But thank you for always looking after me,” she murmured, quickly unbuttoning his shirt. She pulled away from him to strip off her own clothes, neatly folding and placing them on the marble counter of the sink.

“Why are you home?” Harry asked, tossing his own clothes into the laundry basket. He stretched and lazily ran his hands over the tanned skin of his firm chest.

“Well, I usually do my research in the library but, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, the books you got me from the Manor are better. So I thought I’d prepare in the comfort of our living room.”

Harry felt a strange flutter in his chest.

Our living room.

He so badly wanted that to be true, but he knew it was an illusion at best. Doomed to fail.

He took her small hand and climbed into the bath after her, slowly sinking into the water. The perfect temperature. Somehow she always seemed to know exactly what he needed after a long day. He shifted forward to let her slip in behind him before he leaned back and rested his head on her soft chest.

“What about dinner?” Harry asked, his eyes fluttering shut. Hermione had squirted body wash onto her hands and was slowly running them over his firm chest, washing away the grime and sweat coating his skin. Despite his best efforts his eyes fluttered shut and he turned his head, settling against her.

Serving him. That had always been a clause in his contracts for his sugar babies. He’d come to think of it as a quick blowjob after breakfast, which, if he was being completely honest, Hermione was just as enthusiastic about. However, she also took it to areas unexplored and some which hadn’t even occurred to him. Their daily baths after he came home from work, and the time she took washing him and massaging his sore muscles had secretly become his favorite part of any given day.

“I ordered pizza. I’ve kept two slices in the microwave for you. I tried to wait as long as possible for you, I’m sorry sir,” Hermione whispered. Her hand traveled lower, settling in between his spread legs. Her slender fingers wrapped around his cock and she began to slowly pump the shaft, coaxing it to life.

“You have coffee with Ron instead of dinner?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. She’d survived as long as she had by being very very good at reading people. His working till nearly midnight, his rigid stance, his surprise at her being home… it all suddenly made sense.

“Is that why you sent Patricia to pick me up? Even if you have to work late you usually drop me home and return to the office.”

“I figured you’d be more comfortable asking her to drop you to the restaurant.”

“You heard him ask me, huh?”

“It would’ve been hard not to. I was a few feet away, coming over to give you your purse when I heard it. Felt wrong to interrupt after that so I drove away.”

“Yeah, he’s loud.” Hermione bit her lip. She grabbed his chin, gently turning his face into her chest. She groaned quietly as his lips wrapped around her pink areola, teeth grazing against her soft skin. “You should've stuck around. You’d have heard me decline his offer.”

“You don’t have to. It’s unreasonable of me to expect you to not date other people,” Harry murmured against her skin. “You can have dinner with him. I don’t mind.”

Hermione sighed, her heart breaking a little at the forlorn tone of his voice. If Voldemort ever had the misfortune to come back to life, she’d personally throttle him for breaking the kind, wonderful, amazing man in her arms.

“I don’t want to, Harry,” she whispered. Using his name felt strange, but right. In that moment, he wasn’t her dominant. He was her Harry. “This body is yours,” she whispered, guiding his lips back to her stiff pink nipple. She gasped when he began to suck, a primordial heat rising up in her chest. This heart is yours. “When I say I’m the only one allowed to serve you… that also means you’re the only one I want to serve…”

She kept pumping his cock, her other hand slowly traveling down his firm abdomen, the girl continuing her sensual massage of his muscles.

“Hermione I can’t-”

“I know.” Hermione hushed him with a kiss. “But this… I’m happy with whatever we have, Harry. I don’t want anyone else,” she whispered, gently rubbing the lavender-scented soap into his skin.

Harry lapsed into silence, letting her finish washing him. As was usually the case, he clambered out of the murky water with a raging erection. Hermione pulled the plug and gratefully accepted his help in climbing out of the tub.

He seemed relaxed, whether it was her words or the bath… Hermione didn’t care. She was only glad she was able to help.

“You’re mine?” Harry asked softly as he patted her dry.

Hermione giggled. He sounded shy, like a Hogwarts student asking his crush out to Hogsmeade for the very first time.

She leaned up on her tiptoes, tucking her head under his chin and slowly kissing along his jaw.

“Whose collar is around my neck?” she breathed, her fingers tracing the elegant band of black leather that rarely left her neck.

“Mine.”

“Whose initials are on the buttplug in my ass?” Hermione murmured, kissing down his neck and along his broad shoulder.

“Mine,” Harry groaned, his cock twitching against her leg.

“Who do I belong to?”

“Me.”

“It seems you have your answer, sir.” She pulled away, an impish smile on her face.

“And what if he swings by the trial tomorrow?”

“I’ll say no thank you but if you want to drop by and fight for your kitten…” Her fingers danced on his chest, leaving the door open for him.

“I’ll try. But if I can’t make it, I want you to have a reminder of what we’ve just established. You’re mine,” he growled, picking her up without warning and throwing her over his shoulder. He carried the giggling and squirming girl into his bedroom, grabbing his wand and a random red marker from the dressing table on his way.

“Oh, I know that look. It never ends well for me,” Hermione gasped, staring up at him when she was dumped on his bed. His eyes were alit with desire, a determined expression on his face as he pushed her legs apart to reveal her wet core.

Harry ignored her teasing. “Incarcerous,” he murmured, lazily flicking his wand. Soft ropes of velvet sprang out of the bedposts at the head of the bed, wrapping around her wrists and pulling her arms over her head. Her hands secured, Harry roughly pushed the polished wood of his wand between the petals guarding her womanhood, its tip resting against her clit.

“You’re mine, Miss Granger,” Harry hissed, leaning close to her. He used a spell she didn’t recognize before carefully tossing his wand onto the nightstand and pulling away.

‘Take what’s yours.’ Lily Potter’s advice was still fresh in her mind.

“Prove it.” A shrill shriek escaped her lips at the sudden jolt to her clit, her back arching as the shock raced up her spine.

“A nifty little spell I picked up. The closer you are to cumming, the faster the jolts will be. Perfect for getting mouthy little brats to shut up,” Harry smirked, lazily uncapping the permanent marker in his hand. “You will wear a white blouse and a skirt to the trial tomorrow. You can wear a bra, but no panties.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione whispered, breathing heavily.

“And if you forget who you belong to and what he wants to do to you… Sneak into the bathroom and pop off the blouse.” Harry climbed onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight as he settled in between her spread legs.

“Close your eyes,” Harry ordered. “Every time you open them, you’ll be punished. I want you to concentrate on and try to guess what I’m writing.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just blindfold me?” Hermione asked cheekily, even as she obeyed his command. As fun as being his princess was, she was finding out she did quite enjoy being a brat.

“Pain,” Harry said lazily.

A sharp shock rocked her clit and Hermione cried out, her back arching and hands pulling futilely against the ropes binding them.

“Do you understand, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione mumbled, her chest heaving.

“Pleasure,” Harry whispered, leaning over her prone, naked body, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Every time you get an answer right, you get rewarded.”

Hermione moaned at the gentle buzzing against her sensitive nub, a trickle of arousal seeping out of her pussy and trickling down to the white sheets.

“Fun game,” Hermione teased, bracing herself.

“Pain.”

“Sir! I’m sorry!” The buzzing had felt great, but the current assaulting her clit… delicious.

Harry waited for his kitten to catch her breath, gently rubbing her trembling legs. Slowly, he brought the marker to her right breast and drew a heart around her nipple and areola.

“Suck this,” Hermione murmured, concentrating on the words he scrawled over the heart.

“Good girl.” Harry wrapped his lips around her stiff pink nub and began to suckle, slowly at first but with increasing urgency and pressure.

Hermione moaned, her hands straining against their binds, itching to bury themselves in his messy black hair. The buzzing on her clit had returned, a pleasant haze descending on her mind as her body was assaulted with sensations.

Harry slowly pulled away, drawing another heart on her left breast.

“Bite this?” Hermione guessed, blushing furiously.

This time, she had no warning. She squealed as the vibrations against her clit intensified, Harry sinking his teeth into her creamy skin wordlessly. His teeth clamped around her nipple and he tugged on it, drawing out another moan from her. She lost all sense of time and place as he chewed on her rosy peak, turning it into a flashpoint of throbbing pain on top of her creamy mound.

Harry moved the marker higher, scrawling on the skin of her chest above her breasts.

“Choke me…”

“Who do you belong to, Miss Granger?” Harry asked, wrapping his large hand around her slender, collared neck. His thumb gently pressed down against her throat, cutting off the tiniest amount of air.

“You,” Hermione gasped.

There was no warning.

JOLT!

Hermione sobbed, her eyes flying open in shock.

JOLT!

“Sir! I’m sorry!” Hermione sobbed, quickly shutting her eyes, her mind focused on the throbbing bundle of nerves between her legs. A coil of tension was building up in the pit of her stomach.

“Who do you belong to?” Harry asked calmly as the pleasant buzzing resumed. Her poor clit was on fire, nerves overloaded.

“Harry James Potter,” Hermione wheezed. Harry was slowly increasing the pressure around her neck, the lack of oxygen heightening every sensation.

“Will you forget?”

“No, sir!”

Harry pulled his hand away. Hermione’s chest heaved as she gulped in lungfuls of air. She resisted the urge to open her eyes, opting instead to lie on the bed, the perfect canvas for her dominant.

Harry drew a box on her right upper arm, filling it with the word-

“Cared For,” Hermione mumbled, blushing furiously.

“Even if I can’t quite say it, I never want you to forget that, Miss Granger. You’re my perfect princess,” Harry whispered, kissing her forehead.

The gentle act and its contrast with the pain of his punishments caused another gush of arousal to leak out of her pussy.

Harry drew another box on her other arm, scrawling in a different word.

“Collared,” Hermione breathed, grinning happily. Loved and collared. Was there any better feeling in the world?

“What are you, Miss Granger?”

“Your perfect little kitten, sir.”

JOLT!

“Sir!” Hermione sobbed, her pussy juices squirting out and soaking his throbbing manhood.

“You want to try that again, kitten?” Harry asked, gently caressing her red cheek.

Hermione bit her lip. “I’m…” she paused, trying to buy time to think and to give her clit a break. “I’m your naughty and perfect kitten, sir,” she answered, grinning.

“I’ll take that,” Harry chuckled, kissing her softly.

He drew circles on her hips, adding the words ‘Grab here’ on either side. Hermione shivered with excitement. Her body was his, and here he was, slowly and meticulously laying out the purpose of each and every part.

She shuddered as the rough tip of the marker rested on her pussy lips. Hermione spread her legs wider, allowing her dominant easier access to her core.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, concentrating on the words Harry scribbled on the very petals guarding her core. Her breath hitched as Harry slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside her, splitting her lips and the words.

“Do you understand, kitten?” Harry asked, adding the words ‘Breed Me’ to her stomach, just above the gentle curve that formed in it as he pushed deeper inside her. The buzzing on her clit intensified and the girl moaned, a trickle of drool leaking out of the corner of her parted lips and making its way down to her chin.

Hermione nodded, struggling to speak. “Your…” she sighed dreamily. “Your cock… in my belly… your-” she moaned, her hips subconsciously rising up to meet him as Harry slowly pistoned in and out of her. “Your seed in my womb.”

“All of you is mine. I am yours…”

“And I, yours,” Hermione finished, a blissful smile on her face. Her smile was replaced by a pitiful whine as he pulled out of her. Her pussy walls clamped around his shaft, unwilling to let him go but it was of no use. “Sir,” Hermione begged, bearing down with her hips in an effort to reach his manhood.

Hermione felt the rope around her wrists fall away.

Harry flipped her over, his hands grabbing her waist, fingers digging into the exact area marked by ‘Grab here’. It was like he had mapped out his every desire on her body, set down his claim to her in indelible red ink. Hermione groaned as he pressed the rough tip of the marker against her skin, slowly scrawling over the small of her back.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the words. “This gorgeous kitten is claimed by… Harry Potter,” she whispered, giggling happily.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget now, sir,” she teased, slumping against a pillow, her arms too weak to support her. Her ass was raised high in the air for him.

“Spank,” Hermione said aloud as Harry wrote the word on her right asscheek.

“Me,” she murmured, feeling Harry scrawl the other word on her left cheek.

SMACK!

“Will you be naughty again, Miss Granger?”

Hermione moaned, playfully wiggling her ass.

“Depends.”

SMACK!

“On?”

“How often I’m reminded to be good,” Hermione answered cheekily. Her shut eyes rolled into the back of her head as Harry slowly pushed inside her needy pussy once more, the girl suddenly losing the ability to speak.

“Daily,” Harry growled.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Harry rained blows on her pert cheeks, leaving marks of a different kind on the pale skin. He imprinted pink handprints onto her creamy flesh even as he pounded the moaning and squealing girl into the bed, a hand threading through her hair and keeping her face pressed against the bed.

“You’re such a good toy, Mione,” Harry breathed, pulling her flush against his chest as he continued to piston in and out of her gushing pussy. The buzzing on her clit was intensifying with every passing second, driving the poor girl crazy.

“Mhmmmm,” Hermione moaned, her fingers wrapping around his firm thighs for support. She was close. So very close. And judging by his breathing and the way he was fucking her, so was he.

Harry buried his face in her neck, peppering her sweaty skin with kisses. All the worries and tension of the day melted away as he lost himself in her embrace. Her walls clamped around the shaft pistoning in and out of her, fluttering and trying to milk him with every thrust.

“You’re perfect,” Hermione whispered, resting her limp body against his chest. She could feel him deep in her belly, his tip roughly rubbing against her G-spot with every thrust and sending currents up her spine. “My perfect dominant,” she breathed.

Harry grunted and increased his pace, desperate for release. His hands moved to grab her jiggling breasts, fingers sinking into the soft flesh and leaving angry red marks on her flawless skin. His cock, slick and gleaming as it was coated with her arousal pumped in and out of her tight slit with a primal urgency.

He was the first to tumble over the edge, burying himself deep in her belly as he erupted with a loud groan. He held her tiny body tightly against him as he came.

Hermione moaned quietly as she felt ropes of thick, warm seed coat her walls, the sensation and the intensifying buzzing against her clit pushing her over the edge as well.

“Harry!” she screamed, blacking out for a second as she squirted, soaking his legs and the mattress below them.

The exhausted couple collapsed onto the bed, a tangle of sweaty limbs and complicated emotions. Harry wrapped his arms around her slender body as he tried to catch his breath, mindlessly peppering kisses on her shoulder. They stayed like that for a few minutes.

Hermione groaned quietly. Harry pulling out of her suddenly leaving her feeling empty and cold. She watched as he grabbed his wand, dispelling the spell on her clit before cleaning the bed.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, turning to see her slowly climb out of the bed.

“Bed. I should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.” Hermione yawned cutely, running a hand through her messy curls.

“Stay?” Harry asked, pulling aside the comforter and patting the space next to him.

Hermione looked at him for a second, unsure if he meant what she thought he meant. In all their time together, they’d done a lot on his bed, but never actually slept together. It was in her bloody contract, after all! She had her own room, and she was supposed to sleep in that room.

A small smile broke out on her face as she crawled back into bed. She turned to her side to face him, her warm brown eyes studying her lover shyly.

“Do you want me to?” Harry gestured at the thin trickle of his cum making its way down her thigh with his wand.

Hermione shook her head. “It’s a mark, sir,” she whispered. “Just like the others.” She gently grabbed his glasses and folded them before placing them on the nightstand on her side of the bed.

“Goodnight, Mione,” Harry murmured, pulling the comforter over their bodies. He wrapped his arms around her slender frame, making her the little spoon to his big spoon.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Hermione whispered, resting her head on his broad chest. The exhausted girl concentrated on his heartbeat, letting the steady thumps lull her to sleep and pleasant dreams.

It was the first time they’d actually slept together, and a night they’d never forget.

---

“Good morning.” Hermione smiled, continuing to fix the dangly silver earrings to her lobes.

Harry stretched, yawning quietly. He rubbed his eyes, blindly patting the nightstand across the bed for his glasses. Once located, he pushed them onto his nose and smiled at the sight at the foot of his bed. Hermione was dressed in a freshly ironed white blouse buttoned up to the collar, a professional gray pencil skirt, and black stockings. Her hair was done up in a simple bun, and she had completed her look with simple makeup and muted red lipstick. The consummate lawyer. Feminine, yet professional, inviting yet powerful. Not a hint of what had happened the previous night was visible, but Harry only had to look at the red poking out from under her stiff collar to know it was right there, lurking under the surface. “What time is it?” he mumbled, mustering up the will to get out of bed. It felt warmer and much more comfortable than usual.

“Eight. I’ve already showered, eaten, and dressed as per your instructions, sir.” Hermione smiled, picking up her simple black tie. “Today was the first time you didn’t wake up at the first buzz of your alarm, so I thought I’d let you sleep in. Seemed like you could do with the rest.”

“Why’re you wearing a tie?”

“It’s mandatory.”

“Can’t wear a tie and not a blazer.”

“Don’t own one.” Hermione shrugged. When one was scraping pennies, one learned how to make outfits work. “There wasn’t one my size the last time I went thrift shopping.”

“Take one of mine.”

Hermione eyed her lover’s broad frame dubiously.

Harry reluctantly got out of the comfortable bed and padded over to his walk-in closet. He rummaged about in the very top shelf of one side, pulling out a perfectly tailored navy blazer. He removed it from its dust jacket, holding it out for her. “I wore it the first couple years of school. Should fit you. Or, well, fit you well enough until we can get a blazer made for you.”

“Thanks,” Hermione blushed, timidly pulling on the comfortable garment. The shoulders dropped slightly, but other than that, it fit her perfectly. She wondered if he’d just let her keep it. It somehow still smelled of him and coupled with what he’d done to her body, its presence was almost as if he would be marching into battle with her.

“Let me throw on a shirt and I’ll drop you,” Harry murmured, kissing her forehead before returning back to the closet.

“It’s the first time you’ve slept in since I moved in, sir. You should rest. You deserve it.” Hermione followed him into the cupboard and wrapped her slender arms around his waist. She rested her face against his bare back and gently kissed him, leaving a red lip imprint on his tanned skin. “The world won’t end if you go to work late one day.” She had indirectly invited him to see her in action, but she highly doubted he’d take an entire day off from work just to watch her fight a fake trial.

“What about you?”

“I told you, I can take the bus. I don’t mind.”

“All those books-”

“I put them in my magically enlarged bag. Before you ask, it weighs a little less than my actual purse, so I’ll be fine.”

Harry grinned. “My kitten is a genius. Go kick some butt, princess.”

Hermione leaned in for a quick kiss, pulling away before he could deepen it. She knew she’d lose the minute his tongue made an appearance, and as appealing getting railed against the shelves of his closet sounded, prudence dictated she get to the mock courtroom early and make sure she was in the right headspace for her midterms.

“I will,” she whispered, running out before her resolve broke.

---

The classroom was much more lively than it had been the day before. The ‘jury’ and the judge (their professor) were yet to arrive, but students from various classes were milling around in the room, eager to witness the clash between the institution’s brightest students.

Hermione dumped her bag in the chair reserved for the defendant’s counsel, smiling at the quiet man she was to defend that day. Blaise Zabini. Cultured. Suave. In many ways, he reminded her of Harry.

“They roped you in for this, huh?”

“Seems slightly on the nose to have me be the defendant in a case where a man is on trial for killing his wife and making it look like an accident but I can’t say no to an old friend-” He winked at Daphne. The blonde smirked and rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to the Beauxbatons transfer who was acting as her second chair. “Plus, I’d do anything to get out of a History of Government Class, even commit metaphorical murder.”

“I’ll get you off.”

“Feeling confident, Miss Granger?”

“Let’s just say I have to win this case.”

“And what is the esteemed Mr. Potter getting you if you win?”

“I… How-” Hermione groaned. “You read Skeeter’s article.”

“Oh, I don’t bother with that rag. Not worth the paper it’s printed on. We have a mutual friend. Let’s just say if I were married to the woman I’m seeing, I’d have neither the balls nor the magical ability to murder her.” Zabini pulled out his wallet and snapped it open to show her a picture of him and Ginny fighting over the last spoonful of vanilla ice cream. “She hates taking pictures. This is the only one I have of her. Caught her completely by surprise,” he said, his voice laced with pride.

Hermione’s eyes widened. Her best friend’s sugar daddy. The one about whom she knew a lot… and yet, nothing at all. Ginny had always refused to reveal the man’s name.

Do all sugar daddies keep pictures of their babies in their wallets? Does Harry?

You just learned that the man your best friend’s seeing might have real feelings for her and that’s your first thought? She chided herself, clearing her throat to break the awkward pause.

“I hope you’re not upset,” Zabini said softly, mistaking her daydreaming for anger. “She didn’t want to keep it from you, but Ron caught us in a hallway during the time he was taking classes to be an Auror. He obviously didn’t know about our arrangement but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I can imagine,” Hermione mumbled.

“And you were dating him and Ginny didn’t want to put you in a position to lie-”

“I get it, Blaise.” Hermione smiled reassuringly. “I really do.” Her mind harkened back to all the times Ginny had told her they needed to talk after her breakup. She had assumed Molly was simply using her daughter as a messenger and had always found a way to avoid having the ‘conversation’.

Hermione shook her head at her own stupidity.

“So, what’s he getting you if you win?” Zabini asked, gently patting her arm to break her free of her reverie.

“A date. Shopping and pizza,” Hermione replied with a shy smile.

“Special night?”

“I’m hoping it will be.”

“Well, in that case, you better win, counsel.”

Hermione grinned. “I plan to. I’ll be back, just need to have a quick chat with my opposing counsel.”

She sauntered over to the table next to theirs, trying not to chuckle at the sight of Daphne Greengrass verbally eviscerating her partner.

“-an utter imbecile-”

Hermione cleared her throat.

Daphne paused, huffed, then slowly turned, her stormy gray eyes flickering up to meet her classmate’s warm brown ones.

“Miss Granger.”

“Miss Greengrass.” Hermione extended her hand. “I walked over to wish you luck.”

“Best of luck.” Daphne grasped her hand, shaking it for a quick second.

“Same to you. Also, no offense, but I need to wipe the floor with you and that’s what’s going to happen.”

Daphne slowly stood, her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised. “Is that so? What, your man buy the jury for his trophy wife?” Daphne asked, her eyes flickering to the ‘H.P.’ doodled on Hermione’s wrist in black ink.

Hermione followed her gaze, her cheeks heating up when she realized the initials, like the rest of the marks on her body hadn’t been washed away in the shower. Unlike all the naughty words and marks that her blouse and skirt obscured, however,  the initials hadn’t been penned on her body by Harry. She’d made them herself while daydreaming over a bowl of cereal.

H.P. Harry Potter.

Hermione Potter, her mind sang, reminding her of what she had originally been thinking of while making the doodle.

“Unfortunately they refused,” Hermione shot back. “They’re all flush from the cash your father gave the department to buy you your seat.”

“Ladies, please don’t-” The wiry man stood, a terrified expression on his face.

“Sit down, idiot.” Daphne cocked her head, staring at Hermione for a second before a huge grin broke out on her face. “She’s annoying but she’s a friend.” She pulled Hermione into a hug. “I missed you. The semester in France was fun but-”

“I missed you too, Daphne,” Hermione laughed, hugging her friend. “I’m still going to wipe the floor with you,” she said, slowly pulling away.

“Love the newfound confidence, Granger,” Daphne said, her eyes sparkling. “But there’s no way you win this. It’s a slam dunk for the prosecution.”

Hermione turned at the sound of the classroom door opening. Her grin widened as she spotted a familiar head of messy black hair slip into the room and occupy a chair in the very back row of seats. He’d come to watch her in action, just as he’d promised. “We’ll see,” she whispered, her eyes blazing with determination.

Notes:

A Patron requested a bath scene and just Harry and Hermione taking care of each other, and I was more than happy to write it! As for Ron, I said at the start of the story that I wasn't going to bash him, but a little relationship drama is always fun.