Hermione at the Burrow during Christmas

Hi guys, here's a little naughty short scene and artwork for you. Sorry, meant to give this to you Mon/Tues/Wed, but I'm struggling with illness this week. Two Minds chapter later today as always! 

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“Really, Harry?” Hermione muttered, crossing her arms as Harry hustled her up the Burrow stairs towards Ron’s room.

“I need you.” He tugged her firmly into his best friend’s room. He kicked the empty cardboard boxes to the side of the room — Ron’s hastily ordered Christmas presents, no doubt. His friend left everything to the last minute.

“Here? In Ron’s room?” 

Harry only felt mildly guilty. “I can’t exactly use Ginny’s, can I?” 

“What’s gotten into you?” Despite her frown, she had a little twitch to her lips. “This doesn’t count as my Christmas present, does it? I did note that I didn’t see a present from you this morning.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got something nice for you.” That wasn’t a lie — he’d gone overboard for his love. Earrings, necklaces, rings — and because none of that stuff would matter to Hermione, he’d got her a rare book on Animagi and a photobook of their time together since they’d admitted their love to one another, each photo captioned with little love notes.

Kicking the elves out of the kitchen at 2am, so they could bake brownies together. Hermione glaring and holding an arm across her bare breasts dusted in flour while Harry held the burnt tray of brownies. They hadn’t heard the timer, lost to teenage lusts.

Inside a den of pillows and duvets at the top of the Astronomy Tower — Harry had made them a cuddle-den to give her a night off from studying for her OWLs. Hermione unzipped her sleeping bag teasingly as he snapped the photo.

And finally, a picture of her waking up, sleepy face turning to delight as she saw him. 

Beneath it, he’d written ‘I can see the love in your eyes, recognize it because I see it in the mirror’.

She’d love her gifts, he knew. But gifts were for later. Love was for later. Right now, he needed her lust.

Harry yanked his jeans down hurriedly, thwapping out his already hard cock. “I’m worked up.” He admitted. “I got some naughty letters. Ginny’s been flashing me every time she stands up. Tonks is walking around with a set of tits so big her shirt might ping off like an arrow. And you…” Harry’s eyes drank in his Hermione as she nestled between his legs, wearing a modest woolly cream cardigan over her faded tee, an orange Chudley Cannons shirt that Ron had gifted to her three years ago.

It didn’t fit her anymore, so her milky breasts were spilling from the top, the shirt pulled up by her chest and revealing an uncharacteristic flash of mid-riff. 

“Me?” Hermione said innocently. “I’m wearing this cardigan Mrs Weasley got me. It’s very proper.” 

“Those super tight jeans, are they proper too?” 

Hermione licked her lips as she took his cock in hand. “So naughty, Mister Potter. Pulling me away during Christmas time, a time for family, just so you can get your cock sucked.”

Her fingers were icy cold on his hot cock — Harry had pulled her away from the traditional Christmas Day after-lunch de-gnoming. Through the foggy window, they could hear the laughter of Fred and George as they chalked throw lengths onto a blackboard. 

“Only thirty feet, Ronald. Where’s all this Quidditch training going?” George laughed from down in the garden.

Hermione giggled as she caught his eye. His cock throbbed in her hand. “Is this what you like, Harry? Your loyal Hermione giving you a wet…sloppy…blowjob in your best friend’s room?” She fluttered her eyelashes as her tongue lapped around his cockhead.

“Yesss.” Harry rolled his eyes back as she enveloped him in her tight mouth, bathing his shaft in wet warmth. As Hermione suckled lovingly, Harry stroked her hair, catching sight of Ron’s Chudley Cannons poster.

That made him feel guilty about getting a blowjob in his ginger friend’s room. The 1972 poster was vintage and expensive, Harry’s Christmas gift of yesteryear, one that had made Ron punch the air with glee. It was the last poster before Chudley Cannons changed their motto from ‘We shall conquer’ to ‘Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best.’ 

Hermione sucked tightly, tongue twirling teasingly on his head. Fuck it, Harry thought — he’d buy Ron half of the Cannon’s merch store to make up for it.

She popped his cock out with an audible pop, eyes dilated, breathing heavily. “You’ll warn me before you cum, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You said that last time, when you pushed me into Mr Weasley’s shed. I had to wipe my face with his de-gnoming gloves.” She frowned.

“I will, I promise.” Harry arched his hips, trying to thrust his cock back into her velvety mouth.

“And the time before that, in the second floor bathroom. Moaning Myrtle saw me trying to exhale cum out of my nostrils.”

“She wasn’t the only one moaning, if I remem—ow!” She slapped his bare groin. “Alright, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you.” Harry promised.

“Have you got tissues?”

Harry leaned back, reaching over to collect the tissue box on the side table.

“Why does Ron have tissues next to his bed?” She grimaced.

“Because he doesn’t have you.” 

“I’m worried if you thought that line was romantic.”

Harry grinned. “I love you.” 

Her answering three words were muffled around his cock. Harry let himself collapse back onto the bed, enjoying the sweet relief she gave him. Hermione knew him better than anyone, so he shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d become quite the accomplished cocksucker.

Slow strokes of his shaft. Gentle kneading of his balls. That amused twinkle in her eyes, that knowing gaze that said she knew, she fucking knew, all the dirty lustful thoughts in his head. That she knew that part of the lust was because it was her, prim and proper Hermione, obsessed with school and rules, only now she was gurgling on his wet cock, deliberately dripping saliva down his shaft to her fingers. Loud glurking noises as she sank down his cock, just enough to tease him, before she’d withdraw again to lap circles underneath his mushroom head. 

Harry always knew when he was going to cum. But with his Hermione, it always caught him by surprise. His balls would tighten and boil over at that amused look in her eyes.

Hermione read his mind without any legilimency.

Harry breathed hard as she blew lightly.

She arched a single eyebrow primly.

And he couldn’t help himself. He came like a fire hose, spurting thick ropes into her gaping mouth. Filling her tongue, watching her gulp, but all the while, she simply stared at him with an unimpressed raised eyebrow, even as she gulped, even as she milked his cock, even as her hand cupped his draining balls.

Hermione never failed to do her homework properly, even when she wasn’t best pleased. She sighed as she could swallow no more, and Harry groaned with joy as she was forced to hold his cock against her face, as he painted her face white. Thick creamy ropes, dripping down her cheeks, down her forehead, splashing into her hair.

He could never warn her in time.

But he never wanted to, either.

She jerked him obediently as he came down from his high, tongue lapping up the drip of his cockhead.

Her eyebrow raised again. “Really, Harry?” 

Harry sighed, unable to hide his smile, to hide his giddy delight. He tangled his hand in her soft hair, stroking her lovingly, memorizing the sight of his artwork. What would he call his masterpiece? 

Hermione in the artificial snow.

Seed on canvas.

“You are depraved.” Hermione said it at the same second he thought it. She knew him better than he did.

“Merry Christmas, Hermione. Did you like your gift?”

As she scowled, dark eyebrows drawing inward, eyes narrowing, attempting to look angry under a thick glaze of cum, Harry couldn’t help but belly-laugh.