Fic: Complications (Hermione/OMC)
Title: Complications
Characters/Pairings: Hermione/OMC (Wyndam) [Muggle]
Rating: Adult
Summary: Hermione finds herself falling for the new Muggle-Magic Liaison for the Prime Minister when she has to train him despite the fact he’s not much older than her own children.
Word Count: 5025
A/N: Okay so I got this idea and it wouldn’t leave me alone so I had to write even though I know hardly anyone is going to read it. LOL This is the Hermione/OMC taboo fic voted on during the recent poll. If anyone does happen to read this, please let me know what you think? Writing a lead OC makes me nervous! <3 Please read the warnings if needed as I don’t want anyone triggered. I did cut the warnings, though, due to a rather significant spoiler.
Warnings: Incest, Age difference
The Muggle-Magic Liaison for the Muggle Minister looks as if he’s stumbled off the beach and should still be in secondary school. While his suit does fit nicely, the sun streaks in his shoulder-length hair add to the image of a boy playing at being grown up. Hermione finds it difficult to believe that a boy who introduces himself with his given name, Wyndam but call me Wyn, is the dynamo that the Prime Minister has been telling her and Kingsley about for weeks. The former Muggle-Magic Liaison was a sturdy old bloke who never batted an eye at magical displays, and he was easy to work with because of it. Something tells her that this child is going to be far more difficult.
Kingsley gives her a warning look, which means she must have allowed her disapproval to show. After twenty-five years of working for the Ministry of Magic, she has learned how to conceal her true thoughts and opinions when dealing with certain political parties. However, finding out that the new liaison she is going to be training is probably not much older than her own children is not a normal situation. Now she understands what Griselda Marchbanks meant right after the war when Hermione and her friends started working at the Ministry. She keeps getting older, but the rest just get younger.
The Prime Minister knows that secrecy is a must with this arrangement, and she has to trust that Wyndam whoever he is has been properly vetted and knows that discretion is vital for the agreement to continue. If he turns out to be as childish as his appearance indicates, they can always Obliviate them all and wait for a new election before stepping forth again. Satisfied at that thought, she feigns interest in the matters that Kingsley is discussing with the Prime Minister and tries not to send harsh judgmental looks at the liaison.
When the meeting concludes, she reluctantly seeks out the liaison so she can make arrangements for training. This is a favor for Kingsley, since she has more than enough to keep her busy with her position as Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and she knows he’s helping her establish connections that could be beneficial when he eventually steps down as Minister of Magic. He’s never said outright that he plans to nominate her for the position, but she suspects that's his long-term plan.
Fortunately, he’s still got another couple of decades ahead of him, so she doesn’t have to think about such things yet. Considering the fact that there’s never been anything but a Pureblood in the role, she doesn’t think she’d have a chance of earning enough support for it, anyway. Of course, if it’s something she does decide she wants, which isn’t the case currently, she’s not about to let go without a fight.
Wyndam is looking around curiously, but he’s managed to stop looking wide-eyed and impressed, at least. He smiles when she reaches him, and she has to admire the perfectly straight white teeth that appear to actually be all natural. “G’day, Hermione, isn’t it?”
There’s a faint accent that she can’t quite place, and he seems generally happy to be speaking with her in a way that is either sincere or highly perfected to appear so. She finds it tedious these days trying to determine who is real and who is playing a part. “Ms. Granger, actually,” she says pointedly, pleased that she no longer stumbles over the name like she did in the first few months after the divorce. She’s never given up Granger, but she dropped the dash Weasley part three years ago.
“Ms. Granger. I stand corrected.” Wyndam smiles easily, but he doesn’t have the lines on his face that come with age. She wonders if he even shaves. He’s definitely young, but perhaps old enough to be out of school. Barely. “You’re going to be the magical person teaching me my role then?”
“I’m a witch, Mr.?” She isn’t sure what his last name is, but she’d rather call him by that than use his given name without knowing him at all.
“Call me Wyn. My parents were awful giving me the name Wyndam Oswald, but it’s easy fixing that. I’ve been Wyn since I was in primary school, though some mates call me Ozzie, on account of where I was born.” Wyndam shrugs, an action that draws Hermione’s attention to his broad shoulder. “I answer to just about anything. Mum called me Sweetiepie, if you’d prefer that one?”
Her gaze snaps back to his face, and she sees the teasing smile on full lips that seem out of place on a rather masculine face. “You were born in Australia then?” she asks tightly, annoyed that he must have caught her admiring his physique. The last thing she needs is for some Muggle young man to cause trouble for her because she happens to find him aesthetically pleasing despite his youth and likely immaturity. “What brings you to this job?”
“Born in Melbourne, but we moved around a lot. Da passed when I was nine, so Mum and I went to Auckland for a bit, then we did some island hopping. She was a painter, so she liked traveling and trying to find somewhere to fit. When she got sick, we moved to England so she could die at home and I could attend Uni,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone that is undermined by the way his eyes soften as he mentions his mother. “I happened to give surfing lessons to the Prime Minister’s son several years ago, so when I finished Uni, there was a job waiting for me.”
“Surfing lessons?” Hermione would question that correlation, but it’s not as if she and Harry were hired based on skills other than ‘winning a war’. “There isn’t much surfing in London.”
Wyn laughs, running his fingers through his sun kissed hair and looking even more out of place amongst the people in suits and work robes. “True words, Ms. Granger, but I’ve got a car and don’t mind a drive. I’ve found some killer waves up in Wales, actually, around Pembrokeshire, and there’re more moderate ones in Cornwall and Devon. You ever been surfing? I bet you could handle a board.”
The way he moves his gaze over her is entirely inappropriate, and she feels warmth rush into her cheeks because it’s been far too long since a man gave her such an overt look. “No, I haven’t, and I think we should discuss your training schedule.”
“If you ever want a go, let me know. I think I’d enjoy getting you on a board.” Wyndam winks at her and leans in. “That uptight prissy thing fuels many a fantasy, you know?”
“Wyndam Oswald!” She gapes at him, not believing he’s actually said what she thinks he has. “That is unprofessional and inappropriate. It might be what you’re used to on the beach or in a dorm, but this is a work environment and you’d do well to remember that.”
He straightens up then, losing the easy smile and laid-back attitude. “Apologies, Ms. Granger. I didn’t intend any harm,” he tells her, looking a little older now that he’s being serious. “You’re right, of course. This is work, not a pub, and I’m not trying to chat up a beautiful woman. Well, I was, but I shouldn’t have been. My schedule is open, and I’m at your disposal whenever you’d like to train me. My predecessor has given me a rough history of the magical world since he took on the role, which covers the last three decades, but I’d be interested in hearing more, since it’s fascinating, really, to consider an entire subculture living amongst the rest of us for centuries.”
This is better. She can handle work conversation far more easily than dealing with a charming young man trying to chat her up. Bloody hell. She’s old enough to be his parent, after all, and she’s far too smart to make such a silly decision like responding to his flirting.
*********************
Three weeks later, Hermione’s not entirely confident in her resolve not to feel flattered by Wyn’s flirting. They’ve had several meetings, and he’s maintained a professionalism that she admires, but they generally end up conversing about a multitude of things by the end of their meetings, and that’s when the cheeky charmer comes out. He seems to enjoy making her blush, and he doesn’t mind her age at all. When she told him he needs to flirt with someone his own age, he just told her he prefers older women because they’re more knowledgeable. The smirk on his lips led to her assuming what subjects they’d be knowledgeable in, which made her think about sex.
Unfortunately, she’s been thinking about sex a lot lately. Or lack thereof, really, since she hasn’t been with anyone since her divorce. It’s not appropriate to consider shocking Wyn by accepting one of his offers because they’re colleagues who will be working together for years to come, if his longevity in the role is anything like the former liaison, and she’s twenty-one years older than him. When she found out he’s twenty-four, it was disappointing because she’d been secretly hoping that maybe he was at least in his thirties but just had a youthful attitude. He’s actually a little older than she’d first assumed, but not much.
He’s on his own, having lost his father to a heart attack when he was nine and his mother two years ago to a stroke following several years of senility, and she tries to tell herself that it’s her care taking nature that has her wanting to hug him and invite him out for meals. Care taking has nothing to do with the urge to see if he’s as fit beneath his clothes as she thinks and her desire to feel his body moving against hers.
Wyn is more mature than she originally suspected. He tells her it’s because his parents were older when he was born, a surprise baby they hadn’t planned on or expected, and he became the man of the house at an early age following his father’s death. The constant moving in his youth and taking care of his mother when she went senile probably aged him, too. It’s easy to talk to him, and she finds herself meeting him for a drink or dinner several times after work even though she knows better.
Her friends are no help, of course. Kingsley hasn’t said anything outright, but he made it a point to casually mention that there aren’t any rules about dating Muggles who might happen to act as a liaison to the magical world, all the while smirking at her and even winking when she left his office. Harry and Ron are making wild cat sounds around her, something about cougars and Muggle lingo that she doesn’t understand and doesn’t ask them to clarify because it’s likely just going to make her want to hex them. Ron thinks it’s sweet that she fancies a younger man, and he just gloats about how she can never question anyone he dates if she actually goes for it. Harry just looks at her with that serious expression and says he wants her to be happy and that at least Wyn is out of nappies before muttering about her choosing a bloke even younger than his own godson.
It’s not as if she’s chosen anyone. She enjoys Wyn’s company, and it’s nice to have a handsome young man flirt with her. He’s got a zest for life that she envies, and he’s laid-back in a way that irritates her but also forces her to slow down, too, which isn’t a bad thing. There’s a generation between them, more like two, and she’s divorced with two children not much younger than him while he’s never had a serious relationship with anything but his surfboard. He’s also a Muggle, with no magical ability whatsoever, and she doesn’t want to discriminate against him for not having a wand, but it does add another level of complication if she does choose to have sex with him in a repetitive way that isn’t just a one night stand.
The sound of fingers snapping by her ear pulls her out of her thoughts. Wyn is watching her curiously. “There you are. I was starting to wonder if I’d somehow put you into a trance,” he says, arching a brow. “Alright?”
“Sorry. I was thinking.” Hermione nods. “I’m fine. No trances.”
“What were you thinking about?” Wyn takes a sip of his wine. “Good thoughts or bad thoughts?”
“I was thinking about life. Mostly good.” She smiles. “I was thinking about how it becomes more complicated as you get older. Things you might have done at twenty without caring about the consequences aren’t as easy to do when you’re my age and have baggage.”
“Complications aren’t a bad thing, though. I mean, I’m single with no family, so I could take off anywhere I wanted with no problem at all, which is uncomplicated and pretty nice. But there are times when it’s really lonely, you know? When I wish I did have obstacles to living such a carefree lifestyle in the form of a girlfriend or family or serious friends.” Wyn shrugs. “What’s that saying? The grass is always greener? This is the first time I’ve really been settled except for Uni, and there’s still a part of me that feels the twitch to take off and find a new beach with a new sunset. Get that from Mum, I suppose.”
“Is that something you’re looking for? Settling down and getting a girlfriend and complicating your life?” She’s curious as his friend, regardless of the attraction she feels for him. “Do you want kids one day?”
Wyn laughs. “I’m starting to understand how some of your witnesses must feel with all the questions,” he teases, nudging her leg with his foot. “I’m not looking for anything, Hermione. If something happens to find me, I’ll ride the wave and try not to get swept under. It’d be nice to have kids one day, but I’m still young, and I’d rather wait until I’m ready to slow down my life before starting a family like that. Mum and Da were old when I was born, and it was good, having them, but I don’t want to be that old, either, because they’re gone now, and I’m missing so much by not having my parents in my life to share in everything I do.”
“I lost my parents when I was seventeen,” she says, not admitting that it was because of her choice to keep them safe. She did try to find them again, but they hadn’t been in Sydney when she searched, and there had been so much happening, rebuilding and nightmares and therapy to get through some of the mental damage from the war, that she had just given up. Hearing Wyn talk about losing his parents to death made her feel guilty for just letting hers go. “It isn’t easy, so I can understand what you mean.”
“I didn’t know. And here I am earbashing without considering I wasn’t the only one,” he says, grimacing as he takes her hand. “You can just point your stick at me next time to make me shut my mouth.”
“It’s a wand, as you bloody well know by now, Wyn.” She rolls her eyes when he flashes a cheeky smile. “If you ever get lonely, let me know. I should introduce you to some people, but they’d probably try to convince you to fly with them, and you’d do it because you like dangerous things.”
“I could fly?” He leans forward and grins. “Really? One on of those magical brooms?”
“You couldn’t by yourself, obviously, but you could fly with someone, and I know Ron would enjoy getting you obsessed with Quidditch if only to get at me.” She shakes her head. “It’s more dangerous than jumping out of those airplanes you’ve talked about.”
“That’s not dangerous at all. You should go with me one day. I know you aren’t too keen on heights, but you’d enjoy it.” Wyn takes another drink. “I want to take you bungee jumping, too. There’s a place in New Zealand that’d be perfect. We could do tandem, if you didn’t want to go it alone.” He gives her one of the playful leers that she’s becoming used to receiving from him.
“Doing tandem with me might be more complicated than you want,” she admits, arching a brow and giving him a look so he’d know she was serious.
“If you think I didn’t realize that the first time I tried flirting with you and nearly got my head snapped off, you must not think highly of my intelligence.” Wyn smiles. “I’m fine with just being friends, Hermione, since I don’t have too many around here yet, but I’ve been attracted to you since you got stroppy and told me to call you Ms. Granger. I also don’t care about the age or ex-husband or children nearly as much as you seem to.”
“I don’t do one night stands, Wyn. I’ve only ever been with Ron, so it might be more trouble than you want to deal with,” she points out. “We also work together, so I need to know that we can maintain our professionalism regardless of what might or might not happen in our personal lives.”
“You worry too much. After my training concludes, we’ll only have meetings every fortnight, barring any particular crises, and I’ll be primarily working on several historical preservation projects the Prime Minister has a special interest in, which is the main reason I was hired for my position. It wasn’t just my pretty face, you know?” He winks at her and sips his wine.
“Yes, yes. I know. Mr. Trinity Hall Cambridge Uni with courses in Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic as well as History,” she says in a pompous tone. “How dare I underestimate your intelligence?”
“You forgot my Triposes in Classics, Ms. Granger,” he drawls in a similar tone. “Crazy and overachieving are merely two of the adjectives I was subjected to during my five years at Uni, but I had to meet a certain beautiful witch before anyone dared to insinuate that I wasn’t intelligent. The very nerve!”
“I stand corrected.” She doesn’t bother mentioning that it’s the intelligence even more than the handsome face that attracts her to him. She’s always been attracted to intelligence, and he has it ten-fold considering his apparent laid-back ‘live free and play hard’ attitude. “I think I’d like to have sex with you, Wyn. Tonight, if possible.”
He chokes on the wine he’s about to swallow and stares at her. “It’s a weeknight,” he reminds her, slowly smiling. “You planning to take a sickie tomorrow? You might need to after I get through with you. You’ll be too bloody knackered to work.”
“Your confidence in your ability to sexually exhaust me is charming, but I’ll wait to see how justified it is,” she says, licking her lips and liking the way his brown eyes follow her tongue.
“This isn’t a one-off, right?” Wyn raises his gaze to meet her own. “You’re not going to tell me to piss off in the morning?”
“I highly doubt it, but we’ll have to see how things go between us, won’t we? There might not be any chemistry at all once we get to the bedroom.”
“No worries there. Once you’re starkers, I can’t see anything but chemistry happening.” Wyn finishes his glass of wine and licks his lips. “My flat’s close.”
“Let’s go then.” Hermione isn’t sure if this is the smartest or stupidest thing she’s ever done, but she’s made the decision so she’s following it through. They leave the pub, and it’s a short walk to Wyn’s building. He’s on the fourth floor, so they take the lift up, making idle small talk as they sneak looks at each other.
“Here it is. Home sweet home,” he says, opening the door and letting her walk in. “It’s not that spiffy, but it’s functional until I have enough money saved to move closer to the water. If a new Prime Minister comes in, I reckon my job’ll go away, so I’m saving up for a better place.”
“A change in official doesn’t necessarily mean you’d be unemployed,” she points out, admiring a painting on the wall that shows a seascape in vivid colors. Wyn moves behind her, and she feels his lips press down gently against her neck.
“That’s one of my mum’s paintings. She was quite good,” he says, moving his strong arms around her waist. “Still want to do this?”
“Yes.” She turns to face him and leans up, pressing her mouth against his. He returns the kiss, sucking on her tongue as he picks her up. She holds on to his shoulders and wraps her legs around him as he carries her through the flat, not stopping the kissing until he tosses her onto a bed.
“I’ve usually got more finesse than I’ll probably display right now, but I’ve been wanking to thoughts of this for weeks, so I doubt I give a good show,” he warns before he crawls onto the bed and kisses her again. She doesn’t bother to point out that she hasn’t had sex in three years, so she isn’t expecting to be all that great the first time, either.
As they kiss, he moves his hands down her body, pushing her shirt up and touching bare skin. She tugs on his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and fumbling with the buttons until she can stroke his chest. He pulls back and takes it off, letting her see the light brown hair scattered along his pecs and trailing down his lower abdomen. He’s just as fit as she’s imagined, probably more so considering he’s got definition in places she never realized could even be defined. Despite being in England for several years, he’s still got a golden tan, which makes her think he must spend a lot of time outdoors.
While she’s distracted by his muscles, he makes quick work of removing her clothes, leaving her in just her bra and knickers. He stares at her, and she shifts on the bed, wondering if he’s going to change his mind now that he can see the flaws in her body. Her breasts are a nice size, but they aren’t perky at all, and she’s got stretch marks from her pregnancies along with a soft swell of belly that isn’t at all smooth and ripped like his.
“Bloody gorgeous,” he murmurs before leaning down to kiss her again.
Someone amidst the kissing, she loses her bra and knickers, and he loses his trousers and pants. He’s a decent size, long and not that thick, and she likes the way he pulses in her hand when she strokes him. His fingers are inside her, rubbing at her inner walls as he licks into her mouth. It feels good, even if he isn’t sure how to touch her or what arouses her yet. She’s learning him, too, paying attention to the noises he makes when she explores his body and what makes him tremble the most.
He likes kissing, even more than playing with her breasts, which is a change from Ron, but one she doesn’t mind at all. Wyn’s a good kisser, and her lips are definitely going to be sore and swollen by the time they’re finished. When he moves between her legs, she rubs the heel of her foot against his calf. He insists on a condom, despite her reminder about magic and birth control, telling her it’s the responsible thing to do and that he’s going to take care of her properly. It feels odd as he pushes inside her because she’s not used to a barrier like that. He doesn’t seem to mind it, though, judging from the way he’s moaning and clenching his jaw as she adjusts to him being inside her.
Hermione likes the way he feels against her, and she’s soon wiggling beneath him, urging him to fuck her in a whiny tone she can barely even recognize as herself. He grins at her, hair falling across his forehead and brushing against his eyelashes, and she has to touch his face, stroking the curve of his jaw and his cheekbones as he starts to fuck her. He teases her at first, shallow thrusts that just make her push up for more, and he gradually starts thrusting faster, shifting them so her legs pressed up and he’s able to fuck into her deeper.
It feels good to have his cock inside her and his mouth on her nipples. He’s finally realized she’s sensitive there and enjoys it when they’re sucked, so he’s kissing them instead of her mouth. There’s a restrained power in his arms and back, she can feel it as she moves her hands over his sweaty skin, and she wants him to let loose and really give it to her. It takes her biting his shoulder for him to finally understand, and it’s a wild ride after that as he fucks her hard, unleashing himself in a way that’s making his headboard hit the wall and is sending her into the mattress with every push forward.
When he starts panting against her neck, she knows he’s close. She pushes his hand between them, guiding it to her, and he starts rubbing her clit as she rolls her hips up. It doesn’t take long before she comes, her orgasm sweeping over her and making her tremble beneath him. Wyn soon follows, grunting as he stops moving and just sinks deep inside. It’s strange not to feel his release inside her, something she’s always just taken for granted because magic allows sex to be a little less stressful and not as dangerous.
Wyn pulls out, holding the condom in place until he can slip it off and tie the end. He tosses it in the rubbish bin next to the bed before he kisses her and lighting strokes her nipples. “I’ll go get a wet flannel so we can clean up a bit. You need anything else?”
“A glass of water might be nice,” she says, brushing his hair away from his face and smiling. It isn’t awkward, which is a good sign, and she admires the firm curves of his arse when he gets out of bed and walks out of the room. She’s sated and not feeling any regrets, so she sits up and turns on the lamp by his bed so she can get a better look at his bedroom while waiting on him. The lamp has a button on the bottom that she fumbles with, knocking over a couple of things before she can finally switch it on. Muggle technology she just isn’t used to anymore, she’s sad to admit.
Once the lamp is on, she tidies up the bedside table. It’s as she’s straightening the framed photograph that she feels as if someone has just cursed her or kicked her in the gut. The photograph is of Wyn, obviously, when he’s just a young child, brown hair not yet so sun kissed. He’s adorable, but that’s not what has her feeling stricken. It’s the couple standing beside him. Her parents.
“That’s Mum and Da,” Wyn tells her, not seeming to notice her discomfort. “Before Da passed and Mum lost her mind. They were so happy to have a child, you know? Spoiled me rotten.”
“What’s your last name?” she asks quietly, unable to believe this is happening. “What were their names?”
“You alright, Hermione?” He sits beside her and kisses her shoulder, which makes her feel so conflicted because she likes it but she’s starting to put things together in a way that makes her suspect that what they’ve done is not only wrong but potentially illegal. Merlin, it can’t be. She’s going to have a panic attack, she fears, watching her hand shake as she holds the photograph. “I guess I never have told you, have I? It’s Wilkins. Wyndam Oswald Wilkins at your service, love. As for my parents, she was Monica and he was Wendell. They were dentists before I was born, but Mum had always wanted to paint, so that’s what she did when I was growing up, so she could look after me. They’d have loved you. I know it.”
She’s going to be sick. Monica and Wendell Wilkins. Life can’t be this cruel, can it? To bring Wyn into her life and make her start to fall in love, to have sex with him, only to find out he’s her brother? She puts the photograph down and turns her head into his neck, closing her eyes and just trying to calm down before he gets suspicious. No one knows. She’s the only one who can connect the Wilkins to the Grangers, and she’s not going to tell him. She knows she’s not going to tell anyone. What she and Wyn have done is illegal, she’s sure of it, but they didn’t know, and it’s hard to think about how wrong it is when he feels so bloody right.
“Here’s the water, Hermione. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Wyn looks at her and worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “You’re not wishing we hadn’t done this, are you? Because I think we’ve got something good here, and I’d be interested in seeing what happens between us. Are you having regrets?”
Hermione takes the cup and sips it, her mind still reeling and emotions conflicting with thoughts. After she’s had a few sips, she puts it on the table beside the photograph of their parents and then looks at Wyn. Merlin help her, but she knows what she’s going to do. She leans up to kiss him, stroking his hair as she smiles. “No regrets at all.”
End
Characters/Pairings: Hermione/OMC (Wyndam) [Muggle]
Rating: Adult
Summary: Hermione finds herself falling for the new Muggle-Magic Liaison for the Prime Minister when she has to train him despite the fact he’s not much older than her own children.
Word Count: 5025
A/N: Okay so I got this idea and it wouldn’t leave me alone so I had to write even though I know hardly anyone is going to read it. LOL This is the Hermione/OMC taboo fic voted on during the recent poll. If anyone does happen to read this, please let me know what you think? Writing a lead OC makes me nervous! <3 Please read the warnings if needed as I don’t want anyone triggered. I did cut the warnings, though, due to a rather significant spoiler.
Warnings: Incest, Age difference
The Muggle-Magic Liaison for the Muggle Minister looks as if he’s stumbled off the beach and should still be in secondary school. While his suit does fit nicely, the sun streaks in his shoulder-length hair add to the image of a boy playing at being grown up. Hermione finds it difficult to believe that a boy who introduces himself with his given name, Wyndam but call me Wyn, is the dynamo that the Prime Minister has been telling her and Kingsley about for weeks. The former Muggle-Magic Liaison was a sturdy old bloke who never batted an eye at magical displays, and he was easy to work with because of it. Something tells her that this child is going to be far more difficult.
Kingsley gives her a warning look, which means she must have allowed her disapproval to show. After twenty-five years of working for the Ministry of Magic, she has learned how to conceal her true thoughts and opinions when dealing with certain political parties. However, finding out that the new liaison she is going to be training is probably not much older than her own children is not a normal situation. Now she understands what Griselda Marchbanks meant right after the war when Hermione and her friends started working at the Ministry. She keeps getting older, but the rest just get younger.
The Prime Minister knows that secrecy is a must with this arrangement, and she has to trust that Wyndam whoever he is has been properly vetted and knows that discretion is vital for the agreement to continue. If he turns out to be as childish as his appearance indicates, they can always Obliviate them all and wait for a new election before stepping forth again. Satisfied at that thought, she feigns interest in the matters that Kingsley is discussing with the Prime Minister and tries not to send harsh judgmental looks at the liaison.
When the meeting concludes, she reluctantly seeks out the liaison so she can make arrangements for training. This is a favor for Kingsley, since she has more than enough to keep her busy with her position as Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement, and she knows he’s helping her establish connections that could be beneficial when he eventually steps down as Minister of Magic. He’s never said outright that he plans to nominate her for the position, but she suspects that's his long-term plan.
Fortunately, he’s still got another couple of decades ahead of him, so she doesn’t have to think about such things yet. Considering the fact that there’s never been anything but a Pureblood in the role, she doesn’t think she’d have a chance of earning enough support for it, anyway. Of course, if it’s something she does decide she wants, which isn’t the case currently, she’s not about to let go without a fight.
Wyndam is looking around curiously, but he’s managed to stop looking wide-eyed and impressed, at least. He smiles when she reaches him, and she has to admire the perfectly straight white teeth that appear to actually be all natural. “G’day, Hermione, isn’t it?”
There’s a faint accent that she can’t quite place, and he seems generally happy to be speaking with her in a way that is either sincere or highly perfected to appear so. She finds it tedious these days trying to determine who is real and who is playing a part. “Ms. Granger, actually,” she says pointedly, pleased that she no longer stumbles over the name like she did in the first few months after the divorce. She’s never given up Granger, but she dropped the dash Weasley part three years ago.
“Ms. Granger. I stand corrected.” Wyndam smiles easily, but he doesn’t have the lines on his face that come with age. She wonders if he even shaves. He’s definitely young, but perhaps old enough to be out of school. Barely. “You’re going to be the magical person teaching me my role then?”
“I’m a witch, Mr.?” She isn’t sure what his last name is, but she’d rather call him by that than use his given name without knowing him at all.
“Call me Wyn. My parents were awful giving me the name Wyndam Oswald, but it’s easy fixing that. I’ve been Wyn since I was in primary school, though some mates call me Ozzie, on account of where I was born.” Wyndam shrugs, an action that draws Hermione’s attention to his broad shoulder. “I answer to just about anything. Mum called me Sweetiepie, if you’d prefer that one?”
Her gaze snaps back to his face, and she sees the teasing smile on full lips that seem out of place on a rather masculine face. “You were born in Australia then?” she asks tightly, annoyed that he must have caught her admiring his physique. The last thing she needs is for some Muggle young man to cause trouble for her because she happens to find him aesthetically pleasing despite his youth and likely immaturity. “What brings you to this job?”
“Born in Melbourne, but we moved around a lot. Da passed when I was nine, so Mum and I went to Auckland for a bit, then we did some island hopping. She was a painter, so she liked traveling and trying to find somewhere to fit. When she got sick, we moved to England so she could die at home and I could attend Uni,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone that is undermined by the way his eyes soften as he mentions his mother. “I happened to give surfing lessons to the Prime Minister’s son several years ago, so when I finished Uni, there was a job waiting for me.”
“Surfing lessons?” Hermione would question that correlation, but it’s not as if she and Harry were hired based on skills other than ‘winning a war’. “There isn’t much surfing in London.”
Wyn laughs, running his fingers through his sun kissed hair and looking even more out of place amongst the people in suits and work robes. “True words, Ms. Granger, but I’ve got a car and don’t mind a drive. I’ve found some killer waves up in Wales, actually, around Pembrokeshire, and there’re more moderate ones in Cornwall and Devon. You ever been surfing? I bet you could handle a board.”
The way he moves his gaze over her is entirely inappropriate, and she feels warmth rush into her cheeks because it’s been far too long since a man gave her such an overt look. “No, I haven’t, and I think we should discuss your training schedule.”
“If you ever want a go, let me know. I think I’d enjoy getting you on a board.” Wyndam winks at her and leans in. “That uptight prissy thing fuels many a fantasy, you know?”
“Wyndam Oswald!” She gapes at him, not believing he’s actually said what she thinks he has. “That is unprofessional and inappropriate. It might be what you’re used to on the beach or in a dorm, but this is a work environment and you’d do well to remember that.”
He straightens up then, losing the easy smile and laid-back attitude. “Apologies, Ms. Granger. I didn’t intend any harm,” he tells her, looking a little older now that he’s being serious. “You’re right, of course. This is work, not a pub, and I’m not trying to chat up a beautiful woman. Well, I was, but I shouldn’t have been. My schedule is open, and I’m at your disposal whenever you’d like to train me. My predecessor has given me a rough history of the magical world since he took on the role, which covers the last three decades, but I’d be interested in hearing more, since it’s fascinating, really, to consider an entire subculture living amongst the rest of us for centuries.”
This is better. She can handle work conversation far more easily than dealing with a charming young man trying to chat her up. Bloody hell. She’s old enough to be his parent, after all, and she’s far too smart to make such a silly decision like responding to his flirting.
*********************
Three weeks later, Hermione’s not entirely confident in her resolve not to feel flattered by Wyn’s flirting. They’ve had several meetings, and he’s maintained a professionalism that she admires, but they generally end up conversing about a multitude of things by the end of their meetings, and that’s when the cheeky charmer comes out. He seems to enjoy making her blush, and he doesn’t mind her age at all. When she told him he needs to flirt with someone his own age, he just told her he prefers older women because they’re more knowledgeable. The smirk on his lips led to her assuming what subjects they’d be knowledgeable in, which made her think about sex.
Unfortunately, she’s been thinking about sex a lot lately. Or lack thereof, really, since she hasn’t been with anyone since her divorce. It’s not appropriate to consider shocking Wyn by accepting one of his offers because they’re colleagues who will be working together for years to come, if his longevity in the role is anything like the former liaison, and she’s twenty-one years older than him. When she found out he’s twenty-four, it was disappointing because she’d been secretly hoping that maybe he was at least in his thirties but just had a youthful attitude. He’s actually a little older than she’d first assumed, but not much.
He’s on his own, having lost his father to a heart attack when he was nine and his mother two years ago to a stroke following several years of senility, and she tries to tell herself that it’s her care taking nature that has her wanting to hug him and invite him out for meals. Care taking has nothing to do with the urge to see if he’s as fit beneath his clothes as she thinks and her desire to feel his body moving against hers.
Wyn is more mature than she originally suspected. He tells her it’s because his parents were older when he was born, a surprise baby they hadn’t planned on or expected, and he became the man of the house at an early age following his father’s death. The constant moving in his youth and taking care of his mother when she went senile probably aged him, too. It’s easy to talk to him, and she finds herself meeting him for a drink or dinner several times after work even though she knows better.
Her friends are no help, of course. Kingsley hasn’t said anything outright, but he made it a point to casually mention that there aren’t any rules about dating Muggles who might happen to act as a liaison to the magical world, all the while smirking at her and even winking when she left his office. Harry and Ron are making wild cat sounds around her, something about cougars and Muggle lingo that she doesn’t understand and doesn’t ask them to clarify because it’s likely just going to make her want to hex them. Ron thinks it’s sweet that she fancies a younger man, and he just gloats about how she can never question anyone he dates if she actually goes for it. Harry just looks at her with that serious expression and says he wants her to be happy and that at least Wyn is out of nappies before muttering about her choosing a bloke even younger than his own godson.
It’s not as if she’s chosen anyone. She enjoys Wyn’s company, and it’s nice to have a handsome young man flirt with her. He’s got a zest for life that she envies, and he’s laid-back in a way that irritates her but also forces her to slow down, too, which isn’t a bad thing. There’s a generation between them, more like two, and she’s divorced with two children not much younger than him while he’s never had a serious relationship with anything but his surfboard. He’s also a Muggle, with no magical ability whatsoever, and she doesn’t want to discriminate against him for not having a wand, but it does add another level of complication if she does choose to have sex with him in a repetitive way that isn’t just a one night stand.
The sound of fingers snapping by her ear pulls her out of her thoughts. Wyn is watching her curiously. “There you are. I was starting to wonder if I’d somehow put you into a trance,” he says, arching a brow. “Alright?”
“Sorry. I was thinking.” Hermione nods. “I’m fine. No trances.”
“What were you thinking about?” Wyn takes a sip of his wine. “Good thoughts or bad thoughts?”
“I was thinking about life. Mostly good.” She smiles. “I was thinking about how it becomes more complicated as you get older. Things you might have done at twenty without caring about the consequences aren’t as easy to do when you’re my age and have baggage.”
“Complications aren’t a bad thing, though. I mean, I’m single with no family, so I could take off anywhere I wanted with no problem at all, which is uncomplicated and pretty nice. But there are times when it’s really lonely, you know? When I wish I did have obstacles to living such a carefree lifestyle in the form of a girlfriend or family or serious friends.” Wyn shrugs. “What’s that saying? The grass is always greener? This is the first time I’ve really been settled except for Uni, and there’s still a part of me that feels the twitch to take off and find a new beach with a new sunset. Get that from Mum, I suppose.”
“Is that something you’re looking for? Settling down and getting a girlfriend and complicating your life?” She’s curious as his friend, regardless of the attraction she feels for him. “Do you want kids one day?”
Wyn laughs. “I’m starting to understand how some of your witnesses must feel with all the questions,” he teases, nudging her leg with his foot. “I’m not looking for anything, Hermione. If something happens to find me, I’ll ride the wave and try not to get swept under. It’d be nice to have kids one day, but I’m still young, and I’d rather wait until I’m ready to slow down my life before starting a family like that. Mum and Da were old when I was born, and it was good, having them, but I don’t want to be that old, either, because they’re gone now, and I’m missing so much by not having my parents in my life to share in everything I do.”
“I lost my parents when I was seventeen,” she says, not admitting that it was because of her choice to keep them safe. She did try to find them again, but they hadn’t been in Sydney when she searched, and there had been so much happening, rebuilding and nightmares and therapy to get through some of the mental damage from the war, that she had just given up. Hearing Wyn talk about losing his parents to death made her feel guilty for just letting hers go. “It isn’t easy, so I can understand what you mean.”
“I didn’t know. And here I am earbashing without considering I wasn’t the only one,” he says, grimacing as he takes her hand. “You can just point your stick at me next time to make me shut my mouth.”
“It’s a wand, as you bloody well know by now, Wyn.” She rolls her eyes when he flashes a cheeky smile. “If you ever get lonely, let me know. I should introduce you to some people, but they’d probably try to convince you to fly with them, and you’d do it because you like dangerous things.”
“I could fly?” He leans forward and grins. “Really? One on of those magical brooms?”
“You couldn’t by yourself, obviously, but you could fly with someone, and I know Ron would enjoy getting you obsessed with Quidditch if only to get at me.” She shakes her head. “It’s more dangerous than jumping out of those airplanes you’ve talked about.”
“That’s not dangerous at all. You should go with me one day. I know you aren’t too keen on heights, but you’d enjoy it.” Wyn takes another drink. “I want to take you bungee jumping, too. There’s a place in New Zealand that’d be perfect. We could do tandem, if you didn’t want to go it alone.” He gives her one of the playful leers that she’s becoming used to receiving from him.
“Doing tandem with me might be more complicated than you want,” she admits, arching a brow and giving him a look so he’d know she was serious.
“If you think I didn’t realize that the first time I tried flirting with you and nearly got my head snapped off, you must not think highly of my intelligence.” Wyn smiles. “I’m fine with just being friends, Hermione, since I don’t have too many around here yet, but I’ve been attracted to you since you got stroppy and told me to call you Ms. Granger. I also don’t care about the age or ex-husband or children nearly as much as you seem to.”
“I don’t do one night stands, Wyn. I’ve only ever been with Ron, so it might be more trouble than you want to deal with,” she points out. “We also work together, so I need to know that we can maintain our professionalism regardless of what might or might not happen in our personal lives.”
“You worry too much. After my training concludes, we’ll only have meetings every fortnight, barring any particular crises, and I’ll be primarily working on several historical preservation projects the Prime Minister has a special interest in, which is the main reason I was hired for my position. It wasn’t just my pretty face, you know?” He winks at her and sips his wine.
“Yes, yes. I know. Mr. Trinity Hall Cambridge Uni with courses in Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic as well as History,” she says in a pompous tone. “How dare I underestimate your intelligence?”
“You forgot my Triposes in Classics, Ms. Granger,” he drawls in a similar tone. “Crazy and overachieving are merely two of the adjectives I was subjected to during my five years at Uni, but I had to meet a certain beautiful witch before anyone dared to insinuate that I wasn’t intelligent. The very nerve!”
“I stand corrected.” She doesn’t bother mentioning that it’s the intelligence even more than the handsome face that attracts her to him. She’s always been attracted to intelligence, and he has it ten-fold considering his apparent laid-back ‘live free and play hard’ attitude. “I think I’d like to have sex with you, Wyn. Tonight, if possible.”
He chokes on the wine he’s about to swallow and stares at her. “It’s a weeknight,” he reminds her, slowly smiling. “You planning to take a sickie tomorrow? You might need to after I get through with you. You’ll be too bloody knackered to work.”
“Your confidence in your ability to sexually exhaust me is charming, but I’ll wait to see how justified it is,” she says, licking her lips and liking the way his brown eyes follow her tongue.
“This isn’t a one-off, right?” Wyn raises his gaze to meet her own. “You’re not going to tell me to piss off in the morning?”
“I highly doubt it, but we’ll have to see how things go between us, won’t we? There might not be any chemistry at all once we get to the bedroom.”
“No worries there. Once you’re starkers, I can’t see anything but chemistry happening.” Wyn finishes his glass of wine and licks his lips. “My flat’s close.”
“Let’s go then.” Hermione isn’t sure if this is the smartest or stupidest thing she’s ever done, but she’s made the decision so she’s following it through. They leave the pub, and it’s a short walk to Wyn’s building. He’s on the fourth floor, so they take the lift up, making idle small talk as they sneak looks at each other.
“Here it is. Home sweet home,” he says, opening the door and letting her walk in. “It’s not that spiffy, but it’s functional until I have enough money saved to move closer to the water. If a new Prime Minister comes in, I reckon my job’ll go away, so I’m saving up for a better place.”
“A change in official doesn’t necessarily mean you’d be unemployed,” she points out, admiring a painting on the wall that shows a seascape in vivid colors. Wyn moves behind her, and she feels his lips press down gently against her neck.
“That’s one of my mum’s paintings. She was quite good,” he says, moving his strong arms around her waist. “Still want to do this?”
“Yes.” She turns to face him and leans up, pressing her mouth against his. He returns the kiss, sucking on her tongue as he picks her up. She holds on to his shoulders and wraps her legs around him as he carries her through the flat, not stopping the kissing until he tosses her onto a bed.
“I’ve usually got more finesse than I’ll probably display right now, but I’ve been wanking to thoughts of this for weeks, so I doubt I give a good show,” he warns before he crawls onto the bed and kisses her again. She doesn’t bother to point out that she hasn’t had sex in three years, so she isn’t expecting to be all that great the first time, either.
As they kiss, he moves his hands down her body, pushing her shirt up and touching bare skin. She tugs on his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and fumbling with the buttons until she can stroke his chest. He pulls back and takes it off, letting her see the light brown hair scattered along his pecs and trailing down his lower abdomen. He’s just as fit as she’s imagined, probably more so considering he’s got definition in places she never realized could even be defined. Despite being in England for several years, he’s still got a golden tan, which makes her think he must spend a lot of time outdoors.
While she’s distracted by his muscles, he makes quick work of removing her clothes, leaving her in just her bra and knickers. He stares at her, and she shifts on the bed, wondering if he’s going to change his mind now that he can see the flaws in her body. Her breasts are a nice size, but they aren’t perky at all, and she’s got stretch marks from her pregnancies along with a soft swell of belly that isn’t at all smooth and ripped like his.
“Bloody gorgeous,” he murmurs before leaning down to kiss her again.
Someone amidst the kissing, she loses her bra and knickers, and he loses his trousers and pants. He’s a decent size, long and not that thick, and she likes the way he pulses in her hand when she strokes him. His fingers are inside her, rubbing at her inner walls as he licks into her mouth. It feels good, even if he isn’t sure how to touch her or what arouses her yet. She’s learning him, too, paying attention to the noises he makes when she explores his body and what makes him tremble the most.
He likes kissing, even more than playing with her breasts, which is a change from Ron, but one she doesn’t mind at all. Wyn’s a good kisser, and her lips are definitely going to be sore and swollen by the time they’re finished. When he moves between her legs, she rubs the heel of her foot against his calf. He insists on a condom, despite her reminder about magic and birth control, telling her it’s the responsible thing to do and that he’s going to take care of her properly. It feels odd as he pushes inside her because she’s not used to a barrier like that. He doesn’t seem to mind it, though, judging from the way he’s moaning and clenching his jaw as she adjusts to him being inside her.
Hermione likes the way he feels against her, and she’s soon wiggling beneath him, urging him to fuck her in a whiny tone she can barely even recognize as herself. He grins at her, hair falling across his forehead and brushing against his eyelashes, and she has to touch his face, stroking the curve of his jaw and his cheekbones as he starts to fuck her. He teases her at first, shallow thrusts that just make her push up for more, and he gradually starts thrusting faster, shifting them so her legs pressed up and he’s able to fuck into her deeper.
It feels good to have his cock inside her and his mouth on her nipples. He’s finally realized she’s sensitive there and enjoys it when they’re sucked, so he’s kissing them instead of her mouth. There’s a restrained power in his arms and back, she can feel it as she moves her hands over his sweaty skin, and she wants him to let loose and really give it to her. It takes her biting his shoulder for him to finally understand, and it’s a wild ride after that as he fucks her hard, unleashing himself in a way that’s making his headboard hit the wall and is sending her into the mattress with every push forward.
When he starts panting against her neck, she knows he’s close. She pushes his hand between them, guiding it to her, and he starts rubbing her clit as she rolls her hips up. It doesn’t take long before she comes, her orgasm sweeping over her and making her tremble beneath him. Wyn soon follows, grunting as he stops moving and just sinks deep inside. It’s strange not to feel his release inside her, something she’s always just taken for granted because magic allows sex to be a little less stressful and not as dangerous.
Wyn pulls out, holding the condom in place until he can slip it off and tie the end. He tosses it in the rubbish bin next to the bed before he kisses her and lighting strokes her nipples. “I’ll go get a wet flannel so we can clean up a bit. You need anything else?”
“A glass of water might be nice,” she says, brushing his hair away from his face and smiling. It isn’t awkward, which is a good sign, and she admires the firm curves of his arse when he gets out of bed and walks out of the room. She’s sated and not feeling any regrets, so she sits up and turns on the lamp by his bed so she can get a better look at his bedroom while waiting on him. The lamp has a button on the bottom that she fumbles with, knocking over a couple of things before she can finally switch it on. Muggle technology she just isn’t used to anymore, she’s sad to admit.
Once the lamp is on, she tidies up the bedside table. It’s as she’s straightening the framed photograph that she feels as if someone has just cursed her or kicked her in the gut. The photograph is of Wyn, obviously, when he’s just a young child, brown hair not yet so sun kissed. He’s adorable, but that’s not what has her feeling stricken. It’s the couple standing beside him. Her parents.
“That’s Mum and Da,” Wyn tells her, not seeming to notice her discomfort. “Before Da passed and Mum lost her mind. They were so happy to have a child, you know? Spoiled me rotten.”
“What’s your last name?” she asks quietly, unable to believe this is happening. “What were their names?”
“You alright, Hermione?” He sits beside her and kisses her shoulder, which makes her feel so conflicted because she likes it but she’s starting to put things together in a way that makes her suspect that what they’ve done is not only wrong but potentially illegal. Merlin, it can’t be. She’s going to have a panic attack, she fears, watching her hand shake as she holds the photograph. “I guess I never have told you, have I? It’s Wilkins. Wyndam Oswald Wilkins at your service, love. As for my parents, she was Monica and he was Wendell. They were dentists before I was born, but Mum had always wanted to paint, so that’s what she did when I was growing up, so she could look after me. They’d have loved you. I know it.”
She’s going to be sick. Monica and Wendell Wilkins. Life can’t be this cruel, can it? To bring Wyn into her life and make her start to fall in love, to have sex with him, only to find out he’s her brother? She puts the photograph down and turns her head into his neck, closing her eyes and just trying to calm down before he gets suspicious. No one knows. She’s the only one who can connect the Wilkins to the Grangers, and she’s not going to tell him. She knows she’s not going to tell anyone. What she and Wyn have done is illegal, she’s sure of it, but they didn’t know, and it’s hard to think about how wrong it is when he feels so bloody right.
“Here’s the water, Hermione. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Wyn looks at her and worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “You’re not wishing we hadn’t done this, are you? Because I think we’ve got something good here, and I’d be interested in seeing what happens between us. Are you having regrets?”
Hermione takes the cup and sips it, her mind still reeling and emotions conflicting with thoughts. After she’s had a few sips, she puts it on the table beside the photograph of their parents and then looks at Wyn. Merlin help her, but she knows what she’s going to do. She leans up to kiss him, stroking his hair as she smiles. “No regrets at all.”
End