Movie Guy's Sex Stories
Volume 10: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - The Trial of Fire
Chapter 1 -
Aboard the Sex Express
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Hermione (solo)
Summary: Upon reaching their fourth year
at Hogwarts, students are given a choice to attend a
very special class designed to
facilitate their relationship with the opposite sex. The
boys can't
beleive their luck, but a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor isn't sure
about the
whole thing...
Hermione slid all the way down the row, picking the seat at the
very end for herself. Ron and Harry followed suit, realizing quickly
how odd all the students looked bunched up together in the expansive
classroom. Like their transfigurations hall, this chamber featured
several broad steps which descended from the doors towards the rear in
order to ensure everyone had a clear view of the teacher, although it
looked amazingly larger from the inside then they could have thought
possible. Perched at the very top of one of Hogwarts' dizzying spires,
its size was clearly enhanced by magic.
It was fitting as part of the mystique surrounding this
particular class that even Hermione had no idea where they really were.
Gryffindor Tower was a hike and a half up from the first floor as it
was, and this place soared a few stories above that. As was the case
with every new part of the school that they discovered over the course
of their tenure there, it was amusing how nobody had really noticed the
seldom-trod corridor just a stone's throw away from the Fat Lady. Not
that they would have been able to get very far however -- like the
third floor chamber during their freshman year, this place was guarded.
Hermione supposed that Sir Cadogan posed little challenge to someone
determined enough to sneak in, but the knight did seem to have an odd
gleam of honor about him as he checked to ensure only fourth years were
passing.
The young sorceress was positively glowing in anticipation of
the coming lesson. Charms and history of magic were things she could
wrap her brain around and conquer easily, but this was the cryptic "SI"
each had been silently hoping would appear on the schedule. Most
(especially the girls) professed loudly (amongst themselves, of course)
to greatly rue being asked to participate in such an embarrassing,
public forum. In truth, though, they were secretly just as excited as
their male counterparts. It *was* optional, of course, but very few
decided to approach the Headmaster and request to be excused. As it
were, none elected to stay behind that year.
Sexual Instruction was much more than a rite of passage among
the students. Up until their third year, most didn't even have a clue
about Hogwarts' opportunity to guide its pubescent flock in discovering
their adulthood in an open, comfortable environment. In the magical
world, initiations were Serious Business, and even dark wizards didn't
mess around lest their kid always have the specter of not being able to
hack a task that a dozen mudbloods passed every year. Many students
were delighted that they would not only be allowed to taste the
forbidden fruit, but actually encouraged. And those that still had shy
misgivings about doing such things usually found peer pressure to be an
adequate motivator.
Truth be told, Hermione was on the fluttery side. Sure, she
would get to see boys in the buff as much as she wanted, but the other
edge of the sword meant that THEY would get an unlimited view of her
boobies and puss. She'd have to let anyone look too, not just her best
friends, and after that the encounters would become more and more
intimate until they finally got around to the big "F". Part of the open
nature of the program ensured that anyone could discontinue with no
questions asked (by the professor, at least) if it got to be too much
for them, but Hermione was rather sure she wouldn't still be a virgin
by year's end.
The only caveat she was really worried about was that everyone
was encouraged mix and match with different partners, especially those
from other Houses with whom they normally wouldn't get more then
acquainted with except under these circumstances. Again, it was the
double-sided blade of SI which tried to coax students out of the shells
they'd build around themselves for three years and bring them more in
tune with the open community they would have to join after graduation.
Thankfully, her first lesson paired Gryffindor with Ravenclaw -- this
was a place where Hermione could really do without Malfoy and his crew.
Though the trio had made sure to arrive early by more than
twenty minutes, it was obvious that everyone else had thought similar.
Ere the clock even hit quarter-to, the sounds of the boys fidgeting in
their seats joined with anxious whispers from the girls, escalating
slowly into a heady din. The crowd knew that this would be a far more
serious setting than anything so far in their wizarding careers, but
even that heavy weight couldn't stop the youngsters from apprehensively
chatting.
Only the entrance of their teacher managed to do that, and when
the doors at last opened just shy of the hour, all noise ceased
instantly.
***
"Professor McGonagall?" the Corner boy blurted out, echoing the
thoughts of every other student in the room. The boys in particular
expressed looks of utter horror, watching months of frantic, immature
fantasies up and vanish like farts in the wind. Before he could get a
response, however, Michael caught his gaffe with a look of sickening
dread. Rumors abounded about those who'd had the privilege to attend
this class terminated for not taking it seriously, and suddenly it
seemed like he might have blown his chance already.
"Well, whom did you expect?" McGonagall quipped once she
reached her desk, dropping her things and narrowing her eyes at the
upstart. He looked rather silly now, gaping openmouthed as if expecting
her blast him with lightning bolts from her hands. "Relax, Mr.
Corner..." she insisted, breathing deeply and making large circles with
her arms to illustrate. "Though I can't read minds yet, I know exactly
what you're thinking. What can an old woman teach us about fucking?"
Upon hearing the taboo word, all eighteen teenagers bolted
upright in their seats. Those that had been sitting proper already
nearly hurt their backs from jerking up so suddenly, but still kept
their gaze fixed firmly on the professor. She couldn't have just said...
"Yes, that's one term for it, although you'll not hear it from
me again." McGonagall continued, scanning the assembled group of
wizards and witches. "I believe in being frank. By the end of next
semester we will hopefully have covered enough ground that hearing the
word 'sex' won't cause you all to erupt in fits of giggles, but it's
still a long way off."
"HOWEVER..." she enunciated, making it clear the next piece of
information was particularly important. "You will have to study and
work just as hard here as any other subject. Of course this class has
the capability to be the most enjoyable of your seven years, but you
are not here just to fool around. Those that don't take the material
seriously and let themselves get carried away will be asked to leave."
"And above all, a word of caution to the men..." McGonagall
paused, extending one finger out in a menacing gesture. The next
sentence came out so cold and pitiless it made even Minerva herself
shiver a bit from its power. "If any of you dare let your hormones get
so out of hand that you make force yourself on one of the ladies, I
assure you that your remaining adolescence will be spent in Azkaban."
For a few moments, she stood there basking in the satisfaction
that Dumbledore had indeed made the right decision, as usual. Though
she felt Hagrid's recent promotion represented a sobering change of
pace in the curriculum, she couldn't imagine letting someone like him
try to control a room full of horny teenagers. As Moody would have
agreed, constant vigilance was required to ensure the program proceeded
at the same delicate pace that had served since time immemorial. One
small mistake once they got down to the big-league topics, and more
than a few girls would go home with bigger bellies than they arrived
with...
The shock wore off quickly under the lingering tension of a
Friday afternoon. Though Professor McGonagall's warning was stern
indeed, it was not in the least bit enough to dissuade any from wishing
they were a year younger when they would have already been back in
their Houses and looking forward to the all-too brief weekend respite.
Excitement for the topic at hand did take a large dive, though, the
moment their instructor reached into her bottomless tartan bag and
began pulling out
textbooks by the pair.
"Guess we're not going to jump right into the good stuff, eh?"
Ron scribbled into his notebook, casually pointing his quill at the
line so Harry could read it. Hermione caught it out of the corner of
her eye and nudged him hard, causing her friends to burst out in silent
smirks. Guiltily, Ron blotted it out, but not before Hermione felt a
pang of agreement with him. It would have been relieving in a way to
just start wading in. Wasn't this class supposed to be different?
The books, it was explained, were charmed only to open in the
room they were currently sitting in case one of the younger students
got any bright ideas. Lisa Turpin timidly held up her hand until called
on, almost cringing at the audacity of asking the first question.
Luckily, McGonagall was no opponent of intelligent queries, and kindly
explained that all studying would of course have to be done in this
classroom. Had Lisa been willing to look the professor in the eye, she
could have caught a tiny glimmer there that suggested that Minerva was
actually hiding something from her pupils, but the moment passed
without further incident.
As expected, the title-less works featured none of the hardcore
images that most fourteen-year-olds had already come across by way of
their friends in locker rooms. Hermione glanced over successive pages
detailing the growth of a male (the moving subjects flexing and beaming
innocently to try and get her to blush) without so much as an upturned
eye. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, turned straight away to the back to get
a glimpse of the advanced topics, but were both clearly thwarted by the
nearly medical way intercourse was depicted by books' own lackluster
subjects-- no extraneous movements or expressions to indicate the act
was in any way fun. One woman demonstrating on top of her lover even
covered herself and wagged a disapproving finger at Harry, pointing
towards the beginning of the book where she knew he was supposed to be
reading. Groaning inwardly, he wearily complied just as McGonagall
began her lecture.
For all the students' expectations, their first lesson went at
a mind-numbingly slow pace. First there was a lengthy set of rules to
be committed to memory now that they were becoming adults -- number one
being to retain the privacy of the material even if they felt they had
a duty to warn their siblings. Not a few eyes glanced over to Ron, who
immediately concerned himself with repeatedly erasing and rewriting a
word on his parchment until it very nearly tore. Gone too, they were
told, were the days of innocent pranks to try and spy on each other in
various stages of undress, or using magic to make clothes levitate,
disappear, or become transparent. Of course, there was also a large
section on what "No" meant, accompanied by a picture of a cheeky boy
getting his comeuppance by way of a girlfriend's open palm.
"Almost all these rules are made for us!" Seamus Finnegan mused
out loud, startling when he heard his own voice. Luckily, the professor
was back to the same understanding mood she'd been at the beginning,
calmly placing her book down on the table to answer him.
"That's because boys are the only ones who break them!" she
quipped succinctly, winking at the girls (who were all in perfect
agreement). Perhaps this wasn't going to be as stimulating as they'd
hoped, but at least it wouldn't be as worse as they'd feared.
After the preliminaries were taken care of, McGonagall plowed
full steam ahead into the first chapter concerning the history of
sexual enlightenment among the wizarding world. Unlike most Muggle
histories, which were rife with egregious example of persecution
towards woman and homosexuals (to only name a few), that kind of
barbarism had either never existed among the high folk, or was so far
removed from history that it had indeed passed out of all knowledge.
There were still scattered instances where sex played a large
part in things, however. Even impeccable archmages sometimes succumbed
to dueling over the affection of a beautiful sorceress, although it was
grudgingly pointed out that more than a handful of witches had also
denigrated into combat after being jilted. Shortly following these
instances were usually great crusades called to force righteousness
upon backwards cultures that had finally evolved enough to learn the
ways of magic, most often in Africa or the Middle East where justice
had yet to catch up. Hermione noted with a wry smile that at least some
Ministers of Magic had more than Cornelius Fudge's pitiful degree of
courage.
McGonagall was just about to reach a sidenote about Ketan the
Mad, a black necromancer who began raiding villages for maidens to
breed with giants from the northern wastes. His massive army would
eventually be defeated by the Supreme Mugwump Council, but none in the
class would find that out until next week. The head of Gryffindor House
happened to notice just how low in the sky the sun was hanging and
promptly shut her own aged tome. Harry could scarcely believe his
watch, but an astounding two and a half hours had passed in the airy
spire. Noticing his companions bearing equally surprised looks, he
quickly muttered something about the professor never having lost track
ofthe time like that. All Ron could respond with was an approving "At
least the stuff's more interesting without Binns..."
***
Hermione held her opinion as long as she could -- which was all
the way until dinner. Glaring annoyedly at the two of them nonchalantly
piling mashed sweet potatoes onto their plates, it was only after the
bushy-haired girl huffed in exasperation that Harry finally inquired
what was the matter.
"Everything!" she hissed, catching the attention of Ginny and
her friends sitting a few feet away. Leaning back and closing her eyes,
she forced herself back into control before lowering her voice to go
on. "Don't you feel a little..." she groaned, struggling to find the
right word.
"Hungry?" Harry answered weakly.
"Famished." Ron added forcefully.
"Betrayed!" Hermione snapped, flashing her eyes at Ginny, who
was clearly eavesdropping. The Weasley girl guiltily turned her
attention back to her own group.
"About what, the class?" Harry asked, going about the buttering
of his biscuits. "Well, you didn't really think all the rumors were
true, did you?" Hermione's face turned bright red.
"Of course not..." she said
quickly, trying to save herself and doing a very poor job of it. "It's
just that..."
But Ron would have none of it. He'd seen the look she had, and
knew what a rare jewel it was at once -- Hermione being embarrassed
beyond the capacity for rational thought. Ignoring the tiny voice of
reason within urging him not to tease the girl who featured in so many
of his dreams of late, he went for the jugular.
"No..." he interrupted, a wide grin appearing on his face.
"No, you really believed it! You thought we were all going to get to
shag each other, didn't you!"
"Keep your voice down!" Hermione answered hotly, desperate to
slip out of the noose she'd stumbled into. Could it really be that
she'd fretted and dwelled on a joke for so long and these two
numbskulls had seen right through it?
"So did we..." Harry added wisely, all too keenly noticing how
his friend's crisis alarm was about to go off, and having much better
sense then Ron on what buttons shouldn't be pushed. "I guess it *was*
too good to be true..."
The elephant-in-the-living-room that had been following the
fourth years around all week suddenly seemed to pull up a chair beside
the trio and plop himself down. Acutely aware of having just revealed
he'd hoped to see Hermione naked, Harry offered a weak smile and
hastily attacked his food. The others tended to their meals in silence
as well, only one mind continuing to work furiously as her plate
emptied. Even after the meal, she continued to muse silently in one of
the Gryffindor common room's armchairs as her pals played a game of
chess by the fire.
"Why would there be such a big deal, then?" she announced
suddenly, drifting out of her stupor and looking at them plainly as if
no time had transpired. "With keeping it a secret..."
The boys looked around instinctively to see if anyone else
could hear them -- the lesson's grave warning had been well drilled
into their heads. By this hour, though, most students were up to making
mischief or getting started on their homework, depending on how close
they were to the dreaded O.W.L exams. The few second-years on the other
side of the room couldn't possibly make anything out from so far away.
"Beats me..." Ron shrugged
helpfully as he casually annihilated one of Harry's rooks. "Just a big
gag, I guess."
"I don't think so..." Harry interjected, remarkably calm given
that he was getting his ass being handed to him in the game, already
down six pieces and both knights. "I'd believe Fred and George were in
on it, but not McGonagall."
"Yeah, it was a mite weird." Ron concurred, rapidly losing
interest in the chessboard as an opportunity arose to discuss sex with
a member of the fairer gender. He'd actually been much more distraught
than she over the realization that they might not actually get a chance
to do everything in that book together under the guise of learning. It
would have taken a death eater to force him to admit it, though.
"You think maybe it gets more... in-depth?" Harry pondered,
looking back and forth between his companions for strength to fight a
giggle.
"Oh, why can't we just say it?" Hermione grumbled, apparently
back to her own self now that she had her footing. "I mean, if you can
teach Ron to not cringe at the sound of 'Voldemort', then I can say --
fuck. We ALL thought they'd let us fuck each other."
A moment of silence passed without any funny faces of noises.
"Hooray, we did it!" she continued sarcastically, pulling her
chair closer to them nonetheless. It was one thing to use vulgar
language in the effort to solve another mystery, but she didn't want to
sound like
a slut. "Okay, so Fred and George kept dropping hints that we would get
*some* kind of sex-ed course this year. What made it different than any
of the other nonsense they try and get us to believe?"
"Mum was saying weird things all summer about me getting to be
a man soon..." Ron added thoughtfully. Hermione couldn't help herself
and masked a chortle behind some coughing. Ron didn't notice, and
turned instead to Harry for confirmation. "You, mate?"
"The Dursleys wouldn't even buy me a cup for gym at my old
school." he muttered dryly. "Much less care if Hogwarts is basically
going to flaunt the biggest Muggle taboo."
"And at the pace we're going..." Hermione added lightheartedly.
"What will professor McGonagall say when we finish the book? 'Allright,
then, knock yourselves out?'" This produced a healthy round of laughs
from the group.
"It wouldn't really be all
that bad, would it?" Ron said wistfully, echoing the sentiment for the
three of them.
"Oh, Ron..." Hermione sighed, looking at him with an almost
pained face. "It's not that... I mean, of course I want to know what
sex is like, but just... not with you!"
Ron stared back at her as if
he'd just been hit full force in the chest with a bludger.
A split second later, Hermione realized what she'd just said
with a horrifying bolt of grief. "I'm so sorry, Ron..." she sputtered
as soon as humanly possible, stumbling to get the words out. "God, I
didn't mean it like that at all. It's just..." There was a tremendous,
weighty pause as she tried to find the words to express herself, but
none came, and she simply foundered.
"You don't want to risk ruining our being friends." Harry said
flatly, trying to look noble as if he agreed with the statement, but
feeling terribly shallow inside. Though he would eventually grow up to
a wizard worthy of tale and song, for the moment he was only a fourteen
year old kid who would gladly wager camaraderie for a chance to touch
her. It wasn't foolish by any stretch of the imagination -- he couldn't
help feeling any other way at his age.
Hermione lit up upon hearing that, glad to think that Harry was
indeed growing into the wise, controlled person he could need to be in
the future. "To me, Ron..." she hurriedly went on. "It's be like you
and Ginny having to do it. We're just too close!"
"I know..." Ron lied, somehow able to sense the same wave of
guilt coming off Harry. He was just now starting to come to terms with
the fact that he liked Hermione. Not just as a friend, but *really*
liked
her. When his bunkmates all came back at the beginning of term with the
same story he'd heart bout this wonderful ice-breaker Hogwarts had to
help pair up its students, the idea seemed too awesome to be possible.
Harry would hold back because his eyes were on Cho Chang, and he would
finally have a place to tell Hermione how he felt without sounding like
he was just trying to use her for free sex -- because they would have
already gotten past that!
He felt only marginally less crappy, but squeezed a smile out
of his lips and blathered a pleasantry. The tension between them was
near straining at this point, and everyone understood that staying
would serve no purpose. After Hermione excused herself to round off a
potions assignment so tomorrow's workload would be completely
Snape-less, the boys floundered through the rest of their chess game.
Neither had their heart in it, and played so sloppily that each queen
was in check for several rounds before the other realized it could be
taken. Eventually, both ambled off to bed with heavy hearts, wondering
how a day lined with such promise could turn out so rotten inside.
Going to bed so early wasn't usual for Hermione, but she
couldn't think of anything else to do that wouldn't involve passing
Harry and Ron downstairs. Her roommates, Parvati and Lavender, had left
earlier to go nick some food from the kitchens with the Weasley twins.
Though she never had allowed the pleasure of rubbing herself between
the legs in her Hogwarts bed due to the danger of being disturbed, that
night the urge would not be denied.
The conversation awoke such conflicted and confused feelings in
her, Hermione was no longer sure which voice was hers any longer. Was
it the inhibited side carefully rationalizing that there were other
things in like besides books and exams? That maybe being a virgin
wasn't such a big deal, and she was missing out on truly enjoying the
best years of her life? If so, why the strong jerk from her unconscious
mind every time she thought about doing it with Harry or Ron? They were
as close as siblings -- who better to help and be helped in learning
about this part of herself? Maybe it was only a Freudian mental block
she was feeding by all this pointless wheel-spinning.
Then again, she could be falling into a trap of blindly
conforming to what her peers were doing. More than anything, Hermione
had always prided herself on being her own person and deciding things
based on careful dissection, not rash judgements. If all else, she
could always choose to liberally explore her sexual side later -- a few
years really wouldn't make much difference. Once she decided to lay
down with a boy, though, there was no turning back.
In the end, the troubled witch realized she was going in
circles and snuck over to Parvati's bunk, sliding a butterbeer out from
between the steel mesh which supported each Hogwarts mattress. They all
knew that while the teachers turned a blind eye to drinking the stuff
in town because it didn't have too much alcohol in it, it would
probably be a good idea not to get caught with it in the castle. A
spontaneous girl-power moment during their inaugural trip to Hogsmeade
had led the ladies to smuggled a dozen or so bottles back hidden in
bags of sweets and souvenirs, not even daring to tell the guys.
Contrary to their counterparts' belief, girls did not simply
disapparate upon ascending the staircase to the female quarters and
then reappear come morning with nothing in-between. Hermione loved the
fact that not only did she have a sort of secret life up here, but that
Harry and Ron would never even question any of it existed.
Tiptoeing in her stocking feet across the cool stone, she
glided over to the door and pulled it open halfway, knowing it was a
better tradeoff to hear every raspy step and amplified conversation
than to muffled them and possibly get surprised with a hand down her
pants. With a giddy smile as she scampered back under the covers,
Hermione twisted the top of her bootlegged suds off and downed a
quarter of it in one gulp. She leaned over and grabbed a book off her
shelf in case either of the girls returned, taking greedy swigs from
the bottle every few seconds. In short order her tummy was full and her
brain pleasantly addled by the booze just enough to loosen her up.
It only took a moment to realize that feeling her womanhood
through loose pajamas was infinitely more satisfying than trying to pet
her slit through the tight fabric of a pair of panties. That first
glorious
rush of gratification swept through her whole body, enhanced by both
the alcohol in her system and the ease with which she could pinch the
folds in her clothing and rub them across that tender swath of flesh.
As always, the first few minutes were absolute heaven as her budding
clitoris begged for softer stimulation, her body knowing all-too-well
what was best.
Eventually the blazing warmth died down a bit, but Hermione was
determined to wring every last drop of gratification from her vagina
until soreness forced her to ease back and let it rest. The harsh
method she used to masturbate did indeed feel wonderful at first, but
unfortunately stimulated her loins entirely too much to last until she
could climax. As it were, Hermione had no idea that there was ecstasy
so far beyond this simple happiness.
She even allowed herself to moan softly in appreciation of her
own touch, something that wasn't possible anywhere else but in the
female showers downstairs (and assuming nobody else was around). It
felt so marvelous to keep going and still feel so horny -- even without
looking at a clock Hermione knew that this would be a record-breaking
frig session. Constantly switching hands so she wouldn't tire too soon,
it was only the occasional mini-stroke each time she heard someone
blunder up the stairs that kept her from finally having an orgasm that
night. After the interminable wait before she could be certain that
they had gotten off on a lower floor or continued upwards, the panting
girl went right on chafing her downy privates, dreading the building
irritation that would force her to stop.
Alas, like a thief it came, stealing away the magnificent rush
and leaving only longing and frustration in its place. The minutes
after were always cruel, but it was a small price to pay for those
fantastic minutes of absolute bliss. Rolling onto her belly, Hermione
magicked the lights off with her wand and let it clang sharply on the
floor, too wound up to even consider retrieving it. Her crotch felt
like it was on fire -- already burning through her damp pajama bottoms
and leaving the tell-tale scent she would discover in the morning. That
could be taken care of then, however.
In fact, the only other thing she managed to drag herself to
do was slip the butterbeer bottle under the bedspread with her. True, a
house elves would otherwise have taken it away without saying anything,
but that still felt sloppy. The whole point was to get away with it --
a naughtily appealing idea that excited her almost as much as playing
with herself. As she drifted off to sleep, the brilliant wizardress was
left with one last thought rolling around in her head.
"What if sex is even better...?"
3/01/05 - VGSS
HTML Version 7/14/05
Chapter 2: "The Morning Task"
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Hermione-solo
Summary: Thoughts of the future regarding the fourth
years’ new area of study have affected Hermione more than she
expected – or wants. The composed witch took it for granted that
she’d have to indulge a little more in self-pleasure with such
naughty things soon becoming a part of everyday life, but she never
expected them to affect her so much!
Day dawned lazy and peaceful for Hermione, who had proven so exhausted
from last evening's blissful release that she managed to continue
dozing right through her roommates' boisterous entrance. Presently,
however, both Parvati and Lavender were soundly unconscious – no
doubt sleeping off the sugar rush evident by the remaining cakes and
pastries on their dressers. They probably hadn’t been fresh since
yesterday morning, and would make a pretty awful meal about now. With
her roommates in such a deep slumber, they were likely to snooze right
past breakfast. Hermione made a quick mental note to bring them up some
leftovers. If anything else, she could always do with a few more
cookies and donuts squirreled away on top of her dresser, especially on
the weekend. Students weren't exactly starved as far as Hogwarts meals
went, but it was nice to have something on hand for emergencies, even
junk food. She didn’t like to resort to having junk food too
often, but it did have its moments.
“And you two are always
worrying about your figures…” Hermione whispered deviously
before rolling back into bed again, gazing calmly at the ceiling as she
brought her hands to her belly. Of course, she knew it was kind of
cheating to check up on her curves in this ideal position, but it
wasn’t like that made that much of a difference, anyway. Being
healthy of mind happened to go hand-in-hand with health of body in her
case, and the results were predictably satisfactory.
As the last remnants of slumber’s fog dripped
away from her consciousness, Hermione dragged herself up into a sitting
position, glancing over towards her friends. She had to let out an
amused smile at the sight – which could only pass as innocent in
an all-female dormitory. Once her own body had begun to fill out, a
kind of constant mental guard had suddenly developed to protect her
from boys trying to catch glimpses of places they shouldn’t. What
would they think now, if they saw their classmates safe in their own
room and letting down that precious layer of modesty?
Lavender was the less flagrant of the two, but not
by much. She had thrown the covers off sometime during the night and
now lay on her back with an arm draped across her face to dull the
sun’s slow creep into the room. She had on one of those loose,
revealing tee shirts most teenage girls owned, but wouldn’t dare
be seen wearing even in the common room due to the how easy the low cut
made accidentally flashing your breasts. It was mostly for hanging
around in here on a lazy afternoon, or sometimes for a quick jaunt to
the showers downstairs. Either way, Lavender wasn’t very much
prepared for either at the moment since Hermione saw she was wearing
only panties to go with it. Like all her friend’s underwear, they
were the color of lilacs – no small coincidence given the young
woman’s name.
Parvati, on the other hand, had apparently decided
that covering up at night wasn’t so much of a requirement any
longer. Misses Brown and Granger privately surmised that it most likely
had something to do with the spurt of development that both Patil
sisters had enjoyed over the summer. As Parvati was on her stomach with
the covers slipping down her bare back, only the sides of her
impressive breasts could be seen, though it would still have been more
than enough to vulcanize the attention of any guy who managed to find
their way up here.
Since the girls all knew this was
next to impossible thanks to the enchantments Hogwarts’ founders
had set down for students of the fairer sex, this scene was actually
not all that uncommon for their half of Gryffindor Tower. Hermione
wondered with a brief tingle of excitement if the boys were just as
laid-back on their own side, then immediately gave herself a mental
slap. The first images to pop in her mind had been innocent enough
– Ron and Harry in the room she’d been invited up to a
handful of times since starting school -- but her naughty side had
quickly substituted them in a similar situation as Parvati and
Lavender… she hadn’t been able to help it. Sure, they
probably similar thoughts about her on a regular basis, but she was a
girl, and they were supposed to be more mature.
Stirring in her warm cocoon under the covers, the
studious witch stretched from her toes to fingertips, greeting sunrise
with a slightly embarrassing discovery. Her underwear was inexplicably
damp, more so than could be explained by the humid weather affecting
the generous fluff of pubic hair which could probably use a trim. And
she would definitely have remembered if it were a racy dream, so that
couldn’t be it…
“Oh…” Hermione
whispered aloud, understanding finally dawning on her. “Last
night…”
"Jelly beans..." the fourth-year swore mildly, dipping a hand between her legs to
examine the spot before confirming it was indeed that special kind of
wetness. Heat flushed that part of her body, despite her innocuous
intentions, and before Hermione could wrench her arm away a steady
throbbing was issuing from her feminine cleft.
"Down girl..." she muttered
hastily, amazed at how much stronger and more frequent the impulses
came … ever since that first eye-opening experience only a few
weeks ago. She and the younger Weasleys had been driving gnomes out of
Molly’s garden again (apparently the only chore required to
secure room and board at the Burrow) when the presence of all those
young, sweaty men finally made something click on inside her. The dam
had finally burst for Hermione. So, after patiently waiting for Ginny
to head into the bathroom to get herself ready for bed, she finally
decided to give in to her hormonal urges and let her body take over.
Her hands knew exactly what to do, and after only a few short minutes,
she at last understood what all the fuss regarding orgasm was about.
It was really quite
addicting, but Hermione tried not to overdo it. Still, she supposed
that once more this week wouldn’t hurt, especially given the way
sexual tension had risen across the board for everyone in their year.
She couldn’t be the only one suddenly looking for more time to
herself.
There was no question that taking
charge of things again would be necessary, although it would’ve
been far too risky to simply diddle herself under the covers again now
others were around to notice. That reeked of a flamboyant disregard for
restraint that just wasn't in Hermione’s nature. Besides, fear of
being discovered would surely keep her from finishing, and that would
be worse than doing nothing at all. She needed solitude to fully
satisfy these hormonal urges. Like an unused classroom, or the
library's Restricted Section, or maybe just...
"A shower..." she said quietly as
the excellent idea popped into her head, licking her lips in the
delicious anticipation that lovely word implied. “A nice, hot,
loooong shower…” she repeated silently, her skin literally
quivering with the promise of what it meant she would be doing in the
very near future. Allowing herself a moment’s indiscretion, the
aroused witch rubbed her thighs together, relishing the warm, moist
friction between her legs. “Yes… that will do quite
nicely...”
Resisting the overwhelming urge to take a more
‘hands-on’ approach, Hermione enjoyed the building flame
below her waist for only a short while, knowing she needed just enough
incentive to last until she could make it to the basement. After
grudgingly ceasing the delightful scissoring of her lower limbs, she
checked one last time to make sure her roommates were still fully
asleep, then slipped sideways out of bed to keep the tell-tale scent of
her nocturnal arousal hidden underneath the covers. Though she
didn’t like to think about it, the house elves’ precise
schedule meant her sheets would be off the bed and on their way down to
the laundry before long – likely as soon as the last of them
headed down for breakfast.
The castle's surprisingly-cold
stone licked at Hermione’s adorably bare feet as soon as she
stood up, causing the randy youth to skitter giddily across the floor
to her dresser a few feet away. Turning her back to the other beds, she
quickly pulled her shirt off to proudly show her breasts off to the
indifferent stone wall before peeling off her soaked panties as well.
The damp garment slid sensually down her legs, crumpling in a wet pile
on the floor while the unclothed wizardress halted for a moment –
breathtakingly nude but with no one to appreciate it. Warmth flowed in
Hermione’s moist crotch as a delightful breeze tickled her damp
muff and bare backside, making her realize with a wicked thrill that
she was enjoying exposing herself like this, even if it was only to her
sleeping roommates. McGonagall’s class already seemed to be
having a subtle impact on her…
Moving on, she withdrew a plain-looking nightgown
from the drawers and slipped it on, hoping she didn't run into anyone
on her way down to the showers. It was quite sheer -- more than enough
for a boy to make out the dark triangle between her legs or the twin
projections further up if they looked hard enough, but she didn't want
to use up another set of undergarments until she’d washed up.
Even with Hogwarts’ weekly wash service, you still ran out of
clean underthings sometimes. Besides, no one would be able to see her
if she simply went directly downstairs without stopping off at the
common room. After snatching up a fresh set of clothes under one arm
and her bath bag in the other, Hermione departed without another sound.
Gryffindor House was quiet as ever for a Saturday
morning, the bushy-haired witch catching only a few whispers further up
the stairs from the upperclassmen as she descended the steps. As usual
for this early on a weekend, there were seemingly no younger students
up yet, and the only sound she could detect on the first floor was the
slight crackle of a heat-less show-fire. Since this was one of the last
warm spells for the year, the house elves had opened all the windows to
ventilate the spire one final time before winter set in. The crisp fall
air felt absolutely wonderful and smelled even better, making Hermione
glad for about the millionth time that she hadn’t been relegated
to Slytherin’s lot in the dungeons three years ago...
The excited mage’s spirits were unfortunately
dashed as soon as she made her way down to the facilities at the
tower’s base. The echo of running water indicated that at least
one other girl had gotten the same idea, or was simply choosing a
terribly inconvenient time to bathe. Sighing morosely as her hopes of a
good, long frig under the hot water flickered away, Hermione forced
herself to go on anyway and head into the shower area. It
would’ve looked plain silly if someone saw her turn around…
“What’s wrong?” the other girl would amusedly ask. “Changed your mind?”
“No…” Hermione might reply. “I just wanted to masturbate.”
“Ah, I see…” they might say. “Well, better luck next time!”
Hah. If only people could be that mature about it.
Hermione grumpily plodded on,
passing a row of toilets as she following the L-shaped corridor to the
stalls at its far end. A few times a year, she always had to pause to
fully take in just how large this place really was. It was clearly
augmented by magic, much like their new classroom and the muggle car
Ron and Harry had arrived at school in their second year.
There were nearly enough
showers available for every female in Gryffindor to bathe at the same
time, lined along the walls of the room in a horseshoe pattern. None of
the individual stalls had doors, but they extended far enough in to
provide some measure of privacy as long as someone didn’t pick a
spot next to you and peek on the way in. Hermione could not recall ever
having much more than four or five to accompany her at any one time,
though, and wondered briefly if the boys' side of the Tower was as
spacious. Probably not, given the biased treatment they got regarding
the girls' trick staircase.
As she had feared, one of the showers on the right
side was indeed occupied. Although the unknown girl was hidden behind a
tiled partition, the articles scattered outside suggested they belonged
to Vicky Frobisher. Mumbling obscenities un-ladylike under her breath
in a way spookily reminiscent of Ron, Hermione hung her clothes up out
of the way and hastily disrobed, darting into her preferred stall on
the left side before her fellow housemate finished up. It was more out
of a desire to avoid small talk with the insensitive clod who was going
to leave her cranky and frustrated the rest of the day than worry about
being seen naked. After all, the showers had a much higher degree of
tolerance for nudity compared to the dormitory. Oh, what the boys would
give to see her memories of here caught in a pensieve…
The compartment was a tad on the small side, but
still plenty adequate for its intended purpose. The problem, of course,
was that while she could pretty much conceal herself behind the privacy
wall, someone walking past might still be able to see her flailing
hands at work. Given that Hermione was contemplating performing a very
personal function, the chance of getting caught was just too high to be
worth the risk. As far as she knew, the showers might only get more
crowded the moment she started to diddle herself, forcing an agonizing
flameout that would make her feel worse than if she hadn’t
started in the first place. True, no one could really see her if she
scrunched up in a corner, past the nozzle, but all it would take was a
single unlucky moment for her escapades to become the talk of
Gryffindor – for both the girls and boys. She could already
imagine the snide comments about how miss-know-it-all had finally found
something more important than books, and had to grin at the idea. Well,
it was, wasn’t it?
Huddling as close to the spout as she dared,
Hermione turned the water on and began the short battle to find her
ideal temperature. She was well aware that her butt was poking out from
behind the stone outcropping in this awkward position, but still vastly
preferred it to being doused with the chilly reserve left in the pipes.
After a tense twenty seconds or so, it at last ran out and was replaced
by a comfortable, but still brisk stream that the shivering witch leapt
into without delay. There was no point in raising the water to her
usual preference of ‘bloody scalding’, as several of the
Weasleys jokingly pointed out when she stayed with them. In fact, a
milder setting might actually help her cool off a bit.
Getting to work at once, Hermione
commenced a quick, vigorous scrubbing that would hopefully help her
forget that she wasn’t furiously getting herself off as
she’d originally intended. The disgruntled teenager lathered her
skin up roughly, as if trying to punish her flesh being so damned
childish in its request for attention. Despite every setback, she was
still painfully horny, and it seemed that no matter how much water she
let flow over her throbbing slit, the fire there simply would not be
quenched.
“Fuck…”
Hermione said softly, the uncharacteristic expletive gracefully drowned
out by the invigorating spray. Adolescence was truly doing some
remarkable things to her body, but she completely despised losing
control like this and letting her emotions run away unchecked. The
overwhelming impulse to placate her sex became increasingly more
difficult to resist, for the brilliant witch’s slick mounds and
slippery vee tingled potently with every barest hint of contact with
her hands. She tried using ever-harsher strokes to dull the kindling
sensations, but the urge only resurfaced with increasing intensity.
Groaning in frustration as she felt her rosy nipples harden, begging
for stimulation, Hermione weakly attempted to bend her mind to
something else, seeking the sobering refuge of her love of schoolwork
to calm her down. As she soon found out, however, it was exceedingly
difficult to conjure up any non-erotic mental image in such an excited
state.
Those long hours spent in Moaning
Myrtle's bathroom perfecting Polyjuice Potion? Instantly interrupted by
an almost-forgotten memory of Ron accidentally getting an eyeful her
then-hairless vaginal folds pressing invitingly against the front of
her panties while she naively sat indian-style on the floor. It
hadn’t been his fault she’d been sitting that way, of
course, and even then she understood why he chose not to say anything,
but it had still provoked a customary umbrageous rant on her part.
Harry had smirked uneasily at the two of them, no doubt wishing
he’d been the one in his buddy’s place.
Even recalling the amount of time
Hermione had passed in the common room helping her friends with their
homework wasn’t safe from the intrusion of raunchy thoughts. The
first thing that sprung to mind was an innocuous spring day last term
when Harry had asked her to quickly glance over a History of Magic
study sheet. She had innocently joined him on the couch to read it
– first leaning on his shoulder, then quickly losing herself in
the page as her head slid down into his lap, giving the poor boy a
raging erection that they both noticed in short order. There had been a
rather clumsy silence between the two of them before she could
gracefully extricate herself from the situation by feigning the need
for a certain textbook.
“Goddamn it… can’t you think of
anything else?” Hermione silently chastised herself, fingers
twitching and daring her to make that deft motion between her legs that
would make everything all better. She knew she could force herself to
put aside her reservations and just go ahead if she really wanted, but
that went against everything that was Hermione Granger. The frazzled
teenager’s pride was self-control, which was usually above such
comparatively petty things as her next another orgasm. Someone might be
able to hear her fingers moving back and forth over the din of falling
water. For goodness sake, she wasn’t even sure all girls even did
it the same way! For all she knew, everyone else was prim and daintier
in touching themselves, and she was some sort of depraved pervert by
attacking her genitals like a fiend every time she played with herself.
And what if, during the most important part, she let out a sound
– a moan or grunt that would alert everyone to what she was up
to? Even if she remained completely restrained for the entire act,
there was still a chance that someone might simply mistake her stall
for an empty one and walk in while she was going at it, seeing
everything!
The nerve-wracking stress was
nearly enough to burst a vessel in her brain by now (and not for the
first time in her short life), but then Hermione heard what was perhaps
the sweetest sound in her life thus far. A high-pitched, metallic whine
drifted it from across the way, and she immediately identified it as
the sound of someone turning the water off. “Thank
Merlin…” she rasped quietly, irresistible excitement
bubbling up inside. The sorceress’ heart quickened... fate had
given her a reprieve. Grinning eagerly, she cranked the heat up as far
as she could stand.
It took forever for Vicky to
gather up her things and leave, but the glorious sound of a sandals
loudly making their way back up the stairs was well worth it. Able to
take no more, Hermione completely gave in to her own depravity.
Throwing herself up against the partition, she shuddered from the
effort it had taken to restrain herself so far, saving the moment
before that first electric jolt with a sadistic relishing. The ravenous
sorceress could only stand there glassy-eyed as the shower's gentle
spray massaged the front of her body, pussy aching as she entwined two
fingers in the generous swirl of her pubic hair above before sinking
them between that lovely valley. Some small part of her wanted to cry
out in delirious joy from the sensation, letting the whole castle know
how good it felt, but willpower miraculously prevailed, and Hermione
settled for gasping, stilted gasps of relieved satisfaction.
Her soft behind mashed slowly against wet tile,
forced into motion as she rocked her hips gently against the lovely
friction provided by her caring hand. Further up, her shoulder blades
roughly scraped the cool stone as the entranced girl helplessly arched
her back in a meager compromise to the tide of blissful feelings.
Hermione’s whole body was slowly setting into the oft-repeated
exercise – her vacant eyes drifting shut, delectable mouth gaping
open, and both feet clenched together tightly until she was standing on
tiptoe, heels propped against the wall for support.
The novice wizardress normally cavorted with
gorgeous, impossibly well-chiseled hunks in her sexual fantasies,
usually representing a random upperclassmen from one of the other
houses – sometimes even Slytherin, if she was feeling
particularly perverted that day. It allowed her to indulge in harmless
illusions of the cheap, slutty hookups the older Gryffindors talked so
fondly of… something that actually had some appeal to her deep
down, though she’d never admit it. The idea of two people being
able to bump hips and take care of a mutual need, then part amicably
– it seemed so perfectly simple sometimes…
And it could be. At least for now. This was, after all, her fantasy.
Like usual, Hermione made sure her
phantom mate was a perfect gentleman regarding foreplay. Shifting
slightly until the water was hitting her breasts, she was almost able
to feel the pair of strong hands gingerly cupping her soft orbs. It was
harder to conceive what it would be like to have a man’s hand
pressing into that sensitive cleft below her waist, but she did her
best, pretending that the fingers thrashing down there were being
helped and augmented by another set that knew exactly how to incendio
her womanly flame…
This time, however, Hermione found
it very difficult to conceptualize even the broadest features of this
imaginary partner, a task she’d never had problem with before.
Something in the back of her mind kept suggesting someone who was
taller than her usual pseudo-lover… almost… gangly. It
was a little disconcerting, but she couldn’t quite put her finger
on why that was, because another strange impulse was bothering her as
well – a curious insistence that he suddenly have a mop of
tangled, reddish hair. But that could only mean…
“Jeez, I’m going
crazy…” she realized dreamily, not daring to stop shoving
those two slender digits sliding through her lubricated crack despite
the realization of who she was thinking about. Hermione was dead-set on
coming her pretty little brains out first. She could pine and fret and
worry about what this confusing omen meant afterwards. Right now,
pleasure came first.
The disoriented witch focused all her efforts back
to self-gratification, rewarded with a sudden, overwhelmingly smutty
desire to curl her fingers up at the end of their magnificent path,
allowing one to playfully poke between her nether lips. Up until her
fairly recent discovery of the magic of climaxing, the only time
she’d dared insert a slender digit in her womanhood was during
the perfunctory exploration of her fragile sex at the beginning of
puberty – which came to a screeching halt the second she detected
that all-important barrier inside her. It could have been so easily
been punctured then in an unfortunate moment of curiosity, and the
notion had scared Hermione from trying it for years afterwards.
She had thought about tempting
chance again, though, now that she was older and more experienced with
how everything worked down there. The potent urge had been steadily
gnawing away at the bushy-haired witch with alarming frequency of late,
and she had already given in on one occasion since returning to
Hogwarts. Rubbing the outside of her vagina certainly felt good, but it
couldn’t possibly compare to the dizzying sensation of her inner
walls actually squeezing something solid and potent before she pulled
out with a pang of regret. Hermione was pretty certain that her cherry
would be gone at the end of her fourth year. If not due to a boy, then
by her own hand.
Imagining the grateful face of her first love
knowing she was giving that priceless gift to him and no other was the
only thing that stayed her hand, although she did slip a finger into
her warm depths just a tiny bit to whet her desire. The eerily familiar
male in her fantasy adapted to her thoughts, placing his hands on the
wall behind her so he could move on to the act of penetration. Hermione
often wondered what the real thing would feel like, teasing herself
with the knowledge that her imagination couldn’t even come close
to it, then sadly resigned herself to sensibly jacking her hand back
and forth across that tender swath between her legs. There was no point
in potentially ruining a good, explosive release with a crash of pain.
Not when it was just getting good...
The world around Hermione had
dropped quietly away while she did her thing, replaced by a tenuous,
hazy force-field holding back reality through the sheer, adamant will
of her own sexual drive. Flesh met flesh, guided by a thin sheen of
water as each part swelled longingly against the other in scarcely
contained anticipation of the age-old practice. She was forced to
stifle groans of contentment as they tried to escape her throat in
announcement how happy she was at the moment. Only by gritting her
teeth firmly and forcing the sound to break upon her lips could
Hermione somehow manage to keep her excitement muffled by the shower's
ambient roar. The measure wouldn't mask her actions for long, however,
so ere the horny wizardress could slip and let out a tell-tale rasp of
passion that would herald her glee to anyone on the stairway, she
deftly flicked her thumb across that delightful spot which could stand
stimulus only in the throes of utter passion.
Hermione's resulting orgasm was utterly beautiful,
producing the most precious expression ever on her face as she came. As
soon as the energetic youth’s clumsy finger brushed that tiny
nub, her entire lower body start convulsing in spasms of ecstatic
bliss. The climaxing witch’s cute toes curled helplessly along
with her slender calves, which tensed forcefully in proof of the
torrential sensations engulfing her body. Hermione’s inner thighs
jiggled seductively from the astounding speed of an anxious hand
blazing through her crotch, and the moaning girl’s vaginal
passage couldn’t resist contracting feebly around nothing,
yearning desperately for something hard to squeeze and caress. Hermione
dimly sensed herself peeling away from the wall as her hips
instinctively sought out hardness she was imagining there, but she was
far too gone to do halt her declining sense of coordination.
Her buttocks slapped wetly against the stone as she
tried to control herself, resulting in an amusing fight against the
imminent failure. Passion had gripped Hermione fully, and she let out
louder groans now in spite of her surroundings. Wetness that was not
water began coating the exhilarated witch’s fingers as jolts of
pleasure rocketed up her back and across her chest, helped by the
presence of a hand which had surreptitiously wandered upwards to
gleefully mash her breasts together. Just when Hermione thought she
would end up fainting from the pleasure, the bright lights in her head
flickered brilliantly one final time, then slowly began to dim.
Panting breathlessly, she gently slid to the floor,
cradling her inflamed womanhood the whole way down.
“Unnhh…” she panted breathlessly, gasping for air.
“Yessss…”
*******************
Draco Malfoy was in total
agreement, and would have gladly offered to help her solve the dilemma
of her virginity earlier had doing so not required him to break his
cover. It had taken weeks of painstaking effort (and not a little bit
of luck) to discover a way into Gryffindor Tower that not only bypassed
that painted hag's enchantment, but also led to this lucky find. Such a
once-in-a-lifetime gift wasn’t to be thrown away on a mere barb
at the mudblood, regardless of how riotous it would be to see her
shriek and dash away.
Most wizards at Hogwarts naturally
assumed that the same barrier that kept meddlesome students from simply
flying through the window of another house extended around the entire
complex. Of those who knew better, Draco was still the only one to
actually prove it in a generation. He was rather proud to think
he’d discovered a secret of Hogwarts long since lost, maybe as
far hence as its legendary founders. For one of them to have
purposefully built a functional, but totally unnecessary maintenance
tunnel around the girls' showers was pure audacity. It could only have
been clever Salazar, his work foiling muggle-born interlopers all these
years later.
"Come on Granger..." he had said
quietly in the darkness, robes cast aside so he could jerk himself off
while watching her through a minute crack in the wall. "Hurry it up
already..."
It was sheer luck that Draco had
spotted her at all in the first place. There was plenty of preparation
required in getting here, since he had to first use one of Slytherin's
passwords in a rather public corridor. Finding it deserted was a true
test in patience, although once inside, the second hidden passage could
be traversed easily, as long as you knew what to do. Oddly enough,
Malfoy had discovered this secret-within-a-secret purely by accident,
while its larger tributary remained common knowledge in his House. He
still hadn’t decided yet whether to keep the knowledge to
himself, or share it with his friends and risk the staff finding out.
One of the few times he could be
sure of access was early in the morning, although that carried the
unfortunate downside of the showers being deserted most of the time.
Draco first spotted that blob Frobisher, and seeing her shamelessly
pawing herself had nearly killed his hardon. Still, he would have been
willing to make do he couldn’t find anyone else. Some pre-teen he
didn't recognize was tentatively stepping into another stall, but that
certainly didn’t do it for him. Kiddies were for scaring, not
wanking.
He casually moved on, only to spy
Hermione performing her most private act – something he thought
would have taken all year to chance across, given the way she came off
so prissy and demure. The insufferable cunt was so fucking haughty that
proving she was just like everyone else when it came down to the basics
was even more satisfying than he thought it would be. And, topping it
off, the bitch put on a great show to boot! She humped back and forth
between the wall and her hand like an animal, facial features scrunched
up in a grimace of epic concentration broken only by shudders of
excruciating delight when her shaky wrist bumped against her clit.
"Right, finish my show..." he had
demanded in a rough whisper, speeding things up as Hermione started to
convulse and spasm. Darkly, he wished the peephole was bigger to he
could blast his load clear through and all over her scrunched-up face,
but that would surely mean an end to these private exhibitions. There
was something compelling about watching your enemy at their most
vulnerable… it was terribly hypnotic. He couldn't stand to be in
the same room as this despicable blood traitor for long, yet she was
easily making his prick harder than he could ever remember. "If that's
not fuck all..." he mused sullenly.
Malfoy’s seed shot out in
thick, impressive bursts, surprising and worrying in their
uncomfortable intensity. As the greasy fluid joined countless other
ancient deposits, Hermione had an orgasm along with her unnoticed
witness, fiercely chafing her womanhood with an amazing lack of
restraint. She thrust her crotch unwittingly towards him in a
mesmerizing display, mouth quivering in words he couldn't make out, but
forced conjecture of anyway. The result was stomach-churning cognition
that shattered him worse than any of his father's punishments ever
could. Confused and betrayed, Draco groaned and hurriedly stuffed his
dripping member back in his pants, emotions reeling as he stumbled his
way back out the tunnel.
*******************
Sitting on the shower floor, motionless after
collapsing from the effort of her torrential climax, Hermione was
perilously close to zoning out and letting the way her head was resting
against the cool wall carry her away with the sandman. Though she'd
slept much longer than usual, even for a weekend, masturbating twice in
a day’s time had utterly drained her. She wasn’t used to
pushing her body like this before. Obliged to ask herself it was
possible to actually pass out from coming that hard, the exhausted
witch was forced to realize that the answer was affirmative.
Hermione was astonished at the force of her vastly
untapped sex drive, which had snatched a normal girl up in its powerful
maw, tossed her about like a rag doll, then left the fragile adolescent
shivering in blessed agony. The first idea to pop into her mind was an
infantile plea to do it again, but after focusing on the throbbing
distress still pulsing within her vagina, though, Hermione swiftly
concluded that after the way she'd abused herself, her tender privates
would strongly protest even relaxing to pee at this point, much less
submitting to further strenuous manipulation.
The butterbeer from last night combined with having
just stirred her internal organs in a tempest of frenzied activity
begged to disagree, however. Almost as soon as she staggered to her
knees, an insistent pressure appeared behind her abdomen, much too
strong to be worth holding in until she was done washing. “This
is so disgusting…” she thought, a hot blush rising in her
cheeks as she grudgingly positioned herself spread-legged over the
drain and let her water flow. Hermione’s sore pussy thankfully
didn’t object too much, and after the degrading necessity was
finished, she slowly got back on her feet.
The groggy haze clouding her mind has almost cleared
when an odd grunt and thump echoed dully nearby. Her skin had been
numbed by the shower’s spray a good deal by now, yet the agile
sorceress still managed to snap to attention at the warbled sound,
trying to determine it’s true location. Guided by instinct, she
hastily grabbed the soap and tried to pretend as if she hadn't just
been rubbing her slit raw, in case someone else was outside.
By the time Hermione had calmed down a bit and gone
over her body again (washing her hair would have to wait until later),
she had just about decided that the sound had been in her head. After
shutting off the water and stepping out of her stall, she headed for a
table in the center of the room where house-elves magicked up fresh
towels. To her great surprise, another girl (Natalie McDonald, a first
year) had indeed arrived undetected. Had she not just crashed naked to
the ground for some strange reason, the busy fourth-year would have not
known about her company at all.
To say that she was terrified would have been an
understatement. The discovery stopped Hermione dead in her tracks, and
she instantly tried to gauge Natalie’s flushed face for signs of
embarrassment at having overheard a classmate in the heat of desire.
But, as the tiny girl immediately turned an even brighter red and tried
to hide her undeveloped figure as she rose and hurriedly stacked the
fallen towels back in place. “Slipped on my way in…”
she said nervously, slinking away as soon as she was done.
Hermione let herself breathe easy again. It was only
a case of a newcomer to Hogwarts being a little self-conscious about
the communal showers and doing something goofy. All of them had been
like that in the beginning. You got used to it, eventually.
The younger witch kept sneaking peeks at her
progenitor out the corner of her eye while adjusting the water,
obviously fascinated by proof of what would soon start happening to her
own body in the near future. It was amusingly obvious, but Hermione
didn't say anything. Although somewhat disappointed at no longer
leading the fourth-years in the breast department thanks to Parvati,
she still rather enjoyed the attention a little bit. Girls were always
so petty and envious of each other's development, regardless of how
generous nature had been to them. Boys, of course, were even worse
– hanging like vultures on every tiny flash of underwear or boob
slip that happened as a matter of course with such juvenile tenacity.
It was so much better for her femininity to be admired rather than
exploited for once, even in jealousy.
Since her exposed naughty bits
were no doubt curiously puffy and much rosier than usual, Hermione
decided to glide over to the towels and cover herself up without
further delay. She knew she was breathing noticeably harder than usual
for a simple bathing visit, but hoped Natalie was too naïve to
understand things like that yet. The two of them just smiled curtly and
acted like nothing was amiss in the slightest before going about their
separate business. After dressing quickly, Hermione deposited the rest
of her stuff upstairs and then headed back to the common room. The day
was looking peachy so far, and it wasn’t even breakfast yet. Even
the Fat Lady was in reasonably good spirits, only opening a careful eye
to see who had passed while she continued to pretend snoozing.
**************************************************************************************
Author's Corner:
Looking back, I think the first half is perhaps too
long and should have been a separate, short story, but once I had begun
I didn't really want to cordon it off into a separate file to get
forgotten about. So, I plodded on. In the future, though, I’ll
try to keep it focused more on the classroom exercises. It’s just
that the schedule I’ve devised is very slow going, so there
won’t be much action for a few chapters yet. I needed to throw
some smut in, you see :)
As for the schedule itself, I’ll post it on my
website so you can get an idea of where this story is headed. Since
they won’t be getting into the sex for a bit longer, I felt a
little action up-front was required, and that only left Hermione
getting herself off. From now on, I’ll try to cover 2 or 3
lessons (depending on their subjects) a chapter. The next one is
already finished (was planning on that being part of this, until I
realized how long this scene was) and three is also started.
Fun fact: when Hermione recalls Ron getting an view
of her panties while making Polyjuice potion, that's from a most
excellent photoshop of a Chamber of Secrets promotional still. I highly
recommend hanging around 4chan until someone eventually reposts it :)
Please don’t ask me for a copy, since I’m understandably
hesitant to email even fake pictures of underage girls.
And yes, I just noticed that I have Gryffindor going
up to the same classroom every week while their classmates rotate (with
presumably different teachers). Oops :) I thought about writing in a
fix, but it would just take too much extra brainstorming on what I've
got in my head and a while longer to fix up the first two chapters. I'm
kinda attached to this lone classroom all by itself :)
The part from Draco's
point-of-view is one of my few forays into angst, which I steer very
clear from when reading other fanfiction. It surmises my thoughts on
the Draco/Hermione ship rather well, I think. Yes, he's caught between
two words. Hermione obviously attracts him on a subconscious level,
though whether or not he recognizes this as what it is and merely hides
behind taunts or does not know is up for debate -- the books are
written from Harry's perspective. In this story, he discovers with
alarm what he really thinks of her and it disgusts him, mostly because
every fiber his his upbringing tells him it should.
Even if he hadn't been aligned
with the death eaters, though, it would never have worked. The fact
that he seems helpless to see past what he was nutured on when many
other wizards (good and bad) have switched sides based on their
beleives means he could never be strong enough of conviction to appeal
to Hermione. (above was written before HBP, and confirmed now by his
inability to become a full-fledged death eater by killing Dumbledore).
These are the only plausible ways
I can think of for a pairing of unequal stature: Forced (Yuna/Seymour,
hard to do without rape, blackmail, or coersion), Supported (Ayla/Kino,
Hermione isn’t the type for domination OR subservience), and Pity
(George/Lorraine McFly, but I don’t really find that appealing)
This is the first story I’m
submitting in HTML format, due to the endless waste of time it took to
rewrite lines so they looked nice against the right side of the page.
I’ve actually converted and begun a lot of stories since decided
to change over, but as I haven’t finished anything in about four
months, well… let’s just say I’m real happy
I’ve finally knocked another one down. In addition, I’ve
also changed the amount of stars used to indicate a scene-change along
with my transition. It’s nineteen, for those of you who are Dark
Tower fans :)
Next up: a
continuation of my "Mayhem at the Burrow" series thanks to a helpful
reader's ideas.
Begun: 3/12/05
Finished: 7/21/05
Total Editing Time > 53 hours
Please feel free to repost this story.
More stories at http://www1.asstr.org/~vgss/index.html
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Email questions, comments, and suggestions to vgss@email.com