Her Bound Heart Chapter 16. (Patreon)

Content Warnings: Blindfolds, Breast Play, Cum Play, Teasing, Roleplay (Wedding), Striptease.

Twenty-One Years Later:

“What?” Hermione asked without turning. Her husband was leaning against the doorway to their bathroom, silently staring at her. She bared her teeth and studied her reflection in the mirror, worried he had spotted something she missed. “Do I have something in my teeth?”

“Nope. But I really hope there’ll be something in your ass within the next few minutes. It’s long and thick,” Harry whispered. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest. She had a towel loosely wrapped around her body and his hand inched towards the knot holding it in place only for her to smack it away.

“It’s a good thing we’re already married,” she teased. Her eyes glanced down at her hand, her smile growing at the sight of her simple wedding ring glinting in the dim yellow mood lighting of their bathroom. “Because that was disgustingly corny and I’d have dumped you for it.”

“It’s not my fault my wife is the sexiest woman on the planet,” Harry breathed. His hands freely roamed her curves, inching toward the knot of the towel once more.

Hermione moaned quietly as his hands brushed against her sensitive chest. Jasmine had been weaned a long time ago but her breasts had never returned to normal, not that her husband minded. She knew she had to stop him, they were already running late and it was an important night for their daughter.

Her will crumbled the minute she spotted his heated gaze in the mirror. His eyes held the same level of lust and desire they had all those years ago, back when their relationship was new and everything felt exciting. The latter hadn’t changed, not even after years of marriage.

“I met Romilda today. She’s marrying the new French ambassador and came to file for a license,” Hermione murmured. She closed her eyes and spread her legs for him. His hands had shifted lower, gently pushing under the towel and caressing the inside of her slick thighs. There really was no point in taking a shower when she was around him. “She told me I should sample the variety of life. Apparently, it’s bad that I’ve only been with one man my entire life.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“When you have the best you don’t go looking for anything else,” Hermione said with a smirk.

“I bet she loved that.” Harry’s calloused fingers gently caressed the petals guarding her core. His digits dragged against the soft skin of her folds, drawing a loud moan out of her.

“She told me I was a naive idiot. That I might as well enjoy myself considering the fact that my husband is buggering some poor law student every evening.”

“Wait-”

“I know.” Hermione giggled. “I guess someone saw me sneak into your office the evening I put on my old uniform to surprise you. You know how fast rumors spread in the Ministry.”

“The only ass I’m interested in is yours, Mrs. Potter,” Harry growled, shifting slightly to allow the massive tent in his trousers to poke her firm asscheek.

“I know, Mr. Potter. Trust me, I know.”

People often told her that marriages get stale after a while. Eyes strayed, and affairs were second nature for powerful men. As she finally allowed Harry to pull the towel away from her and bend her over the sink, she could only think about how wrong they all were, and how wrong she herself had been.

---

“Home sweet home,” Hermione said, looking around the hotel room with a smile.

“This is much better than what I had expected.” Harry wheeled their suitcases into the room and shut the door behind him. Given that their investigations would inevitably lead them to the magical parts of Albania and keeping his identity a secret for any long periods of time was simply not feasible, he had (with her permission) come up with a passable cover. They had traveled to Albania in a plane but would be staying in a hotel in their magical quarter. But not as investigators or even official representatives of his father.

If anyone were to ask around, they’d be told that Mr. and Mrs. Potter had booked the ‘Dungeon’ in The Rampaging Boar for the first leg of their honeymoon.

He wondered what Skeeter would do when she got her hands on that particular piece of gossip.

He could almost imagine the headlines.

‘Potter Heir Marries Muggleborn Witch In A Hurry. A Child On The Way?’

“Did you expect a literal dungeon?”

Harry chuckled and looked around at the specialty hotel room. It was about the size of their playroom, although it wasn’t as well equipped. A bed with soft red cotton sheets dominated the center of the room and was flanked by nightstands on either side. There was no vanity or any other furniture but Harry could spy a large mirror above a sink through the half-ajar bathroom door.

The black walls were lined with bare racks, hooks, and stands that carried basic kink equipment.

Purple candles were suspected in the air at regular intervals, their flickering flames casting long shadows on the floor and walls.

“Maybe,” Harry murmured as he wheeled the suitcases to one corner of the room. “This is nice.”

Hermione shot him a smile and nodded. In a perfect world, they’d be home and she’d be kneeling in their playroom, being the perfect princess for him. But the world they lived in wasn’t as understanding of her needs.

At least I get to pretend to be his wife, she thought, a tingle running down her spine.

“I’ll get started on the fire.” Harry strode towards the fireplace and knelt, carefully arranging the logs placed inside it. A quietly murmured spell set them alight and the room was suddenly flooded with light and warmth.

“Mione?”

“Hmm?” Hermione’s eyes were vacant and his gentle endearment barely registered.

“Like the paddle, do you?” Harry teased, following her gaze.

Hermione blushed and shook her head. “I was just thinking,” she murmured, biting her lower lip. She had readily agreed to their cover when he had suggested it but hadn’t stopped to think about its implications. Being addressed as Lady Potter by the receptionist in the lobby had finally opened her eyes to what she had done. “How do you think this ends?”

“Hopefully with Voldemort locked in Azkaban or dead.” Harry frowned as he straightened. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Mione. I promise.”

Hermione flushed. His low protective growl caused butterflies to flutter in her stomach.

He’ll take care of me.

He was in front of her before she could react and she melted in his arms, sighing softly as she buried her face in his chest.

“You know, this is the point where Ginny slaps me and reminds me I’m a strong, powerful, independent witch,” Hermione mumbled, biting her lip to stifle the moan building up in her throat. He was caressing her spine with a finger, the gentle strokes sending currents down her back.

She had been taking care of herself and others all her life. Was it so bad to want to surrender herself completely to the man she was convinced she loved?

Ginny would probably have said yes, but Hermione didn’t care.

“In this hypothetical scenario, what do you tell her?”

“I tell her that I have different standards for the world and for the man I love. I submit to him because I want to, not because I have to. My submission is my strength,” Hermione whispered. She leaned up and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure a good Potter wife is expected to be quiet, obedient, and submissive,” she teased, her lips curled into a small smile.

Harry snorted. “One day I’ll tell you all about my mother and grandmother. Potter men have a type and I can promise you ‘quiet’ and ‘obedient’ isn’t it. Are you worried about our cover?” Harry reached out and gently tucked a stray brown curl behind her ear.

Hermione shivered, her big brown eyes unable to pull away from his gaze. He could read her like a book, a fact that both excited and terrified her.

“A little,” Hermione whispered. “You know if they get wind of this back home there’s no going back? People like Skeeter won’t respect your father’s informal gag order. Not for something as juicy as this.”

“Does it matter?”

Hermione blinked. “I… What?” she asked, utterly confused by his question.

“Does it matter if they think you’re my wife?” Harry asked. “Maybe it’ll finally stop Ron from trying to get you back. I don’t like it that he writes to you every week begging to meet up for coffee.”

He was utterly adorable when he was jealous. Hermione suppressed a smile and leaned up to kiss him.

“I have no feelings for him, Harry. Merlin, I don’t think I ever did. There are days I wonder why I even stuck with him for so long. Whatever the reason, I have no interest in a relationship with him or any other man.”

“He doesn’t seem to have gotten that particular memo,” Harry muttered with a small pout. He had shown remarkable restraint in dealing with the youngest Weasley brother but his patience was running thin. Fred and George had offered to turn him into a toad for a year and he was seriously considering taking up their offer.

“Harry?” Hermione leaned up and pressed her lips against his ear, her hot breath tickling his skin. “I have your collar around my neck, a plug with your name in my ass, and your initials on my shoulder,” she whispered, resisting the urge to unbutton his pants.

She needed him out of the room to prepare her surprise and that wasn’t going to happen if layers of clothing started to come off.

“I couldn’t make it more obvious that I belong to you if I screamed it from the rooftops and everyone who isn’t as blind as Ron can see that,” she said as she pulled away. “He’s never getting me back. And I’m never leaving you until you get bored with me and find someone younger and hotter. Okay?”

Harry gave her a lopsided grin that caused her heart to skip a beat.

“Okay.”

“That receptionist seemed eager to tell us about all the places we could explore during our ‘honeymoon’. Why don’t you go and pump her for information about the forest Voldemort is rumored to be hiding in while I unpack?” Hermione asked, patting his chest and reluctantly freeing herself from his arms.

The initials on her shoulder buzzed and tingled. They were a reliable indicator of his mood, a secret doorway into his mind that only she had access to.

He was happy and she had every intention of making him happier.

They were on their honeymoon after all.

Harry nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll be back in ten. I’ll also ask her for a nice place to have dinner.”

We’re not going out to have dinner. We will not be leaving this room until morning, Hermione thought with a smirk as she watched him leave.

Harry padded down the creaky staircase and into the quiet lobby of the pub. It was the off-season for tourism and a sneaky glance at the register while they were checking in had let him know theirs was only one of three rooms currently occupied and neither of the other two occupants had rooms next to theirs. Not having to worry about collateral damage if it came to a duel was always a good thing.

The short, sweet blonde manning the reception perked up when she spotted him and set the newspaper in her hands down on the desk. “Lord Potter! What can I do for you?”

Harry ignored the faux pass. His father was Lord Potter but he wasn’t there to educate the girl on the intricacies of British titles.

“I was hoping you could help me plan a surprise for my wife,” Harry lied with an easy smile. “I want to make sure our honeymoon is a trip she never forgets.”

The girl’s eyes widened to the size of pennies and she nodded excitedly. “I would be honored, sir!”

“She’s a big fan of spooky and haunted places. She’s Muggleborn so she grew up with tales of ghosts, poltergeists, and haunted houses and the fascination didn’t die out even when she learned magic is real. Any ideas where I can take her tomorrow?”

The witch leaned back in her chair and tapped her chin, deep in thought. “Hmmmmm,” she rolled the word around on her tongue. “There’s an old castle thirty miles to the south. It’s on a cliff overlooking the sea. Rumour has it that it was Dracula’s summer residence. The whole place is very melancholy,” she whispered in a hushed tone. “Not a lot of people visit it, especially in the off-season. Might be the perfect surprise for your wife.”

Harry spotted the opening and he took it. “Isn’t there a forest close to it that’s rumored to be cursed and haunted too?” he asked casually. He leaned against the counter and acted nonchalant, even though his heart was pounding in his chest. His smile disappeared and he frowned as all color drained from the receptionist’s face.

“You don’t want to go there,” she whispered harshly. “It’s an accursed horrible place that reeks of black magic. Few people dare to venture into its dark depths and fewer still return.”

Harry sucked in a breath. “It’s that bad?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Why?”

The girl shrugged. “No one knows. My mother says it wasn’t like that twenty or so years ago. As a child, she’d go there and spend hours playing with the unicorn herd. There are no unicorns there now. The entire herd was slaughtered by some unknown creature. It’s a horrible place, Lord Potter. People say what life remains has been mutated and twisted beyond recognition. That’s not a place you should go, sir.”

Harry nodded. The transformation occurred twenty years ago. It all but confirmed his suspicions. The forest was tainted with Voldemort’s presence and as far as he could tell, the Dark Lord still resided there.

Now it was only a question of getting to him before his followers did.

“But the castle-”

The girl perked up again. “The castle is wonderful! Would you like me to arrange a car to take you there tomorrow?”

“That’d be perfect.” Harry smiled and nodded. Once they were in the castle there was nothing stopping him and Hermione from slipping away and studying the forest. “How can I send a letter?”

“The Owlery is in the room at the very end of the hallway.” The receptionist jerked her thumb to her right. “You’ll find a desk and writing material there. Shall I bill the delivery charges to your room?”

“Perfect.” Harry pulled away from the counter and walked down the hallway. He pushed open the door she had pointed out and slipped inside, calmed by the gentle hooting of the half dozen owls perched inside.

There was no use worrying about things outside his control, he decided. He had one last night with Hermione before they had to concentrate on their mission and he had every intention of taking advantage of it.

He pulled a piece of parchment towards him and leaned over the desk, trying to remember the exact wording he had agreed on with his father. A coded message that would give away nothing even if it was intercepted and read.

He dipped the quill in the inkpot and started writing.

To: James Potter,

Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

‘The honeymoon is going splendidly but we have an unexpected guest. It’d be great if you could bring the party to us.’

Love,

Harry.

He rolled up the parchment and gently secured it to the leg of a large brown barn owl who stared at him with baleful yellow eyes.

“Number 12, Grimmauld Place. London,” Harry said as he carried the owl to the open window.

He hooted quietly before flapping his wings and setting off into the darkness.

Harry stayed by the window for a second, staring up at the sky. It was a cloudless night and the full moon and stars painted a beautiful view across the night sky.

He wondered if Hermione would agree to go stargazing after dinner.

He sighed. He slowly pulled away from the window and retraced his steps back to their room, smiling at the receptionist on his way to the stairs.

“Wards,” Harry murmured to himself, pausing outside the shut door to their room. He pulled out his wand and spent the next few minutes lacing the door and their room with basic wards, just enough to safeguard their privacy and to give them ample warning on the off chance that they were attacked.

Once the task was done he grasped the doorknob, turned it, and slipped inside the room. It was much warmer than it had been, the fire he had started blazed in the fireplace and filled the room with light and warmth.

Harry turned to the bed, his wand slipping out of his grasp and clattering to the wooden floor at the sight that greeted him.

“Harry!” Hermione admonished, her dress rustling as she got to her feet and walked over to pick up his wand. “Be careful. Professor McGonagall always said our wand is an extension of our being and should be treated with respect.” She gently pushed the thin wood into the pocket of his trousers.

Harry stared silently at the vision in front of him. She had tamed her wild curls with Sleekeazy and secured her brown hair into an elegant bun. Her face sported the barest hints of makeup, with dark red lipstick accentuating her plump lips.

“It’s… a wedding dress,” Harry croaked, his throat suddenly dry. She was wearing a lacy white dress that went down to her ankles and swept the floor as she walked. It had a plunging neckline that teased but didn’t reveal anything and was held up by thin straps looping around her bare shoulders. She was a vision of beauty and Harry suddenly and irrationally wished they had married for real.

“Mhm. Ginny and I went shopping a couple of days before we left, remember? Madame Malkin was showing wedding dresses to someone and this caught my eye.” She smiled and twirled for him. “Don’t worry, it’s not very costly.”

“Mione.” He grasped her chin, shivering as she raised her gloved hands and wrapped them around his neck. Her soft satin elbow-length gloves tickled his skin and his cock twitched in his pants. “Even if it had cost me my entire vault, it’s worth it,” he whispered.

“Good. I feel really pretty in this dress,” she admitted, her cheeks pink.

“Why?”

“It seemed unfair to subject you to a married life without the consolation of letting you enjoy your bride on your wedding night,” Hermione giggled. “I’ve been reliably informed it’s all downhill from here.”

“Is it?”

“Give it twenty years and three children and you won’t want to sleep in the same bed as me, let alone see me naked. You’ll probably hire a hot young brunette with perky tits as your ‘assistant’ and spend your evenings boinking her,” Hermione teased. She bit her lip as the mark on her shoulder buzzed. The ink flowed like water, wrapping around her body and flowing down to her belly until it rested directly above her womb. The buzzing intensified and Hermione bit back a gasp.

“Children?”

“Well, if I’m going to be your wife I’m pretty sure one of my most important jobs is going to be giving birth to the next Potter heir,” Hermione teased. She toyed with the top button of his shirt, looking up at him with a coy and innocent gaze.

“You said children,” Harry said hoarsely, his cock rock hard and throbbing in his trousers. “Three, specifically. Not ‘child’. Children.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” Hermione whispered, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. She watched as he rolled his shoulders to push the garment off his body and onto the floor. “A family? Susan told me you once told her you wanted three children and a small cottage near the beach.” Her fingers ghosted over his abs, and she traced the thin line of hair that ran down from his navel and disappeared under his pants.

“Hermione you don’t have to-”

“I like the idea of three children. It’s the perfect number. I’d drop the potion the minute I finish my studies if you asked me to.” Her fingers were digging into the waistband of his now unbuttoned trousers, gently pushing them down his legs. Every conversation she had with Lily’s portrait (the last one being the day before they flew out while Harry and his father talked strategy) bolstered her determination to go after what she wanted. Her talks with Lily always boosted her confidence and allowed her to take her relationship with Harry to the next level.

The tattoo on her belly tingled and sent waves of pleasure right to her core. She gasped and doubled over, clutching his shoulders for support.

“I would never make you-”

“You really shouldn’t have given me that tattoo if you want to hide what’s in your heart,” Hermione placed a kiss on his chest, right over his thumping heart as she straightened. “You aren’t making me do anything, Harry. I’m your submissive because it makes me happy. I’m wearing this dress because you’re the only man I dream about. And when the time comes I want us to have three children and that small cottage. Not because you want it, but because we do.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her in, and smashed his lips against hers. Hermione moaned quietly and he took advantage of her parted lips to slip his tongue into her mouth, teasing her until she gained the confidence to duel with him.

His hands buried in her hair as their tongues sparred. He pulled her luscious sleek brown hair free and let them tumble down her back. His free hand was on her waist, fingers digging into her skin with enough force to leave marks in their wake.

They finally pulled away from each other after what felt like an eternity. Their chests heaved as they gasped for breath, trying to soothe their burning lungs.

His hands gently traced the contours of the wedding dress.

Hermione giggled, breaking his reverie.

“What?” The satin blindfold he had summoned with wandless magic fluttered as it rushed through the air toward them. He held out the hand that had been playing with her hair and let the cloth land in his palm.

“You’ve never been this gentle with me,” Hermione teased.

“That’s not true,” Harry protested.

“Harry, you've ripped six shirts, three skirts, and countless bras and panties. I’m usually bent over a flat surface and getting fucked silly by this point.”

“I don’t want to ruin the dress,” Harry admitted, his cheeks pink. “It looks really good on you.”

Hermione gently freed herself from his hold and stepped away from him. “Being your bride suits me.” She grinned and pushed two fingers under one strap of her dress, gently pulling it down her shoulder. She repeated the action with the other strap until the dress hung loosely from her frame, held up only by her chest.

She hopped away from him when he took a step towards her. “No,” she said with a coy smile. “Just watch. We want to keep this dress safe for the future, right?”

Harry gulped. She had to know the effect she was having on him. She didn’t even need the tattoo buzzing on her belly to tell her. His pupils were dilated, his breathing was ragged, and his cock, oh, his cock was so hard he was convinced it would burst any second. It strained against his boxers, the veins crisscrossing its length pulsing from the sudden onrush of blood.

Hermione looked up at him through half-lidded eyes as she slowly pushed the dress down to her waist. Her perky breasts bounced free, the creamy mounds jiggling enticingly for a few seconds before they settled on her chest. Her large pink areolas were crowned by stiff rosy peaks that begged for attention. “Looks like you’ve staked your claim, sir,” Hermione whispered. Her fingers caressed the shimmering ink of the tattoo on her belly, tracing the H.P. that had shifted from her shoulder to just below her navel.

“If you’ll have me,” Harry breathed, taking an involuntary step closer to her.

“Only you,” Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as he wrapped the blindfold around them. The soft satin tickled her skin. She secretly loved it when he blindfolded her and left her helpless and completely dependent on him.

She stepped out of the dress pooled around her ankles and eliminated what little distance remained between them.

Harry’s cock twitched as his eyes roved over her body from head to toe. She was naked except for the silk gloves on her hands and the lacy stockings covering her slender feet.

She was a tiny, innocent, sinful temptation.

And for him and only him.

He grabbed her hips and lifted her up with ease, making her lock her stockinged feet around his waist. He walked until her back hit a bare section of the wall, trapping her between it and his body.

Hermione silently wrapped her arms around his neck to support herself. Her bruised, swollen lips were parted, a low needy whine building up in her throat as he aligned his tip with her slick folds.

“Did you say you got the dress from Malkin’s?” Harry asked gruffly.

“Mhm. Why?”

“Because I’m going to have her make a copy. You’re going to put it on and I’m going to fuck you in it.” Harry impaled her tight pussy with a firm thrust, his thick length disappearing into her core inch by inch.

“HARRY!” Hermione moaned, her mind going blank with shock. He thrust into her with the strength of a bull, keeping her tiny body pinned in place as he claimed her pussy and stretched out her poor walls. She could feel him deep inside her and a frustrated whine escaped her lips when his tip brushed against her G-spot. Their current position meant that she felt him deeper than she ever had. His tip was pushing against the entrance to her womb, immersing them both even further in their little Roleplay.

It was her wedding night and her husband was going to give her a baby.

Harry gritted his teeth and slowly pulled out of her, ignoring her needy groan. Her lips were parted and her tongue was lolling out. A thin trickle of drool leaked out of the corner of her mouth and snaked down to her chin.

“Sir! Please, SIR!” Hermione screamed, her vision darkening underneath the blindfold as he thrust inside her. Her walls ached as they were stretched by the shaft splitting her into two. His tip felt so deep inside her that she was certain it would push into her womb any second to deposit his seed. A thread of the tattoo pulsed and continuously vibrated against her clit, overstimulating the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Harry lazily rocked his lips, grunting quietly as his shaft was massaged by her fluttering walls. She was an incoherent mewling mess within seconds, clinging onto him and begging for release.

“You are the missing piece of my life,” Harry whispered. His gaze lowered to her chest, watching with wide eyes as her perky breasts bounced with the force of every thrust. He sped up, pulling out of her only to plunge deep inside her before she could recover.

It took her a few minutes but her body instinctively started rocking her hips in time with his thrusting. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, meshing perfectly with his quiet grunts and her needy moans.

Harry bent and buried his face in her chest. His teeth grazed against her flawless skin, drawing out a scream from her parted lips.

“Oh… oh… HARRY!” She was trembling. The coil in the pit of her belly was unbearably tight and ready to explode. “I’m close. Don’t stop! Please!”

Harry’s response was to wrap his lips around a nipple and sink his teeth into the stiff nub. He gently tugged on it and her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her vision darkening as her body was finally overcome with the pleasure coursing through her nerves.

“HARRRRRY!” Hermione screamed as the tension in her belly exploded. She tensed for a second before going limp as the powerful orgasm crashed into her and wiped her mind clean. She was a ragdoll in his arms, her perky breasts bouncing wildly as he thrust in and out of her with all his strength, desperate to follow her over the edge.

Her cum gushed out from around the shaft pistoning in and out of her tight pussy. It coated his cock and the shaft gleamed in the dim candlelight. Her juices flowed down her legs and stained her stockings but most of it dripped down onto the floor and formed a large puddle under her.

“Cum for me. Cum in me,” Hermione begged in a hoarse whisper.

Harry was already struggling to hold on and her plea was the last straw. Harry groaned into her chest as he came. His throbbing manhood filled her with his seed, ropes of thick, white cum painting her fluttering pussy walls and flooding her womb. A small gush leaked out of her gaping pussy when he pulled out of her, intermingling with her cum as the trickle snaked down her thigh.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, breathing heavily. He kept her pinned in place and rested his forehead against hers, peppering her sweaty face with kisses. Tears stained the satin blindfold and mascara ran from underneath it, streaking across her cheeks and leaking black trails that contrasted perfectly with her alabaster skin.

“Hmm?” Hermione didn’t know what to say and even if she had, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to actually speak.

In a whisper so low that she nearly missed it, Harry finally acknowledged reality. “I love you.”

Notes:

Remind me again why Hermione chose Ron? I mean Harry is right there and look, this fic proves they are perfect together! I am continuing my experiment in the spicy, trying to make my steamy scenes steamier and my romance romancier. I am going to speed through edits for all my half-finished chapters, I know a lot of you were waiting for this story update and are also waiting for updates to some of my other stories! Do you think Harry and Hermione tell their kids about how they got 'married'?