The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Page count: 12

He dropped on top of her, they were both breathless and panting and Hermione felt boneless. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, but she forced them down, she would not cry in front of him, not after what he'd just made her feel. Something she thought was impossible, she thought she was broken, but he went and proved her wrong.

He was placing butterfly kisses against her neck and shoulders, before he lifted his head and buried his hands in her hair, kissing her languidly. He pulled back for air and then shuffled off her, lying down beside her and wrapping her up in his arms with the blanket covering them.

"I knew it," he said tiredly, his head buried in the crook of her neck.

"What?" She asked, trying to keep her voice calm, though on the inside she was far from it.

"The sex would be fantastic," he mumbled and Hermione held in a sob at that, and he was asleep minutes later, his breathing even and she could feel his smile pressed against the skin of her neck.

Hermione waited a few minutes before carefully extracting herself from his hold and she climbed out of bed, she found her shorts and slipped them on, along with Dean's discarded t-shirt which fell past her shorts. She found her wand and put out the candles before creeping out of the room and heading to the living room.

With tears now falling down her face, and not caring for the time difference, she flooed to London.

~000~000~000~

Hermione stumbled out of the floo in the study of 12 Grimmauld Place. At the sound of the floo Harry entered the room, looking as though he were about to head to bed himself, and given the time in London, it meant he had been working late at the office.

When he saw Hermione, now a sobbing mess, he rushed over to her and hugged her tightly.

"What happened?" He asked her quickly, and he managed to pull her to the couch where she sat down and curled into him as she cried.

"Dean... we..."

"You?" He prompted.

"He made me...."

He bristled and anger filled him. "What did he make you do?" He asked, anger laced into his words.

"He... made... me... orgasm," she got out through her wracking sobs and Harry felt the anger leaving him, realising that she wasn't hurt, just confused.

"He did?" He questioned softly, rubbing her back and she nodded against his shoulder.

"Twice," she sniffled. "I thought I was broken Harry, I thought there was something wrong with me."

"Maybe the others weren't that good in bed," he offered.

She sniffled and laughed. "Harry I slept with Adrian Bloody Pucey, there's a reason he's known as 'The Sinful Slytherin.'" He rolled his eyes at the title. "I've been with eight men and none of them have been able to do what Dean's just done."

"Fluke?"

"No, it wasn't, he didn't just make me orgasm, he brought out the feline traits in me."

"The others have done that before," he mentioned.

"Not like Dean, I know with the others my eyes changed, they always told me when it happened and some of them were frightened by it."

"And?"

"Dean didn't ask me about it, I think he actually found it funny. And I grew claws, which has never happened before, not with anyone, I scratched his back to the point of drawing blood, and I purred at him."