A/N: Well I must apologise for the huge delay in posting this. I am back at university and don't get time to write much, but the arrival of holidays means I can bring you some lemony goodness for the festive season. Read, review and enjoy!

Chapter 12

"Good to see you back, Hermione."

Hermione glanced up as Sturgis walked past her desk, cramming a stack of files onto the bookshelf. "Thanks. It's

good to get out of the house."

Sturgis smiled sympathetically and rubbed his stomach. "Lot of it going round. You look a bit pale, you sure you're okay to be in?"

Oh, Sturgis, you have no idea, thought Hermione, as her stomach somersaulted in no relation to Sturgis' assumption. If a pining heart was an affliction, then she was most definitely struck down with it.

"I'm fine," she said, as confidently as she could manage.

"Knock knock..."

Hermione whirled around at the distinctive voice, and bit back an expletive as her knee contacted the hard wood of her desk. Kingsley was standing at her door, looking quizzically at Hermione as she rubbed her knee furiously. Why did he always have to catch her unaware?

"Kings, I've had a tip-off about that old antique shop in Hemel Hempstead," said Sturgis. "They reckon there's some cursed objects doing the rounds again, had a few reports from Smethwick up at the hospital."

Kingsley shook his head. "I can guess who's behind that. Have the Obliviators done their stuff?"

Sturgis nodded. "Right away. I've set Magical Law Enforcement on it, but I'll be following that up with my own investigations. I'll be back after lunch."

He left the room, and Hermione glanced up at Kingsley, forcing a smile whilst on the inside, her stomach writhed and she wanted to cry with longing.

"How are you?" he murmured, and his voice was softer than usual, unusually husky. The timbre made her tremble.

She breathed out softly and clenched her fists beneath the desk; keep control, Hermione, she repeated to herself.

"Better for being here," she said, softly.

"Brave girl," he whispered, and before she knew it she was on her feet, and Kingsley had held his arms out to her, and she had stumbled into his body, breathing in the sweet scent of him as she pressed her face into his chest. God, this was sweet surrender, and she could feel his hands roaming her back and the barely audible sound of his breathing against her hair. She moaned softly despite herself, and instantly felt his body stiffen, and she cursed herself in horror; she'd made that noise out loud!

But then, his body relaxed again, and this time he made a soft growl as she nestled closer against him. Her heart was beating furiously, blood cascading through her veins, for she knew where this was leading, and sweet Merlin, she wanted it so badly.

His lips brushed against her neck and she gasped, her breath dragging in her throat; his lips. On her skin. Working along softly, up to her jawline. He tipped her chin up so that their gazes locked, and she felt intoxicated with lust, seeing him through a haze of desire.

"Sweet Hermione," he breathed, and she let out a soft moan of desperation as his lips claimed hers in a deceptively tender kiss, his fingers tangling in the loose knot of curls at the nape of her neck. She sighed softly against his lips and responded with every inch of her being; she recalled a time where she'd awoken from a nightmare, her mouth dry and parched, and she had gulped down a glass of water so hungrily to quench her thirst; her longing for Kingsley was her thirst, and he was the glass of water that she wanted to consume to satisfy her need. She moaned helplessly into his mouth as he pulled her body tight against him, his hands on her backside.

"I want you..." he breathed, breaking the kiss and whispering the words against her lips. Hermione felt a throbbing, searing desire deep inside her at his words; he wanted her. Kingsley. The one who she'd been lusting after for what seemed like an eternity. The realisation made her lightheaded with euphoria.

And then his lips claimed hers once more, this time with urgency and desperation, his tongue sliding along hers and she whimpered at the sheer intensity of him; he growled softly and lifted her thigh around his waist, and she gasped as she felt the proof of his desire for her rubbing insistently between her legs.

"Not here," he breathed, breaking the kiss and staring intently into Hermione's eyes. "I want to take you properly, beautiful girl."

The realisation made her surroundings swim and her stomach writhe pleasantly. Take her...properly...beautiful...

Kingsley pulled her tightly to him. "Hold on to me."

Hermione clung to him; she had no intention of letting him go. He spun on the spot, and she gasped as what felt like a tight corset clamped around her ribcage, and she was hurtling through time and space, gasping for breath, before her feet slammed into a wooden floor, but Kingsley's hands were around her waist, stopping her from falling.

"My bedroom," he said, huskily, gesturing around the large room. Hermione's gaze swept the room; a large bed with an ornate wrought iron headboard was the main focal point, with an abstract canvas on the wall above it. White walls reflected the natural light inwards onto navy cotton bedclothes; she suppressed a shiver of longing at the thought of being splayed out on those sheets, with Kingsley's body pinning her down...

"I love it," she breathed; the devil sitting on her shoulder prodded her wickedly. Go on...don't be a shrinking violet. Take charge...

She stepped closer to him, pressing her palms against his warm, heaving chest, trailing her fingers down until she reached the waistband of his trousers. She heard his breath hitch as she slid her fingers beneath, savouring the feel of his skin as her fingers splayed lower, so dangerously close to...

"Stop..." His voice was a hoarse whisper; she glanced up to see him licking his lips, eyeing her with carnal desire. "You'll send me over the edge...and I want to make this last..."

Oh. Hermione felt as though her blood was on fire, like molten lava coursing through her veins. Did he know what his words did to her?

Effortlessly, he swept her into his arms, and she made a startled squeak as her feet were swept from beneath her. He chuckled softly as he laid her gently on the bed.

"I love the noises you make," he murmured, kicking off his shoes, and climbing on to the bed beside Hermione. "I wish you'd make more..."

"Keep doing what you did earlier, and I won't disappoint," she breathed, reaching up to his mouth and tracing her finger along his full lower lip.

"Oh, Hermione," he whispered, "you are such a tease...I don't think you know how much of an effect you have on me..." He took hold of her hand and rested it between his legs; she could feel him, rock hard, and growing harder still as her fingers curled around him.

"Touche," she said, breathlessly.

He rolled over so that he was kneeling over her right thigh, his right knee parting her legs as best they could in her skirt. He tugged at the skirt ruefully.

"As fit as you look in this skirt, it needs to come off," he murmured. "Stand up..."

He got off the bed, allowing her to stand, and she unzipped the skirt at the back, being thankful for her decision to wear one of her prettier sets of lingerie that day as she allowed the garment to slip to her ankles. Her skin prickled with delight as Kingsley let out a soft moan of longing at the sight of her.

She started as she felt his hands cup her backside, bare save for the insubstantial scrap of black lace that were her knickers, and arched her back as his lips pressed against her neck, moving down her spine through the silk of her blouse, lower and lower until he reached the left cheek of her backside, then down her thigh, to her calf, and then her surprisingly sensitive ankle...she could not help but tremble at the unusual sensation.

"Perfect," he murmured, against her skin, running his hand up her leg, his fingers walking delicately up the inside of her thigh, and she swallowed hard, longing for his fingers to continue their exploration of her.

"You like that?" he murmured, pausing and glancing up at Hermione. She bit her lip, wishing that his gaze wasn't so intense.

"Yes," she breathed, fighting to keep her voice from trembling, and failed as his fingers inched beneath the lace of her knickers, letting out a soft cry. Kingsley stood and moved behind her, placing his hand on her lower abdomen and pulling her backside against his obvious arousal, his fingers moving slowly in small circles on her. She groaned deeply and threw her head back against Kingsley's chest.

His lips brushed against her ear and the sensation of his warm breath against her skin made her shiver; he continued to tease her with his fingers, skirting around her core, sometimes brushing it with the faintest of caresses that sent pure electric jolting through her and made her whimper. His fingers brushed that spot for a little longer than before and she tensed in anticipation of sweet release, but then his touch had retreated and she cried out helplessly in frustration.

"Kingsley, please..." she sobbed, in desperation.

"More?" he purred, in his sinfully husky voice. "Like...this?" His fingers caressed her soaking flesh and she cried out.

"Yes," she gasped, writhing helplessly against his fingers to direct him to where she wanted him. "Please...don't stop..."

"I have no intention of stopping," he whispered, and then his fingers had slid inside her, and this was heaven, pure heaven, and Hermione could not suppress the deep, guttural moan that escaped her lips as his fingers worked on her. All the nights of aching desperation were pent up inside her and she didn't think she could hold on...she could feel her muscles clamping tightly around Kingsley's fingers and a sweet ache intensifying somewhere at her core.

"Come for me, sweet," he breathed, as his thumb caressed her, his fingers sliding in and out of her with ease, and his words were her undoing; everything broke and she was crying out in ecstasy as the ache burst into waves of pleasure, crashing down on her and retreating into a slow ebb.

Gently, he pulled his fingers out of her, and she gasped as he brushed her lower lip gently with them, sticky from her.

"Taste it," he breathed, sliding a finger between her lips. She moaned softly and licked his fingers; she couldn't describe the taste, but it was erotic and almost sinful. He removed his fingers from her mouth and turned her to face him, before sliding them into his own mouth and sucking them slowly, deliberately, his eyelids fluttering closed as he savoured the taste of her. Hermione had never seen anything so erotic, and it aroused her more than she dared to admit.

"Is that dessert?" she murmured, playfully.

Kingsley chuckled darkly. "That was merely an amuse bouche. In every sense of the word." He kissed her chastely, before placing his hands on her shoulders and encouraging her to sit on the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees in front of her, kissing the inside of her thighs, and she flopped back onto the bed, trying to stifle a moan. She was writhing uncontrollably now, under his touch, and why was it never enough, when he'd released her, when he was touching her now?

And then he had retreated; she whimpered in disappointment and opened her eyes, to see him unbuttoning his shirt, and...oh, Merlin...that look he was giving her...that look that a lion fixes its prey with...I'm going to eat you...devour you...

"Lay back," he whispered, as he shrugged his shirt to the floor and began to unbuckle his belt. She was entranced by his fingers; fingers that had been inside her, fingers that had made her cry out helplessly...

"You are perfect," he murmured, kneeling over her and brushing an errant wisp of her hair away from her cheek.

"You're not so bad yourself," she said, playfully.

Kingsley laughed softly. "Is that so? I'll have to make sure I don't disappoint..."

She swallowed hard as he moved his fingers to the buttons of her blouse and undid them with clever dexterity, his fingers playing over her skin. He groaned softly at the sight of her; glancing down, Hermione felt a thrill sear through her blood as she saw how aroused he was for her. Unable to help herself, she reached out for him and curled her fingers around his length; she could feel it pulsing beneath her touch, even through the material of his shorts.

"God, Hermione," he groaned, throwing his head back in ecstasy, "I need you..."

"Kiss me," she begged, breathlessly, and in a second his lips had claimed hers, and this was pure, animalistic, desperate passion, an aching need, a delicious itch that needed scratching. His fingers were curling into her hips and he was sinfully close to her, grinding his hips against hers, and she couldn't help but writhe against him, feeling the friction of his rock hard length between her legs. His tongue had darted into her mouth to flirt with hers, gently sliding along hers, and she moaned into his mouth at the sensation...this was so much better than her dreams...please don't let me be dreaming, she thought desperately.

With a soft growl, he tugged at his shorts, and she felt him spring free against her, rubbing against her thigh. She gasped against his lips as he guided his length between her sticky, slippery folds, feeling the sheer width of him and he wasn't even inside her yet.

"Hermione..." he breathed, and the desperation in his voice made the tiny hairs tingle at the back of her neck. He wanted her, really wanted her, and the realisation made her feel lightheaded, as though she wasn't here...

He plunged into her, and she cried out at the feel of him; she felt him stretching her, pushing deeper, sliding into her with ease, filling her perfectly. He stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, and she looked up at him; his eyelids had fluttered closed and his lower lip was caught between his teeth.

And then he moved, and he felt so good inside her, like balm to a wound, soothing and yet the ache of needing release was intensifying slowly. He was groaning softly, gripping her hips with every thrust into her, and his noises of longing were almost enough to push her over the edge.

"Kinsgley, please..." she breathed, as she encouraged him closer to her, their lips colliding in blissful union, tongues entwining like flame, heat and desperation rising to an unbearable peak. She felt his hand grip her thigh and push it back around her hip, and she cried out as he plunged deeper...that was too good...

"Good?" He withdrew slightly from her, and the smile around his lips told her he was teasing her...

"God, yes..." she gasped, incoherently. "Don't you dare stop..."

"Demanding little witch," he murmured, taking her other leg and hooking it over his shoulder. The different angle made her gasp and she gazed up at Kingsley pleadingly. He bit his lip and groaned as he plunged back into her, and Hermione moaned deeply, a deep, animalistic noise that she never knew she was capable of making...but Kingsley was thrusting into her so deeply, so strongly that it was sweetly unbearable...he was hitting somewhere inside her that was building an aching pressure.

"Let it go," he breathed, in her ear, as his hand caressed her thigh, and she could feel her whole body trembling in response to him, the delicious ache intensifying, and she grasped hold of Kingsley's arms...please, please don't stop...

"I won't stop, sweet...I promise..." he groaned, and thrust harder, faster, feverishly, his rhythm building, and the ache was too much...it was consuming her, spreading out like ink on paper...

"Oh, Kingsley..." she cried, biting her lip as his last thrust finally pushed her over the edge, and she had exploded into sweet euphoria, her muscles tightening around him, writhing in ecstasy as the last waves of her climax slowly lapped away. He groaned softly and with another thrust, she felt him pulse and twitch inside her, and felt the warm rush of him flooding her, as he whispered her name into her ear, breathing heavily.

"You've tormented my dreams for weeks," he murmured into her ear, taking advantage of the opportunity and nipping her earlobe with his lips.

"As have you," she whispered, trying to breathe slowly to steady her pounding heartbeat.

He smiled at her, his eyes softening as he looked at her, and softly trailed his fingers down her cheek, his lips brushing hers in a chaste embrace. She sighed softly against his lips and encouraged him back to her, responding deeply. It was less urgent this time, slower, as though tasting a new food for the first time. She could taste herself in his mouth from earlier; the mere recollection of it made her cheeks flush and heat pool between her legs.

"If you keep doing that, we'll never leave this bed," he murmured against her lips.

"Is that a promise?" she responded, playfully; she could feel him hardening against her thigh in response and moaned despite herself.

"You are insatiable," he purred, sliding his fingers between her legs and slowly massaging her swollen bud; she bit her lip and writhed against him helplessly. "I've not explored you fully yet..."

There's more? Oh, sweet Merlin...She swallowed hard as he slid a finger easily inside her, his thumb stroking her engorged clitoris, screaming for release at his touch.

"This is what happens, when you tease me with your fit body, day after day," he whispered, beginning to undo the buttons of her top with his free hand. "You make me have wicked fantasies about your naked body beneath me, and I ache...and I need to relieve it..."

She slipped her hand beneath his legs and curled her fingers around him; he was rock hard and sticky from her. She felt another finger slip into her and she groaned deeply, tightening her grip on him. He moaned appreciatively and pushed against her hand. Getting the hint, she moved her hand up and down his considerable length, and he made a small growl of desperation. She stared at it, entranced, as it swelled beneath her fingers, the tip engorged with blood. She wanted him in her mouth, to suck him and lick him until he came undone.

"I want to taste you," she whispered, suddenly. Kingsley moaned softly with longing and gently removed his fingers from her, sitting back against the pillows and pulling her gently into his lap. She gazed at him for a moment, savouring it, before lowering her head to him and kissing the base of his shaft. He groaned; a long, desperate groan of need and aching, writhing beneath her. His skin was smooth; she could feel the pulsing of his blood against her lips. Experimentally, she licked softly from the base to the tip, and he made a soft noise at the back of his throat.

She paused as her lips brushed against the swollen tip, flicking her tongue languidly across the top, savouring his soft noises of pleasure, before taking the tip of him into her mouth and sucking softly.

"Hermione..." he moaned, tangling his fingers into her curls. "Please..."

She moaned as she allowed him deeper into her mouth; he made her jaw ache but this was worth it, to unravel him by the power of her tongue and lips. She slid her tongue around him, licking his smooth skin, tasting him and savouring it, and he grunted softly as she took him so deep that he was at the back of her throat. He tasted so good in her mouth, and it felt as though she was doing something sinful, but it was arousing her to feel him throbbing and swelling in her mouth, and to hear him groaning softly as she inched him closer to ecstasy.

"Mmm...don't stop..." He exhaled deeply, and his grip on her hair tightened. "Harder...please..."

His words made her tremble and her skin prickle; she sucked and licked and kissed until he was moaning helplessly, his thighs shaking beneath her with suppressed pleasure.

"God, Hermione," he groaned, and he was caressing her hair with his other hand, thrusting helplessly into her mouth, making soft moans of desperation. "Don't stop..."

He grunted and she felt him twitch, and felt something warm and thick flood her mouth as he groaned softly, his grip slackening on her hair. She swallowed him, savouring his musky, salty taste and licking her lips as she glanced up at Kingsley. He was gazing at her with his eyes half-closed, smiling.

"You didn't put that down on your CV," he said, teasingly, and laughed as Hermione slapped his arm playfully.

"Did it meet the Minister's standards?" she said, glancing up at him through her eyelashes.

He smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at her, and leaned to kiss her cheek. "And then some. You've got a very talented tongue, Ms. Granger."

"I had..." She glanced down to his lap, trying not to smile, "plenty...to work with..."

"You flatter me." He sat up, stretching his legs. "Ravishing you is hungry work. Would you like something to eat?"

"I thought we'd just had dinner?" questioned Hermione, playfully.

Kingsley placed his hand on her thigh, his fingers caressing her tenderly, and glanced up into her eyes, a wicked smile playing around his lips.

"I told you, that was an amuse bouche," he said, softly. "That was only a starter. We've still got the main and dessert yet."

Hermione felt her insides squirm pleasantly, as Kingsley took hold of her hand and helped her off the bed. He picked up his shirt, discarded onto the floor, and handed it to her with a grin.

"Wouldn't want you getting cold," he said, playfully, as he stepped back into his boxers.

He led her into a long hallway with varnished floorboards, and into a large, spacious kitchen. It wasn't a wizarding kitchen, Hermione mused as she glanced at the clinically clean white walls, the polished black granite worktops and half white, half wooden units. It wouldn't have looked out of place in Ideal Homes magazine, something her mother used to fawn over every week. A large patio door led outside onto a balcony, overlooking a large garden and an expanse of woodland.

"You have a stunning home," she said, as Kingsley crossed to the fridge and opened it, in search of food.

"You'll fit in well." He turned and smiled at her, a gentle smile that betrayed fondness. "Do you like soup?"

Hermione nodded and sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

"Carrot and coriander?" he asked, holding up a container with a thick orange liquid inside.

"Sounds lovely." She crossed her legs, realising that she was naked save Kingsley's shirt, and he caught the blush on her face and grinned.

"I much prefer you with it off, but you do look damned hot in my clothes," he said, wickedly.

Hermione felt her cheeks colouring, wishing she wasn't so transparent, and then a memory darted into her mind from minutes previously.

Please, please don't stop...she'd pleaded wordlessly with him. "I won't stop, sweet...I promise..." How had he known? Had she spoken out loud? Was she really that obvious?

Kingsley glanced quizzically at her from stirring the contents of a saucepan. "Are you okay?"

Her gaze traversed his body, and as his hand moved, she caught sight of the pearly white scar on his arm and gasped despite herself. That was it. That explained it.

"Hermione?" he asked, uncertainly.

Hermione got up and moved across to Kingsley, and allowed her thumb to caress the scar on his arm. He shuddered visibly, his eyelids fluttering closed. Experimentally, she rested the palm of her hand against it fully, and her mind was confronted with a barrage of thoughts and images; it was like listening to a badly tuned radio, hearing lots of different things but none distinct, and then she glanced up into Kingsley's eyes, and heard, through the interference, his deep, measured tones.

I know what this is...we're blood-bound...

She stared at him, eyes wide...of course it was, and as soon as she touched him there and looked into his eyes, they experienced passive Legilimency. She almost laughed in relief; she thought she'd been going mad.

"This explains so much," she said, softly. "When you broke the Taboo and she cut you, the next attack must have been..."

"You."

"And then Dobby...but Dobby died...and the knife was buried with him..."

"So it's just..."

"Us..."

The revelation stunned Hermione; as the daughter of two logically minded dentists, she had never held much store by the notion of fate and destiny. It had been hard enough to accept that Trelawney had been telling the truth about the prophecy concerning Harry and Voldemort, but she was beginning to acknowledge that magic did strange things to otherwise sensible ideas and occurrences. How strange that she should have ended up working for Kingsley, which had been indirectly because of the curse scars. They were bound together by Bellatrix; the irony was not lost upon Hermione.

He pushed a bowl of soup in front of her. "Hungry?"

"Not for soup." She glanced up at him playfully through her eyelashes.

"Insatiable little witch, aren't you?" he said, tipping her chin up with his finger so their gazes met. "We'll have to see about that..."

Hermione blushed and dropped her gaze to the bowl of soup in front of her; experimentally, she dipped her finger in the contents of the bowl and licked her finger contemplatively. As her gaze flickered upwards, she caught sight of Kingsley staring at her, and he was biting his lip.

"Don't tell me you don't know full well what you're doing." His voice was laced with a husky undertone that betrayed his thoughts.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, Minister." Hermione glanced at him with what she hoped was an innocent look, widening her eyes as she gazed at him.

"Tease," he growled, and before she could respond, his lips claimed hers hungrily and she barely had time to gasp.