Her Bound Heart Chapter 15. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Cum Play, Anal, Butt Plugs, Teasing, Mile High Club, Semi Public.

Twenty-One Years Later:

“Lily Potter and Nymeria Bones!” Hermione growled, trying her best to sound stern. It was difficult to hide her true feelings. Everyone with eyes and a functioning brain knew the two girls had feelings for each other. It was good to see them stop beating around the bush and finally act on them. “You, young lady,” Hermione said, turning to Nymeria, ‘are lucky that your mothers are out of the country. You’d have been drawn and quartered if Daphne was here instead of me. Public Indecency, really!”

She didn’t have it in her to scold them, not when she was so happy. So she stepped away from the bars and let the Muggle cop unlock the cell. Hermione hid her smile behind a hand and watched as the man ushered the two pink-faced girls outside. “Come on, young lady,” Hermione said, addressing her daughter. “Your father is sorting things out with the cops and the owner.” Hermione smiled at the cop who nodded respectfully in return.

Hermione led them through the station and out to the front desk, where Harry was chatting with the receptionist. Hermione rolled her eyes when the young blonde woman leaned back in her chair and shot her husband a flirtatious smile all while toying with the top button of her white blouse.

Age had only made her husband more handsome. He was as well-dressed and fit as the day she had met him, but the addition of an evening stubble and streaks of gray running through his messy black hair gave him a distinguished look that turned him into a (as she had overheard Lily’s friends call him on occasion) total DILF.

She had gotten used to women of all ages flirting with him. They usually stopped when they noticed the wedding band on his finger. For the ones that didn’t…

“All done?” Hermione asked, waiting for him to turn around.

“Yes-” But that was all Harry could say. The minute he turned to face his wife, she leaned up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips were on his within seconds, drowning out the rest of what he was about to say. Harry groaned as Hermione playfully nipped his lower lip, the girl taking advantage of his parted lips to dart her tongue into the warm embrace of his mouth.

They playfully dueled for a few seconds before Hermione pulled away. “Thank you for keeping my husband company,” she said, smiling at the receptionist. She patted Harry’s chest for good measure as she removed her arms from around his neck. “Come on. Let’s leave before our daughter does something else that lands her in trouble. I should start charging her for my services,” Hermione grumbled playfully.

She wasn’t mad, not really. Lily was the best daughter they could ask for. But, while she had inherited her mother’s genius and her father’s work ethic, she had also picked up her grandfather’s ‘work hard, party harder’ attitude, which meant the person Hermione represented most often was her own daughter.

“It wasn’t even that bad,” Lily groused, wrapping an arm around Nymeria’s shoulders and pulling the shy girl closer. They walked a few steps behind Harry and Hermione, the older couple deliberately walking in front to give the two lovebirds some privacy.

“Darling, you had your tits out in the restroom of a restaurant,” Hermione reminded Lily without turning around. “Probably traumatized that waiter for the rest of his life.” Given the secret stash of magazines she had discovered (but not told her about) in Lily’s bedroom, Hermione had a very good idea of what she was into and had been caught doing.

Maybe it’s time to give her the talk about safe practices, Hermione thought, looking up at her husband. She had been incredibly lucky to have a partner as kind, considerate, and experienced as Harry as her first. In her nearly two decades as Harry’s lover, wife, and submissive she had heard several horror stories and she was determined to make sure Lily and Nymeria did not have one of their own.

“He didn’t even see anything,” Lily drawled, annoyed that the prude had complained. In her experience, most men who saw two hot redheads snogging somewhere private treasured that memory for the rest of their life.

When her mother turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. “I mean, Nym’s face was buried in my chest. The only thing he saw was the back of her head.”

“Lils!” Nymeria whined, blushing and hiding her face in her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“And when the owner asked you for your names you told him you were Lily Potter and Lily Potter’s Princess,” Hermione added. She glanced at Harry, both of them sporting the same amused smiles on their faces.

Nymeria groaned and wondered if she could get away with apparating back to her apartment before she died of shame.

Harry chuckled quietly.

“Oh yeah old man, bet you find that very funny,” Lily growled, reaching out to poke her father’s shoulder. “Mom literally has a Quidditch jersey that says Princess Potter but when I call my girlfriend that nickname it’s funny.”

“I… I’m your girlfriend?!” Nymeria squeaked, her eyes wide.

“I-uhm-I… yes? I think so? I mean…” Hermione and Harry chuckled at her daughter’s stammering, which finally caused the brash redhead to blush. “I’ve used your shampoo and everything.”

“Is that when you decided our relationship was serious?” Hermione whispered playfully. “When I started borrowing your bottles of Sleekeazy?”

“Nah, it was when you lathered my shaving cream over your face and pretended to be Santa. That’s when I knew you were the one,” Harry teased back, bumping his shoulder against his wife’s.

“So, dad, what kind of trouble are we in? I’ll take the blame for the whole thing, they don’t need to involve Nym. Not that anything actually happened. The other patrons of the restaurant didn’t even know what was going on in the restroom,” Lily said, tightening her hold around Nymeria protectively.

Harry smiled, secretly pleased with how protective Lily was of her quieter, shyer girlfriend.

“Well, whatever the case may be, the owner has agreed to withdraw the complaint in exchange for me footing the bill for the renovations he’s doing in and around the restaurant,” Harry added mildly, utterly unbothered by the entire saga. He and Hermione had once been their daughter’s age, and had been much worse when it came to doing naughty things in inappropriate places…

---

“Why are we taking a flight?” Hermione reached out to take Harry’s hand. She threaded their fingers together and watched him pay the driver without any difficulty. Unlike most Purebloods, he had a decent understanding of Muggle money, technology, and customs. She wondered if he made it a point to learn about them as a way to connect with his mother.

It had been a long ride to the airport and a part of her wondered why they hadn’t taken the Knight Bus. Spending two hours in traffic (even with Harry) was not her idea of fun, especially when they had a better option. They could have spent the two hours doing other… more fun stuff, hopped on the Knight Bus, and arrived at the airport well in time for their flight.

Fuck, I’m a horndog.

She blamed that tattoo… mark… something on her shoulder. Even more so than magical tattoos it had a life of its own, the black ink flowing over her skin like a never-ending river, radiating warmth and pleasure. It also amplified her orgasms, and she could not remember a single session in the week since she was marked where she had not eventually passed out, her body unable to handle the intensity of the orgasms her lover elicited. It was as much mental as it was physical, the girl spurred on by the fact that she finally had someplace to call her own, that she belonged, belonged to him, with him.

HP.

Harry Potter.

Hermione Potter.

She bit her lip to stifle the moan building up in her throat. It turned to a groan at the sudden jolt of pain emanating from her shoulder and racing down her spine, right to her core. She turned to glare half-heartedly at Harry.

Harry laughed and leaned in to peck her adorable pout. “Welcome back to the land of the living love. Shall we go in?”

Hermione blushed furiously and nodded. If someone had told her she’d be standing at the entrance of a busy airport openly and shamelessly daydreaming about being Harry Potter’s perfect little princess a year ago, she’d have called them mental.

“As for why I’m choosing to fly… dad wants me to travel under the radar. Using an international portkey risks alerting people to my… our travel plans. His spies are everywhere and every Department of the Ministry has employees that are supposedly reformed Death Eaters. I’m not doing anything that puts us in unnecessary danger.”

“Are things that bad?” Hermione asked quietly as they strolled into the crowded hangar and got in line to check in their bags. Hermione was glad that she had the foresight to use extending charms to add hidden space for them to stash away their more risqué luggage. Not to mention items of the magical variety. Their potions case alone would have prevented them from boarding their flight.

Harry stayed silent until they were past security and had entered the hangar proper. “Wow. You were right. They are thorough. I’m glad you made us hide our wands,” he murmured, looking around for a relatively secluded spot to sit so they could talk.

“A part of me wonders how you’d have explained the presence of a long, finely carved wooden stick in your pocket,” Hermione giggled as they walked to a pair of empty seats near a water fountain. The closest person to them was an old lady who gave them a disapproving look when Hermione settled down into the seat next to Harry’s and rested her head on his shoulder. She grinned at the woman and planted a loud, wet kiss on Harry’s cheek.

She had dealt with people like that judgemental old woman her entire life, and her time with Harry had finally given her the strength she needed to stand up to them. It had taken her a while to understand and accept Lily Potter’s advice and even longer to actually work up the courage to implement it, but the mark had changed everything. Harry was hers, and she wasn’t going to hide her feelings for anyone’s sensibilities.

“What was that for?” Harry asked with a laugh.

“For being the best,” Hermione murmured, closing her eyes. Between his chest and the mark on her shoulder, she was enveloped in a warm Harry sandwich. The only way things could get any better was if they were already in the dark, dimly lit cabin of their plane, snuggling under a blanket. “So,” she whispered, looking up at him worriedly.

He had tried his best to downplay things in the week since her collaring but she could see the worry in his eyes and the stress in his expression every evening when he came home from work. Patricia had temporarily taken over the day-to-day operations of Potter Potions, and Harry spent his time with his father in Wizengamot, trying to push Fudge to respond to the Azkaban breakout with all the resources at his disposal. It was, as Harry had put it, as difficult as pulling a stubborn hippopotamus out of a river. They were still short of the votes they needed to remove him from office, which meant the only recourse they had until the next election was to work around his obstruction.

Which was why they were sitting in a Muggle airport, waiting for a flight to take them to Albania. It was a forest there, a dark and twisted place teeming with dark magic, that whatever remained of Voldemort had been rumored to have made his home. Someone had to go there and find him before his followers did.

Fudge had placed a strict ban on all Ministry employees under his authority from traveling abroad. James, Sirius, and the rest of their allies needed to stay in Britain and marshal their forces in and out of the Ministry to prepare for the possibility of his return. Which left just them, Harry and her with the responsibility to go and investigate the rumors of Voldemort’s presence in Albania.

“Yes,” Harry finally answered with a sigh. “Thirty of his worst and most deranged followers, including Bellatrix Lestrange herself, escaped. We still don’t know how they managed to do it and the dementors are not cooperating with our informal investigation. Neville, Merlin, Neville has been trying to keep it together when he’s out and about but Hannah tells me he’s been having nightmares about the day he lost his parents every single night.”

Hermione reached out to take Harry’s hand and threaded their fingers together. She decided not to mention his own nightmares, of all the times that week when he had shot upright in bed in a cold sweat after dreaming about green flashes and shrill screams.

So much loss, all for one man’s hatred and lust for power.

“Fudge is acting like it’s business as usual. He told Wizengamot this crisis is not much worse than the time thin-bottomed cauldrons smuggled in by Mundungus and his friends nearly brought the Potions industry to a standstill. He announced yesterday, with no proof mind you, that all the escapees have fled to the continent. He is handing over their files to every other European Ministry and has declared it to be their headache now.”

“Surely he can’t be serious. Azkaban is supposed to be impregnable. In fact, its creators were so sure of that fact that the founding charter includes what needs to be done in the event of a breakout. A committee headed by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement must use every resource at their disposal to investigate the breakout and return the convicts to the prison as soon as possible.” Hermione frowned. Her upbringing had ingrained in her a reflexive respect for authority, something that had persisted even after she had grown up and realized that those who wielded power rarely did so for altruistic reasons. If throwing an innocent, powerless person like her in Azkaban solved his problems, Hermione was suddenly sure Fudge would do it without a second thought and not lose any sleep over it either.

“He very much is. The thing is, every politician lies but he’s the kind that believes their own lies. That’s the worst type of politician, because there’s nothing we can do or say that’ll make him see reason. He knows he was elected as a peacetime Minister, that at the first sign of real trouble he will be kicked out and replaced with someone actually competent. Self-preservation is one hell of a drug, Mione,” Harry explained with a sigh. She was brilliant, but her knowledge was academic and theoretical. He had told her more than once that the law rarely worked the way she read about it in her books. The text of the laws she learnt might have been in black and white, but the people enforcing them were very much human, which meant their actual implementation depended on the person doing the implementing. “Sure, the law says a committee must be established. But who is to serve in the committee? What is meant by ‘every resource at their disposal’? Fudge is making Wizengamot debate these questions, trying to waste as much time as possible while he works to secure his position,” Harry explained calmly. If she truly wanted to argue before Wizengamot one day, she needed to understand how the people serving in it thought, why they acted the way they did.

“So there’s nothing we can do?” Hermione asked, sounding crestfallen.

“I didn’t say that. We are doing something. You and I, we’re going to get to Voldemort before his followers can find him and return him to power. We’re going to track the bastard down and finish what my mother started all those years ago,” Harry said grimly. The Boy-Who-Lived. He always hated that title. He was nothing but a boy who had lost his mother, a boy whose parent’s love had enabled him to live and fight for a better world.

A world in which the woman he loved and people like her would never have to make the sacrifice his mother had made.

“That we are,” Hermione whispered, leaning up to brush her lips against his jaw. “I’m surprised you are letting me come with you,” she teased, knowing how neurotic he could be when it came to her safety.

Harry sighed. It had been a difficult decision to make. “Honestly a part of me wanted to tie you up in our bedroom and only let you out once Voldemort was gone for good and his followers were back in prison,” Harry murmured, only half-joking. “But I realized that the safest place for you is by my side. We have no idea where Bellatrix is and all wards can be broken with time and patience. My father once thought the safest place for his family was their heavily protected house and when he came back he found out that the woman he…” Harry trailed off with a sigh. His father had never forgiven himself for stepping out that night, and Harry doubted he ever would. That would not be him. A world where he outlived Hermione was not a world he wished to inhabit. “Besides,” he whispered teasingly, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood. “There is no one I would rather have watching my back than the smartest witch of our generation.”

“Daphne might dispute that assertion,” Hermione responded with a happy giggle. She squirmed and tried to free herself from Harry’s hold as he tickled her side, the happy couple completely oblivious to the angry looks the old woman was giving them.

“Daphne is a hypercompetitive drama queen.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that or she’ll hex your ass off,” Hermione grinned, flopping into Harry’s open arms. She let him wrap them around her as he pulled her into his chest for a hug. “I rather like your ass, sir.”

“I rather like your ass too, Miss Granger.”

“Do you think we can do it?” Hermione asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“I thwarted him once with the help of a very smart woman,” Harry murmured, hoping with all his heart that history would rhyme, but not repeat. “No reason I can’t do it again.”

“I can’t compare to your mother, Harry. She was brilliant.”

“That she was. I had a talk with her yesterday, you know?” It had been a long overdue conversation.

“What’d she say?”

“We talked for like three hours so… a lot. But the gist of it? She asked me to pull my head out of my ass and reminded me that Potter men… all Potter men have a type.”

“Do they now?”

“Yep,” Harry said with a quiet chuckle. “Apparently my grandmother was a highly intelligent pain in the ass too.”

“Need I remind you, sir, that you’re the pain in my ass,” Hermione shot back, playfully slapping his chest. “My butt is still sore from the paddling and that was two days ago!”

Harry chuckled and they settled into another period of comfortable silence and cuddling.

“Hermione?” Harry spoke out softly, breaking her free from her thoughts.

“Yes, Harry?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen there. I don’t even know if we’ll make it back alive. I just… We can’t go… I can’t let you go without you knowing that I-”

The speakers scattered throughout the terminal buzzed and the announcement that First Class boarding for their plane had started blared through them.

The moment shattered, Harry stood and helped Hermione to her feet before grabbing their carry-on bag.

“Harry?”

“It’s nothing,” Harry said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll tell you when we get back.”

I love you. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone. I wish I could find the courage to tell you, Harry thought, watching her expertly deal with the boarding passes before leading him onto the plane.

---

Flying was a singularly terrifying experience for Harry.

They were hurtling through the air at an insane speed in a sealed metal tube that was powered by ‘science’ he did not understand. Hermione had assured him that it was completely safe but he did not let go of her hand until the plane had taken off and was safely in the air, the bumps that worried him slowly disappearing as the turbulence smoothened out.

It was nighttime and the lights in the cabin had been switched off. The plane was illuminated by dim blue lights and the glow of the entertainment systems in some of the cubicles. Harry watched Hermione recline her seat and copied her actions before starting to unfold the blankets they had been provided. He was still on edge and nearly jumped out of his seat when she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“I’m just going to freshen up in the bathroom back there before bed, okay?” she whispered, gently squeezing his hand.

Harry nodded, trying his best to relax in the decently comfortable seat. It had reclined enough to nearly be a bed and pulling up the armrest between their chairs would allow them to cuddle. Which was just as well. He had gotten used to having her in his arms when they slept. He watched as Hermione slipped out of her seat and made her back to the bathroom, suddenly wondering where all the waste went. Did they just jettison it out of the plane and into the air? Would it rain down on some poor unsuspecting chap standing below?

That couldn’t be it, Harry mused. Otherwise, he told himself, London would have been covered in poop.

Her journey to the bathroom and the time she spent in there was fairly uneventful. However, on the way back she was greeted by an extremely familiar yet highly unexpected… sound.

Hermione discreetly glanced at the couple in the second to last row as she slowed down her walk back to her seat, certain her ears had deceived her. Surely that hadn’t been a moan. And yet, just as she was passing them she heard another quiet moan. There was no mistaking what it was this time, especially since she could make out the blush on the girl’s cheeks even in the darkness. There was also the rhythmic rustling of the blanket they had draped over their bodies. She averted her gaze and hurried down to her seat, hoping they hadn’t noticed her staring.

She knew what it was, of course, she had read about it in several books. But to see it actually happen on the flight she was in, to share in that thrill if only for a quick minute… that was a surreal experience for the bookish girl.

She slipped back into her seat, gratefully accepting the warmth of the blanket Harry draped over her. Hermione leaned closer and rested her head on his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her like usual as they prepared for bed.

She closed her eyes, only for her mind to wander back to what she had seen.

If that woman can do it, she thought, struck by a sudden burst of inspiration. Why can’t I?

Harry had been so stressed… was still so stressed. He hid it well for her sake, but she could feel how tense he was under her. Unlike her, he wasn’t sleeping. He had an arm wrapped protectively around her and the small reading lamp overhead switched on and was reading a tattered old book. He muttered and frowned as he made notes in an accompanying notebook and Hermione couldn’t bear it anymore.

Taking care of each other was a two-way street and she has been far too selfish in wanting to be pampered without reciprocating.

She shifted slightly, her hand unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down. “Close the book and switch off the light,” she ordered in a low growl, her hand slipping under the waistband of his now loosened pants.

Harry was surprised. Pleasantly so. He groaned quietly at the tone of her voice and had to bite his lip to stifle a bigger groan when she slipped her hand inside his boxers and wrapped it around the base of his cock. She began to pump slowly, coaxing his cock to life.

“Mione… you cheeky minx,” Harry growled even as he turned slightly to make it easier for her to pump his rapidly hardening cock. “What’re you doing?”

“It’s tradition amongst Muggles to do this on a plane,” Hermione whispered sultrily. “They call if joining the mile high club, sir.”

“What, a handjob?”

Hermione grinned and swiped her thumb across his sensitive tip, causing him to buck his hips and place a hand over his mouth to stifle his ever louder groans.

“The couple a few rows behind us are doing much more than that. Technically speaking, to join the mile high club you need to uh-” Hermione paused and blushed, still getting used to the dirty talk that came so effortlessly to him.

“Fuck?” Harry teased. He lapsed into silence within seconds, his breathing growing heavy as she sped up her pumping.

“Mhm,” Hermione murmured, glad the darkness hid the blush on her cheeks. She wondered if she could get away with popping her head under the blanket and taking care of him properly, if she was brave enough to do so.

She didn’t have to wonder for too long.

“Take your hand out of my pants, princess,” Harry ordered, breathing a sigh of relief once her hand withdrew.

Hermione knew he was already close which made his order infuriating. Still, she obeyed and pulled her hand out. She watched the blanket rustle as he buttoned up his pants, frowning slightly. He had never before turned down an opportunity to be with her, so why was he starting now?

“If we’re doing this,” Harry whispered, interrupting her train of thoughts. “We do this the right way.”

“You mean-” Hermione squeaked, her cheeks going from pink to dark red. He wanted to fuck? Here, in the open, where anyone could catch them like she had caught that couple?!

She was a very vocal submissive, and she didn’t know if she had it in her to be as quiet as she would need to be to pull something like this off.

“I’m going to fuck you? Yes, Mione, I am,” Harry whispered, sounding very pleased with the unexpected development. He shut his books and carefully placed them out of sight to ensure a nosey Muggle didn’t cause any trouble.

Harry grabbed a furiously blushing Hermione’s hand and threaded their fingers together before getting to his feet and pulling her up along with him.

The cabin was thankfully dark, with nearly everyone sleeping or occupied with a movie. The stewardess was in the hold in the front of the section, out of view. Which meant that there was no one to stop or question them as they walked to the bathrooms in the back. They were both unoccupied and Harry led her to the one on the right, shutting and locking the door before pinning her against it.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, staring at him with wide brown eyes. Her heart hammered in her chest as he flipped her around, pressing her against the unyielding door. Her body subconsciously responded to him and she arched her back, pushing her bum out towards him.

“Hmm?” Harry kept a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place but his attention was completely focused on her firm ass, the curve of her perfect cheeks accentuated by the tight, booty-hugging jeans she wore.

“What if we get caught?” The cubicle was cramped and he was in the tiny space behind her, trapping her between his body and the door. She had nowhere to run and even though she could have technically unlocked the door and run out, she doubted she could muster the willpower to actually leave.

“Didn’t you tell me muggles did this all the time?” His hands snaked around her waist, nimble fingers making quick work of her jeans’ button. He grabbed the waistband of her pants and pulled them and her panties down to her knees, practically tying her legs together in improvised bondage. His gaze moved to her ass again and lingered there, the man entranced as her firm cheeks jiggled and ass gently clapped due to the force with which he had pulled down her pants.

“Yes… I mean… I’ve read about it but I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon,” Hermione murmured, biting her lower lip to stifle her moan. There was just a flimsy door separating her from the rest of the people in First Class which meant she had to be quiet, quieter than she had ever been with him. She didn’t know if it was the thrill of breaking a rule or just the fact that her pussy turned into a leaky faucet at the thought of being claimed by him but she spread her legs despite her protestations, wanting, needing him inside her.

She heard his zipper and then the quiet crinkling of his pants sliding down his legs. She spread her legs further, as far as the cramped space would allow her, eager to feel him inside her. All her worries and concerns faded away, replaced by an overwhelming need for his cock.

Harry, it seemed, had other plans. He bunched up the handkerchief in his hand and gently caressed her damp folds and slick thighs with it, using it to soak up the juices leaking out of her.

Hermione moaned quietly, the napkin providing the barest hints of friction and driving her wild. Yet, it was removed all too soon and Hermione groaned in disappointment.

Harry took advantage of her parted lips to stuff the ball of wet fabric into her mouth, gagging her with the handkerchief.

“In case you forget to be quiet,” Harry teased, stepping closer. He hissed as his sensitive tip brushed against her ass, leaving a streak of precum across her unblemished pale skin.

“S-sir,” Hermione moaned. Harry was taking his time, playing with his meal before devouring her. He pushed a hand under her chin and made her bite down on the handkerchief, the extra pressure causing it to release the juices it had soaked up.

Hermione’s eyes went wide as her arousal coated her tongue and flowed down her throat. She was… she was tasting herself!

“How do you taste, Mione? Delicious, I bet,” Harry grunted, lazily pumping his cock with one hand.

Hermione couldn’t speak so she simply moaned at the sheer kinkiness of her situation. She was in the bathroom of a plane, gagged and drinking her own juices, and about to be fucked!

And yet, it seemed Harry wasn’t done.

His free hand grasped the ruby set into the hilt of her buttplug. Her anal training was going well, she had progressed through various plugs at a pace that surprised even herself. The current one she wore was the size of a tiny dildo, and the way it jostled when she walked often necessitated trips to the bathroom to adjust it so she didn’t cum her brains out on a random street.

Harry rotated the charmed plug slowly, rubbing the gem in the hilt to activate its magic. Hermione moaned as the plug released more lube, the slippery, cold, and viscous liquid coating the walls of her virgin ass.

“You told me a lot of Muggles do this. Well, if we are doing it too, I’m not just going to copy them. This is going to be a memory we never forget,” Harry murmured, gently pulling the plug out of her. Hermione grunted, she wore her plugs so often that the sudden emptiness brought on by their absence was entirely unwelcome.

She had an inkling of what he was about to do, but her fuzzy mind only completely comprehended his actions when he dropped the plug into the pocket of her coat and guided his tip to her tight, puckered, virgin hole.

“I bet you’ll never forget I took your virginity on a plane high in the sky,” Harry whispered, slowly pushing his cock into her ass.

“H-haaaary!” Hermione moaned, her walls burning and aching as they were stretched by the massive cock pushing inside her tight asshole.

“All your holes are mine,” Harry hissed, gritting his teeth to keep his composure. Her walls clamped around his girth, the resistance provided by them massaging his veiny shaft and driving him to the edge of release within seconds.

“Y-yhes, mhaster,” Hermione moaned thickly, her body going limp, supported only by the hand on her shoulder and the huge cock impaling her from behind. Harry’s hand snaked around her waist and pushed between her spread legs. He split her slick slit and expertly located her clit, lazily massaging the sensitive nub with his thumb even as he kept pushing deeper and deeper into her tight ass. “Phlease!” Hermione moaned, her knees buckling. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she lost herself to pleasure, entirely forgetting where she was. She was full, oh-so full. He was deep in her belly, practically rearranging her insides with his throbbing manhood. Hermione had never heard a sound as sweet as that of his balls slapping against her thighs as he buried himself inside her up to his hilt.

Harry was breathing heavily and he had to pause to gather the strength to start moving. He was already teetering on the edge of release, her stretched, aching walls massaging his cock and trying to milk him for his seed.

It was, simultaneously, the best and the worst moment to tell her what was on his mind. But he had to, and so he did.

He leaned in, his hot breath tickling her skin as his lips paused inches from her ear.

“I love you,” Harry admitted in a quiet whisper. “I don’t expect you to say it back or even love me… I know it might never happen… but I needed you to know. In case something happens. I love you, Hermione Granger.”

Before Hermione could register his words or respond, he withdrew. His nail grazed against her clit, drawing out a strangled shriek from her lips.

Hermione wasn't sure what surprised her more. His pulling out of her only to ram back into her ass with the force of a bull, or the fact that he loved her. The mark of her shoulder buzzed with the strength of his emotions and Hermione’s mind went blank, overwhelmed with pleasure.

Harry roughly pistoned in and out of her puckered hole, the lube left behind by the plug easing his way and turning the experience into the perfect mixture of pleasure and pain. Her ass was stretched in a way no plug could have ever managed to do. It was made for his cock, to be ravished and ravaged, stretched and gaped, and filled with his seed.

She would be sore for hours and walk funny for days.

It did not matter. She was his perfect fuckdoll, his collared princess, and he would take care of her.

Harry’s breathing grew laborious as he pounded her ass as hard and fast as he could. He pulled her back against his chest, his hand moving from her shoulder to clamp over her lips. The action pushed the handkerchief deeper into mouth, causing it to release more of her sweet, tangy pussy juices.

“I love you,” he whispered again and increased his pace, her petite breasts bouncing with the force of her thrusts.

Hermione was in her happy place, in his arms and being fucked into a coma.

I love you, she thought, with a silly, happy grin. I love you. I love you! I LOVE-

Her mind went blank and her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the orgasm crashed into her, her magical mark doing its job and amplifying her pleasure tenfold. Her juices gushed out of her pussy and flowed down her legs, leaving slick, gleaming thighs in their wake.

Her already tight asshole clenched around Harry’s cock, the pressure of it finally proving to be the thing that pushed him over the edge. He buried his face in her shoulder to muffle his roar as he came, filling her up with his seed.

By the time Hermione regained a sense of her surroundings she realized that her makeshift gag was now stuffed in the pocket of her jacket. Harry had retrieved the buttplug and plugged her ass with it again.

She felt full. Her hands dazedly caressed the barely present distension of her belly and she realized the plug now served more than one purpose. His seed was in her, and the plug would ensure it did not flow out.

Good, Hermione thought, giggling happily as she watched him dress himself before doing the same for her. His seed belongs inside me.

Harry gently wiped her face with paper napkins, cleaning her up before bed.

“How’re you feeling?” Harry whispered, leaning to kiss her forehead. He made no mention of his admission, certain she did not feel the same way. And that, Harry decided, was perfectly fine. He could live his life as her dominant, as the person whose initials she bore on her body, as long as she was with him.

“Happy,” Hermione answered honestly. She watched as he unlocked the bathroom door and they slipped outside into the dark cabin. Thankfully, it seemed no one had noticed their little game in the bathroom or if they had, they had decided not to confront them and make a scene.

Harry silently slipped into his seat and pulled her tired, sore body down into hers.

“Sir?” Hermione whispered as she wrapped her arms around his broad frame. She rested her head on his chest and nuzzled into him. He wrapped the blanket around them before dimming the lights.

“Hmm?”

“Welcome to the mile high club. Oh, and the HP I doodled on my wrist?” she murmured, leaning up to kiss his cheek. She knew (how, she did not understand) that he needed to hear this. “Not Harry Potter. Hermione Potter. I love you too.”

---

“What do you know?” Bellatrix hissed, staring into the terrified eyes of her bound captive. The other escapees milled around the grand ballroom of the ruined mansion, clearly uncomfortable with her tactics. But no one dared to speak out. They all valued their own skin and knew Bellatrix would not hesitate to flay them alive if she thought they were standing in her way. She was determined to reunite with her beloved master, no matter the cost. “Why is James Potter trying to find you?”

“Albania! ALBANIA!”

Notes:

If I made any mistakes in the plane part of it, my apologies. I have no memory of what flying was like in the early parts of this millennium and I've never flown first class. Things are heating up, and we are in the middle part of this story. I just want a badass Hermione moment where she kicks Bellatrix's butt in a duel, is that too much to ask for? Two short stories will be uploaded in the coming days, a Harry/Daphne/Luna story and Unexpected Forest Delights Part Two!