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    Summary

    Hermione was supposed to be married or otherwise "contained" as a concubine by her twentieth birthday, like the rest of the female muggleborns and halfbloods in Britain. She was not supposed to teach herself magic in secret and hope that one muggleborn peasant was insignificant enough to go unnoticed. She never expected to end up escorted up to the castle to the King's study. Nor did she expect him to decide her fate personally.

    King Tom never expected to find his favorite kind of woman —clever, strongwilled, and powerful— in a muggleborn scullery maid who'd somehow mastered wandless casting without a tutor. Law-breaker or not, she didn't belong in the dungeons. She belonged at his feet. She belonged in his bed.

    She belonged to him. He just had to show her.

    Written for Weestarmeggie's Tomione Smut Fest 2018.

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