Warnings: older man perving on an underage girl, nothing happens until she's of age and consenting
Tropes: age gap, ancient marriage rite

Rodolphus Lestrange could not get the Mudblood out of his mind. Here he was, back in Azkaban, freezing and without a single comfort, and all he could think about was the way she'd squirmed against his body when he'd pinned her in the Department of Mysteries. Her slim hips had fit right against his cock and Merlin be damned he hadn't felt that thing twitch in over a decade. It was no wonder he had become distracted from her wiggling and wound up getting dropped with a Body-Bind that even a second-year could have countered.

During their first incarceration in Azkaban, Rodolphus had been imprisoned with his wife Bellatrix. They had made use of their proximity and shared intimacies for the first few years but even the spark for that had faded away. The Dementors' icy fingers had robbed him of his virility as much as they had robbed him his vitality. Now, in this second stint inside this frozen hell, he didn't even have the comfort of her bony body to lay against him.

Not that he wanted it. Bellatrix had lost the beauty she'd been born with during their time in Azkaban and whatever sanity she might have possessed with it. No, he was almost glad she wasn't there. He wanted someone warm, fiery, passionate. Sane. Good. He wanted the Mudblood.

For the next nine months, Rodolphus thought about her and relearned what it felt like for his body to throb with want and need. When the Dark Lord aided in their escape a second time and gave them tasks to complete to prove their competence, Rodolphus went above and beyond in delivering to his master.

On top of securing the allegiance of several members of the Wizengamot through threats and fear, Rodolphus had learned the Mudblood's name and the location of her parents' home. He had staked it out and waited. His patience had paid off and the girl, Hermione Granger, had come home for the Easter holidays. Her parents still left the house during the week to work and she was left alone. He didn't even have to harm the Muggles. He just walked into her house after they left, wrapped his hand over her mouth while she laid in her bed sleeping, and Disapparated.

He had put her in his bedroom and gone to tell his Lord.

"Well done, Rodolphus," the Dark Lord said softly, petting his head where he'd lowered it in obeisance. "You will keep her undamaged until I decide the best way to use her."

"Yes, my Lord," he agreed, though in his mind, undamaged did not mean untouched. She'd reawakened his masculine needs and desires and she would be the one to quench them. Rodolphus returned to his room after the Dark Lord dismissed him to find Bellatrix standing outside the door with her hands on her hips and anger in her mad eyes.

"What are you doing with that?" she asked, pointing towards the door where they could hear the Mudblood shouting.

"Keeping her safe for the Dark Lord," he answered.

"In your bedroom? What if she touches the bed? You'll have to burn the sheets! There's a dungeon in this manor, you know."

He wouldn't be elaborating to his wife that he planned on taking the girl on those sheets. Even the thought of it had him rising in his robes. "She's fine where she is, Bella."

She curled her lip in a snarl and stalked off, no doubt intent on tormenting her sister more. Rodolphus didn't care what she did as long as she stayed away from him. He opened the door and slipped in quickly, shutting and locking it behind him. The Mudblood had picked up a heavy book and chucked it at his head in his distraction, though it slammed into his shoulder instead. He turned around and watched her, letting his eyes follow the curve of her breast in her pyjamas and the skin bared to him at her mid-drift.

"Hermione," he whispered her name unable to stop himself and she froze, her eyes widening at his address of her.

"What do you want from me? What did you do to my parents?"

"I did nothing to your parents," he answered, still letting his heated and hungry gaze map her body.

She stilled in her fidgeting as she noticed the way he was looking at her. "I will fight you, you know. I won't let you just..."

He nodded and surprised himself with his quietly admitted confession, "I don't want to rape you."

"Then stop looking at me like that."

He grinned, knowing the look was predatory. "I want you to come to me willingly."

"That won't happen."

He nodded again. "We'll see."

He couldn't help delighting in the way his words caused a shiver up her spine. She crossed her arms over her chest in an involuntary move to protect herself but all it did was emphasize her bust. "Are you hungry?" he asked.

A look of confusion crossed her features before the expression disappeared and defiance returned to her eyes. "No."

"I'm not going to poison you."

"I don't care. I'm not hungry," she answered.

He nodded and called for a house-elf, asking for a large breakfast for himself that he would take in his rooms. The elf complied and disappeared in an instant and Hermione frowned as she watched him walk to the small tabled she had upended and righted it. He had to repair the chairs with a spell before he could seat himself but he did just as the elf reappeared with a laden tray.

He sat and started eating without another word to her.

Despite hearing her stomach growl at the smell of the food, she did not come to him. She stayed on the opposite side of the room and watched him eat. When he was done, Rodolphus called for the elf to take the tray and then he left the room, locking Hermione inside once again.

Rodolphus didn't return until late, where he sat at the table and took his evening meal. He raised his eyebrows at her, holding out a piece of bread, challenging her to come to him for food. She continued to stubbornly sit on the floor on the other side of the room, her arms wrapped around her knees.

Rodolphus called the house elf to clean up the meal after himself and slipped into the connected bathroom to wash his hands and teeth, readying himself for bed. He didn't doubt that she would fight him on this too.

He exited the bathroom to see she hadn't moved. "Come to bed, Hermione," he called to her. She looked up at him but did not move. He unbuttoned his robes and hung them on one of the tall posts at the foot of his bed. The elf would take them and clean them. He looked back up at her when he heard her sharp intake of breath. Her gaze was focused on his bare genitalia. He was surprised he wasn't hard with her just in the room but he smirked to himself just the same. In the dim light, he could just make out a flush working its way up her neck. "Come to bed," he repeated.

She shook her head violently before also vocalising her dissent, "No."

"I won't give you bedding on the floor like some dog. Get in the bed."

This time when she shook her head no he could see the hint of fear in her eyes. He might have pursed his lips in a display of irritation but without another word, he extinguished the light with a non-verbal spell and climbed under the duvet.

He tried to sleep but her embarrassed gaze at his cock had caught its attention and he could not ease his instigated libido with his thoughts alone. He turned and lay on his back, sliding the duvet down his chest and stomach to expose himself to the cool night air. He wasted no time bringing his hand down to wrap at the base of his shaft where he squeezed tightly. A low moan escaped the back of his throat and he slowly brought his hand up his tumescent member. He still had difficulty believing that his ability to rise to the occasion had not been taken from him in the almost two decades of exposure to Dementors. He brought his other hand up to his chest where he let his sharp, un-manicured nails scrape against a nipple. He hissed quietly in his pleasure. Every slow pump of his hand was pleasurable and every scrape or pinch against his nipples gave him the tiny hint of pain that he enjoyed. He edged for some time, bringing himself close to the precipice before releasing his hold and waiting for the aching throb to settle once more. When he finally allowed himself to tumble over the edge and into oblivion, the throbbing and pleasure in his cock washed over him in a tidal wave. He opened his eyes and realised moonlight had illuminated much of the room through the pulled curtains on his window. He sat up to clean himself with his wand and glanced in the direction of the girl. He could see her eyes were focused on him as if fascinated and her mouth had slipped open in something like awe. He grinned and laid back down, his mind finally clear. He slept.

When he woke several hours later it was to the feel of small hands on his, trying unsuccessfully to pluck his wand from his grasp. He opened his eyes to find the girl's breasts hanging close above his face. She'd climbed onto the bed beside him and leaned over him to try to take his wand from the hand he rested under his pillow. All he had to do was reach up and wrap his arm around her waist to feel her body against his. He could feel his cock engorging already at the thought of contact.

He didn't do it, though. Instead, he reclasped his fingers around his wand and closed his eyes. Hoping she wouldn't realise she'd woken him. He felt the scratch of her pyjama buttons against his chest and the swell of her breast as she started to slip in her awkward position. He couldn't control himself when on his next inhale he felt even more of her softness on top of him, he let a quiet moan slip from him at the feel of her against him and he felt her body freeze as she realised he was waking. She started to scramble back but he clasped his arm down around her waist and rolled, pinning her beneath him.

The positioning wasn't perfect, he would have rather found himself between her thighs rather than straddling her himself but he wouldn't complain. Her eyes were wide in fear, however, and it caused him to resist rutting against her like he desperately wanted to.

He leaned down and pressed a gentle, chaste kiss against her lips before rolling away and standing up. He opened the wardrobe and pulled a clean set of robes out before he headed to the bathroom to shower. When he stepped out later, dressed, warm air rolled out of the room with him and permeated the room with the scent of his soap and cologne.

She had returned to her spot on the floor. Rodolphus called for breakfast from a house-elf. After it was brought to him, he scooped up a forkful of beans and held it out in her direction. He could see her wavering in her steadfast decision to not eat but ultimately she held steady. He ate slowly, giving her plenty of opportunities to come to him for food and when he was done he called for the elf to clean up the table.

"What do you want from me?" she asked as he was preparing to leave the room for the day.

"I just want you." He answered her without turning to look at her.

"You're married."

He turned then and raised an elegant eyebrow at her. "So?"

"Go fuck her."

He chuckled as she flushed at her own language. "I've not felt the need to touch my wife in years. Just thoughts of you, however, keep me awake at night."

"I won't give in to you. You're a Death Eater."

"I'm a man," he countered before leaving.

When he returned that evening, it seems she had used his bathroom. Her hair was hanging down her back in damp curls and the room was full of steamy humidity. The fantasy of her soaped up body in his shower made him painfully hard under his robes. She was seated at his table with a book, the one she'd first thrown at him it looked like. He called for a meal and sat across from her. The elf brought the food and frowned as she looked back and forth from Rodolphus to Hermione.

"Miss needs be eating too," the elf scolded him.

He grinned and released a little rumbling chuckle at the elf. "And I will feed her as soon as she stops being stubborn."

The elf scowled but disappeared.

Hermione had her own frown as she watched him dip a piece of crusty bread into the thick stew Narcissa's elves had made. He held out the wet morsel for her. She pulled the book away quickly before anything could drip on it but he wasn't aware of the book or anything else. He was entirely focused on her face as she warred with herself and her hunger. She reached forward to take the piece of bread from him and he pulled it out of her reach. "Nah-uh," he chided. Confusion crossed her features but instead of reaching with her hand she leaned forward and took the bit from his fingers with her mouth.

She groaned a little at the taste of food after her fast and might have swallowed before chewing it. Rodolphus smiled and scooped up a bit more stew onto another small piece of bread. He ate that bite. He alternated after that. Each bite he made her take from his fingers and he enjoyed when she got stroppy and bit him. He made sure she ate slowly so she wouldn't over-indulge. He made sure she was still finishing her last bite when he called the elf, so the little creature would know the Miss had been fed.

Rodolphus sat in comfortable silence with her as she returned her attention to the book she had pulled from the shelves. He watched her lips as she speed-read, they half-formed every few words and he entertained himself with fantasies about her lips stretching around his cock. He was hard under his robes for as long as he could take without touching himself when he finally decided it was time to sleep. He used a spell to clean his teeth before he started unfastening his robes. He watched her in his periphery as she noticed his movement and looked up from the book. She watched him undress and he heard her breath catch again when she saw his cock standing at attention. He hung his robes on the bedpost and pulled the duvet back. He climbed into the bed but didn't cover himself. "Hermione?" he asked. He wasn't sure what he was asking of her, just that he had wanted to say her name and had wanted her attention on him.

He brought his hand down to bring himself off again when she stood up. He paused and looked in her direction, waiting.

"What would you do for me if I..." she started to ask, her gaze shifting from his prick to meet his eyes in the dim candlelight.

"If you what?" he asked, letting his palm slide down from the corona to the base, he let his fingers press against his tight sac as he waited.

"If I touch you. What will you do for me?"

He grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking for reciprocity?"

She shook her head. "No, I mean... does the Order know you have me? Has anyone alerted my parents or vice versa? Do they know I was kidnapped? I want information and maybe..."

"Maybe...?" he prompted. Her eyes had strayed down to his hand again as he pumped his cock lazily.

"I want my freedom."

"I can't give you that. The Dark Lord has..."

"Screw your Dark Lord. You kidnapped me, you can release me!"

"I can give you other things. Clean clothes, better books."

"My wand?"

"I left your wand in your room when I took you."

She frowned, obviously unhappy with her negotiations. He squeezed his cock to keep the interest from flagging. Her gaze slipped back down to the movement.

There was a long moment of silence as he slowly masturbated in front of her. Finally, she whispered, "Why do you want me? I'm Muggle-born."

"I don't care."

"You're obsessed."

He contemplated that for a moment before admitting to it. "Maybe."

"What do you want?" she asked then tacked on, "I mean, aside from sex."

He'd not thought about it really. He closed his eyes and let his fingers trail up and down his cock as he thought about her question. Deep in his heart, he could picture her belly swollen with his seed, could imagine a green-eyed auburn-haired child in her arms. He'd never entertained such thoughts about Bellatrix. He had known that she wasn't the mother-type and at the time of their marriage he'd not felt the urge to father a child on her, despite the insistence from his parents that he continue the Lestrange line. Now, he'd seen a return to life in his loins, sparked by the frizzy curls and slender hips of the woman across the room and his priorities had changed. He wanted a chance to have a family. When he opened his eyes to look at her, he couldn't bring himself to say what it was he wanted.

His cock had started to wilt and he dropped his hand onto the bed beside him. He swallowed and stared at her, wondering what it was she saw when she looked at him. It wasn't a man worth her attention, obviously. No, she saw what he was, his past. She saw the choice to be a part of something terrible and great, she saw his disdain and disregard for lives he deemed beneath his, she saw his ruination of the Longbottoms, she saw his hands as if covered in the blood of the people he'd killed. She saw his damaged and torn soul and the choices he made to get him there.

"Rodolphus?" she asked into the silence.

The sound of his name on her lips would have heated his blood earlier in the evening and now it only chilled him. He pulled the duvet over his nakedness and turned away from her. "I want something I cannot have; something forbidden to me," he murmured. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep for so long that he actually slept.

When he awoke, he felt heat on his back where a warm, womanly body was pressed against his. For a few blissful moments, he thought it was Hermione until he spotted a stray tress of black splayed on his pillow and felt a bony hip digging into his arse.

"What are you doing in here, Bella?" he muttered, half to himself.

It surprised him that she was awake and answered him, "Just thought you might like some company." Her tone sounded innocent but he didn't believe her intentions innocent at all.

"Where's the girl?"

She scoffed. "Where she belongs. I took her before the Dark Lord as he requested and returned her to the dungeons."

"What are the Dark Lord's plans for her?" he asked, rolling over and laying up on his elbows to watch her as they talked.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes and shifted to try to draw his eye down to the black lace negligée she wore. His cock didn't so much as stir at the sight. When he didn't paw at her or make a move to come over her like he would have in the past, she pretended to pout.

"What are his plans for the girl?"

"What does it matter? You've raised yourself higher in his esteem than Lucius. We're his most devout."

"Kidnapping one girl is nothing compared to Snape's service."

Her upper lip curled. "Snape is a foul deceiver. He's not devout to our Lord like we are."

Rodolphus did not comment on their devoutness. He'd dreamt of something different during the night and it had nothing to do with man-devouring snakes, pureblood politics, or death. He raised his eyebrows at Bella and she frowned but finally answered the question he'd asked twice.

"She's to be tortured for information and he threatened to have her violated," she shuddered at the word, no doubt thinking that job would be for someone low in the Dark Lord's esteem; for who would want to touch filth?

Bella's hand reached out to rub at his limp cock. "It's not going to happen, Bella," he murmured as he lay back down to stare at the ceiling.

"What good are you as a husband if you can no longer satisfy me?"

He shrugged, feeling emotionless as she squeezed his unresponding member too tightly in her anger. She huffed and rolled away, standing and pulling on her robes. "The Dark Lord requires your presence during breakfast, husband."

He waited for her to leave before he closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. He stood, dressed and left his rooms.

"Sit, Rodolphus, join me for breakfast," the Dark Lord said from the throne-like chair he was seated in. He raised a hand and gestured to the seat at his right. "Bella says that you kept the Mudblood in your rooms since her capture. Did you learn anything valuable in your time with her?"

"Unfortunately no, my Lord." Food appeared on their plates from the kitchens but neither man picked up his fork to partake in the meal.

The older man's lips pressed together firmly in a sign of displeasure. "Did you take your pleasure from her already?"

"No, my Lord, I did not. She's impure and it would be forsaking my vows to Bellatrix to do so. Besides," he lowered his head in what he hoped seemed like shame, "since my time in Azkaban, I've been unable to..."

The Dark Lord's features showed some surprise but he smothered the look quickly. "I want you to torture her. I've already sought out every piece of information from her mind about Harry Potter and I have no further use of her. We'll leave her bloodied and broken in Hogsmeade for Dumbledore to find."

"Yes, my Lord," Rodolphus answered. After that, they ate their breakfasts in silence and the Dark Lord dismissed him with a nod.

Rodolphus took his time on his walk down into the dungeon unsure of his plans and worried about what Bellatrix might have done to Hermione. When he came upon her looking angry but unhurt he sighed in relief and let himself into her cell.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a whisper.

She glanced around, making sure he was alone before answering. "I've got a very bad headache thanks to him."

He nodded. "It's the Legilimency," he answered. He raised his wand to his hand and sliced it open. After the blood welled onto his skin for a moment he reached out and painted her jaw and lip with it. "I'm going to need you to scream." He watched her eyes, waited for understanding to dawn and when it did, he pulled his hand back and healed the cut he'd made. He raised his wand at her. "Crucio!"

* . * . *

"Excuse me, did you say he shed his blood freely for you?" the Wizengamot member asked.

Hermione nodded and confirmed the question calmly. "Yes, he pretended to cast the Torture Curse and he used his blood on my face to make it look as though he'd backhanded me."

Rodolphus was thankful that even though he was bound to the chair with enchanted chains he was still allowed to see any of those who testified for or against him. She looked older, more mature, thinner, and yet more fragile. She was dressed in formal, modest robes in a dark colour. Midnight blue, verging on black. She sat straight and stiff in the testifier's box and rarely looked down at him.

When the Wizengamot members to his side started whispering amongst one another, he wondered what they were on about. She was Muggle-born, she wouldn't—couldn't—understand the reason the old, decrepit speaker had phrased his question like that.

"Did you have any other interactions with the accused?" the Wizengamot member prompted.

"When Harry, Ron, and I were snatched and taken to Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix Lestrange wanted to torture me for information. Rodolphus Lestrange convinced her that he would be more likely to get the information out of me. When we were alone he pressed his wand into my hand and told me to make it look good. I cut my own palm and used my blood to mat the hair at his temple. He then laid down on the floor and I cast a Full Body-Bind on him. I then created a Portkey and my friends and I escaped."

"What happened to your wand?"

"Our wands were taken from us by the Snatchers. I don't know what happened to it from there."

"And you shed your blood freely for him?"

"Yes, there was no coercion," she answered.

Rodolphus felt his breath leave him in a rush at her calm demeanour. Did she know what she was doing? He'd thought the Wizengamot ridiculous for their questioning but with each answer, she gave he thought that perhaps he'd underestimated the witch.

"Do you still have the wand he gave you?" She confirmed that she did and she raised up a wand in her hand. He could see his beautiful yew wand, the colours in it almost a swirl of tan, orange, brown, and where she gripped it slightly purple. He'd found it ugly once, in his youth. When the Wizengamot speaker nodded, she lowered it back to her lap, hiding it once more from view.

The Wizengamot speaker raised up a wand, holding it through a cloth as though he were fearful of touching it. "The accused was found with this wand on his person sitting against a wall on the far side of the Hogwarts grounds. Is this your wand, Ms Granger?"

Rodolphus watched as her eyes tracked it and there was a flicker of longing on her face. She nodded and vocally confirmed what he knew to be true. He had been using her wand. "Yes, that's my wand."

"We performed Priori Incantatem on this wand until the magical signature associated with Rodolphus Lestrange changed, the list of spells performed by the accused are written for members on page six. If you'll read over those," the speaker said to the assembled body. "We'll be closing the floor to deliberate now." He used his own wand to cast a Sound Dampening Spell around the seats of the Wizengamot members.

This was it, Rodolphus was sure. He closed his eyes. Whether she knowingly enacted the wartime marriage rite or not, she would no doubt soon find herself the Widow Lestrange. At least she would be well cared for. He wondered if they would do it here. If they would parade the Dementor through the courtroom to stand in front of him, leaving him chained to the chair with no way of even pretending to protect himself from it. He wondered if they would allow his widow the courtesy of leaving the room so she wouldn't have to watch the indignity of him shitting and pissing himself in fear before the Dementor sucked his broken soul out of his body. Would they even spare the owl to inform her a few days later when the husk his body would become conceded to death? He couldn't even have admitted to his fear at the moment, as it felt like a Dementor was close and the cold of it was closing around his heart in his chest. He didn't want to see it when it came for him. He'd rather spend his last minutes gazing up at the woman who had, perhaps unknowingly, wedded herself to him. He opened his eyes and looked up at her, watched her as terror gripped his lungs.

It felt like it took years before the Wizengamot speaker cancelled the Sound Dampening Spell and cleared his throat. The few visitors and spectators had grown restless and loud in the interim. "Rodolphus Lestrange is hereby remanded to his wife's custody for a probational period of ten years. He will be assigned a Probation Auror and will check in with that Auror monthly. He will submit his wand each time and will have to answer any inquiry for spells that are deemed questionable. Every three months the Probation Auror will conduct an interview with Lestrange under Veritaserum."

Rodolphus couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs. He blinked and felt surprised and thankful tears welling up in his eyes. His gaze returned to Hermione and he felt disappointed when she didn't even glance in his direction but the feeling couldn't compare to the overwhelming shock that was seemingly strangling him.

There were shouts and protestations from the spectators but their arguments went ignored. The chains binding Rodolphus to the chair slithered back and released him. The speaker cleared his throat one last time and spoke loudly over the increasingly angry crowd. "The case of Rodolphus Lestrange is concluded. Retrieve personal items from the court wizard." Rodolphus stood slowly, still reeling from the Wizengamot's decision and it took him a moment to get his bearings to find the court wizard. He walked toward him and the wizard, with a frown marring his face speaking to his opinion on Lestrange's release, passed over Hermione's wand. He turned and sought out Hermione, still sitting in the testifier's box, though finally, her gaze was on him. As he approached her, he straightened his robes and wiped at the wetness still lingering under his eyes. When he stood in front of her, he found himself nervous. What did he say to her?

He decided finishing the marriage rite was probably the best idea. "Wife," he said, handing her the vinewood wand in his hand, handle first.

She nodded and offered up his own wand. "Husband," she answered. They reached up and took their respective wands from the other and he might have delighted in hearing her breath hitch as the magic washed over them as if they'd stepped under the mist of a waterfall.

"Will you accompany me home?" he asked her, feeling stilted and formal, even as he offered her his arm to escort her. She nodded and took his arm and he led them down the hall to the lift. When they finally arrived in the atrium, Rodolphus warned her that he would Apparate them home.

"You're not taking me to Malfoy Manor, are you?" she asked.

"No," he said. "I'm taking you to the Lestrange Estate in Hertfordshire." He Apparated her directly into the library, with its brilliant gold and red decorations, and watched her eyes light up with excitement. "I thought you might enjoy some time in the library while I go bathe. Is that all right?" She nodded and for the first time today looked nervous. He nodded once and left her to browse the library.

The water in his shower was scalding but he wanted to be as clean as possible for her. He shaved the scruff and beginnings of a beard from his face and stood in front of the mirror naked for a long moment, debating. Did she expect this to be a marriage in name only? He should really take the time to learn more about her before seeking the salvation he imagined between her thighs. He didn't think he was capable of holding back but he would see her reactions. If she was favourable, then he would pursue that course.

He dried his hair with a spell and dressed in a set of grey robes that matched the formality of hers. He slipped his wand into the pocket made for it and left his suite. On the walk down the corridor to the library, he felt his anxiety rise again. What if she had left? He needn't have worried. She was still there, sitting comfortably on a red settee with a heavy tome on her lap, reading by the sunlight streaming in through the tall windows.

He joined her on the settee, sitting close but not against her, and interlaced his fingers on his lap. He sat in silence and waited, still unsure of himself. Suddenly he had to know. "Did you know about the marriage rite? Did you choose this? Me?"

"Yes," she said softly. He didn't think she looked up from the book.

"Why?" he asked, looking at her. He needed to see every nuance of her answer.

She turned from the book and met his gaze with her own. "You gave me freedom. Twice."

"I..." whatever he was going to say was lost as he watched her. He watched as an emotion he didn't recognise slipped over her features. It took him a moment to understand what he saw. Her gaze was hungry, predatory.

He leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss, shocking himself. She responded with enthusiasm and he groaned, letting her take the lead. She did for a few moments before she pulled back. "Do you not want me any longer? Now that I'm yours? Was I just something forbidden?"

In response, he stood and turned, hoisting her up into his arms. He shoved the desk behind him clear of things, hearing the crystal ink bottle thunk onto the floor and roll away. He set her rump on the edge of the desk and dropped to his knees, his hands already seeking the fasteners on her robes. He would show her just how much he still wanted her.

He was surprised she wore them traditional but immensely glad because he didn't have to deal with Muggle knickers. He didn't waste a moment as his mouth sought out her spring as if he were a man dying of thirst. She vocalised her shock at his quick movements and forwardness. After fully tonguing her slit he backed off and nipped at her inner thigh, licking a path back to her woman's place. She moaned and spread her legs wider for him and he felt her hands dig past her robes to burrow into his hair. She scratched at his scalp as he learned how she liked to be pleasured. He delighted in every mew and sigh she made, every squeal and moan. When she shuddered in his grasp from just his overzealous tongue, he felt accomplishment like he'd never experienced before.

He stood and attempted to unbutton her robes with numb fingers. She returned the favour with more fervour and yanked at his, sending buttons scattering. Her eyes blazed with a heated hunger that excited him and her fingers trailed paths of flame down his sides and abdomen. When she reached his cock and closed her hand over it, he moaned. He leaned down to kiss her, dominating her mouth but forgoing another attempt at stripping her. She squirmed under him and he pulled back in time to watch her fling more buttons, this time destroying her own robes, in her aim to press her nakedness against his.

"Please, please, please," he heard the words as she rubbed against him but didn't realise they were his own until she had led his cock to her entrance and raised her legs to wrap around him to pull him in. His first intrusion had him gasping and groaning. She was so hot and she surrounded him, enveloped him in fire like she was a damned earth-eating phoenix and he was nothing more than the winter needing to thaw. "Hermione," he said her name as a prayer, hoping that this was real and not some fantastical dream in the moment of death, but she was too hot to be Death, burning him from his cock out to his fingers and toes.

His hips snapped into her and he felt merciless but for her panted breaths of more and harder. It was over too soon, his sac tightening and his cock throbbing and he wanted her again immediately. He lay over her, physically surrounding her while she surrounded him in light and goodness and warmth, as they panted to catch their breath. He rocked gently against her, completely enveloped, and relished the pleasure-pain of post-orgasm stimulation. Her mouth sought out his and he blinked his eyes blearily at her. She was beautifully dishevelled, her hair all mussed where the pins she'd used had half-backed out. He reached up to pluck them from her hair, still grinding his hips against hers. She moaned, enjoying the stimulation. When he'd removed all the pins, he let his fingers burrow into her curls to scratch at her scalp. He tipped her head back to taste her again, feeling like he couldn't get enough of her.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered when he started to pull away from her.

Her legs tightened around him. "Don't leave yet," she said, clamping down hard on him.

"I'm an old man, Hermione, I need to rest." He said the words but the way she moved her hips against his and the pleasure that licked up his sac seemed to indicate otherwise. He rocked deeper into her and each time pulled further out until he realised that he was still fucking her, still hard, still capable. Her breathy moans encouraged him on and he reached down to flick at her clit with his thumb. The volume of her moans increased as he did it and he felt the walls of her vagina flutter around him. He worried he would lose his rhythm or just the right pressure he was touching her with but then her orgasm rippled around him. He worked her through it, feeling ecstatic that he'd brought her to pleasure twice. He thrust his hips faster, ready to crest and share her afterglow. His second orgasm wasn't as all-consuming as his first but it was still enough to make him cry out and his fingers and toes tingle.

"Wow," she murmured against his chest and he couldn't help but smile.

"I hope that I've satisfied you, Wife?"

She nodded and he could feel her smile against his sweat-dampened skin. He closed his eyes and held her close, breathing in the scent of her and their mingling sex. It was hard to believe that it had been almost two years since she'd entered his thoughts in the Department of Mysteries but he was especially glad she had.