Ma Meilleure Ennemie
The next several weeks felt like a blur for Hermione, during the day she would attend her classes, eat lunch with her friends, and study, just as she had for the last seven years. To anyone looking in, it would appear that besides the absence of Harry and Ron, not much had changed for the Gryffindor, which is exactly what she wanted people to think. If anybody was really paying attention, they would have noticed that the moment the sun dipped down below the Scottish mountains that surrounded Hogwarts Valley, Hermione Granger would disappear. If anybody was really paying attention, they would notice that even when Hermione Granger was present, smiling and laughing with her friends, studying, attending classes; she wasn’t really there at all. Hermione Granger was consumed with a need, and it was preoccupying her consciousness from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to bed. At first she assumed it was the pull of dark magic, but now that dark magic and her tryst with Theo had become synonymous, she wasn’t sure which one she was itching for more.
They would focus on physical combat training for the first half of their sessions; the last three weeks’ worth of sessions dedicated to learning close quarter combat with melee weapons. Theo taught her correct stances, how to hold a multitude of weapons, how to read the body language of your opponent, but most importantly, how to kill. By the end of week three, she knew every major artery in the human body and how to efficiently drive a knife into them. They would spar with wooden knives until he inevitably would pin her to the ground, face to face with a wooden knife pressed against her jugular. She would always pretend not to feel him, hard as steel against her hip bone, and he would always pretend not to see the way her chest flushed, and lips parted as he held his weapon to her throat. It was a delicate dance between them that she was growing fond of.
The second half of their training sessions were dedicated to learning dark spells and curses, which to both her surprise and Theo’s, she picked up with alarming ease. She consumed every new spell or curse he brought to her with the same hunger she consumed all knowledge, but the rate at which she was able to learn and master the spells was equal parts impressive and unnerving. When she successfully cast Fiendfyre on her second try, something changed in Theo’s demeanor, it was subtle, but she had seen it. He had watched the sentient fire chimera erupt from her wand and devour the brush and trees that surrounded them, and when he had turned back to her, his faced silhouetted by the blinding inferno, his eyebrows had been cinched together and his eyes had been filled with… concern? Fear? Whatever it was, it was gone in a heartbeat, replaced with his signature smirk. She knew he hadn’t meant for her to see it, but she had, and she didn’t know what to make of it.
Every training session ended the same way, they would train until her casting arm ached and her fingers started twitching from the use of dark magic, then he would apparate them back to their dorm, hold down her twitching hands, and fuck her until it passed. She wasn’t sure what she looked forward to more now, the dark magic, or Theo; but she did know one thing, her time with Theo, whether in the clearing training, or in between his Slytherin green sheets, provided her with a freedom she had never experienced, and she was hooked.
On the days they didn’t have training, he would load on homework and assignments. Some of them she enjoyed; particularly the assignments that required reading. These assignments were right up Hermione’s alley, she had always loved an intellectual challenge. The best part was that sometimes Theo’s assignments would require him to bring her a book from his own family’s library, which must be quite extensive, because the books he brought to her were usually extremely rare. Some of them she was pretty sure were written by members of his own family, passed down from generation to generation, but she always pretended not to notice the glaring absence of an author when she pried open the pages. Other days her homework or assignment would be of a physical nature, which Hermione enjoyed significantly less. The morning after Theo had taught her how to cast a basic dark spell, she awoke to find him standing over her sleeping form, holding out a cup of tea in her direction. Her initial impulse was to ask him how he had gotten into her room, but then she remembered this wasn’t the first time he had broken into her room; so instead she pursed her lips and made a mental note to research some more effective locking spells.
“Please tell me you have a solid reason for waking me up so early Nott” she groaned while glancing out her window, noting that the sun hadn’t even begun to rise yet.
“Endurance training” he stated, wiggling the teacup in her direction until she begrudgingly accepted it and took a sip. She looked down surprised, it was made just how she liked it, two sugars and just a dash of milk.
She squinted her eyes at him suspiciously, debating whether to ask him if he’d been watching her, but she already knew the answer to that question. She had felt his eyes on her ever since she first kissed him that night in the library, almost like a tickle on the back of her neck, she would look up and lock eyes with him from wherever he was. He wouldn’t even try to hide his stares; his intensity was so disarming that she would find herself choking on her pumpkin juice or tripping over her own feet when she caught him staring. He always wore an expression like he was trying to solve a puzzle whenever he looked at her.
“Endurance training” she repeated back to him dumbly after finally processing his words through her sleepy fog. She had a sinking feeling she knew what was coming next, but she was hoping she was wrong.
“Learning dark magic and combat training will only help if you can keep up with your opponent physically, and right now, your stamina sucks. Slow equals dead Granger” he said while mindlessly reading some of the titles on her bookshelf.
“And this couldn’t have waited?” Hermione shot back, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Theo paused; his back turned to Hermione as he seemed to think about something.
After a minute he turned to her and regarded her, deep in thought.
“There’s been talk in Voldemort’s inner circle…” he started.
Hermione perked up instantly, her sleepiness completely forgotten at Voldemort’s name.
“He’s stepping up his war on muggleborns, his control over the ministry will allow him to enforce his anti-muggleborn agenda legally, and word is that he is going as far as offering a bounty for muggleborns. The ancient magic within Hogwarts will keep you from being detained but is no longer the guarantee of safety that it used to be”.
Hermione was too stunned to speak as cold dread washed over her body, her brain buzzing with several thoughts at once. Theo was right, this couldn’t wait.
“The muggleborns… what does he intend to do with them once they have been detained?” she asked while trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat.
Theo’s gaze was very solemn, and Hermione sucked in a breath, preparing herself for the answer.
“I don’t know what the long term plan is, but I do know The Dark lord has put several of his generals in charge of setting up some.. well… camps, to put it simply”.
“Camps? Like internment or concentration camps? Like… the Holocaust?” Hermione asked in horror.
Theo nodded tightly.
Hermione sighed and tilted her head towards the ceiling, letting gravity assist in holding back the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. Once she was satisfied that she wasn’t going to cry, she looked back down, feeling oddly calm. It was almost like the reality was so much worse than what she imagined, that her brain hadn’t caught up yet.
“That makes sense” she nodded.
He looked at her surprised, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.
“He is clearly drawing inspiration from World War II, haven’t you noticed?” she whispered, not really looking at anything in particular. “The anti-muggleborn rhetoric, the manufactured slander against Harry, and now, camps”.
His forehead creased in concern and face went blank as he connected the dots, he had obviously not made this connection yet.
Hermione looked him in the eyes, and when she spoke, her voice sounded haunted. “If History is repeating itself Theo, then Voldemort has no intention of there being any sort of long term plan for anyone taken to one of those camps”.
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Hermione hadn’t needed any convincing after that to get out of bed, she had felt oddly empty as she let Theo pick out something appropriate to wear for whatever assignment he had planned for them today, hardly even glancing at them before she slipped the fabric over her body. She allowed him to lead her down to the black lake, and by the time they reached the shore she had completely forgotten how they had gotten there. She blinked confusedly, trying to recall the last few minutes.
She felt a warm hand cup her cheek and tilt her head, and soon she was looking up and into the endless blue of Theo’s eyes.
“Hey” he said, his tone deep and commanding, “you’re going into shock”.
It was like being abruptly woken up from a deep slumber, she was suddenly anxiously aware of her breathing, quick and shallow, bordering on hyperventilation, and her heart was racing. She felt the weight of pure unbridled fear crushing her like a wave, sinking deeper and deeper into its depths with no idea which way is up.
“Nott” she choked, the panic obvious in her shaky voice. She shot out a hand and gripped his forearm like a lifeline. Black dots began appearing in her line of vision, and she could feel the air around her crackling with her magic.
“Breathe Granger, you need to breathe”
She tried to suck in a shaky breath, but the air felt thin, and no amount of gasping relieved the feeling of suffocation that was setting in. She couldn’t get the vision of muggleborns being executed by the hundreds, maybe thousands, out of her head, and how powerless she felt in this moment to do anything about it.
“Granger, look at me!” she heard Theo yell, but he sounded so far away, muffled, almost like he was under water, or was it her that was underwater? That would make more sense, she was suffocating after all. Hadn’t she been looking at him just a moment ago? She couldn’t tell what she was looking at anymore, her vision had turned white.
Suddenly her senses were full of Theo, she could smell him, the intoxicating scent of smoke and expensive cologne that she had come to associate with him. She could feel the warmth of his body as he wrapped himself around her, his understated strength and masculinity simmering just below his tanned skin. It was so nice, so familiar, but it wasn’t enough; the blinding white that had taken over her vision was fading to black as she raggedly attempted one last time to draw in air, to no avail. Her thoughts were dimming, replaced with a static sound that was becoming louder and louder, but through the static, she could hear him, quietly at first, then slightly louder.
“Hermione, I need you to look at me, now.”
Hermione, he had called her Hermione, not Granger. Why did it sound so delicious in his rough baritone? She knew she shouldn’t like it as much as she did, but she couldn’t help the pulse of joy that shot through her at something as simple as him calling her by her first name, even in her current predicament.
“Theo?” she choked out, feeling like she was searching for him through an impregnable wall of fog.
“Yes, I’m here” she could feel his hands on her face, stroking her ice-cold cheeks. “Come back to me, I’m right here”.
“I think I’m having a panic attack” she cried out.
“I know, it’s okay, I’ve got you. You need to slow your breathing down”.
“I don’t think I can”.
And suddenly she felt his lips on hers, like fire melting ice, slow and scorching. She breathed him in and let him accost all of her senses, surrendering to everything that was him. It was like the rest of the world fell away whenever he was kissing her, and for those brief moments, she wasn’t on the front lines of a budding war, and he wasn’t a death eater, she was just a girl, and he was just a boy.
She felt a tear slip down her cheek as she melted into him, her vision coming back into focus and reality not far behind. She let herself dream for just a second that perhaps this moment could be infinite, that if neither of them broke the kiss, they could just stay here forever.
But of course, life was never that easy or simple, and in what felt like too soon she felt him pulling back and breaking the kiss.
She sighed and tilted her head back towards the sky, letting the early morning sun wash over her face, wishing it was about 10 degrees warmer. She could feel Nott looking at her, but her embarrassment over her cowardice kept her from looking back at him.
“How did you know that would help slow down my breathing?” she asked him, still refusing to make eye contact.
“I didn’t” he shrugged while casually sticking his hands into his pockets.
Hermione nodded, too exhausted to push the subject.
“So, what torture do you have planned for me today?” she teased lightly, hoping to lift the sense of dread that seemed to be lingering around them like a fog.
He cracked a smile, but it seemed forced. “You need to get your endurance up, and the best way to do that is by running”.
Hermione groaned, earning the first authentic looking smile she had seen from Nott all morning.
“The black lake has a shoreline that extends roughly three miles, and we, are going to run it”.
Hermione scoffed; he truly must hate her.
“And we’re going to run it in 20 minutes or less” he added, a teasing grin creeping onto his face.
“You’re joking right? It takes an average person, what, 10 minutes to run a single mile? But you expect me to run three in less than 20 minutes?” she asked disbelievingly.
“Not today I don’t, but that will be the goal we will train for, for you anyway”.
Hermione ground her teeth together, “are you telling me you can already run three miles in less than 20 minutes?”.
“11 minutes and 23 seconds actually” he stated simply.
Hermione sighed in annoyance, “of course you can” she responded sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest.
“What?” he teased, “like its hard?”.
Hermione knew he was goading her, but she couldn’t refrain, he was so good at creeping under her skin.
“I’d like to see you run three miles in 11 minutes and 23 seconds after I’ve punched you right in your stupid face Nott”
Theo laughed and the sound felt like sunshine on her skin.
“Well, you would have to catch me first” he teased, and then he was off, jogging at a languid pace around the outskirts of the inky water.
Hermione stood her ground, fuming.
Theo turned back around, jogging backwards while he spoke to her.
“I never thought I would see the day that Hermione Granger turned down a challenge because it was difficult” he teased, but it hit her right where he knew it would, and she took off after him with a groan. She would find a way to get him back for this, Hermione Granger was a patient woman.
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Theo would wake her up to go jogging every day they didn’t have a training session, and every day Hermione would finish those three miles just a little faster than the time before. The first time she had finished in 32 minutes, huffing and puffing as she doubled over, trying not puke. Theo was polite enough not to laugh, but she didn’t miss the snicker he tried to hide with a fake cough.
The second time she finished in just over 30 minutes, and the third time in 29 minutes, and even though she would never admit it to Theo, she was even starting to enjoy it a little. He always kept pace with her, and the feeling of running side by side with him as the Scottish scenery whipped past them was oddly freeing, and she was even starting to relish in the way her lungs would burn; the acute ache was so intense that it felt like the rest of her pain or worries just faded to the background, and for those moments her only focus was putting one foot in front of the other.
For the first time in her life, Hermione was beginning to feel strong. She always knew she could count on herself intellectually but had always felt lacking in other aspects. Now, she walked the halls of Hogwarts with her back straight and head held high; the kind of self-assurance that came with knowing and trusting one’s own body and ability, and people were beginning to notice. The evolution of Hermione Granger was night and day between who she had been mere months ago versus who she was quickly turning into. Hermione had never been invisible per se; always being the smartest person in the room had earned her a reputation, and being one of the golden trio meant that everyone knew of her, even if they didn’t know her. The confidence that Hermione exuded now both put people on edge while simultaneously drawing them in. There was a sensuality to the way Hermione moved and spoke that had been glaringly absent until a few weeks ago, and a palpable sense of danger that was both unnerving and enigmatic. The newfound confidence in her body and sexuality was a direct result of her nighttime activities with a certain willing Slytherin, and the danger that people felt around her was most likely the traces of dark magic stubbornly sticking to her like sweat from her other nighttime activities with a certain willing slytherin. A few weeks ago, Hermione walked through the halls of Hogwarts primarily unnoticed, now, not only did she feel everyone's eyes turning to follow her as she passed, but everyone looking either wanted to be with her, or be her.
Hermione was beginning to notice some changes about herself as well, which she assumed was a direct result of her newfound proclivity for the dark arts. She didn’t just feel physically stronger, but her magic felt stronger as well. She couldn’t describe it, and for a while she hadn’t even really noticed it because the onset had been so subtle in the beginning. It had started out as a soft prickling, not all that unlike when a limb falls asleep. Now, it felt like electricity humming right beneath her skin, an untapped power source lying in wait. At first, she had been elated by the surge in her magic. She had discovered it quite on accident, casting a simple incendio on her fireplace one particularly frigid morning, a spell she had cast countless times before. Instead of the gentle stream of flames she was accustomed to, a blast of fire and raw magic had erupted around her, almost like the energy wave that follows after the detonation of a nuclear bomb. She stared at her wand in shock as her curtains and bed sheets shriveled into ash around her. Her first thought was that it had been a one off, it wasn’t entirely unusual for a wizard or witch to let their emotions get the better of them from time to time and see an explosion of accidental magic. But that was the part she couldn’t understand, she had been feeling perfectly neutral when her spell had exploded around her.
Intrigued, Hermione decided to try again with a different spell. The avis charm had always been one of Hermione’s favorites; she would conjure the little birds and watch them until the magic wore off and they disappeared into thin air. This time when she cast the avis charm, her wand erupted and out poured at least a hundred golden finches, roughly the size of silver dollar. They had filled her room, soaring and diving as they twittered about, bickering over the limited flight space inside of Hermione’s room. Hermione had just stared in awe as feathers floated down around her. Definitely not a one off; she was going to have to read up on anything she could find that would explain the sudden surge of magic she was experiencing.
The library hadn’t had much to offer, it was normal for one’s magic to evolve or change following the use of the dark arts, but to increase raw magical output twofold? As far as she could tell, from the limited literature she had at her disposal, was not normal; but alas, even with Hermione’s insatiable urge to understand everything, she was also not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially in such uncertain times. So, she shook off any uncertainty and instead chose to flex and stretch her newfound magical capabilities, excited to test her new limits.
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Hermione was seated at the thick oak desk in her and Theo’s shared dorm, pouring over her potions textbook when she heard the sound of thick parchment, perhaps an envelope, hitting the floor near the entrance to the dorm. Theo, who was sprawled over one of the armchairs reading a thick book on ancient runes, must have also heard the sound, because when Hermione glanced up, he was already looking in the direction of the door.
While their nights were spent learning and playing with dark magic, and, well, learning and playing with each other, their days were spent much as they always had, with Hermione pouring over books and scrolls, devouring as much knowledge as she could get her hands on. It was coincidentally, and much to Hermione’s surprise, exactly what Theo preferred to fill his free time with as well. She supposed it shouldn’t be that unexpected, she had known Theo was intelligent, perhaps even more so than herself. People that intelligent don’t usually become that way without reading a few books along the way. At first she had been frustrated when she realized how similar they were, keeping an emotional distance would be so much easier if he was a brainless quidditch jock, or a pure-blood supremacist like she had originally thought. Everything would be so much easier if there was at least one thing about him that she could find to hate, but everything that she had originally detested about him, felt different somehow now. She didn’t seem him as a violent, dangerous death eater anymore. Well, perhaps she still saw him as dangerous, but it didn’t scare her, not anymore anyway. She had lived her whole life believing that people who did bad things did them because they wanted to, but after meeting Theo, she realized that some people were a victim of their surroundings, of others’ expectations, of their family. When she looked at Theo now, she saw a young man whose entire life had been shaped by tragedy, who was the way he was because it was the only way to survive in the world he grew up in.
Perhaps she was just seeing him through rose colored glasses, Hermione was intelligent enough to know that was a distinct possibility. She understood the psychology of it; Theo had been her first, and her subconscious wanted it to mean something, so by de-villainifying him in her mind, she was rationalizing their tryst. Even knowing this, she couldn’t bring herself to walk away. Perhaps her loneliness had finally gotten the better of her, or maybe she was just suicidal, but either way, she felt that their destinies were linked somehow. She couldn’t take back what had already been, even if she wanted to.
They both stared at the identical heavy envelopes that had materialized magically right inside the front door, almost as if dropped off by a muggle mail man through a mail slot that didn’t exist. Their eyes drifted up from the envelopes to meet each other’s gaze, both wearing the same expression of wary confusion. Being that both of them where on the front lines of a budding war, regardless of the side, both had a certain resentment of the unknown, of surprises.
Theo was the first to stand, crossing the distance from the armchair to the front door in three quick strides, a feat made possible by his long legs Hermione realized, followed by a pang of longing that erupted in her navel. Good grief, she needed to get a grip. Hermione had spent her life clucking her tongue at her hormonal friends, throwing themselves at the first cute boy that looked their way, and here she was, doing exactly that.
She wasn’t sure what it was about him that always turned her into a puddle of need, he wasn’t the first fit man she had ever encountered. Both Ron and Harry were fit, Quidditch had gifted them both with enough muscle definition to get all the girls giggling like idiots. But Theo was different, he wasn’t just fit, he was lethal. His muscles weren’t defined because he could catch a snitch, it was the muscle definition of a real hunter. Someone who was not only capable of catching their prey, but killing it too. So many wizards who dabbled in the dark arts found themselves chewed up and spit out, sickly or insane, a death sentence either way. But Theo, dark magic seemed to heel for him, almost like it had been a part of him all along. She supposed it had, dark magic was his birthright as a Nott.
Learning the dark arts from him felt like a descent, each spell bringing her closer to damnation, but as long as Theo was there to greet her once she passed through the gates of Hell, then she would walk through willingly and never look back.
Theo kneeled and picked up one of the envelopes, turning it to look at the wax seal holding in closed. Hermione could see from where she was standing that the wax was stamped with the Hogwarts crest, its bright red color standing out like a drop of blood against the white parchment of the envelope.
Forgoing magic, Theo sank a finger under the lip of the envelope and tore it open in a single movement before pulling out the folded-up parchment and reading it. Hermione waited with bated breath, anxiety blooming in her chest.
He looked up at her after a moment, and her breath caught in her throat as she waited anxiously. She tended to always imagine the worst, had Harry been caught? Had her parents been found? That wouldn’t even make sense she reassured herself, if something like that where to happen, she wouldn’t find out via an envelope at the front door of her dorm.
“It would seem” announced Theo, his mask slipping until he looked distinctly uncomfortable, “that Hogwarts is hosting a masquerade ball this year”.
Hermione gaped at him, relief flooding her system. No one had died? All that build up for something as silly as a ball?
A booming laugh escaped Hermione’s throat, and she collapsed back into the desk chair she had been sitting in prior, she couldn’t help it, the wave of relief she was feeling was overwhelming. She tried to pull in a deep breath, she needed to get her blood pressure back down. She chuckled out loud again at how silly her panic seemed now.
She stood up and made her way to the kitchenette, a cup of tea would relax her out of the fight or flight mode that she found herself in. Hermione fished out the kettle from the cabinet that held their pots and set to filling it with water.
While she was waiting for the pot to fill, she called out to him without looking behind her, “This is actually kind of perfect Nott; Ginny has really been on my ass lately, she knows somethings up. If I go to the ball with someone else, then she’ll forget whatever it is that she thinks she knows, or suspects, and we can keep training. This timing could actually be perfect, if we can get all suspicion off of us, maybe you can start teaching me blood magic. If we play our parts right, then maybe she’ll finally stop assuming were shagging” Hermione half shouted, relief and excitement settling over her.
When she was satisfied she had filled the kettle enough, she turned to place the it on the stove, only to collide with Theo instead, who had apparently silently approached her from behind. The kettle fell to the floor with a clatter, spilling water all over the tiles that made up their kitchen floor.
She gasped and stumbled back as she looked up at him, thoroughly stunned. No matter how much time she spent around him, and under him, she never quite got used to how much he towered over her. As if his height wasn’t enough, he pinned her in place with his piercing aquamarine eyes, which appraised her curiously. The magic crackling around him felt playful, mischievous even, but when he took a step towards her, she found herself mirroring his step backwards until her hips hit the counter. No matter how much time she spent with him, the danger that oozed from his pores still put her slightly on edge.
Theo reached down and snaked his arms under her thighs and scooped her up, depositing her on the counter, where he promptly inserted himself between her thighs before she even had the chance to close them. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting across her lips, filling her nostrils with the intoxicating scent of smoke and something sweet.
Her mind went blank as she met his gaze, burning so intensely at her that she feared she would spontaneously combust. He was all around her, invading all of her senses and leaving her breathless.
“What if I don’t want you to go with someone else?” he murmured in a thick whisper.
“Theo…” she gasped breathlessly.
He brought his mouth up to hers so that when he replied, his lips whispered against hers.
“Yes… Hermione..?” he responded in a purr so low she felt it in her navel.
The sound of her name on his lips drew a moan from her somewhere deep inside of her chest, which he wasted no time in swallowing as he crossed the millimeters between them, crushing his mouth against hers. She met his force with equal gusto, threading her fingers into his curly hair roughly. The more dark magic he taught her; the more violence he coaxed out of her. She used to shy away from his intensity, now she matched it with her own. Where she had once hesitated, she now lunged. She was gasoline, and Theo was the match.
She could feel him, hard as steel between her splayed thighs on the edge of the counter, grinding against her core. The feeling had her moaning gibberish into his mouth, calling upon a god she didn’t believe in.
He broke the kiss and pulled his head back just enough to look at her.
“What do you want?” he asked in a husky voice.
Hermione didn’t hesitate with her answer, he already knew what she wanted anyway, the cheeky bastard. “I want you Theo, please, all of you” she begged, reaching for his belt with her hands frantically. She didn’t know why he was dragging this out, she already knew what was next, he would tear her clothes off and sheath himself inside of her over and over until she was screaming his name into his Slytherin green sheets.
But instead, he took a step back, much to Hermione’s dismay. Hermione was about to protest, but he slashed his had in the air, and she found that she couldn’t open her mouth anymore. The tosser had silenced her with wandless magic.
She watched him reach beneath her school skirt, hook his fingers around the hem of her underwear, and drag them down to her ankles in one foul swoop before disposing of them somewhere on the kitchen floor. Hermione gasped as the cool castle air caressed her exposed nether regions, the skin erupting in goose pimples. After disposing of her underwear, Theo peeled her skirt up until she was fully exposed to him and tucked the bottom of her skirt into her waistband, her wet pussy lips on full display to both him and her. She stared down at her dripping cunt, somehow both mortified and excited at the same time, her embarrassment only amplifying the wanton thoughts that she found herself consumed by.
She expected him to pull himself out of his trousers, but instead, he kneeled before her on the kitchen floor. She stared at him with wide eyes, stunned, as he leaned forward and blew warm air over her sex.
She bucked on the counter, instinctively raising her legs from where they had been hanging off of the edge until her feet were planted firmly on the edges instead, splaying herself wide open for Theo. If she wasn’t silenced, she would have been moaning so loud that the ghosts in the dungeons would have been able to hear her.
“Look at you, the Gryffindor princess, spreading her legs for a death eater like a slut” he taunted while admiring the sight before him. His insults didn’t fool her, she could see his dilated pupils, so large his eyes almost appeared black. He was just as turned on as she was.
He ran one of his long fingers down her wet lips, letting the tip dip in a fraction for only a second before removing his finger entirely. Without the ability to moan, Hermione threw her head back instead. She felt so exposed, and if she wasn’t so bloody turned on then she would be mortified.
With her head thrown back, she didn’t see him coming. His mouth connected with her sex and he wasted no time in delving his tongue into her wet folds, licking and sucking with abandon. She arched her back, knowing that she was acting like a whore, but she didn’t care.
She looked down at him, only to find that he was staring right back up at her as he ate her pussy; she nearly came right then.
She watched through hooded eyes, transfixed by him as sucked and nibbled on her clit. She couldn’t see his mouth, but his eyes had that look he would get when he was wearing one of his wicked grins.
He pushed two of his fingers into her dripping cunt without pausing his ministrations on her clit, pumping them in and out a few times before curling them upwards. Hermione saw stars, and she felt her orgasm building deep inside of her. He continued stroking that spot and he sucked greedily on her clit.
The pressure she felt building inside of her was stronger than any she had felt before and opened her mouth in a silent scream. She could feel her muscles starting to contract as they did right before she was about to cum. She wrapped her legs around Theo’s neck and threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled, hard, trying to draw him in closer. She felt the vibrations of him moaning against her clit and it sent her off the cliff edge into oblivion.
Pleasure crested over her like a wave and she ground her pussy into Theo, clamping down on his fingers so hard she was afraid they would break.
Theo felt her reaching her climax and doubled the pressure his fingers were putting against her g-spot, insistently stroking her through her orgasm. Hermione’s vision went white as he stubbornly continued pleasuring her, and suddenly she felt her magic pulse around her, and her silent scream broke through the silencing charm until the sound of her wail filled the small dorm. She felt Theo’s finger pumping in and out her of rapidly as her walls clenched over and over, and suddenly something inside of her broke, and she felt moisture rushing out of her. She looked down in surprise as she gushed clear liquid all over Theo’s hand and face, her scream turning into a gasp as she took in the sight.
Her first instinct was the be mortified, but Theo never missed a beat, and the way he was desperately licking at her, Hermione realized that he liked it, and perhaps had even purposefully orchestrated what just happened. He lapped at her folds lazily as she came down from the most intense orgasm yet, determined to lick up any wetness that was left, and Hermione let him, exhaustion outweighing the hunger of watching him lick her most private area like he was.
When he was finished, he untucked her skirt from her waistband and let it fall back into place. He picked her up and gently placed her back on the floor. She looked around until she found her panties and bent to pick them up. She was about to put them on, but Theo’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist. She looked up at him in confusion. He simply nodded no, his eyes playful, before taking the panties from her hand and placing them in his pocket instead.
Cheeky bugger.
“That was pretty impressive” Theo said, breaking the silence.
“I’m sorry” she responded, closing her eyes in embarrassment, “I don’t know what happened, that’s never happened before”.
Theo’s expression was one of confusion, before realization dawned and his expression melted into amusement instead.
“You think I’m talking about you squirting?” he asked, his lips turning up in a playful smirk.
“Well, yes, I mean, that is what you’re referring to right?” Hermione mumbled, her face feeling hot.
“No” Theo laughed, it was light, and only served to make Hermione’s face hotter. She was sure she was beet red by now. She waited silently, there was clearly something she was missing so she was just going to wait for him to enlighten her before she embarrassed herself even more.
Theo sighed and crossed the distance between them. Using one of his large hands, he tilted her face up to look at him.
“What you did was normal, and well, quite frankly, sexy” he assured her.
“Sexy?” she repeated back to him, disbelief bleeding into her tone.
“It’s a sign of a job well done” he stately proudly.
Hermione was still dubious, but Theo had always been bluntly honest with her, even when it was something that would hurt her feelings. So, she snapped her mouth shut and withheld anything more on the subject. She would have to prod him more at another time though, she was curious about why he would like something like that, and if he had known she would squirt when he was stroking her.
“What did you mean by good job then, if not about, um.. you know..” she stuttered.
“I was referring to you breaking my silencing charm” he stated as if it should have been obvious. “Silencing charms are not easy to break and usually requires intense concentration. When you broke it, it wasn’t through concentration, it was like you literally broke your way through my magic with the sheer force of your own, almost like a battering ram breaking down a door.”
Hermione stalled; she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell him about her magic growing stronger quite yet. It wasn’t normal, and she didn’t want him to stop teaching her dark magic. So instead she decided to just change the subject, hoping that he would drop it.
“We still can’t go to the ball together Theo” she said, praying he would take the bait. “No matter how many times you do, well, that. I won’t change my mind, and you know just as well as I do that nobody can know about, well, whatever this is” she said, gesturing between the both of them with her hands.
Theo shot her a look that made it clear he saw right through her obvious attempt at changing the subject, but instead of calling her out, he sighed and walked back out into the living space and sunk down in one of the chairs. He propped his elbow on the arm and sunk his head against his hand, looking tired. When he looked back up at her, his mask was back in place, and his eyes where back to their cool blue.
“I know” he confirmed.
She walked to the couch and sat across from him nervously, her hands in her lap as she assessed him.
“So, were in agreement?” she prodded.
He nodded. “It’s a good strategic move, we obviously can’t go together, and a few might be suspicious if neither of us were to attend” he said in a wooden voice.
“Right” Hermione seconded. In a perfect world, they wouldn’t have to hide, but this wasn’t that world. They were on opposite ends of the war, and if her friends found out, they would never forgive her. It was dangerous for both her and Theo, both of them would be labeled compromised by their own sides if their tryst came to light.
They sat in silence, both deep in thought. Physically, in that moment, there was only a few feet of space between them, but it might as well have been a canyon. They both knew that the more the war progressed, the wider that Canyon would stretch.