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Taking a quiet post-war position as Professor Vector’s Arithmancy apprentice was supposed to keep him occupied, a way to silence the restless thoughts that refused to leave him alone. Apprentices were invisible, after all no one paid them any mind, especially not in a subject most found tedious. It was meant to give him something steady, something dull, to bridge the days until the world forgot that he and his family had escaped the war so unscathed .
The Grey Wizards had been branded the moment the dust settled too cautious for the Light, too reluctant for the Dark and now both sides regarded them as cowards. The whispers followed him through every corridor, heavy with blame, for not choosing, for not fighting, for surviving when so many hadn’t.
The apprenticeship was never supposed to lead him here with Britain's Golden Girl in his arms.
Yet here he was. As she lay pressed to his side, her curls spilling wild and soft across his chest, her breath warm and steady against his skin. Their bodies still slick with sweat, the air thick with the evidence of their coupling. He held her as though she were something fragile, listening to the rhythm of her breathing, and wondered, not for the first time, how on earth they had gotten here.
•━━━━━• ⊹ ···•✦•··· ⊹ •━━━━━•
That first September back at school had been nothing short of surreal. The castle itself was still bearing its scars, as work continued to be done all throughout the castle. But it wasn't only the castle that held the scars as things with students only seemed to get worse. The air was thick with tension, grief, suspicion and hurt in every corridor.
It hadn't taken long before Adrian had tried to merely fade off into the background. He threw himself into his work, absorbing everything Professor Vector offered, leading the lessons she delegated with quiet precision. He had discovered almost to his surprise that he enjoyed teaching. Thinking about it though had honestly made sense. His love for numbers, for the clean certainty of equations, was what had led him here in the first place, and Madam Vector had been one of the few professors he had admired without reservation.
By October, routine had settled around him like a cloak. It was nearly effortless, classes, lesson planning, late nights with parchment and ink but beneath it all was a restlessness that gnawed at him. The one true drawback to being an apprentice was McGonagall’s insistence that they were to live on the castle grounds, no exceptions. For most, it was an irritation. For Adrian, it was suffocating.
The other apprentices complained as well. Neville at least had Hannah waiting for him in Hogsmeade, which gave him an outlet for the frustrations the rest of them carried. Adrian, however, was not so lucky. His own pent up energy clawed at him, leaving him pacing the confines of his room, his hand no longer enough to take the edge off.
After the war, he had turned into a slag by his own admission burying anger and bitterness between fleeting bodies, fucking away the weight of everything he couldn’t face. The feeling of losing himself as he sunk into someone's warmth had been his only reprieve from the cold ache of reality.
And that truth was what had led him here.
That was how he had ended up buried to the hilt inside Hermione Granger the first time. If he hadn’t been so damn pent up, if he hadn’t been so fucking desperate to forget for just a little while, he would have never crossed that line. Never slept with a student.
It had all happened so bloody fast. One moment he was alone in the Prefects’ Bath, steam curling around him as he let himself sink beneath the warmth of the water, the next she was there.
He didn’t know how she had found him, or why, but the look in her eyes left no doubt: she had come for him. Determined. Unwavering. Before he’d had the chance to tell her to leave, to scold her for barging into an occupied bath, before he’d even managed to form a single coherent thought, she had let her robe slip from her shoulders.
She stood before him utterly bare. Her dusty pink nipples were already peaked, and his mouth went dry as she moved toward the edge of the water. Without a word, she lowered herself into the bath, her gaze never once breaking from his.
She was beautiful, achingly so. Chestnut curls clung damp against her shoulder, amber eyes molten and locked on him as she glided through the water, settling herself between his legs like she belonged there. Still, neither of them spoke.
His body betrayed him before his mind caught up. One hand slid to her waist, the other cupping the swell of her breast. A low, guttural growl tore from his throat when he felt the perfect weight of it in his palm. His thumb brushed across her nipple, his other hand clamping tight at her hip as he dragged her closer, unable to stop himself. Then his mouth claimed her, teeth and tongue worshipping as he sucked her nipple into the heat of his mouth.
She moaned soft, breathless, and utterly sinful. It absolutely was the most perfect sound he had ever heard. Her fingers tangled into his hair, urging him on, and he obeyed, lavishing her breasts with hungry reverence.
That was when he saw the mauve scar cutting across her chest. It should have made her look vulnerable, fragile. Instead, it only made her more devastatingly beautiful. Strong. Resilient. A survivor. Gods, it made her look so bloody powerful. He wanted to tell her. Wanted to whisper that every scar marking her skin only proved how extraordinary she was. That she had fought, had stayed when others fled, had bled for what she believed in and it made her the sexiest woman he had ever laid eyes on.
But he didn’t say it. Couldn’t. Not when whatever this spell was between them was so fragile, he feared words might shatter it.
He should have stopped when she straddled his lap, when her lips pressed to his. He should have left it at that. But then her hand wrapped around his aching cock, her thumb smearing precum over the head, and any rational thought dissolved.
As she angled him to her slick heat and slowly sank down on him, stretching around his thick length inch by merciful inch until he was buried to the hilt, he was certain, absolutely certain that this had to be a dream. Some absolutely twisted fucking dream. It was the only explanation as he split her wide open, as she took him so well. He could tell by the pained little furrow of her brow that it was too much, that he was too much and yet she didn't stop.
The muttered fuck was the first word he had heard from her that night, and Merlin, if he didn’t agree. She was impossibly tight as she began to ride him with reckless abandon, her nails digging crescents into his shoulders while his grip on her hips was punishing, sure to leave bruises. Her breath came in sharp pants, moans spilling from her lips as he thrust up into her again and again, his hand slipping between them to circle her clit.
That was all it took. She shattered around him with a scream, her orgasm crashing hard and fast as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, licking and sucking at her tender skin until he knew for certain that she would be left with his marks. She wouldn’t be free of him tonight, not completely.
Her body slumped against his, boneless and spent, but he wasn’t done. Not nearly. Lifting her, he set her on the edge of the bath and spread her thighs wide, driving back into her with forceful, relentless thrusts.
Her body clenched tighter with every movement, and he knew neither of them would last much longer. He wished he could… wished he could drag it out, savor her longer but he had been wound too tight, for too long, and she felt too godsdamn perfect around him. His rhythm faltered, becoming erratic, desperate, stretching her wide with every plunge.
And still, she was flawless. Absolutely perfect. Her body arched back into him as another climax tore through her, fast and devastating, her walls pulsing around him as he drove into her harder, rougher, chasing the inevitable.
With a final, brutal thrust, his head snapped back, a moan ripping from deep in his chest. His cock throbbed as he spilled inside her, the hot flood of his release buried so deep she wouldn’t be able to deny that she had been utterly claimed tonight.
He had made sure to take care of her after, not only washing her clean with a warm flannel but washing her hair and holding her close until she was ready to walk away. And of course she had, once her legs started to work once more she had gotten up, slipped on her robe and gave him a sad sort of smile before leaving still without saying a single word.
He had gone to bed that night trying to justify what had happened, even though she was a student she was only a year younger than him. Her having been the oldest of her year and him being the youngest of his, not to mention that he had been aware that she had dated one of the Weasley twins and they had been in his year so it was clear their age difference wasn’t an issue. She was nineteen well above age…and yet the guilt had festered.
•━━━━━• ⊹ ···•✦•··· ⊹ •━━━━━•
He had told himself that it was only going to be a one time thing, that he couldn’t let it happen again. Not while he was technically in a position of power, not when he had been trying like hell to fade into obscurity. But it really felt like fate and Hermione had other plans for him.
The next time they had connected he had been sitting at the edge of the Black Lake after curfew having a smoke and trying like hell not to think about how perfect she had felt wrapped around his cock. And almost as if the thought had summoned her she had appeared beside him.
“Hello Adrian.” she spoke and the sound of his name on her lips had been sinful.
“It's late Miss Granger.” he tried not to look at her, his eyes trained on his smoke as she positioned herself closer.
“I have special permissions from the Headmistress, perks of saving the world it seems.” she huffed before reaching over to take his cigarette and pressing it gently between her lips before taking a long drag.
“You still shouldn’t be here, Hermione.” he sighed and wrapped his arm around her as he noticed her tremble slightly in the cold.
She appeared to only be wearing an oversized jumper and long woolen socks tucked into comfortable looking shoes, it was no wonder she was cold.
“Why because you don’t want me here?” The words came out with a teasing tone but he could hear the doubt in them.
She was worried that he was rejecting her, as if he wasn’t interested in her. As if the thoughts of what they had done, the images of her cunt taking him hadn’t been the only thing keeping him sane.
“Thats not it, what happened… It shouldn’t have and I swear I’m trying to be a good man here.” he sighed running his large hand down his face.
She scoffed shuffling closer to him, “We are both adults and it was clear we both needed it.”
Gods had he needed it, he’d felt like he was moments away from combusting when she found him. But that hadn’t made it right , she was Hermione Granger and she deserved the world and he couldn’t give that to her. Adrian didn’t want to be a boyfriend. He didn’t want to get paraded around friends or worse have the papers harassing him and his family again.
“I’m not looking for a relationship, I wouldn’t be good for anyone.” He knew that he needed to explain, that he needed to make it clear how fucking much he wanted her even though he knew he couldn’t have her.
She let out a breathy little laugh and placed her hand on his thigh with a smile. “Adrian, I’m not looking for a boyfriend. If I wanted that I’d be dating one of the twenty or so wizards who have asked. Not shagging you .”
She had said it so matter of factly like it had been the most obvious thing in the world. He knew that he should have been relieved but all he could think about was that blood number, “Twenty?”
He gulped and she rolled her eyes. “Thats not the point. I could see how frustrated you have been and so I thought that we could help each other scratch that itch but if you aren’t interested, I can find someone else.”
She moved back and started to get up with his hand snapped out to wrap around her wrist.
I can find someone else.
He knew that she could, that even if the twenty was an exaggeration that there were in fact plenty of witches and wizards that would line up for this job. And there was ZERO chance that Adrain was going to let anyone else touch her.
“No.” he growled and her eyes went wide.
“Excuse me?” she stuttered looking between him and his hand on her wrist.
“I said no, Hermione.” He smirked, pulling her in closer. “You won’t be letting anyone else but me between those perfect fucking thighs.”
“Is that so?” she chuckled as she placed a gentle hand on his chest.
“Yes, if you are fine with casual, then I am all yours. But more importantly you are mine .” he hissed as he lifted his other hand up tracing her lips with his thumb.
“That doesn’t sound casual Adrian." she rolled her eyes but he could see the way that she had been studying him now.
“I will fuck you until you don’t remember your name. But I won't go meet the parents, or hang with your friends. This will only be sex. But I won’t have the witch I’m fucking, fucking other wizards. So if that's what you are after then we should part ways now.”
He knew that he would do just about anything to be able to feel her cunt sinking down on him once more, but he needed her to know what that meant for him. Adrian had always been a jealous man, so even if they weren’t a couple she would still be his .
She looked up at him with that fire in her amber eyes as her fingers released his aching cock. “This is all I need.”
She hummed as her thumb massaged his weeping tip, “Fuck, be a good girl and show me what this pouty mouth can do.”
Her teeth caught on her bottom lip as her other hand slid up his thigh before wrapping firmly around the base of his cock. His breath hitched, a sharp twitch betraying how close to the edge of control he already was. Then her mouth descended slow, deliberate the flat of her tongue dragging from base to tip along the thick vein that pulsed under her touch.
“Fuck…” The word broke out of him before he could hold it back, rough and raw.
And then she took him in the heat of her mouth surrounded him so welcome in the cold night air, her tongue flattening, working to guide him deeper, her tongue swirled around the head, and the sensation was enough to have his vision blur. She wasn’t teasing she was consuming him.
Every instinct in his body screamed at him to grab her curls, to thrust, to lose himself, but he forced his hands to the ground instead, fingers digging into the soil. He watched, mesmerized, as loose strands of her hair fell into her face, as she sank lower, stretching her throat around him. This witch… his perfect, maddening witch kneeling for him like this.
Gods, her mouth. He thought he’d lived a decent life, but this? This felt like something gifted from the heavens. He bit back a groan, jaw tight, as her warmth swallowed him again and again, her tongue working with wicked precision. His hips jerked despite himself, the need to bury himself fully almost unbearable.
His fingers ached with the strength of his grip as he held himself back, watching her curls sweep forward again, brushing her flushed cheeks. His control was slipping, unraveling with every glide of her mouth, every wet pull. She was relentless, taking more of him, working him with her lips and hand until his muscles burned with restraint.
He didn’t know how much longer he could last. His chest heaved as he forced himself to stay still, to let her set the pace, but gods every drag of her tongue, every tight squeeze of her mouth was pulling him closer to breaking. And fuck, he wanted to break for her.
He could hear himself half praise, half incoherent muttering as her mouth worked him closer to the edge. And then her hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled. Without breaking rhythm, without lifting that perfect mouth from his cock, she pressed his hand against the back of her head and gave a firm squeeze.
“Fuck, Mia…” his voice cracked, guttural, as pleasure surged through him. “It’s too good, I don't think I can be gentle?”
She looked up at him, eyes dark and wide, his cock still gliding past her lips. That smirk wicked and knowing hit him square in the chest before she popped off, licked him slowly from base to tip without ever looking away, and then swallowed him down again. He didn’t need to be told twice.
His fingers sank into her curls, guiding her pace as he began to fuck her mouth. Slow at first, deliberate, savoring the way her throat tightened around him with every stroke. The sounds she made wet, needy, helplessly erotic rumbled up through him. It was nearly impossible to keep his eyes open, to resist the temptation of shutting out everything but the sensation, but he couldn’t miss this. Not when she looked like that.
Her lips were swollen and glistening, her hair a wild halo around her face, but it was her eyes that undid him those big, beautiful eyes staring up at him while he drove himself deeper into her throat. He’d never seen anything more intoxicating.
He was in heaven. Not just from the raw heat of her mouth or the way her throat welcomed him, but because it was her this impossible, perfect witch kneeling for him, letting him lose himself in her. This woman who had done so much for their world who deserved so much more, giving herself to him in the most devastatingly intimate way.
His words tumbled out ragged and broken as he rocked into her mouth. “Gods… so fucking perfect… you take me so fucking well love.”
He didn’t notice the way her chest flushed from his praise; all he saw when he finally looked back down was bliss written across her face, eyes shining up at him as his release tore through him. His vision blurred as thick, hot ropes spilled down her throat, and still she held him, swallowed him, licked her lips clean like she’d been made for this.
And all he could do was stare, shaking, wrecked, overwhelmed by the new reality he found himself in.
He pulled her up and kissed her hard, and he could taste the tang of himself on her lips but he couldn’t care.
•━━━━━• ⊹ ···•✦•··· ⊹ •━━━━━•
The weeks that followed blurred together in a haze of heat and need. They met one to three times a week, usually in his quarters, and he had claimed her on every surface of the relatively spacious rooms. Against the door, pressed into the walls, bent over his coffee table, straddling the sofa, sprawled across his dining table, pinned to the counters, in the bathroom, in his bed any way he could take her, he did. And every time, he made sure she knew she was his.
There was something intoxicating about the fact that she chose him, used him. He knew, as did she, that this was a distraction for them both. A way to avoid the shadows that haunted them, to silence thoughts they didn’t want to face. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. If Hermione needed a hard cock to help her forget, then he would make damn sure he was always hard, always ready, always exactly what she needed.
Most of their meetings were as wordless as their first night together in the bath…their bodies speaking for them, silence stretching between them when it was over. But sometimes, when she lay boneless against his chest or curled beside him, words slipped in. At first, it was nothing more than surface level conversation. Yet by the time winter break had passed and they’d resumed their rhythm, something had shifted. They were talking . About what they wanted for their futures. About what they had endured. About things that felt far too raw to admit to anyone else.
And it was then with aching clarity, that Adrian realized that he was falling hopelessly for her.
But she hadn’t wanted that . She had told him from the start what this was, not a relationship, not anything real. Just a way to forget. Just a shag.
So he gave her exactly that. He fucked her until she couldn’t move, until her body trembled from the force of it, until she walked with a faint limp that made his chest tighten with pride and ache with longing. He marked her skin with his bites, his bruises, his need, his love, though she would never call it that. And every single time, he tried desperately not to crave more than what she was willing to give.
It wasn’t until other witches and wizards began making their intentions toward her blatantly clear that he realized he had to do something . Their meetings had been growing steadily more possessive, more intense, every time he caught her speaking to another man. She knew how much he hated it, knew that the sight of someone else with his arm around her, or standing too close, drove Adrian absolutely mad… even if he knew he had no right to feel that way.
But they had grown too bold, too obvious. He heard the whispers among the apprentices, their speculation about who had left the hickeys on her throat, the bruises on her hips. And in that moment, he realized too late that his marks had drawn more attention to her not less. They’d noticed her because of him. Realizing she wasn’t as untouchable, as prudish, as they had assumed.
And he hated it. Hated that his claim on her had only made her shine brighter in their eyes. Hated that every look, every comment, every hand reaching for her only reminded him of the one truth he couldn’t ignore.
Because she was his . And he wanted the entire world to know it if only so they would finally stop trying to touch what belonged to him.
···•✦•···
It took Adrian exactly fifteen minutes to find her, and another five to get her back into his quarters. She looked slightly startled, but she settled onto his sofa without complaint, waiting patiently for him to speak.
“I can’t keep doing this, Hermione.” The words rushed out before he could stop them, and the hurt that instantly crossed her face nearly undid him.
“You’re breaking up with me?” Her voice wavered, and she looked as though she might cry and the sight absolutely broke him.
He was on his knees before her in an instant. “Gods, Mia, no… wait— what?”
Breaking up? The very idea stunned him. Breaking up would imply they’d actually been together. When had that happened and why the fuck hadn’t he known?
“You… are you saying you don’t want to be with me anymore?” she whispered, sounding so meek, so unsure, and he hated it.
He reached up, cupping her cheek, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “No, you barmy witch. I’m saying the opposite. You said you weren’t interested in a relationship, but gods, I can’t just be the guy you’re fucking. I want it all.”
She shook her head emphatically, then leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to his lips. “You’ve never just been anything, Andy. I swear I blinked, and you became my everything.”
Everything? His heart stuttered. He had become everything to her? Did that mean she wanted this, wanted him ? Because he wasn’t sure he could survive it if she didn’t. “Gods, please tell me you mean that.”
She let out the sweetest little laugh and kissed him again, deeper this time, more certain.
“I do. I know we never talked about it. But well… nevermind.”
Her nerves were written all over her face, but he couldn’t let her stop now. He needed to hear it all. “No, please. Tell me.”
“I’ve thought of you as my boyfriend since I started staying the night.”
Her cheeks flushed a beautiful pink, and his chest tightened as he remembered that first morning. How he’d woken to find she hadn’t snuck away. How he’d celebrated by devouring her cunt for breakfast like a starving man. The way she’d moaned for him, the way she’d come undone under his tongue he should have recognized it then, the shift.
“Shite, I’m an idiot,” he breathed, his forehead pressing to hers. “I don’t want to hide us. I want to hold your hand in the halls. I want to kiss you. I want to claim you for the whole world to see.”
“I’d like that.” Her lips curved into a smirk as she rose to her feet. “Now take me to our bed.”
His cock twitched hard at the word our. “Fuck.”
Hearing her claim his space as theirs nearly had him spilling in his pants like some bloody first year.
He had them both naked, her centered before him on his bed, quicker than he could have imagined. Before he even realized, his mouth was on her, drawing her sensitive nub between his teeth, tugging just enough to make her cry out, fingers digging into his scalp.
In that moment, he knew this was exactly where he belonged. Between her thighs, coaxing those beautiful, desperate sounds from her lips, worshipping her body like it had been made for him and him alone.
When her fingers tangled in his hair, anchoring him to her, he groaned. He loved the way she always held him there when he had the privilege of tasting her, how she tried to pull him even closer, as though a single inch of space between them was unbearable. He buried his face deeper, plunging his tongue into her slick heat, his nose brushing her clit, his lips and tongue working together with maddening precision.
He lapped and suckled, relentless but careful, and her body began to tremble beneath his touch. Her hands tightened, her voice a broken mantra of his name, and it undid him. Gods, the way she came apart for him was sinful, utterly sinful.
He flattened his tongue, licking her slowly, firmly, savoring the way her thighs quivered around his head. As the telltale shudder of her climax built, he didn’t let up flicking her clit with practiced pressure until she couldn’t take it any longer. Her entire body locked tight, crying out long and loud as her orgasm crashed over her.
Her thighs clamped around his head, holding him there as her cunt fluttered and pulsed against his tongue. Adrian groaned, lost in the heat of her, in the overwhelming sensation of her, the taste, the scent, the sounds. He held her through it, licked her through it, slow and reverent, until her grip softened and her legs trembled open again.
She gasped, body still twitching in the aftermath, lips parted in stunned pleasure as she tried and failed to catch her breath.
Adrian sat back on his heels, watching her with awe. His hand wrapped around his cock, leaking and aching, desperate to be inside her. He had never seen anything so devastatingly beautiful as Hermione Granger coming undone beneath him. And every time she gifted him this , it shocked him all over again. Now that she had agreed to be his completely, a feral sense of pride surged through him.
He wanted to feel her come apart for him while he was buried so deep inside her that she would feel him for days after. Just thinking about it had him groaning. He wanted more than anything to make her feel like this, spent for him, over and over, for the rest of their lives.
“Tell me again. Tell me what you are, my pretty girl,” Adrian whispered, voice thick with desperation as he hovered above her, eyes searching her face.
She looked so content, flushed, radiant, sated but he still needed to hear it.
Her fingers threaded gently through his, her touch soft, grounding. Her voice, somehow even softer. “I’m yours, Adrian. Only yours. And I love you.”
“You what?” His eyes went wide as he brushed his thumb along her bottom lip.
“I love you,” she admitted again, steady this time.
“Say it again.” He growled, heart hammering.
“I am in love with you, Adrian Pucey.”
And just like that, he knew those words were all he needed. His breath left him in a shaky exhale, and he tightened his grip on her thighs. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as she opened for him, legs falling to either side of his hips, inviting him in. Her gaze held his steadily as he aligned himself with her entrance, his thick cock pressing against her soaked heat.
His hands slid to her waist, holding her steady as he began to sink slowly into her. Her gasp echoed through the room as his head stretched her so wide. He stilled for a breath, teeth gritted, watching the way her fingers clutched his wrist. He worried, for just a moment, that he hadn’t prepared her enough.
He was buried deep, hitting spots that made her cry out, clinging to him, as she tried not to fall apart.
“Oh, gods… more, please…”
Her plea, broken and desperate, snapped the last thread of his restraint. He pushed deeper, hissing through his teeth as her walls clenched around him like a vice. Her cunt was impossibly tight, gripping him so firmly he had to fight not to lose himself too soon.
“Fuck, gods, I love you, Mia. So fucking much I have for months,” he admitted, hips beginning to thrust with growing urgency, hands digging into the softness of her hips. “You’re too bloody perfect… you are mine… only mine,” he choked out, possessiveness raw and unfiltered.
“Yes! Only ever yours,” she gasped.
The way her body welcomed him, the way they moved together, it felt inevitable like this was always how they were meant to fit. Every roll of his hips drove him deeper, harder, each thrust a vow in motion. He couldn’t look away from her, her parted lips, her brows pinched in pleasure, the sounds she made just for him.
He felt her tightening around him, the trembling of her thighs giving her away. She was close. So close. And he was going to take her there. Again. And again.
“You’re doing so well… you’re so bloody good… so good for me,” Adrian murmured, voice thick, fingers digging into her hips as he grounded himself in the rhythm of her body.
Her cries, his name spilling from her kiss bruised lips were better than anything he could have imagined. He felt himself teetering on the edge, slipping as she melted beneath him, pliant and perfect in his hands. He looked down between them, groaning at the sight of her greedy little cunt taking him in, clenching and fluttering like she never wanted to let him go.
And gods, neither did he.
When she begged for more, he gave it thrusting harder, deeper, chasing the ecstasy of her unraveling. One hand trailed up the slope of her stomach, pausing as he felt the firm swell of his cock inside her, and it nearly undid him. Every shred of discipline he had fought to hold back threatened to shatter.
He moved upward, cupping her breast with rough reverence. She arched into his touch with a choked cry, nails clawing at the sheets. He kneaded the soft flesh, rolling her nipple expertly until she whimpered, clearly pushed higher by his touch.
“Mine,” he growled, leaning in to nip at the sensitive curve of her neck as her hips lifted to meet every thrust, desperate to match his pace.
He pressed closer, each stroke fueled by the fire between them, chest brushing hers, the weight of his body driving him deeper. One hand slid from her breast to grip her ribcage, holding her tight, thumb sweeping her side in contrast to the force of his hips. The other hand pinned her, anchoring her as the crescendo built between them.
“Yours. Gods, only yours. Always,” she gasped, voice breaking, eyes locked on his.
Her moans filled the space between them, breathy and raw, pressing against his lips like a benediction. He felt her nearing the edge again, body trembling, muscles fluttering around him. He pulled back just enough to see her, to watch her fall apart for him.
Her head tipped back, eyes rolling, mouth parted in ecstasy.
“I need you to come for me,” he whispered, lips brushing the soft skin of her neck, voice trembling with want. “Can you do that for me?”
The breathless, broken whimper that spilled from her mouth was everything.
She shattered beneath him, orgasm crashing through her like a tidal wave. Her body trembled, tensed, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that he groaned, nearly undone. The grip she had on him was dizzying, breathtaking, leaving him raw with need and completely undone by her.
“Gods, Andy, I’m so full… it’s too much… gods, I can feel you everywhere, fuck it’s so much.” she cried, voice shaking as she clung to his forearms.
“You can take it… you always take me so fucking well… my perfect witch,” he murmured, voice hoarse but full of praise, a soft, adoring smile tugging at his lips. “Look at you… You can give me another, I know you can.”
And he would be right there with her, holding her through every aftershock, giving her more until she had nothing left to give except herself. She truly was the most beautiful woman he had ever known.
“That’s it,” he whispered, voice raw with emotion as he held her tight. “Gods, you’re perfect. You’ve done so well for me.”
His grip on her waist tightened as he thrust through the tremors of her next climax, keeping her grounded as her body shuddered violently beneath him. His voice dropped to a soft, coaxing croon as she clenched around him again.
“That’s it, love… just like that.”
She was shaking, body slick and twitching as he moved with her, and he was barely holding on. His thrusts grew uneven, driven more by instinct than rhythm, stretching her with every desperate stroke. She arched into him, hips meeting his again and again, until she finally went limp beneath him, utterly spent.
Adrian buried himself to the hilt with a ragged groan, head falling back as he cried her name. He pressed so deep he felt himself bump her cervix, tried to pull back but it was too late. His release hit hard, flooding her in long, pulsing waves, and he couldn’t stop shaking as he spilled everything he had into her.
He stayed there, breathing heavily, body trembling, hands splayed across her hips. “I love you, Mia.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her now messy curls.
“I know. I… I’m sorry it took me so long to admit I wanted more. I think I was just scared you wouldn’t want me. I know how rare it is for you and your family with the papers,” she confessed, and his chest tightened.
He tucked her further into his side, letting out a soft sigh. “There isn’t a universe in which I wouldn’t want you, Hermione. You are everything to me, absolutely everything.”
He watched as her body finally relaxed, melting into his hold.
“So… we are doing this?”
“Yes, Mia. We are doing this. Tomorrow, everyone knows that you are mine.”
“And that you are mine.”
“Absolutely. But now it’s time for bed, rest love tomorrow is a big day.”
It hadn’t taken long before Mia drifted off, her chest rising and falling in calm, steady breaths. He stayed there in that moment for a while longer, just watching her, tracing the quiet rhythm of her sleep. How had they gotten here? How had he ended up with the woman who had sacrificed so much for their world, lying here in his arms as if she’d always belonged?
Adrian didn’t have an answer. All he knew was that now that he had her, there was no letting go. Every misstep, every doubt, every restless night from here on out would be worth it if it meant keeping her. He would spend the rest of his life striving to deserve her, to be the man worthy of the woman who had captured him so completely, she was his, in every way that mattered. And he would guard her, cherish her, and love her with everything he had for the rest of their days.