𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍-𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘛𝘌𝘙

Chapter 21

Lovesbitca8 TAKES CREDIT THIS IS HER WORK - FOUND ON AO3

She woke up exhausted, limbs leaden, head groaning in protest. Watching the golden morning light creep up the walls, she lay in bed, grogginess fading as her mind began cataloging the last twenty-four hours.

He'd kissed her.

He'd kissed her, then ran, like he couldn't escape her fast enough.

Hermione took a shuddering breath and slapped both palms to her forehead, pressing her eyes together and banishing the images. Directing her attention to where it should be.

She'd gotten the information to Cho. The key to killing Nagini was in transit to Ginny — Ginny, who she could only pray would be able to do something of value with it. And they hadn't been caught.

Exhaling in relief, Hermione tried to celebrate her success.

— has given me nothing but torture for months—

She groaned and turned over under her covers, yanking the fluffy comforter up to her ears. But her mind grew only more obstinate as she burrowed deep in darkness.

The way he'd stared at her lips. The feeling of his chest against hers. His tongue sweeping sinfully through her mouth, coaxing, then demanding. His knee slipping between hers, pressed against her core, feeling his body surrounding her.

Hermione squirmed, a strained embarrassment flushing her. She rolled onto her back and ran her hand over her face.

There had been something dark in him last night. A cord pulled taut and dangerous. And instead of restraining herself, she'd tugged, tumbling right over the edge with him when it broke.

She'd been too needy. She never should have tilted her face to his and pushed her tongue into his mouth like she needed to breathe his air. Should have ignored his thigh and how she wanted to rub herself against it.

His panic as he pulled away from her. Had she done something wrong? Perhaps her lips had been dry, or untrained. Or maybe he'd simply recovered, remembering himself, remembering her. Remembering all they'd been through.

He'd been so hesitant to touch or even look at her since the day he'd thrown her on this bed and ripped her slip open. It had taken months for them to recover, but they'd finally reached an understanding — a partnership, even.

And then all their careful control had melted away last night when she let herself become the girl in the red dress with red lips and red knickers.

A wave of heat crept over her as the memories drifted to the surface. She tried to shove it all aside — the feeling of his lips on hers, her body pinned to the wall, his groans into her mouth, continued to assault her psyche.

Would it be so bad for her to give in? If they both wanted the same thing—

Huffing loudly, Hermione rubbed her eyes, refocusing on her canopy.

She couldn't—wouldn't—forget herself. Today was no different than any other day, and she had research to do. Beginning with the tattoos.

She threw the covers off herself and stood. Frowning at her unmade bed, she wondered where to start today. And then Nott Sr.'s rant last night slammed into her head like a punch.

Not even the Scourers could succeed where we have!

Her breath hitched. She rushed to the bathroom, splashing water on her face and tossing up her mangled hair.

Scrambling through her books, she pulled out the volume on magical North America that she'd only just started. Her trembling fingers flipped to the index.