Harry Potter - The Trial of Fire

Movie Guy's Sex Stories


Volume 10:  Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - The Trial of
Fire


      
       
    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 wanted. The composed witch took it for


      
       
    granted that she’d have to indulge a
little more in self-gratification with such adult


       
       
   things soon becoming a part of her
everyday life, but she never expected them to


       
       
   affect her so much!




       
Day dawned calm 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..." she 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’d 
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.




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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.

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Email questions, comments, and suggestions to vgss@email.com

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