Say Hello


Summary: Post-Hogwarts; Hermione is labeled a Bookworm and it just Won't Go Away. She decides to show she's more than a one-dimensional character. While she's out finding herself, she learns a little more about the world and love.

AN: Deep Dish owns "Say Hello"; "Dark Side of the Moon" belongs to Ernesto and Bastian; Rachael Starr owns, with remix rights to G&D "'Til There Was You (Gabriel & Dresden's 12 Step Remix)". Reflekt and Agnelli & Nelson and whoever their record label companies are, own their own tracks.


AN: If interested, please listen to Rachael Starr's "Till There Was You," and Jose Nunez's "Bilingual." They help set the music and mood for the chapter. WARNING: Nunez's vocals are very NC-17.


Fate can act in a curious way
When all that mattered means nothing today
All that concerns me, that drenches my thoughts
Is the sensation that seeing you brought

– Rachael Starr, "'Til There Was You (Gabriel & Dresden's 12 Step Remix)"


Chapter Three

Hermione thought about Blaise Zabini the whole way to hotel. She thought about him as she entered the hotel's lobby, through gaining her room key, and through putting her clothes away.

In fact, Hermione couldn't escape Blaise Zabini; it was as if he was right beside her, breathing into her ear, teasing her with his witty words, running his hands up and down her arms, making her panties wet…

Hermione's eyes popped open. What? Me, wet… from Blaise Zabini? Hermione wondered, horrorstruck. The girl who was a virgin, who never really pleasured herself (she was far too busy with other academic pursuits and her job and Harry and horcruxes and then there was George making those passes at her…), was having dirty and nasty thoughts about Blaise Zabini…

And she really, really liked it.

In fact, Hermione thought while fighting a blush, if she would admit it to herself, Hermione quite enjoyed the idea of Blaise Zabini and her.

Like, Blaise Zabini lying on her queen sized bed, his tie wrapped around his head to block his eyes. Like, Blaise Zabini with his shirt unbuttoned and jacket off, his pants rumbled and pulling up around his calves. Like, Blaise Zabini panting and gasping for air as Hermione ran her nails gently down his chest, brushing the light dusting of dark hair covering his torso. Like, Hermione leaning close and blowing into his ear and hearing him call out in agony, "Hermione…"

Hermione stopped immediately, her face a violent shade of pink, all hot and bothered. What she needed was a dip in the hotel's pool. Yes, that was exactly what she needed; to be cooled off without any more thoughts of Blaise Zabini.

Naked. And on top of her. And sucking on her neck and biting near her collarbone and –

God damnit, she did it again.

"Pool. I need the pool," muttered Hermione, digging through her piles of clothes. She had, unknowingly, thrown them all over the room during her fantasy.

Grabbing the first flimsy pieces of a bathing suit that she could find, Hermione nearly grimaced, but dutifully went to her bathroom to change. Leave it to the Weasley twins to transfigure her modest one-piece suits into daringly sexy black or white or playful polka-dot bikins with high cuts and bows and strings.

Groaning, Hermione rubbed her temples but striped of her clothes and pulled on and laced up the ultra-feminine and ultra-sexy two-piece suit. Peaking through one eye, Hermione was surprised at her reflection.

She was gorgeous.

Okay, well, honestly – she wasn't. But she looked a heck of a lot better than she normally did in her sweaters and jeans. She had hips! And breasts! And a flat tummy!

But that little two-piece black bikini was doing wonders for her ego. Hermione had never really gone out of her way to wear the fashionably hip and stylish clothes like Parvati, Lavender or Ginny did; she wore what was comfortable and what she liked. Only now, Hermione realized that she did actually have a figure and was going to damn-well flaunt it.

After all, she was in Ibiza, who the hell cared?

Grabbing her tote bag with the hotel rooms' white, fluffy towel, popular oversized sunglasses, a book (of course), room key and her sunscreen, Hermione slipped her feet into her wedge sandals and locked her door behind her. She was humming as she walked down the stairs, and continued to hum even as she claimed a chaise and laid her towel on it. She was only two pages in her book when a shadow fell over her.

Raising her head, and lifting her fashionable sunglasses from her nose (they had been a gift from Ginny two years previous), Hermione moaned, "Oh, no, not you again."

"But of course," murmured cheekily the Italian standing next to her. "Fancy seeing you at my hotel, Granger; what did you do, follow me?"

"Zabini, kindly shut the fuck up," retorted Hermione, pushing her sunglasses back down. This way, Blaise couldn't see her eyeing him greedily. He looked very sexy in his drawstring board shorts. Who knew he could wear such fashionable Muggle attire? "Besides, you followed me; I took a taxi before you."

Dropping down to the free lounger beside Hermione, Blaise stretched and Hermione ogled his abs. Six pack. Yum.

Turning his head to face her, Blaise gave a roguish smirk and brushed some curls from his eyes. "Now, now, Granger, didn't your parents ever tell you it's impolite to stare?"

"I'm certainly not staring, Zabini," huffed Hermione, crossing her arms. She put down her book and began searching her bag for her sunscreen. "I'm sunbathing and enjoying the sun."

"You'll be too tired to go out later, if you stay out here long," said Blaise, almost gently. "Don't you want to go to one of the clubs tonight?"

Hermione nodded, finding her sunscreen and pulling it out. "Of course! I don't know which I'd like to go to, though… I've heard so many different things about each club."

Hermione popped open the cap of her sunscreen and squeezed out a bit onto her hand. She started lathing up her legs and arms.

"I'd suggest Pacha; it's really nice for a first time. I'd suggest on your last day to go to Manumission at Privilege, though. Huge, they throw the best parties there. Fire eaters, aerobatics, the works," Blaise took the discarded sunscreen and motioned for Hermione to turn around. "I'll do your back."

Eyeing him warily, Hermione raised a single eyebrow. "You'll 'do my back'?"

Blaise sighed, opening the sunscreen and oozing out some lotion. "Look, I know we didn't exactly have the best first impressions on each other…"

"You can say that again!" snapped Hermione, her cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

"… but well, I'd like to try. We know each other, and I've been here before with my cousin and her husband."

"Just what are you getting at, Blaise?"

Hermione was confused; Blaise and she just didn't really mix, and now he was being friendly. Granted, they had shared witty remarks back on the ferry and they were almost pleasant on the train… So what was going on? Really?

Blaise ran one of his hands through his curly hair, chewing on his lower lip for a second before composing himself. He looked straight into her eyes and said, "I want to get to know you, and to be your friend."

Hermione was shocked. This wasn't something she had been expecting. Especially from Blaise Zabini, Slytherin! But, as she thought about their few encounters and realized that Blaise had never deliberately been cruel or mocking, Hermione thought she might be able to give him a chance. Possibly. With a cherry, but after thinking that, it led to a many great naughty thoughts about Blaise popping her cherry and strawberries and pineapples and whipped cream covering Blaise's nipples as she flicked her tongue and licked and nibbled her way down…

Blushing, Hermione quickly turned so that her back was facing Blaise, and asked in what she hoped was a very casual voice, "So you've been here before with your cousin and her husband?"

Although she couldn't see it, Blaise nodded and squeezed some white lotion into the palm of his left hand. "Yeah, she's a half blood, and her husband is a DJ in London. He's not really big, but big enough that he knew some people who gave him a few press passes to Ibiza last year."

"You went after the war?"

Hermione nearly jumped when she felt the cold lotion hit her shoulder.

"Easy," murmured Blaise as he abandoned his chaise to join her on hers. He cleared his throat and continued. "Just near the end of it. As you already said, I didn't take part in the war and left England quite happily."

"I see," replied Hermione, although she really didn't. What kind of person did that say about him? That he left his country of residence to those who could easily have won the war and taken over England before moving to other magical communities in the rest of Europe? Was Blaise a coward?

As if he were reading her thoughts, Blaise spoke: "I left England because it was not my war. I could have easily picked a side and died on either one: I heard that you lost quite a few friends."

Hermione frowned, moving her hair away from the shoulder Blaise was lotion-ing up. She stared directly into his eyes. "You still left."

"I did," he admitted, pausing in his ministrations. "But I wasn't a coward, Hermione."

"How so?" she challenged.

He leaned forward and a tiny smirk appeared on his lips. Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach blossom. "Ever heard of MI6?"

"Y-Yes," she stuttered. "Who hasn't?"

Blaise grinned, kissing her ear lobe gently, scraping it slightly with his teeth as he sucked. "The name is Zabini… Blaise Zabini."

"Oh, my, God!"

Blaise Zabini was an agent for MI6 – no wonder he wasn't involved in their war, because he was gathering external intelligence about the Death Eaters and the Order, and reporting back to his superiors.

"You're joking," Hermione tried to sputter out. "Surely you aren't serious!"

"Completely," he responded dryly. "I'm currently on a leave of absence, enjoying a vacation."

"Oh?" asked Hermione, petulantly. "Are you sure? Because I better not be your next mission, Zabini!" She glared at him hotly, twisting around to face him directly.

Blaise stretched out his arms, blocking in Hermione and leaning forward, invading her personal space, until she was lying down on the chaise, Blaise almost covering her.

"The only mission that I have that involves you, Hermione," purred Blaise, "is the one where you and I end up in my bed."

Mouth open, Hermione thought of a witty reply, while ignoring the increasing sensation of butterflies in her stomach and the throbbing that was beginning in her sex.

Why, oh why, did Blaise Zabini have to be so Goddamn sexy? Hermione inwardly whined. It just isn't fair.

"Meep," came out of her mouth, instead of a very smart "Get off me, you big oaf, how dare you preposition me with such ludicrous and improper words?"

"Meep, right back to you Hermione," Blaise said softly, gently kissing her lips. He was then suddenly off her; the Spanish sun was blazing into Hermione's sunglasses and a thin sheen of sweat glistened.

"I… I…" Hermione was at a loss for words, and refused to embarrass herself with another 'meep.'

Blaise solved that for her. "Come out with me tonight."


"Come out with me tonight," repeated Blaise. "To Pacha," he clarified.

"You want me," Hermione pointed to herself, then him, "To go with you, to Pacha nightclub?"


"And you won't put something in my drink, like the date rape drug?"

"Honestly, Granger, what type of man do you take me for?!"

"And you won't use your wand on me at all, unless my life or yours is in mortal peril?"

"Yes, Granger."

"And you won't try to take advantage of me, being a lonely twenty-something female on vacation by herself?"

"Now… that I can't promise…."

"Promise me, Zabini!"

"All right, all right," Blaise sighed, moving his right hand out of her eyesight, and then crossed his fingers. "I promise."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Okay, I'll join you clubbing tonight."

Blaise's smile lit up his whole face, and Hermione felt the air leave her chest as she just realized how gorgeous and sweet he really was; he was taking care of her while on vacation, and making sure she wasn't lonely. They hadn't argued too fiercely, or pulled their wands on each other, and he hadn't called her 'mudblood.' Hermione could see their vacation friendship working.

"We'll meet at ten tonight, in the hotel lobby?" confirmed Blaise. "We'll take a taxi to Pacha, or walk, if you prefer."

"Are there long lineups?" asked Hermione, lowering her sunglasses to look at Blaise properly.

"Sometimes," he answered. "I think we'll get in easily enough."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but nodded. "Okay. Ten it is."


At ten to ten, Hermione was waiting downstairs in the main lobby. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to wear when going out clubbing, as she normally wore jeans and a pretty tank top in London… but this wasn't London. This was Ibiza: clubbing Central. The place where the big-name DJs got together and played twenty-four/seven, non-stop from May until September, throughout the summer season.

So, Hermione wore a knee-length skirt and a pretty tank top, dressing up slightly more than she would usually, hoping to impress Blaise.

Well, more than hope. She kept having dirty thoughts about him all day and even dreamed about him when she took a nap out by the pool later that afternoon. At his rate, she'd be horny and tanned when returning to England, and unfortunately, right back where she started.

Just, tanned. And not so pale.

But still a virgin, still lonely, and still without a delich boyfriend to protect her from the Weasley matrons.

Hermione really needed to rectify that, and soon.

"Hello there," murmured Blaise, stepping up to Hermione. She had been so lost in her thoughts she didn't notice him coming down the lobby stairs or making his way toward her.

"Hello,' she murmured back, suddenly shy and nervous. It was silly – it was just Blaise Zabini, who she happened to see wank off one day, who she thought was gorgeous and sexy and hot and oh my god, what was he wearing?

"What are you wearing?" Hermione blurted out loud. Or rather, she should have said: "What are you not wearing?"

Blaise wore a pair of baggy black shorts, and a very clean, tight, white tank top that molded itself to his muscles.

Oh, yum.

Oh, yummy yum, yum, indeed.

Blaise looked down at his clothing and then hers, and frowned. "I'm wearing shorts and a tank. There's noting wrong with wearing that. But you on the other hand –"

Hermione bristled defensively, and smoothed a hand over her skirt. "What? What's wrong with it?"

Blaise sighed, reached for her hand, and said, "Let's go back to your room for a bit first. What room are you in?"

"I'm staying in room 156," said Hermione, allowing Blaise to tug her back up the lobby steps. "Is there something wrong in what I'm wearing, Blaise?"

"You look like you're going to take your pet dog for a walk through Hyde Park," muttered Blaise. He glanced over her Ked sneakers as well, with a snort. "Don't you have anything… well… sexier?"

Hermione blushed. "Excuse me!"

They neared Hermione's room, and Blaise took complete control over the situation, reaching into her purse and pulling out her room key; he then pushed Hermione gently inside her room and tossed her the key, while going through her clothes.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing!" snapped Hermione, while he looked through her bras and panties.

"I'm looking for something for you to wear!" the man countered.

"In my knickers drawer?" asked a stunned Hermione, reaching forward and snatching a lime green bra out of Blaise's tanned hand.


The two glared at each other, before Hermione sat on her bed, kicked off her shoes, and admitted defeat. Blaise had free run of her wardrobe for that evening.

He quickly found something that he liked, and shoved the clothing to her, telling her to put on what was in that pile and take off what she wore currently.

Without saying anything, Hermione entered the bathroom, changed, and stepped out, all without looking in the mirror.

It seemed to be worth it though, when Blaise stood up from her bed, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. The strappy stilettos he held in his right hand were dangling precariously, almost ready to fall to the floor. He took a leisurely pursue from her painted toenails to her sleek and straight hair.

"You look… phenomenal!" Blaise whispered, stepping close and handing her the stilettos.

"Thank you," Hermione smiled shyly, slipping her feet into the stilettos and buckling them up. "Is this better club wear?"

YES! Blaise wanted to shout. Instead, he just swallowed thickly and nodded. Hermione wore the dark blue halter top he found in her drawer, with a short light denim miniskirt. Airy and open, both articles of clothing were club-appropriate in the warm climate of Ibiza, and were considered modest. Most women just wore bikini tops or nothing at all, when going out clubbing.

"Er… it's suitable," Blaise said instead, motioning Hermione to lead the way. "After you, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded, holding her room key. "I'm afraid that I will need to ask you to hold onto my room key, Blaise. Or should I leave it at the front desk?"

"Front desk," the man replied, placing his hand softly against the small of her back.

Walking down the hallway, stairs and through the lobby, Blaise never removed his hand, even when flagging down a taxi. He ushered her into the car, holding her hand as she moved to sit. He was the perfect gentleman in every sense of the term.

Pacha was busy when they arrive; the club had a long line already stretching past the length of the club and toward the cafés that lined the streets nearby. Drunken laughter echoed in the line, with glitzy girls and handsome men dressed in their clubbing best. Limos purred up to the two open doors of the club, where bouncers checked the various VIPs who entered. Girls screamed familiar names ("Oh my God, Josh Gabriel!" "It's Lee Combs!" "There's Shiloh! I want your babies!"), as the producers and DJs arrived, and the men tried to act unimpressed but failed.

Blaise moved Hermione toward the bouncers, instead of the end of the line, confident and brisk in his walk.

"Blaise, what are you doing? We need to get in line!"

Blaise just shot Hermione a sultry smirk over his shoulder, his hand planted firmly on the small of her back while forcing her to step up next to him. "Nothing to worry about," he stated, talking loudly over the heavy bass that flowed out of the club. Synthesized notes floated out onto the street, and the flashes of blue, green and red lights could periodically glimpsed through the doors.

"What?" asked Hermione confused.

But Blaise did not stop – and when they reached the bouncer, he just looked Blaise over (who gave a small nod to the tall, heavy-set man), and the bouncer motioned them through.

Flabbergasted, Hermione followed Blaise past coat check and straight into the club.

Without speaking, Blaise touched Hermione's shoulder gently, caught her eyes, and laced his fingers through hers. He then led her to the center of the dance floor, in the middle of a thick crowd of sweaty, pulsating bodies, while the music swam around them.

He kept his eyes on Hermione's chocolate-coloured ones, moving gracefully to the heavy beat. Hermione did her best to mimic, but felt inadequate next to Blaise, the gorgeous Italian who was drawing numerous stares.

"Don't think," he shouted to her, over the music. "Just dance!"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in, breathed out. She was serene, listening to the music and counting the beat.

One, two, three four...

One, two, three four...

She then began to sway, at each beat she swiveled her hips, brought her arms up above her head, and her upper body was moving in circles.

What in the world is a girl to do?
When in this smoky place I only see you
Was far away when you caught my eye
you've brought me back and now you're making me high

Hermione felt sexy and confident, proud and innocent all at the same time as she danced. She could feel Blaise's eyes on her, and wondered what he was thinking about. Opening her eyes, she caught his and held on, her gaze smoldering and sexy – but she didn't realize it.

Was Blaise thinking about how weird she must look, dancing so freely? She was thinking about how amazing he looked in his cut-off shorts, how toned and lean his calves were, how powerful his legs must be. Hermione was thinking about his beautiful aqua eyes, which were stuck on hers, and about his lips – and just what he could be doing to her with those lips of his…

Flushing, but not from embarrassment, Hermione held her gaze with Blaise, and began to imagine all the naughty things he could do to her.

She imagined him running his tanned, rough hands up from her calves to her thighs, dipping in slightly at her apex, before continuing up and skimming over her breast. She imagined those hands coming to rest on her cheeks, one slipping behind to cradle her head and sink his fingers in her thick hair.

She imagined his lips taking hers – without asking – and slipping his tongue inside her mouth, stroking, pleasuring, teasing her own tongue into a maddening state of frenzy and desire.

She imagined the hand that was on her cheek falling to her shoulder, stroking her collarbone lightly with feather-like touches, tingling her and making her shiver. She imagined that hand continuing with its feather-like touches by running up and down her arm, then gently cupping her breast, weighing it, palming it with great care.

I was alone out there, with no one else around
Now I've fallen for you, and there's no coming down

Hermione imagined the hand pressing against her breast, fully now, squeezing and massaging, plucking at her nipple and causing the bud to become more erect than before. She imagined that hand falling away, his mouth wrenched from her own, blazing a fiery, hot path down her neck, across her collarbone, her shoulders, to her breasts, where he'd lave attention to her nipple through her halter top, sucking and leaving a damp spot when he left the area.

She imagined that mouth and deliciously capable tongue moving to her exposed midriff, licking and sucking at various spots and making her gasp with pleasure and desire and want and need and making her legs go weak like jelly while she wanted his attention just a little bit further south.

While thinking these naughty thoughts, and looking Blaise in the eye, Hermione surmised that they were projected toward the gorgeous man, as he was looking flushed and sweaty, his breaths coming out in deep gasps; his chest was rising and falling quickly, his aqua eyes the colour of stormy ocean waters.

Want to get out of here, Blaise? Hermione thought. You make me want you, since the moment I saw you. You made me want you, lying heavily on top of me, against me, while I spread my legs for you, while you slip inside my warmth and fuck me until I scream your name, over and over and over…

Blaise swallowed heavily, his body moving closer to hers until they were chest to chest, stomach to stomach.

Till there was you, I know what you're needing
my thoughts are leading, me straight into your eyes
what can I do? I'm looking right at you
this feeling is all new, I want you addicted to me

Hermione felt a hot spot against her stomach, and something else that seemed to be pulsating in time to the bass. His arms were tight against her, wrapping her and gyrating against her as they danced.

Hermione moved her arms and placed them around his neck, loosely hanging there while two fingers swirled a wayward lock of curly hair, teasingly, flutteringly.

Blaise's breath was hot against Hermione's cheek, while his hands slipped down to her bum and gave a gentle squeeze. He was panting heavily, not from the exertion of dancing, but because of something else. He must have been thinking the same thing as Hermione, because he leaned toward her ear, flicking out and licking the lobe.

Hermione gasped in pleasure.

"Want to get out of here?" he rasped.

Hermione looked up at him, almost flirtatiously, but Hermione Granger doesn't do flirty – she does sexy, so she looked up at him sexily and curled her lips into a small smile.

"I'd like that."

I was alone out there, with no one else around
Now I've fallen for you, and there's no coming down

Hermione's back slammed against her hotel room door as Blaise caught her hands and placed them high above her head, his lips descending to hers quickly and aggressively. Her mouth opened wide and her tongue battled against his, stroking, exploring, sucking.

Blaise's body was heavy against hers, pushing his weight down on her lithe form to keep her from moving, her breasts crushed against his broad chest and his pelvis gyrating slowly, torturously against hers.

With a gasp, she broke away from Blaise, her eyes heavy-lidded as she felt around in his pocket for her room key, which he had retrieved from the front desk earlier. Instead, her fingers closed around a warm, hard item that twitched in response.

With a toss of her hair, Hermione glanced up at Blaise, who now had his head thrown back, panting heavily, with purr-like sounds coming from the back of his throat.

"Oh, Blaise," murmured Hermione heavily. "What do you have in here?"

"Not your bloody room key, Hermione," the man groaned out, as Hermione's cupped hand squeezed and began to move up and down, in a similar fashion as to what she saw that day he wanked off in the train lavatory.

Blaise moaned, his head falling forward and landing on Hermione's shoulder, where he sucked and bit and marked her.

"Room. In your room," he managed to gasp out, removing his hand from hers, and reaching into the vacant pocket. He pulled out her room key, fumbling it slightly as he tried to fit it into the lock. Finally, he heard a click, and turned the knob. The two stumbled back three steps before Blaise managed to turn Hermione and press her against the hotel room wall.

He kicked the door shut behind them, and tossed the key somewhere. He heard the key jingle as it fell, but he was kissing Hermione again while she continued to stroke his cock, making him twitch and shudder.

"Tell me you want me," Blaise muttered hoarsely, pulling back from Hermione, his fingers at the back of her neck where her halter top was tied.

Hermione looked at Blaise, silent but breathing forcefully. She then opened her lips and murmured, "I want you, Blaise. I want you to make love to me, I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me with your fingers and I want to lick every inch of you, get to know your every dip and ridge, every freckle on your gorgeous body."

Moaning, Blaise undid the knot of her halter, and helped her pull it over her head, his hands on her naked breasts (she hadn't worn a bra under her halter top); he was massaging them gently, teasing and plucking at the nipples, twisting them and then his mouth was there, loving them, kissing them, sucking on them and blowing, making them tighter than before.

Shivering, Hermione twined her fingers into Blaise's thick dark brown hair, arching her back and pushing her breasts closer to his face. He complied, lavishing attention on both breasts, moving back and forth between the two, blowing cool air on her nipples and even biting gently.

She tugged on his head after some time, pulling him back up to her face. She kissed him deeply and intently, sucking on his lower lip and tracing the outline of his lips before plunging in, stroking and exploring his mouth.

The two, in a tangle of arms and hands that roamed each other's bodies, moved from against the wall to the middle of the room, bumping into the dresser and causing a bottle of perfume to fall over with a glassy clank. Giggling, Hermione turned Blaise around, and helped him pull off his tank, before moving to his shorts' button and fly.

As she made work of his shorts, he was undoing the zipper of her miniskirt, relishing in the lengthy ziiiiiiiiiip it made as he slowly lowered it, torturing his already heightened and needy senses.

Once the article of clothing was loose on Blaise, Hermione glanced up for a quick confirmation – received it – and lowered the shorts, carefully going over the tent that his black boxers displayed.

With his shorts on the floor, Blaise stepped out of them, kicking off his sandals at the same time, and watched with heavy-lidded and shadowed eyes as Hermione began to trace a path from his foot up with her tongue, stopping and going over places when she heard Blaise gasp or moan.

She kneeled on the floor, mindful of his cock twitching every time her lips came close to it, before deliberately moving away and continuing to forge a path for later, exploring with open curiosity as she ogled Blaise's physique. Her tongue dipped into his naval, where he gave a low moan of pleasure, and across his tight abs. Her tongue bit and marked and left a hickey on his pectorals. Her body went hot and she felt her fingertips and toes tingle and curl in anticipation.

Feeling need and desire, she stood and wiggled teasingly out of her miniskirt, taking her panties off at the same time. She was exposing herself fully to the Italian. Her thoughts were muddled with want, her heart was urging her to be careful but her body was practically thrumming with need, wanting Blaise to slide into her and out, fast and slow, hard and gently, oh so many times as the night wore on until they watched the sun rise.

"So wet and so tight," he murmured at one point, licking her shoulder and moving up to suck on her earlobe, kissing the shell delicately and then blowing gently into it.

"Ride it, feel it, don't hold back," he groaned huskily as her hand found his cock through his damp boxers, squeezing and stroking it. She began to experiment with pressure and speed, to the best of her ability, until she decided to slip her hand into his boxer and feel the warm flesh for herself.

Blaise moaned and pressed his hips against her hand, while his own fingers stalled for a moment before picking up pace again, fucking her harder and faster now while whimpers of ecstasy escaped her lips.

Blaise had maneuvered her against the wall by her bed by this point, using it as leverage while he pumped his – not so aching, but soon tired – hand into her tight twat as his own hips moved against the woman's hand. "Merlin, you're so wet for me, it makes me so hard and I want you so bad…"

"So take me," Hermione gasped as his fingers hit a spot, causing her to shiver uncontrollably.

Blaise moaned, removing his soaked fingers; Hermione let out a tiny whimper of protest, but watching in amazement as he brought his wet fingers to his mouth, where he licked them clean of her essence.

Gently but firmly, Blaise moved Hermione toward the bed, and then pressed her down. She lay across it horizontally, watching Blaise's hypotonic eyes as he ran his hands up from her stilettos (which she still wore), up past her knees to her thighs, where he pried them apart slowly.

Hermione shook with need.

Blaise decided enough was enough, stood, and with a yank, removed his boxers from his body, preparing himself for what was to happen.

Hermione's face showed a rosy afterglow and the bridge of her nose and cheeks slightly sun kissed from her earlier tanning. Blaise smelled of a delicious mix of spice and sex, a scent with Hermione greedily inhaled and committed to memory.

"That… was brilliant," muttered Blaise, rolling off to Hermione's side and giving her breathing space.

"Thank you," whispered Hermione tiredly, cuddling against her old classmate.

Blaise raised a quizzical brow. "What for? The best sex that I've ever had?"

Hermione shook her head. "Because you were my first and made it spectacular. I hope you aren't mad that you are my first, are you?"

"Never," Blaise responded fiercely. "You gave me a precious gift and I will always cherish that."

Hermione beamed, snuggling and fitting her head in the crook of Blaise's neck and shoulder.

Blaise breathed deeply, throwing an arm over his eyes and smiled.


AN: May.13.06 Wooooo, now is that hot or what? I've seriously been reading way too many romance novels lately! Please read and review, and if you get to a point in the story where you feel as though you think it doesn't fit its MA rating – see summary for confirmation – than please DO NOT just have my story removed… send me an email with a complaint instead.

For the full sex scene, you can find it at ADULT under the penname "Kneazle" if you use the search feature.