I loved all the reviews, favorites, etc that I received for Staking Claims, so I decided to write this. It is complete, but I will post it in three chapters. Unfortunately, I know many said you could see my other story going multi-chapter, but I really don't want to disappoint by leaving it wayside when I get writer's block or get really busy. That's why I wrote this puppy out fully before even thinking about posting.

I hope you guys love it, if not, still let me know.

-Noodles2

Let's Be Neighborly

Her walls were moving.

Actually, pulsing.

Repeatedly.

In a rhythm.

She sat on her bed, Indian style, facing her headboard as she could see, and feel, her bed shaking and moving.

"Bloody effing mother effer…" she whispered to herself in awe. Why she was whispering she didn't know, she supposed it was shell shock. The pulsing wall had been getting pounded for the past 18 minutes, 18 MINUTES! And counting.

"Mmmm, yeah!"

There it was, the bitch getting pounded, rhythmically, against the other side of Hermione's bedroom wall finally vocalized on what Hermione suspected to be a phenomenal shag.

Hermione groaned as the pounding got faster and harder, if that was possible. How could she be so in tune what was happening, yet receive no pleasure? As she resigned to move towards her living room couch, then she heard a faint grunt.

Damn those thin walls.

She had been living in her flat for about 6 months, finally able to afford it on her own with a nice Ministry promotion. She was now the youngest witch ever to head the Department of International Magical Cooperation. At 23, she was almost at where she wanted to be in life.

Up until 6 months ago, she and Ron had lived together, but things were tense. She was strained and she knew he was too. The fact of the matter was they loved each other, but it wasn't enough. Ending things amicably was the plan, but things got out of hand. Things were said, nasty things, on both their parts. The rational part of her knew that it was the tension building and finally releasing after years and years of being pent up, but it didn't stop the sting and the hurt.

Ron was sneering, "You think it's easy being with you? You can be a downright bitch you know that? Apparently, you're just too good for me, huh?"

"Oh come off it Ron! You're know prized pony, you're all for show anyway right? Cause let's face it, I'd be less of a bitch if you were up to the task," She glared daggers at him.

"Is that where you want to take this, you think you'd be a better person if you came more often? Well news flash darling, you're a frigid wench, trying to fuck you is like sticking my dick in snow. Take a good hard look at yourself, you'll always by a grimy wench, enjoy spinsterhood."

She was furious at his words and couldn't stop herself from throwing the dish at his head, barely missing him and smashing against the wall.

Ron apparated away in second, leaving her alone in their apartment. Hermione's face was burning red, and she could feel the tears pooling in her eyes, "It wasn't supposed to be like this…" She whispered to herself as she crumpled onto the floor.

That night she had packed her things, put them in storage and stayed in a muggle hotel. She took the next day off and went hunting for apartments. Wanting a break from the wizarding world, she found herself a flat in muggle London, not too far from the Ministry. It was a two bedroom with vintage woodwork and a renovated kitchen. Not to mention, a killer view overlooking the city. The building was about 40 years old, each floor had two units, and she was on the top floor. The stairs were a pain, but she usually apparated home anyhow. Occasionally, she would go up and down the stairs as to not rouse suspicion from her neighbors.

Her flat was perfect, and up until 3 days ago, it was peaceful.

The flat next door had been empty and quite similar to hers, but hers having the better kitchen, she made the obvious choice. She was surprised it was empty for so long, but she supposed muggle economics weren't so fantastic at this time.

She had heard rumbling and scraping and seen people in and out moving things and assumed she'd be getting new neighbor. Hoping for the best, she had baked a fresh batch of apple cinnamon tarts and packaged them neatly. Walking over to welcome her new neighbor was quite the surprise.

The flat had been completely gutted and renovated. The walls painted a beautiful cobalt blue and the simple wood trim replaced with intricate art deco swirls. The furniture looked plush and rich, there were these giant plush sofa chairs that looked like they were upholstered in the finest, and most comfortable fabric ever made. There were gorgeous armoires scattered about and a wooden dining set stained in cherry. The kitchen was completely modern with silver appliances and the largest fridge she had ever seen. Overall it was very tasteful and inviting.

Asking a mover where she could find the owner, she soon found that her neighbor actually had not been there yet and wouldn't arrive for another three days. She thanked the man and walked gingerly towards the fridge where she left the tarts and a note saying welcome.

Bang, Bang, Bang…"Ughhh"

Are they done?

Finally, she cautiously listened for anything else and then proceeded to snuggle back in bed after a few minutes of silence. The silence made her remember how alone she was. It had been 8 months since she last had a decent orgasm and 10 months since she had shared an orgasm with another person. She and Ron weren't perfect, but make-up sex with him was always decent.

Creak, creeeak, creak…

"Oh come the god-damn eff off! Effing mother-ARgh," she was trying very hard to stop swearing, and today was proving to be difficult.

The pulsing had started again, her bed was shaking again.

Rushing out of her bedroom, past a now disgruntled Crookshanks, she plopped herself onto her couch and tried to calm down.

She went to bed in a fitful sleep, at least grateful that it was the weekend.

She awoke the next morning disgruntled, she had bags under her eyes and her hair was a mess. She looked like the living dead.

Waddling to her kitchen in her slippers she started brewing a strong cup of coffee. Tea was too weak for a morning like this.

After a few sips of the bitter tasting slosh in her mug, she walked towards the bath; the strong spray of steamy water relaxed her sore muscles. The couch was not meant for sleeping. She was so pissed last night she didn't even think to transfigure it into a decent bed.

Deciding on a white tank and jeans, she moved about her flat trying to decide what to do first.

Truth was, that even after 6 months of living there; her flat still looked only half unpacked. With the promotion and her breakup, things at home got neglected. Crookshanks was constantly glaring at her for her negligence. Passing said prissy kneazle she rubbed his head thoroughly, enjoying the slight smile on his face as his eyes rolled back and closed.

Walking into the second bedroom, which she decided would be a study; she looked at all the junk she piled. Grabbing her wand she proceeded to levitate, shrink, re-grow, and place things where they belonged. She managed to re-grow her bookshelves and lined two walls, adjusting their height and length to literally cover floor to ceiling. Finally happy with where they were, she began to place all of her books, in alphabetical order by author and topic. Adjusting her desk and computer, the one true muggle luxury she afforded herself, she then lined the two remaining walls with pictures of her family and friends. She smiled warmly at pictures of herself with Ron and Harry, it felt like forever ago.

Harry had been Switzerland throughout the break-up, he didn't want to lose anyone and both Ron and Hermione accepted that by not asking him to choose sides. Since what she will forever refer to as Dooms Day though, she has only hung out with Harry a handful of times. His Auror schedule and his wife keeping him busy. Ginny Potter was a handful, and didn't make it a secret that she thought Ron was an idiot. After the war, she and Ginny had grown fairly close and with her budding relationship with Ron, everything seemed in order for the two to become permanent sister-in-laws.

Hermione tried to explain that the bond between them would never fade, but that her and Ron weren't meant to be together like that. Secretly, Hermione hoped that they would get past this and return to being friends, but that would only be possible if Ron were around. She had wanted numerous times to talk about what happened, but he was always out on Auror business. She knew he was avoiding her. It hurt, but she knew the time apart was technically necessary.

At that very moment her stomach rumbled, upset with hunger. She went to her fridge and pulled out egg salad she had made yesterday and made herself a sandwich. She supposed that coffee hadn't been the best breakfast and she should at least get a proper lunch.

Arranging more things here and there, she was pleased to find that everything, except her bedroom had been finalized. She was afraid to walk in there. The memories and feelings from last night lingered. Her neighbor's sexual appetite put a kink in her mood and she knew why.

That alone feeling creeped in again. It wasn't that she really was a frigid cow; it was that she had had only one lover in her life and the mediocre bar he set was disappointing. Ron was good, but not great. His little experience probably didn't help. Having read on the subject and studied it, Hermione knew, just knew, sex was supposed to be better.

Her neighbor made that point even clearer to her last night.

With that thought pushed aside she walked into her bedroom, deciding to move her bed to an opposite wall. She then placed her chaise lounge against the previously bed assigned wall, a few inches off the wall actually and did the same with a lovely antique armoire she had bought recently. Feeling infinitely better, she started setting up her TV in the vintage armoire, making sure it faced her bed. She enjoyed late night telly and it was indeed a guilty pleasure.

Satisfied with all her hard work she noticed it was already dark and that she had worked through dinner. Grabbing another egg sandwich she vowed to have proper meals tomorrow. Deciding to end her Saturday night with a good read, she curled up in her bed began to turn the pages on a smutty Dreamscapes series entitled The Lone Wolf. Thinking that she might rekindle herself with the satisfying world of orgasms, she began to read.

He had a dark aura about him, but that didn't stop the stares he received. Very appreciative stares from the females in town. Hunter McGowen was a specimen to behold. His broad shoulders and dark untamed eyes, his olive colored skin glistening in the sun as he brought the axe down on another log was intoxicating. It was downright sinful, but every woman wanted to be the drop of sweat that trickled down his chest.

"Hunter, I brought you some water, you look downright parched," I couldn't stop myself from staring. Just like the rest of them. His eyes bore into mine, "Thank you." If his body alone was mesmerizing, let me tell you his voice combined with his close proximity could make volcanoes erupt.

"Marie, thank you again," his hand brushed my cheek and his eyes hooded. I guess he noticed my lack of attire, I wore a small two piece bikini, since I was "headed to the lake" for a swim.

I was hypnotized, "Hunter, would you care to join me for a swim?" I whispered as his body came closer.

"Mmmm" was all I heard before he tucked me in his arms and pushed me roughly against a tree nearby. Our surroundings were secluded, and I thanked them, because goodness knows I don't want anyone to see what I'm about to experience. He was mine and mine alone. It had been 2 months since he started working for me and it was two months of agony.

"I don't feel like swimming," he said while ghosting his lips on my neck. Suckling the flesh below my ear I let out a whimper and ground myself harder on his erected cock. He made quick work of my skimpy swimwear, ripping it off me. Taking me in, I couldn't help but blush under his heated gaze.

"Ms. Marie, I'm going to make you cum" With that bold declaration he inserted his now freed throbbing cock into my too moist pussy.

The slight stretching sensation of being filled felt-

Bang… Bang…Bang

"Mmm yes! Harder!"

No.

It can't be.

Two nights in a row?

Really?

Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang..

And wait for it….

Grunts were heard loudly this time.

Hermoine thought about withdrawing her fingers, yes she was quite aroused from the smut she was reading, but then realized, while the sounds the other woman were making her jealous, she was still very turned on.

Closing her eyes and focusing on the bang, she imagined herself being pounded by a strong lean male, his cock driving into her against that wall.

Her fingers pumping with the rhythm against the wall, her thumb pressed against her clit, she was so close.

" Fuck yeah, fuck me harder Big Papa Bear!"

Her orgasm made a loud screeching sound as it halted and bolted the other way.

Great.

This chick was more vocal than the last one. She felt positive it was a different girl because she imagined that the one from last night was bruised and bloody sore.

"That's right Papa Bear fuck Goldilocks harder"

Oh no.

Completely pissed at having her moment ruined she marched out of the room, into her hall, in front of her neighbor's door and began pounding loudly.

"Open up, you orgasm killing fuckers, you psycho bastards with your sick perverted fucking!"

She lost it, there went her no swearing thing.

She heard shuffling when the door burst open.

"What the fuck! Who do you-Granger!"

"Malfoy, what the fuck are you doing here!"

Draco Malfoy stood before her half naked, a sheet around his torso, his pale chest bare and glistening and his hair thoroughly sexed.

She was pissed, but not too pissed to notice the…well noticble erection.

"Up until about a minute ago I was shagging, in my flat." His momentary shock was soon replaced by an all too familiar sneer.

Tearing her glaring gaze from his balls to his face she flushed both with anger and embarrassment.

"Well that's all good and dandy, mind gagging the broad? Cause personally I don't care to hear Big Papa Bear give it good to Goldilocks," she was fuming.

She could see the slight blush form from her obvious knowledge of what happened in his bedchambers.

"I don't see how it is of any concern of yours how I fuck, I'll ask you nicely to sod-off and have a pleasant night, by the way Granger, it's called a silencing spell" with that he tried shutting the door, but before it shut Hermione pulled out her wand and aimed it at his mouth. She placed a sealing charm on him, effectively shutting him up and sealing his lips together.

With a smirk she retreated into her own flat and left an angry and slightly panicking Draco.

She had to admit, he was right about the silencing charm. She was a witch, but she supposed the stress of everything made her miss that small detail.

Returning to her own flat she made quick work of the silencing charm, just in time too, because it seemed Malfoy had gone right back to shagging. Harder if possible.

While there was no sound, she could still see her walls moving.

Bloody fantastic

What the hell was Malfoy doing in muggle London, in her building, next to her flat? Draco Malfoy had changed since the war, there was no denying that, although his persona could still use some fine tuning. His Father was currently rotting in Azkaban and his mother was philanthropically trying to revive the importance of the Malfoy name. Narcissa had made it a point to take over many of the companies that were under Lucius' name. She then restructured and began various charitable endeavors. She played a large part in rebuilding the wizarding world, having been a trend setter for other pureblood families to guilt over money.

Malfoy on the other hand worked on his own reputation. He was moving up within the Auror Office, something Ron and Harry weren't too happy about. Malfoy had proven that he was serious, having divulged everything and everyone he could remember at the Death Eater meetings. He then proceeded to lead successful raids on Death Eaters still in hiding. While the boys weren't keen on working with him, they did often admit he took everything seriously and they had grown to at least trust him. They weren't friendly, but at least professional.

With his rehabilitated image also came the paparazzi, at every turn they would try to dig something up. All they found were a string of women. Every week he was photographed with someone new, nothing too compromising, but each woman was looked into, spied on, and eventually decimated with whatever the paparazzi found.

She almost felt bad for the women, and then she remembered her still moving wall.