If I Had A Heart

Eleven

Tom

One Week Later...

The funeral for Saint Potter as The Daily Prophet announced it, as well as the other news outlets, was extensive, but then again, I could expect nothing less from the light side, after all. Our side had won, but I did not fool myself that our victory was due to all of my cunning. No, it had to do with Hermione blowing Potter's brains out all over Malfoy's polished parquet floors. I had never seen such ruthlessness, and this was from a Gryffindor!

If I had fifty of her in my ranks, I would have won the first wizarding war ages ago. But yet this witch, this once trusted member of the Order of the Phoenix, managed to do what I could not: kill Harry Potter.

The Ministry of Magic had treated Harry Potter's death as if a wizard King had just died, and I had had to attend in secret along with Hermione underneath invisibility cloaks. We had guards around us, but it was an extra precaution. No one expected The Turncloak Bitch, and the Dark Lord to make an appearance at this overly elaborate funeral.

We sat at the back, and I had to hold in my laughter as the Order members kept weeping and going on and on about how wonderful Harry Potter was.

"I don't know whether to puke or giggle," Hermione said to me mentally. "I didn't realize how much of a bleeding heart I used to have."

"What do you want to do now?"

"Is it wrong for me to be absurdly horny right now?" She asked. "Let's go and shag in one of the tombs, Tom."

I smiled. "Right now? But this is like the best part, Potter's allies weeping over his closed casket."

Hermione put her hand on my leg and moved it up my thigh. I should have stopped her, but what the hell? I had a fun, spontaneous wife. I grabbed her hand and let her stroke me through my pants.

"Looks like someone wants to play," She purred. "But we have to wait until he's being buried. Be patient."

"Fuck patience," I said. "Nearest bathroom. Now, my lioness."

Hermione got up, and our guards groaned at having to guard us. We stealthily moved our way to the nearest bathroom in the Ministry of Magic, and warded the door against any intruders. I ripped off my invisibility cloak, and ripped hers off as well. I claimed her mouth as I pushed my wife against the wall, lifting up her gray pencil skirt. She had no knickers on.

"Good girl," I purred, nipping her throat playfully. "Has my little girl been good all day?"

"No, master," She breathed. "Mudblood wants her master's cock really, really bad."

"Ah. But she did not sit through the funeral, and that's cause for a spanking. Would you like that, my little mudblood?" I teased. I no longer thought of my wife as this, of course, but sometimes, just sometimes, we both loved a little kink.

"Yes, master."
"And how many licks will it be?"
"Fifteen, sir."
"Good."

I pulled myself from her and pushed her up against the sinks. I took off my belt and spanked her.

"Count, my little mudblood."
"One.."
Another strike. "Two..."

More strikes in and her bare ass went from pale, to pink, to red. I struck again. "Fifteen," Hermione counted.

I dropped my belt and rubbed her ass soothingly while kissing along her neck. I couldn't wait any longer. I buried myself into her wet heat, practically pounding her into the sink before us...

🐍----

I held on to the counter top before me as Tom thrust deeper and deeper inside of me, making me come undone with every strike. My knees almost buckled when I did reach my climax, because this felt too damn good. But then again, my husband has mad lover skills.