Chapter Text
While some part of her felt a sense of relief at not drawing the same sort of stares she—or rather, they—would have by arriving to the Ministry together years ago, Hermione was also… somewhat disappointed by the lack of reaction? Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to phrase it, but at the sensation of Narcissa’s hand sliding into her own, Hermione found all thoughts of others flee her mind. The warmth of Narcissa’s skin against hers was a comfort, and she had to bite back a grin as they made their way towards the Ministry lifts to descend to the ninth floor and their department.
The lift was, surprisingly, almost packed to the brim when they got on, forcing Hermione to rest her back against Narcissa’s front, not that she was complaining. Almost expecting Narcissa to tense up at such close contact in public despite the handholding earlier, she was relieved to find the opposite and delighted in how soft Narcissa’s breasts felt pressing further into her with each relaxed inhale. Upon realising they had gotten on the wrong lift considering it was going up, Hermione barely held back a giggle and felt Narcissa silently chuckle behind her.
As more people got off at each stop, Narcissa made hardly any effort to distance herself. There was a palpable restrained energy about the blonde-haired witch, though, that Hermione noticed keenly. She didn’t dare ask anything until they were the only two left on the lift as it began its descent to their floor, but when she was about to turn and speak, a familiar warm body pressed up against her again, but this time arms snaked around Hermione’s middle, pale hands clasped together and resting upon her abdomen.
“I’ve wanted to do this since we first got on the lift,” Narcissa murmured at the shell of Hermione’s ear. “I wasn’t sure if that was too forward, though.”
Hermione chuckled softly. “Forward? I’m a Gryffindor, we love forwardness, Narcissa.” She paused for a moment. “Except perhaps, when it includes public indecency.”
“Perhaps?” Narcissa’s laughter was so effortlessly bright and charming that Hermione wished she could bottle it. A kiss was pressed against a small, bare expanse of skin at the back of her neck. “You’re tempting a Slytherin, darling, and that is playing with fire.”
Pushing back against Narcissa, Hermione grabbed hold of Narcissa’s hands at her front and stroked the smooth skin. “You should know by now that I rather can’t help but play with fire, considering the friends I’ve made.”
The lift gently rumbled to a stop and the gated door opened, prompting Hermione to step out of Narcissa’s hold. Narcissa’s hand trailed down the back of her robes immediately after, causing her to shiver as the older witch walked past her.
“Do keep a watch out for my memos today, dear,” the whisper came, wrapping itself around her like an intimate embrace.
Narcissa Black was still going to be the death of her.
***
Warning Hermione of her memos might have been a terrible idea. Narcissa had hoped to cause the other woman to blush in her presence whenever they came across each other while moving about the department at various points throughout the day, but so far, she had had no luck at all. It was disappointing, truly, as she was so certain that what she had written would cause something to stir in Hermione.
It was only after her three o’clock meeting with Unspeakables Edgecombe and Harris that she saw Hermione again. Mere minutes after her colleagues left her with more notes on the modified cloaking spell and its tests, a knock came on her half-open office door. Humming to herself and prying her thoughts away from the inter-divisional Time-Turner project, Narcissa glanced up with all intentions to shoo whomever had decided to show up unannounced, and her mouth was halfway open before she saw Hermione standing in the doorway with clenched fists at her sides.
Before she could utter a single syllable in question, Hermione stepped into her office and flicked her wand behind, shutting and locking the door with an audible click. Unsure what she could have possibly done to upset the dark-haired witch, she stayed in her seat and gestured with an arm for Hermione to sit down and discuss whatever was bothering her.
She was instead silently rebuked as Hermione walked around her desk, only coming to a stop right before her knees. Her chest was almost heaving as if she’d run the length of an entire division, and Narcissa stared at her, trying to form words. She was about to say something likely unintelligible when she was half-dragged out of her seat and drawn into a searing kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.
Several moments later, Hermione pulled away and panted out, “You— you bloody well wrecked a point I was going to make in a meeting after lunch. That memo, that…”
Narcissa eyed Hermione hungrily as she stopped speaking, shutting her eyes and releasing a sharp breath. So, she had had an effect on her. Though she hadn’t intended to disturb a meeting; she had thoroughly checked Hermione’s calendar and made sure to only send the memos to her when she was alone. “You had a meeting? But I checked.”
Hermione laughed then, loud and unrestrained. Gripping Narcissa’s upper arms and squeezing them, she lowered her head and shook it softly. “Bloody hell, we’ve both been in each other’s calendars, haven’t we? But no, this was an unplanned meeting. Bugger that, though. You’d let me watch you masturbate?”
She smiled. “We did just have sex last night, darling. It shouldn’t be a stretch to watch each other pleasure ourselves.”
Ah, yes. Finally. That had Hermione blushing like mad. Narcissa cupped Hermione’s cheek and ran the pad of her thumb along warmed skin, then closed the small gap between them and soundly kissed her. Hermione whimpered into the kiss, allowing Narcissa to stroke her tongue into a welcoming mouth. Fingers clutched desperately at the backside of her robes, and she forced herself to pull away, put distance between them before they did anything completely ill-advised.
“We should…” she swallowed hard, almost collapsing back into her chair. “We should discuss the Time-Turner project’s trajectory.”
“S’not my fault I came in here like this, y’know,” Hermione weakly grumbled as she sat down in a seat across from Narcissa.
Offering up some attempt at a sheepish smile, Narcissa knew she’d failed when Hermione covered her mouth as she laughed. She had half a mind to banish the witch from her office as she stammered out how ridiculous she looked. Merlin help her, though, she was completely bloody smitten with Hermione.
“I could renege on my suggestion of allowing you to watch me as I pleasure myself.” At Hermione’s shamefaced, dejected expression, she drummed her fingers against the desk and chewed lightly on the inside of her lip before shooting Hermione a soft, teasing smile. “Or if you’re a good girl, perhaps we could indulge in something more… mutual, and watch each other. There are plenty of possibilities.”
Hermione groaned. “Cissa, you’re impossible. How are we supposed to get any work done now?”
“I am sure that a remarkable witch such as yourself can regain her composure, Unspeakable Granger.” Narcissa accompanied the formal address with a wink, then leaned back in her seat and drew her wand, gathering documents together for Hermione to take back to the Temporal Chamber. “Share these with your colleague, and I would suggest that our group gathers once a week until we are finished with version one of this improved Time-Turner.”
After skimming through the first few parchments, Hermione met her eyes again and nodded, though Narcissa noticed her slightly shifting about in her seat.
“I would also suggest that you find a single-stall powder room and thoroughly check that your charms work as intended this time.”
Hermione flushed a deep crimson and swore under her breath, but quickly composed herself after and looked around the office before meeting Narcissa’s gaze again. “Well, we’re not all as lucky as you with this amount of privacy.” Her eyes wrinkled as she grinned mischievously. “I wonder, though, where do you come undone by your own fingers here? At your desk? Leaning against your shut door?”
Heat flooded Narcissa’s cheeks, and she pointed at the door. “Out! Out, Unspeakable Granger! I will not— I, dear Merlin.” She groaned and rested a hand against her forehead. “I should prepare myself for you to get me back for all of those memos today, shouldn’t I?”
All the answer she received was a shrug and an oh-so-innocent smile from Hermione before she was left alone, sitting with an all-consuming ache between her thighs. And yet she knew she’d have it no other way.
***
Hermione was running late which allowed Narcissa a few more minutes to complete her preparations. They were celebrating the successful conclusion of their new Time-Turner, fully equipped with a functional shield charm that would protect the wearer from damage by any odd shenanigans time travel was sure to ensue. Narcissa had never told Hermione this, but she hated time travel. The concept alone gave her a headache. At least they’d managed to place it heavily warded in the secure vault deep within the Department of Mysteries. Narcissa shuddered at the thought of a former Death Eater, still tied to what was left of their clan, and clinging to those old, toxic ideas, getting their hands on the Time-Turner. She didn’t fancy a world where Voldemort had won.
They’d been together for two months now and practically spent all their free time together, which also made them realise that they had been close to living in such an arrangement before her date with Amahle. Hermione had sent Amahle a gift, an old first edition collection of Zambian magical fairytales. The other witch had been utterly charmed and delighted. They were all meeting for tea in the coming week.
Their time together had been spent almost exclusively alone, not because of disapproval from family and friends who were in fact quite relieved that they’d finally ‘stopped being daft,’ as her sister had so eloquently put. Even Draco had snorted and rolled his eyes when she’d asked if he was all right with her relationship with Hermione. Not that she’d have ended things if he hadn’t been, he was a grown man after all, but it was nice to have his support. She was still grumbling over the bets their colleagues at work had placed as to when they’d finally admit that they were a couple. Neither witch corrected them by pointing out that their bet rested on a faulty premise.
She had prepared Hermione’s favorite dish, Chicken Tikka Masala, and Narcissa had additional, more delightful plans for the night.
***
Hermione had finally ended her phone call with her parents who had described their recent trip to the Caribbean in great detail, unaware that their daughter was itching to join Narcissa for a celebratory dinner which would hopefully end in the blonde witch’s bedroom.
She apparated to Narcissa’s house and knocked on the door. A short moment later, Narcissa stood in front of her. At the sight of her girlfriend, Hermione’s thoughts careened to an abrupt halt, and she contemplated whether they should start the celebration in the bedroom. Narcissa wore that damned blouse again that slipped off one shoulder, exposing a tantalising amount of her collarbone. Naturally, she’d paired it once more with those skintight jeans that never failed to draw Hermione’s gaze to her bum, though currently, it seemed stuck on Narcissa’s cleavage.
Narcissa chuckled. “Andy once pointed out that this outfit flusters you, though by now it seems to have a different effect.”
Hermione’s gaze snapped up. “What?”
“Hello, dear,” Narcissa said and leaned in to press a quick kiss against Hermione’s lips, who had other ideas.
Hermione pulled Narcissa close and pushed her farther into the room before stepping inside and shutting the door with her foot. She spun Narcissa around and pressed her against the door, deepening their kiss.
Narcissa licked into Hermione’s mouth and groaned when Hermione’s cool fingers snuck under her shirt.
Hermione broke the kiss and smiled. “Hello to you, too.”
Narcissa shook her head. She clasped Hermione’s hand and pulled her toward the dining room. “The food is going to get cold.”
“We’re witches, and I’m sure you placed a warming charm on it. They last a while.”
“Patience, dear. Besides, you’ll need your stamina for what I have in store for you later.”
Hermione groaned but allowed Narcissa to drag her along. She knew they were still in their so-called honeymoon phase, but she couldn’t remember having this much sex with someone, or more importantly, ever wanting to have this much sex with someone.
Hermione beamed at Narcissa when she saw the blonde witch had prepared her favourite dish. “You realize I’ll give you whatever you want, no need to try to soften me up with food.”
Narcissa laughed and finished filling their wine glasses before sitting down across from Hermione. “I’m aware of that, but I enjoy taking care of the ones I love.”
Hermione flushed, still overwhelmed and floored by Narcissa’s easy and open affection. She sometimes wondered how this woman had come by the moniker of Ice Queen. “I love you, too.”
Narcissa smiled and released the stasis off their food. “I hope you’ll like it, darling.” Narcissa took a spoonful of the food in her mouth, and Hermione followed suit.
After they ate in silence for a while, Hermione remembered something she’d wanted to discuss with Narcissa. “I’ve spoken with Shacklebolt about the additional security measures we’d discussed for the Time-Turner.”
“Let me guess, they are too cumbersome.”
“In a manner of speaking. He deems it unnecessary, saying times have changed and there’s no one out there who’d be able to break through the security already in place.”
“Famous last words,” Narcissa muttered with a sigh.
“Do you really think it’s likely that one of the remaining Death Eaters would go after it? How would they even know it exists? Besides, there are only a few left and they’ve been on the run for a decade.”
“Precisely. They are wounded and cornered animals, thus at their most dangerous.” Narcissa drank a sip of wine. “If there’s something I’ve learned from having lived through both Wizarding wars, it’s a foolish error to underestimate the other side, but more importantly, there have been many more silent supporters than we realised.”
Hermione frowned. “Do you know something concrete?”
Narcissa shook her head. “Just an odd sense of foreboding, but let’s shelf this topic. It’s too depressing and contradicts with the events I’ve planned for tonight.”
Hermione chuckled. “And you call me insatiable.”
Narcissa narrowed her eyes but remained silent and picked up her fork again.
After dinner, Narcissa rose and wordlessly strode to the bedroom, leaving the door open.
Hermione gulped before jumping out of her seat, nearly toppling her chair, and raced after Narcissa. When she entered the room, her mouth fell open and she froze. How had Narcissa… she’d only just left, and Hermione had followed her right away. Yet, the blonde witch lay clad in a short black satin negligee on the bed, her legs spread and with one hand playing beneath her panties.
“I hope you don’t mind that I started without you.”
Hermione released a shuddering breath before divesting herself of her clothes, and completely nude, joined Narcissa on the bed. However, before she could grab the hand between Narcissa’s legs, pull it out from beneath her panties to suck her fingers into her mouth—indeed, Hermione had lots of ideas for how this should continue—Narcissa stopped her.
“No,” Narcissa commanded, “You only get to watch.”
Hermione’s eyes widened.
“For now, at least.”
Somewhat mollified that she’d get to join in eventually, Hermione sat cross-legged between Narcissa’s legs, watching every move of her hand. “Please take off your underwear.”
Narcissa smiled, and in the next moment, her panties vanished.
Hermione swallowed hard and leaned closer, her gaze glued to Narcisa’s long, slender fingers running through her glistening folds, steadily avoiding her clit.
Narcissa’s breathing accelerated as she watched Hermione’s lustful gaze follow her every move.
Hermione licked her lips and inched closer.
“No. Stay where you are,” Narcissa mumbled and closed her eyes. Her other hand found its way to her breasts and she pinched an already stiff nipple, moaning, before dipping one finger into her entrance. She shuddered.
Hermione groaned. This was torture. Yes, an incredibly hot torture that had arousal drumming low in her belly, and moisture pool between her legs, but just watching was agony for she longed to join Narcissa’s clever fingers.
Narcissa’s hip rocked against her hand and she released a low moan when her fingers pulled out and shifted north to paint slow, soft circles over her clit.
Hermione panted and uncrossed her legs before snaking a hand into her own wetness. She moaned at the heat and sensitive flesh she encountered.
Narcissa’s eyes flew open, and her gaze shifted between Hermione’s legs. She whimpered. “That’s not part of my plan,” she stammered.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “Apparently it’s part of mine.”
Narcissa trembled. “When I used to… pleasure myself to images of… you making love to me, you… didn’t always use your hands… or your mouth.”
Hermione’s eyes widened and her breath hitched. Did Narcissa mean what she thought?
“There are spells and potions we could… use to accomplish that,” Narcissa shuddered, her fingers rubbing faster circles and adding more pressure. “If that… is… something you’d be… interested in.”
Hermione groaned, imagining entering Narcissa like that, and heat splashed through her veins. “Yes,” she panted.
Narcissa widened her legs before withdrawing her hand. “You want to finish what I started?” she rasped.
Hermione surged forward and buried her face between Narcissa’s legs, greedily drinking the slick heat Narcissa’s hands had produced. Her own hips rocked against the bed and she squeezed her legs, beyond aroused from watching Narcissa and that final suggestion.
Narcissa moaned and flung her head back while her hands dug into Hermione’s scalp.
Hermione’s tongue pushed inside Narcissa before she replaced it with two, then three fingers pushing deep inside the blonde witch whose hips canted, but Hermione held on tight. She licked along Narcissa’s folds, drawing her lips into her mouth and sucking while her fingers thrust in and out of her girlfriend’s heat.
Narcissa shook and a long moan filled the air when Hermione focused her tongue on her clit, rubbing tight, fast circles over the swollen nub.
Hermione sucked Narcissa’s clit into her mouth and grazed it with her teeth, enjoying the helpless shudder that ran through the other woman and the sob that tore from her lips.
Narcissa pulled at Hermione’s hair and her upper body lifted before she froze, seemingly suspended in a wave of pleasure before she quaked and shook; dropping back down onto the bed, she shouted her release into the room.
Hermione groaned and rose, splaying out on top of the blonde witch, claiming her lips in a searing kiss while rocking her hips against Narcissa’s groin.
***
“My suggestion affected you, didn’t it, darling?” Narcissa muttered against Hermione’s cheek after they broke their kiss. Hermione nuzzled into her and, feeling a faint nod against her skin, Narcissa exhaled slowly and rubbed her hands over Hermione’s upper arms. “Well then, would you be amenable to a role switch?”
Hermione lifted herself up by the palms of her hands and gazed down at her with nearly pitch-black eyes. “You mean…?”
“Yes. I have some experience with the spell.”
Laughing breathlessly, Hermione rolled over to lay next to her on her back, covering her eyes with her left forearm. “Oh Merlin, I— you are going to kill me, Cissa, you know that?”
“Perhaps with la petite mort, but I would assume that you would enjoy such a death.” She smiled as Hermione turned her head to look at her. “So, I ask again: are you amenable to this?”
At Hermione’s sure nod and flushed, eager features, Narcissa swung her legs around on the bed and took her wand from the nightstand. Though she had experimented with this spell a good handful of times over her life, she still preferred to cast it while sitting down with a clear view of herself so there was no chance of accidentally missing her clitoris. And so with careful, soft enunciation, she directed the tip at the proper spot and tossed her wand back onto the nightstand immediately after pronouncing the last syllable.
She had done this enough to know how promptly the spell would take effect, but she never truly grew used to it. It was a warm, heavy sensation as her nub grew into a shaft, thickening and lengthening to bring about pleasure in an entirely different fashion. Of course, in the past she had mainly used it to add a bit of flavour to masturbation, but there were… a few select times, that she had brought other willing witches, as well as herself, through to completion. None of them had been Hermione, though.
As her chest rose and fell rapidly at the plethora of new sensations coursing through her at the mere presence of the temporary shift in her anatomy, she didn’t notice Hermione crawling over to her side. It was only as hot breath landed against the side of her neck that she started, and her breath hitched as Hermione took hold of her length while moving to sit more comfortably on her knees. Narcissa moaned at the teasing contact and leaned back slightly on her hands, trying to gather her breath and wits about her.
Hermione moved her head to rest against Narcissa’s upper chest. “While I’m not particularly fond of penises in general, this is…” her breath ran against Narcissa’s skin, causing an involuntary shudder, “beautiful. Because it’s you, and—”
“It’s not actually a penis?” Narcissa offered up breathlessly.
“Yes, that.” Hermione chuckled, then resituated herself so she sat with her arse on the mattress and feet on the carpet, directly beside Narcissa. “I also want this in me more than I’ve ever wanted a man’s penis. And unlike certain men I’ve been with, I’m sure you won’t skimp on my pleasure for your own release.”
Bloody wizards. Narcissa snorted. “Of course not, dear.” She stood and stretched liberally, her eyes taking notice of Hermione’s observing her. Afterwards, she stepped towards Hermione, who looked up at her face then dropped down until she was eyeing the spell’s handiwork. Slowly but surely, Hermione reached out and took gentle hold of the shaft again before beginning to steadily pump the length of it. Narcissa grasped at her breasts, just to do something with her hands, and softly moaned at a particularly exquisite stroke of Hermione’s thumb. Much too soon—as it had been some time since she had last used this spell—she was aching, the length fully erect and straining. It twitched against Hermione’s grip and the dark-haired witch grinned up at her.
“Looks like someone’s ready now.”
“More than ready,” Narcissa gasped out.
Hermione chuckled. “Thank Merlin, because I’m…” She opened her legs wide, exposing her practically dripping centre. Narcissa groaned heavily; she needed to be inside Hermione with her length, needed to bring Hermione to orgasm. And to think that she had once said that sex was overrated.
The need nearly overtook her, but she gathered herself and gently nudged Hermione back onto the mattress until the younger woman’s head could comfortably rest upon one of her pillows. Tanned legs willingly opened themselves up to her again, and Narcissa straddled Hermione, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips, the edge of her jawline, and down her neck, while one of her pale hands sought out a taut nipple and the other found purchase of Hermione’s sex.
Narcissa’s length throbbed as she focused on Hermione, focused on practically edging her with skillful fingers that knew exactly where her girlfriend responded the most. Hermione’s hips rocked against her, providing friction to her shaft, and she hissed as it twitched again, begging for more, more, more.
Hermione whined out, “Cissa, need you in me.”
Not wanting to drag it out any longer, Narcissa splayed one hand against Hermione’s tightly wound stomach muscles while the other aided in aligning herself properly with Hermione’s entrance, slick with evidence of her arousal. When the tip of her touched Hermione, she was met with a colourful swear and Hermione’s hands making fists in the sheets. In another instant, she pushed inside, inch-by-inch until she was fully enveloped in wet heat.
Panting, she began to move as soon as Hermione clenched around her. This was— she squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that this was different, better than any of the other times she had penetrated other women. She thrust into Hermione and used a thumb to rub at the swollen clit above, causing Hermione to even more desperately meet her thrust for thrust, the wet sounds of their bodies meeting driving Narcissa higher and higher towards a crescendo of pleasure.
It was as she slightly increased the pressure of her finger as it rubbed ever more discordant circles on Hermione’s bundle of nerves that Narcissa began to feel the telltale signs of her girlfriend’s orgasm approaching. At this point, it appeared Hermione didn’t even care that Narcissa wasn’t showing much expertise in her finger’s movements. Narcissa, for that matter, was drowning in waves of arousal that built a heat in her lower belly, a coiling sensation as she felt her release readying.
“Cissa, Cissa, Cissa,” Hermione breathed out, and she met darkened eyes before Hermione’s muscles fluttered around her length, and the dark-haired witch’s body quaked underneath her as she gripped Narcissa, who kept pumping inside until her own orgasm washed over her. Hips jerked forward as she released her fluids inside of Hermione, gasping as her whole body shuddered. Hermione’s name spilled almost reverently from her lips as she slowly pulled out afterward, the spell cancelling itself upon full completion.
Laying half on top of Hermione, she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, and Hermione reached around to scratch blunt fingernails languidly down Narcissa’s back.
“That was perfect,” Hermione murmured.
“Better than a…?”
“Leagues beyond. No bloody comparison.”
Narcissa laughed softly. “And who knows,” she trailed her own trimmed fingernail across Hermione’s one exposed collarbone, “perhaps someday we can discuss utilising a potion to create a family this way. But that is a discussion for another day.”
“Mm,” Hermione mumbled. “Yes. For now,” a cleansing spell passed over Narcissa, and she knew it was Hermione’s work, “I’m knackered. Aren’t you?”
“Sleep sounds lovely, darling,” she whispered, using her own magic to pull the covers up over them as they became comfortable.
She was truly the most fortunate woman in the world.
***
Hermione flung herself on the couch, pressing her mobile closer to her ear and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’ve met Narcissa several times!”
“Not as your lover, I haven’t.”
“Mum!” Hermione covered her eyes with her hand and flushed at her mother’s choice of word. The fact that Narcissa was sitting grinning next to her didn’t help.
“What? Oh, do you have one of those non-sexual romantic relationships? Is Narcissa asexual?”
“No,” she hissed and closed her eyes. “Narcissa is not asexual. It’s just… I don’t want to talk to you about… that.”
“You’re a grown woman, Hermione. Most people have sex. It’s completely natural and nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart.”
Hermione held back a groan and slapped Narcissa who only laughed harder. “Let’s just… change the subject.”
“Your father and I still enjoy a healthy sex life. It’s good for—”
“Mum, please!” Hermione begged.
“All right, sweetheart. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. It’s really natural.”
Hermione sighed. “I know that.”
“Great. Well, don’t forget to join us for tea on Sunday. Your father is baking your favorite cake. Does Narcissa have any allergies?”
Hermione’s gaze searched Narcissa’s who shook her head. “No allergies.”
“Good. I’ll let you love birds go, then. New love is so all-consuming,” her mother sighed. “I remember it well, your father and I—”
“Thanks, Mum. See you Sunday! Talk later.” She hung up and flung her mobile on the table. “You are not nice!”
“What did I do?”
“You were entertained by my suffering,” Hermione grumbled.
“Your face was entertaining,” Narcissa smiled, but it turned into a slight frown at the look Hermione was giving her. “Am I even going to be allowed to hold your hand when we visit your parents?”
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “If you’re not careful, Madam Black, there’ll be more things you won’t be allowed to do.”
“That’s not what you said last night.”
Hermione’s cheeks grew warm. “You’re impossible.”
“Hmm, yet you wouldn’t want me any other way.”
Hermione smiled and leaned in and kissed Narcissa softly. “You’re all right,” she mumbled.
Narcissa swatted Hermione’s arm.
“And for the record, I doubt Draco would enjoy hearing me talk about our sex life.”
Narcissa grimaced. “That’s… different.”
“Right,” Hermione drawled.
“Anyway, remember we have to sign the form tomorrow. I don’t fancy being cornered by Hubert about this again.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s a bit of a stickler for rules. Not as bad as Percy Weasley, but.” She hummed as she considered something else. “He might also be sore that he lost the bet on when we’d come out as a couple.”
“Never mind him. We’re running late to Andy’s, and you know how she gets when we’re late.”
“Ugh, I liked it better when we were acting like hermits who never left their bedroom.”
Narcissa laughed. “We had to rejoin the world at some point, dear.”
Hermione pouted. Of course Narcissa had to be the bloody voice of reason.
Narcissa leaned in and whispered into Hermione’s ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it worth your while.”
Hermione gulped at the images her mind supplied and allowed Narcissa to pull her off the couch.
***
This is how you get me back for those memos? Really?
Hermione snorted at the shortest memo she had ever received from Narcissa since they had begun their relationship. Yet there was a Wizarding photograph attached underneath, a rather risqué one of herself that she had attached to the ceiling of Narcissa’s office just beyond the doorway inside. She had, of course, charmed it so that it only showed its contents to Narcissa and herself, but it seemed she finally had her answer as to at least one place that Narcissa went to while rubbing one out in the workplace.
Another memo shortly followed, and Hermione’s eyes bugged out as she read: Darling, I would much appreciate it if you kept placing photographs of yourself in my office that only I shall find. They have been… quite helpful. Hermione swallowed hard and eyed the consensual relationship form that currently held Narcissa’s signature. Right. She needed to sign it too, before Hubert or someone else nagged her again. Picking up her quill, she dipped it in the ink pot and signed her own neat signature below Narcissa’s. The form glowed softly before disappearing into the records office, and she leaned back in her seat.
By serendipity had this most wondrous relationship fallen into her life, and she concluded that all of the hardships, all of the misunderstandings and dancing around each other, all of it had been thoroughly worth it.