Harry Potter: Love Mother, Like Daughter

When Scorpius finally opened his eyes all the way and peered at the clock attending to its doleful duty over his bed, he was shocked to note that it was nearly eleven in the AM. Merlin’s beard—how much sleep could one man need? There was no Rose beside him either; up early as usual. Perhaps he’d slept for both of them.

Scorpius threw off the sheet and yawned his way to his feet. He had morning wood fit for a game of Quidditch, but it was all thanks to his bladder rather than any fun dreams. Idly, he puttered his way to the bathroom, reciting transfiguration lessons to himself until the piss hard-on had subsided, upon which he graciously vented himself into the bowl. Ah, sweet relief. If only he could do that without getting out of the comfort of his bed. There should be a spell for that.

Nah. Talk about taking it a step too far!

He flushed and cast a quick cleansing spell, magical energy coursing over him as if an army of cleaning staff were washing out every nook and cranny. It was a tingling, but not unpleasant feeling, and he found it left him as refreshed as a good hot shower, though without the relaxation of standing under the shower spray and thinking of some good nothing.

He got himself dressed and went through the house, looking for Rose. There was no sign of her, but he could hear a radio playing outside. He followed the sound out onto the patio, overlooking the babbling brook that ran through their property line, a lovely little slice of beach that gave a froth and zip to the backyard.

Hermione, wearing a sundress to her knees and dark sunglasses, was just opening up a small picnic basket. She’d up shop beside the garden, unfurling a chaise lounge where she could dip her toes into the water. She had a sandwich in her hand and, at the sound of his footsteps, she turned to Scorpius with a smile.

“Sleepyhead!” she reprimanded him. “You missed Rose entirely. And breakfast. How about a cold lunch? I’ve sandwiches, and a little tea. Or would you rather have a beer?”

“Not this early,” he replied. “Where’s Rose?”

“Gone with her father to hunt for clothes. Hugo is starting a new job soon and he hates all that fiddle—they thought they’d take care of it for him as a present. They’ll probably be gone all day, so I guess we’ll have to entertain one another.”

Scorpius slouched across the patio barefooted and dropped into sit on the garden fence. An umbrella Hermione had erected over her chair provided shade to both of them. He took a sandwich from Hermione, thanking her for it, and began to chew. 

Hermione took off her sunglasses to better look at him and Scorpius was struck by how lovely her brown eyes were. They didn’t gleam like blue or green eyes, but the umbra shade gave them unexpected depths. It was too bad Rose hadn’t inherited those eyes, but genetics had made her a Weasley above all else.

“I thought I’d sun a while,” she told him happily, gesturing to him, and he obligingly moved the umbrella so that it only covered him. She stretched out, relaxing on the chaise lounge. “It’s such a change for me, coming here from dreary old London. You can keep a beautiful tan year round. I should hate to miss a chance to sun myself.”

“Nor should you,” Scorpius said, his mouth full of sandwich.

Hermione dismissed her dress with wordless magic, and Scorpius was shocked by the full effect of her unclad body all at once, without even the meager transition of her undoing her buttons. She was wearing a bikini, if you could call on that—it was mostly strings, connecting the triangles that covered her nipples and pubis. All three of the triangles were connected, with the cat’s cradle of strings going around her body as well as up and down it, and Scorpius choked on his sandwich, intently curious as to what the suit looked like in back.

Then Scorpius closed his eyes and looked the other way. She might be Rose’s mom, but those breasts were all hers, and all the better for it. If he looked at them, he might not be able to control himself.

When he finally dared to look in her direction, Hermione had put her sunglasses back on, her breathing setting up a subtle, rippling heave to her entire body. It was spellbinding. His manhood now felt as stiff and coarse as it had when he’d first woken up, even though he’d 

drained it.

“I think I will have a beer,” Scorpius muttered, and went into the house.

She’d rolled onto her stomach when he came back, and the first thing he saw was her ass, round and gorgeous, lying there like some plate being served for dinner. Hermione had evidently been up to this tanning since her visit had started, giving herself a lovely bronze air almost everywhere Scorpius could see, and he could see almost everywhere. The suit was completely backless, save for a thin string that ran through the crack of her ass, stopping at another miniscule triangle of fabric upon her tailbone. It did not seem any bigger than the triangles covering her nipples, which themselves left most of her breasts bare. He couldn’t believe a woman her age, a married woman at that, owned let alone wore such a garment. Even Rose wouldn’t. Even a Veela wouldn’t!

“There you are, I’ve been waiting,” Hermione said, and she took one hand out from under her head to tap on a bottle of suntan lotion at her side. “Would you be a dear and rub some oil on my back? I’m afraid I can’t quite get everywhere.”

There was nothing Scorpius could do but swallow hard at his mother-in-law and pick up the bottle. He squeezed lotion into his hands, rubbing them together as Hermione’s fingers came up and she untied the string which secured the top of her bikini.

“Just rub it in all over,” she told him, and he obediently began to anoint her back.

His palms smoothed across her skin, finding it as slick as glass. And warm, too, as if it’d netted just enough of the sun beaming down to reverberate with a wholesome energy. She was soft, as well, evidence of the delightful curviness that had marked her middle years.

Hermione sighed as she felt his hands dig into her. “Lower, please,” she called. “I’m burning up.”

His hands began to slide reluctantly downward from her shoulders. Scorpius moved hesitantly, wondering how it could be that he enjoyed touching her so immensely yet at the same time wished he were anywhere else doing anything else. She couldn’t know how much she turned him on! His cock was hardening inside his pants and if he didn’t get inside without her seeing it, she’d think he was some kind of pervert for sure.

He couldn’t help it. He tried to force his cock to lie still, to soften, to ignore the trembling woman at his fingertips who felt so willing and pleasurable, but his flesh had a mind of its own.

She’s old enough to be your mother! He told himself desperately. She’s certainly old enough to be Rose’s mother, and she is!

It wasn’t like Scorpius even had a thing for older women. He liked them young, like Rose, the younger the better. As much as he appreciated not being in Hogwarts anymore, he’d quite liked the young, inexperienced, but quite experimental co-eds that he’d known in those days. Who would want an old bag in her forties or fifties?

Then he’d met Hermione, aging so finely she might’ve not given birth to Rose at all, still with that wonderful air of experimentation he’d so loved in Rose when he’d first met her, but with an aura of experience that was downright intoxicating. With her robes or proper matronly garb, she might’ve appeared drab and dowdy, but now there was no hiding her great tits, her legs, that knockout ass that seemed to be drawing his fingers like a magnet. God!

He was rubbing oil in the small of her back now, where the skin seemed to be at its most supple and softest, or perhaps his appreciation of it had just been honed to a razor edge. He was just above the perfect swell of her ass. Tilting the bottle he got a fresh handful, rubbed it between his palms, and before he could stop himself, he was holding her by the ass, massaging the tanning oil into her smooth cheeks.

Hermione made a half-turn, fingers pulling up her sunglasses to expose widened eyes. “Scorpius!” she blurted. “What are you doing?”

He colored but didn’t let go. He couldn’t. Something inside him, some demon out of control, refused to relinquish this contact that had been so hard won from his own skittishness.

Hermione wiggled and wiggled until she was sitting on her ass and his hands hung weakly by his sides. He knelt there barely, unable to look her in the eye.

“Galloping gargoyles, what’s gotten into you?” Hermione whispered.

Then her eyes dropped down his body and she saw the bulge that pushed out the front of his trousers. It was an enormous, inescapable erection and Hermione felt shocked—shocked and almost confused—that she could have caused it.

“Dear Lord,” she breathed. “I… I guess I am dressed a lit daringly.” She reached out to touch his knee and an electric vibration keened through Scorpius’s body. “I thought… I’ve seen Rose wear things and I, I thought it wouldn’t be that big a deal.”

“Rose does wear things like that,” he choked. His face was bright red and he damned himself for an idiot for trying to play with his mouther-in-law. “But that’s her… and me… y’know? It’s different when it’s you…”

“Oh—let’s just forget it.” Touching his cheek with the back of her hot fingers, she added, “And stop blushing. You’re a big boy. If you’ve been naughty, you should at least enjoy it instead of going scarlet.”

He had to smile then, and his hand caught hers as it continued to stroke his cheek. He could feel the warm rush of blood to his face fading away. “No hard feelings?” he wondered.

“No. Of course not,” Hermione replied. “I’ll just take it as assurance that all is well between you and Rose. You clearly have no shortage of affection to spread around. Really, you’re a sweet, handsome boy, and I’d rather you be too affectionate than too little, married to my daughter.”

She went onto her knees and leaned forward to kiss his forehead as a signal that all was forgiven. One of her tits hit him on the chin, throbbing hotly behind its minuscule covering, and he could feel her nipple through the thinness of the fabric. It was a stiff nipple, hard and protruding, and it seemed to burn his face where it touched.

Now Scorpius couldn't help himself. He put his hands around Hermione's waist and pulled her down until his mouth and hers were on a level and he smashed his lips onto hers. She went big-eyed as he kissed her, but she parted her lips and admitted his thrusting tongue. 

Scorpius squeezed his mother-in-law's waist tighter, and her tits squished against his cheat. She was trying to push him away, but her own hands were wet from suntan oil and they slid crazily on his shirtfront. One of them fell into his lap and made contact with the bulging lump of his prick.

Impulsively she felt it up and down, fingers trembling as they tested his length and circumference. "My God," she sighed into his irresistible mouth. "My God." Her tongue fluttered as she spoke, whirring against his own, and the flicking touch inspired him even more dynamically.

Scorpius eased her onto the patio tiles, baking with the sunlight and misted with the fog from the river. Hermione lay back as he guided her, unable to resist, or so it seemed, and she stared at him with unbelieving eyes as he fumbled with the strings securing her top.

The little triangles of cloth flipped away and Scorpius was staring down at pair of golden, brown-pointed tits, the nipples rigid with arousal. "I'm sorry," he sighed as he fell upon them with his lips, sucking, kissing, biting. There was a faint taste of sweat and suntan lotion on her skin, more of an aphrodisiac than an overdose of love potion, and he licked greedily at it.

At the same time his fingers delved lower, finding the tie which held her bottom triangle in place. His efforts were successful and the piece of cloth merely lay atop her cunt, nothing securing it. Scorpius's fingers slid beneath and rubbed across the warm bulge of her sex.

Hermione's legs jerked as she felt her son-in-law begin to rub her cunt, but it was a jerk of invitation, not of protest. She told herself she couldn't be doing this. If Rose knew, it would kill the girl on the spot! But Rose was away, and she should be gone all day. Unless Scorpius confessed, she might never know. And his fingers were so soothing as they toyed with her slightly protruding cuntlips. Hermione began to purr like a sun warmed kitten as Scorpius fondled her cunt.

Scorpius looked up at last. His mother-in-law stretched nude and panting on the tiles, with the sunlight flooding down upon her. "I can't help myself," he apologized. "Mrs. Weasley, I can't help myself. I want you so much."

"You'd better call me Hermione," she replied with the faintest trace of a smile, "and it would help if you got your clothes off too."

Scorpius stood up and began to strip. He left his T-shirt on, much more interested in getting out of the pants and undershorts which threatened to bend and break his aching hard cock. It sprang free in gratification as he fumbled out of his shorts and it thrust up eagerly as he knelt beside Hermione once again.

Her hand locked around it and she shucked the outer flesh up and down a few times, feeling his rushing blood pulse in hot excitement.

"You have a big, beautiful cock," she complimented him. "If you're going to use it on me, why don't you hurry up?"

"Oh, Mrs. Hermione, I know I shouldn't even be thinking about it, but I have to do it."

She spread her thighs to show him that it was quite all right with her, and he studied her cunt. The hair fringing it was dark, but it was cropped very closely, no doubt so stray curls wouldn't peek out through the tiny bikini. As he toyed with the dripping slit, Scorpius thought of how his wife had come through this very passageway twenty-odd years ago… 

She lifted her knees, tilting her pussy up to meet him, and he went into it with the greatest of ease. Hermione sighed as his thick cock splayed her cunt. She wasn't exactly tight, but she wasn't loose either, and Scorpius's prick was a bit thicker than she was used to. When he was inside her it was plain and obvious that she was being fucked, and he could tell she liked it.

And Scorpius laughed at himself for ever entertaining a single doubt about the rightness of this. She was all he'd hoped for, and more. Her legs went around his waist and her heels drummed on his ass as he fucked it to her, and there was no reason not to keep on kissing her just the way he had been doing.

Her cunt was like a precision machine, jerking him off inside her velvet-lined tunnel, opening up to allow him into places he thought other women didn’t even have. His hands plied her tits forcefully and he could feel her groans of pleasure vibrating through the plush roundness of her boobs.

“Is this how you fuck Rose?” Hermione demanded, hissing out her insane babble as if mad with pleasure, as if hating herself and loving how it felt, while Scorpius was just lost in the blitz of sensations her body gave him. “Is this how you fuck my daughter? Does my darling baby girl love your big hard cock as much as I do!?”

Hermione writhed and shook as she fucked him back, and she rolled, planting her body atop his. Scorpius moved with her, giving her all the freedom she wanted, and he looked up at her triumphant body as it straddled him. His hands flew up to resume fondling her tits and she grabbed his fingers, holding him to his work.

Again she rolled, still riding hard on his cock, and this time it was catastrophic. They were on the very edge of the river as it was, and when Hermione flipped to the right there was nothing to stop her from falling. Scorpius moaned as his cock bent agonizingly and he went with her—anything to keep himself connected to her hungry cunt.

Hermione splashed into the water, as did Scorpius, and the sudden shock and need to keep afloat did what the fall had done—it uncovered his prick. Laughing and sputtering in turn, the two of them kicked water into one another's faces, and Hermione swam away, rocketing across the river toward the shallow end. Scorpius threw himself onto his chest and swam after her, one hand struggling vainly to catch her kicking ankle.

She backed against the side of the creek and waited for him to come to her, arms stretching to embrace him. Scorpius swam into her hugging clutch and their mouths melted together. Scorpius stood on the bottom, rubbing her belly with his still rigid cock. Hermione's hands dove to grab it and she played with it, waves rippling across the surface as she jerked him frantically.

"Let's do it in the water," she suggested breathlessly. "It's fantastic."

And without waiting for him to approve or disapprove, Hermione locked her legs around his waist, resting her elbows on the edge of the river. Her cunt wiggled just below the surface of the water, shimmering as sunrays played across the liquid, and Scorpius stabbed blindly with his cock, anxious to embed himself once again.

He slid inside easily and began to fuck her powerfully, smashing his body against hers every time he rammed it in, and, by God, she was right! It was fantastic in the water! Both their bodies seemed to be totally weightless—he could bear the brunt of her weight without a second thought—and his balls were seemingly dancing airily in the water.

"I want to turn over," Hermione whispered. "But don’t stop! Let's do it without stopping, okay?" And before he had time to answer she was moving, twisting her body around, cock still jammed inside her cunt. Her legs moved across his front, each going to the opposite direction, and the subtle, and not so subtle, pulls and twists upon his cock were nothing short of heavenly!

And at last she'd moved into position, just where she wanted to be. Her tits and elbows were on the edge of the river, crushed upon the warm, wet tile, and Scorpius was fucking her from behind. Her heels danced on his shoulder blades and his fingers supported her from beneath, fingers slipping into her cunt from time to time, ringing the chimes of her clit.

“Bastard, you’re a fucking bastard!” Hermione gasped, even as she panted and sighed with her own ecstasy. “Bastard for enjoying this so much—making me enjoy it so much—oh hell, don’t you hate how good this feels!?”

Hermione screamed as she took her son-in-law's cock, hard and hot, and Scorpius could tell from the vibration of her cunt against his belly that she wasn't far from coming. He became more insistent in his attacks upon her clitoris and he felt her first climax strike. It rippled through her pussy, massaging his aching cock with fingerlike strokes, making him all the more eager to dump his boiling jism deep inside her.

"I'm going to shoot, Hermione!" he bellowed. "I'm going to give you all I've got!"

"Goddamn you, give it to me!" she screamed back at him, and she tensed herself then as she felt him do just that.

Scorpius grunted and thrust hard, burying his cock inside Hermione's cunt, and he spilled his seed into her desperate need. His balls throbbed as he shot off, again and again, and her sex seemed to suck it up thirstily, the greedy clumsy counterstrokes jerking his meat and begging for more, more, more! He gave her all he had, all he could hope to give, and still his cock thrust deeper, deeper, deeper, shuddering through dry spasm after dry spasm.

At last her agitated ass ceased to quiver, as did his fucked-out cock, and he knew it was over. He let go her legs, his limp cock wiggling out of her cunt, and she turned over. Scorpius could see his bubbly jism spilling out of her cunt, frothy on the surface of the water, and then her feet contacted the bottom of the river. She stood upright, facing him, her face flushed and frightened.

He tried to cuddle her against him, tried to kiss her shaking face, but she wiggled out of his grasp and climbed up onto solid ground. For a quick moment he had a flash of her open crotch, dripping from the water and the giant load he had given her, but she closed her legs and turned to face him.

"Scorpius," she began, "I don't know what happened to me just now. I don't want to know. But if you ever tell Rose about this, I'll kill you. I swear it."

He shook his head. "How could I?" he wondered. "How could I?"

"Remember what I said," she warned, and he followed her with his eyes as she walked around to her discarded clothes. She dropped the dress over her head, gathered up her string bikini, and looked back at him. "I'm going now," she said. "If I stay here, I don't know what will happen. I'll be back when it's safe, when the house is full of other people." 

She turned then, and went into the house. He didn't see her again but, about five minutes later, he heard her casting a floo powder spell

Scorpius finally dragged himself out of the river and he pulled a chair into the shade. Drying his body, he dressed himself again and sat down to think. He shouldn't have done that. He shouldn't have fucked Hermione. So why couldn’t he regret it?

What in the name of Merlin had come over him? He and Rose hadn’t been a hundred percent faithful, not like they were in the old days. There’d been threesomes on anniversaries and birthdays, with Veela escorts and once a Quidditch star Rose fancied but had never expected to meet. That was one thing—fucking someone other than his wife, but with her knowledge and consent. That was practically still marital sex, just involving another set of orifices… as harmless as Rose using a dildo or him his hand.

But seducing his own mother-in-law? Even if she happened to be one of the sexiest, most desirable women he had ever laid eyes on? It was indecent. It was despicable. He was indecent and despicable. 

And satisfied, a tiny voice within him added, and as if those words had cast a spell, he was overtaken by thoughts of Hermione so vivid, it was like he was still making love to her. 

Still shaken, still sick, Scorpius closed his eyes and fell into sleep broken by dreams of guilt and shame. And memories. The wonderful memories of just how good it had felt to fuck Hermione Granger.