Chapter Text
"Granger asked McLaggen out to Slughorn's dinner."
"Are she and Potter on the outs?"
"I hear he's shagging Daphne Greengrass now. He must have cheated on her."
"I'm not surprised. She was never pretty enough for him anyway."
"You're mental. Have you even looked at her this year? She's one of the prettiest girls in school now. Don't ask me how, but Potter's a moron if he cheated on her."
"So go date her then if you think she's so pretty."
"I just might. I bet I can string along that bookworm and make her do all kinds of things she thinks are 'against the rules'."
Hermione sat in class and did her best to ignore the chatter of gossiping Slytherins behind her. She was stuck overhearing the talk while focusing on just dealing with joint potions class with the Slytherins, off in the back by herself. Up front, Harry was sandwiched between Lavender and Daphne, both girls utterly shameless about sucking up alongside Harry now that Hermione wasn't glued to his arm. At least, that was how Hermione read it, sitting there and trying hard not to look over to them and really let the reality of this get to her. She was embarrassed as could be, having fled to the Room of Requirement to sleep the night before given that even if she didn't bring Harry up to the dorm room, Lavender would have. It would have been the same thing, and she wanted to stick away from it.
So much for making him jealous.
"Can I sit next to you?" Neville asked, sidling up beside Hermione.
"Sure, of course," Hermione said, looking up from the table and from her thoughts. "I don't have any notes to share this time, though."
"That's fine." Neville dropped down into his seat, and he immediately proved himself deeply unsubtle in terms of looking right down at her tit*. Blatantly. Shamelessly. His eyes fell onto her chest and didn’t leave it, and Hermione's eyes widened with a lot of weird feelings. Neville never looked at Hermione like this before. She was sure underneath all of his caring personality that he liked to look at girls, sure, but she had never perceived it, because she was not the kind of girl who Neville would look at. Until now, evidently. Until she was right there suddenly facing down the surprise of his gaze and the intent behind it. Until she was facing down the utter shock of a boy looking at her like this. A normal boy too, not some smirking prick who wanted some fresh hole. Neville. Neville! She shifted a little bit in discomfort, wondering what to do and how to feel.
Was it a compliment? A good thing. It was a boy she considered a friend leering at her tit* the second he saw what he thought might have been an opening. Or maybe he'd just never done it because Harry would have seen. Maybe she would have been gawked before, or had been and didn’t notice it because she was so focused on other things like Harry or how girls looked at him instead. But she was being ogled. Appreciated. For a girl like Hermione who had grown up ashamed of her hair and her teeth and her face and her body, there was something oddly reassuring here. Was she pretty now? Was the guy behind her who made that gross comment about her really attracted to her? It was a lot to have to think about, but Hermione was trying to become less good at thinking. Less uptight. Looser in her morals. Looser in her' standards' and her idea of decency. So maybe being looked at like a piece of meat didn't need to be a bad thing.
It was conflicting. Complicated. While she tried to sort out how she felt, a much more surprising arrival made her even more confused and frustrated, because Ron slipped into the other chair beside her still. "Hey," he said. Like it was nothing. Like it was normal.
Hermione scoffed and sighed and opened up her book, and did what she could to try and avoid facing any of this. She did not have a good way to handle the arrival of Ron trying to prod back in. His pull away had felt very pointed, and at best, he believed her and Harry's relationship was the obstacle and therefore it being in danger meant he was 'safe' to come be friendly again. It put a damper onto everything else and left her burning in frustration. But not as much as peering over to Harry again and seeing Daphne all but hanging off of his arm, asking for help.
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Hermione was used to withdrawal symptoms. The potent potions she threw around had some nasty side effects at times. Wit sharpening potions that dumbed her down into a deep brain fog were the worst of it, but even some of her day to day potions for her lips and her hair had bothersome effects if she didn't keep them up. But worse than all of those were the nagging pulls she felt in the absence of Harry. They weren't joined at the hip, but since she left her parents' house that summer, she hadn't spent a single night in a bed other than whichever one he was in. She couldn't remember the last time they went an entire day without kissing. She hadn't gone more than eight hours without so much as him fingerf*cking her, let alone bouncing her on his huge co*ck and making her fall to pieces.
The real addiction was Harry, and lacking him left her frustrated and all fogged up. She fumbled through potions class feeling worse than she usually did about the subject, and then threw herself on through the rest of the day while doing anything she could not to fully unravel over the ways she wasn't getting what she wanted. There was just no good way to approach all the realities buzzing around her; she was out of her mind while being so deeply entrenched in her own thoughts that she thought the voice in her head was a real voice.
"Granger wasn't good enough for Harry anyway; now that they broke up, do you think I have a chance with him?"
Hermione had to plug her ears up to not hear two girls go on with more gossip. 'They broke up'. There was no breakup! They were having a fight. They were fighting and she asked a guy out to make him mad, and the whole school had f*cking heard about it and thrown around a whole bunch of insane ideas and frustrations. It was an absolute nightmare for Hermione. The whole school was going to think so many insane things of her and start a plethora of rumours over all of this.
But she was resolved to let it happen. The bad girl. The unashamed and completely committed bad girl ready to finally be whatever she had to be. She was going to need to own it. She was a hot, rule breaking girl who had asked out a guy solely to piss off her boyfriend, and the reputation she earned from that was as inevitable as it was clearly deserved. She was going to need to stand by it, need to commit to it, because if she didn't, if she showed weakness or tried to fight it, then she'd only become prey. Helplessly stuck fighting for herself against these catty bitches and self-obsessed guys who wanted in her pants. Having Daphne and lavender by her side always helped a lot there; she had Daphne, the more cunning and ruthless girl who knew how to lay some threats down, and Lavender, who was too sweet to hate.
They were with Harry, filling the void she left, and she wanted to say that her shoes were so big that it took two girls to fill them, but she also knew that she couldn’t' fill their bras, and that had been what got her in to so much of this mess to begin with.
It was hard not to let her mind wander onto salacious little doom fantasies about Harry f*cking the brains out of their two other girlfriends all last night and not even missing her. It was a struggle she was sensible enough to try and fight back against, but it hung over her a bit too demandingly, looming there as something constantly worrying her, constantly leaving her trapped in the deep uncertainty of wondering if she was really going to be okay. She didn't like her odds, and didn't like just how ready Daph and Lav were to sidle up beside Harry and go for it.
Betrayal wasn’t the right way to see it. She'd brought them into her and Harry's relationship and she didn't feel like they had used her to get to Harry. Not with how ready they were to kiss her and f*ck her and eat her out. But there was absolutely no denying that by crossing the line and asking out Cormac for reasons that she knew were stupid and petty and selfish, she ceded any sort of girl code right to moral support. Hermione was adamantly the bad guy who escalated everything here, and she couldn't get away from that. Regardless of what happened that night and how the Slug Club party went, Hermione had made a dumb decision.
But one she stuck by. It was all she had. The pettiness was justified, and if anything, stopping now, running back to Harry and begging for his arm that night and telling Cormac to f*ck off would be to admit defeat. She made that decision to piss Harry off. TO make him feel some of the sorts of emotions that she had to wrestle with. He was mad about how she was acting and what she'd given up directly to become more desirable for him? She'd make him feel what it was like to have the girl he loved most on some other guy's arm. She’d fill him with jealousy and complex, possessive feelings he didn't like. She'd make him seethe with a territorial need to claim her and to make sure that she never had eyes for nay other boy. Once upon a time, Hermione was the plain girl nobody wanted, so Harry loving her for her mind meant he was 'safe'. Now, she was gorgeous, grown into her frame, too attractive to not turn some heads. Now, she was desirable, and Harry needed that reality check.
She'd make him angry. Make him possessive. Make him see that Hermione's body might have been for his benefit, but there were other men who were finally coming around to wanting her, and he needed to appreciate her. Needed to love her. He'd apologize and he'd f*ck her stupid and the make-up sex would be utterly incredible. It would make whatever he got to do in marshmallow perfection titf*ck city with Daphne and Lavender the night before feel paltry. Having all of these ideas build up their lofty momentum in her head only further cemented that this was the right path, a plan as certain and as sharp as she was able to find. Hermione would make him ache for her, and even with Daphne on his arm, he'd feel incomplete. He'd wish it was her instead. He'd affirm that she was better than Daphne. She'd win.
Once classes were done, she renewed her resolve by hiding out in the bathroom so she could get herself ready. The last thing she wanted to do was actually spend time with McLaggen, having ducked him all day so far and being committed to doing it for longer. As long as it took. As long as she had to so that she didn't lose all hope to that grim fate. She had to fix her hair, had t do her make-up, had to make sure she looked perfect.
****************************************
"You're unstoppable today!"
Lavender had gone right from the classroom to the dorm room, and she was in for a hell of a time. Harry had one hand on her ass and the other on her back, holding her up in his arms while leaned forward, not quite bouncing her on his co*ck but instead keeping her body lifted up in his arms so he could drill into her, the bed looming just below her but perilously and carelessly out of reach thanks to his display of power. He fought gravity just to f*ck her more intensely, a show of aggression and pent-up spectacle that had Lavender utterly lost to this pleasure, taking on his co*ck and all the wild slams behind it.
"Keep f*cking me. Keep... Oh f*ck. Oh f*ck, it's so much. You're like an animal." Lavender thought she had a good handle on Harry and how he acted. His sexual habits seemed easy enough to figure out and understand. But this was a roughness she wasn't prepared for, an intensity that rattled her a little bit through the sheer force of aggression he was so happy to push on with. it made her feel confused and hazy, made her sink into dramatic and deep bliss while she gave up so much to him, faltering harder and knowing she had no good sense of direction to ground herself. Lavender had to just take him on, had to receive his most reckless attentions and melt under the wild satisfaction of being so truly, wholly owned by Harry and his co*ck. It was an incredible feeling to give in to, the rapture of losing herself to this.
She didn't want to say out loud that this was over Hermione, but she f*cking knew it was over Hermione. Harry didn't have Hermione to f*ck last night, and he put both Lav and Daph through the wringer instead; it felt like something was missing in her absence, compounded by him being extra frustrated and extra forceful. He f*cked both senseless, and it was a miracle Lavender's legs worked when she woke up that morning. She was worn down utterly, but after class, Harry proved he was insatiably right back at it, ruthlessly claiming her with mad thrusts and an almost brutal speed forward, a pace that seemed utterly out of line, but which she felt like she just had to do her best with. So she gasped and squealed her way through getting f*cked senseless. Hermione was off somewhere. Daphne was dolling up for the party. Lavender didn't mind not being the one asked in Hermione's stead, because the Slug Club seemed like a dreadfully boring night, and she was happy to get reamed instead of having to keep pristine for the dinner.
Harry didn’t want to admit that this was over Hermione; it wasn’t fair to Lavender if he was just f*cking her senseless because he was mad about another girl. But it was hard to overlook in the midst of him putting her through something so grand and so strong, a big, flaunting show of his power and his aggression, a dominance that continued to wear her down and send Lavender spiraling into shrill, panicked bliss. It was insanity, bunt it was the kind of insanity that Harry felt powerful indulging in, something to fall further into revelry and excitement over while he reamed this hot blonde and put her through her paces. His muscular body was all tensed up to keep her up off of the bed while he used her, moving with the sort of power and control that no girl could have ever possibly turned down.
Especially not for some grinning, smug dickhe*d like McLaggen.
"Your co*ck is the best," Lavender said, her moans getting even more erratic and her hopeless joys feeding the deeper indulgence. She took it. She was a champ. The emotional buffer for Hermione. The physical buffer for Daphne. Lavender's place here was indispensable, and she knew he wasn't trying to just f*ck her like a surrogate Hermione but without her to take on so much of his attention, he was extra pent up and extra frustrated. Even a layer beyond how his libido had become so much that Hermione needed to bring in other girls to begin with, something about him was just an unstoppable storm of feral desire, of aggressions and hungers pushing him to the limit and then well past it still. She just did her best to handle it. That was what she was here for, and as she howled out through these sloppy and reckless delights, it just felt like what she needed.
"You feel great," groaned Harry, leaning over the bed, one leg up on it to ground her a bit more while he continued to flaunt the kind of power that he didn’t even need to make Lavender swoon over him. The fact he then showed off what eh could do on top of that only made it more intriguing, fascinating her with the sheer aggression and the scope of deeper, wilder hunger that came on so strongly. With his smile looming over her and his hands holding her body up, it he made her feel not like the extra girlfriend or the rebound hook-up. He made her feel loved on his own, and as she tried to push Hermione's absence out of mind, she realized how much he wasn't compensating for something in doing so; he really did want her to feel this way, really did care.
f*ck, no wonder Hermione did everything she did for him. Lavender was in love, too.
"Cum in me," she pleaded. "But put me down on the bed. Kiss me. Wrap your arms around me. I want you to be strong, but I also want you to protect me." She didn't think it would work; Lavender was shoved down against the mattress, his body coming down hard upon her. Harry never disappointed when it came to f*cking her, but this was definitely a wide step over the expectations she was ready for, hunger taking her down deep into this bliss. He held her down, arms coming around her, his lips finding hers; it was a dream. It made Lavender feel downright incredible while he thrust down faster into her, freed up to f*ck her a bit wilder now that he wasn't trying to hold her upright, and had the mattress to bounce her back up against him. It tore her thoughts apart with joy and sent her crashing into the deep end of a mad bliss she couldn’t ignore, howling out in satisfaction for Harry's co*ck as he finished her off right.
Her climax was noisy, brush, wild, and it dragged her into the throes of senseless satisfaction too steep to make sense of. Her body was ready to give in, and she was happy to fall to pieces for him, embracing this intoxicating hunger and letting the pleasure invite her to need to unravel. She was so hungry, so ready, so needy, and she just couldn't make it slow down now. To fall apart was incredible, the pleasure ripping across her, forcing her to give in with unreal desperation and desire now. His co*ck fired off inside of her, filling her up, pushing her to the wild joy of giving in. It was a mad breaking point, a swell of unreason and desire that hit her just right. giving in to this molten bliss brought her something incredible, the intense and unquestioning joy of giving up to these satisfactions. Daphne reveled in the plunge she fell victim to, moaning and howling in drunken joy, letting him use her thoroughly in the face of welcome bliss, pushed to a state of obsessive and erratic joy now. She loved it. All of it.
Harry groaned and ground down against her in that way that Lavender learned meant he wasn't done yet. Lavender twisted in hazy satisfaction, gleefully ready for more, giving in to the pleasure and possibilities. "Mm, more?" she asked with a hungry rumble, the dizzy need and urgency keeping her wanting more. Being happily powerless left her shivering with desire, ready to be taken and conquered harder, melting under the mad, wide-eyed devotion and desire compelling her down now. Lavender happily guided him to lie on his back, and she sank down, almost entranced by his dominance as she squirmed down along his body and advanced upon what she knew he wanted.
"Normally, when you pull out of me, someone else is there to clean your co*ck off. But I get to do it myself this time." Lavender licked her lips and planted a kiss onto his jaw. Then she squirmed down, wriggling along his body with more kisses, praising his muscular chest, feeling all that strength that let him do what it had. "Stay hard for me, okay?"
"That won't be a problem."
Lavender hummed to herself on her way down to his shaft, and her tongue found its chance to wrap around his length, dragging upward with her head co*cked to the side. The taste of her freshly f*cked c*nt all over his co*ck had her elated, and she was happy to have his undivided attention, to be there to tend to all of his pent-up agonies and needs. It was a chance to really lose himself, to melt into moaning adoration and fixation now. She felt so good, felt so ready to make him give in to this, and she pursued it without a shred of calm or worry now, carelessly seeking to make him melt for her. Lavender would make the most of this, and would have all the fun she could with him.
So her tongue licked all along his co*ck, praising it with her tongue in wild motions sweeping carelessly and hungrily forward, melting into the opportunities and attentions she knew were the key to making this pleasure work out in her favour. Desperately focused on his satisfaction above all else, she let her tongue praise along his co*ck, let the sweetness and desire invite her deeper into this. She felt hungry, needy, ready to throw herself into possibility, and that meant savouring harder along his co*ck, melting into the sweetness of desire, losing herself deeper and deeper to obsession and fascination while she went. This felt so perfect, a joyful burn of throbbing hunger and feverish urgency, the pleading invitation that she took down deeper. Her tongue worked along his impressive co*ck, adoring hit every which way, panting it with her love and her spit while cleaning off the tastes of her own sex.
"f*ck, that's perfect," Harry said. Hardly a special thing to hear him groan, but she welcomed it; the first path to making him feel especially good was to make him feel normal sorts of good. Lavender continued to tongue bathe his co*ck, holding firm and giving him her most reverent attention. She'd learned to worship his co*ck right, and pushed on now boldly to keep up that pace, proving herself with sweetly dizzy and intoxicated fever, loving the pleasure growing inside of her and needing to feel out the depths of its hottest pleasures. She was ready to offer him all he wanted, and threw herself right into the mad storm of deeper indulgence an obsessive and shameless bliss she was committed to harder. The pleasure kept her urged forward, sloppy and obsessed and finding it impossible to contain herself or behave.
It said a lot about how much she adored Hermione that she didn't go bragging on and asking if she was the 'better bimbo' after all. She wasn't angry at Hermione, wasn't trying to dive in and take advantage of her absence to make Harry love her instead. She adored Hermione just as strongly. This only proved it to her, because she had the clearest, simplest chance in the world to stage her coup. She didn't. She focused on his co*ck and on the ways tings had played out, wanting to go back to normal more than she wanted to change things and become his 'main' or 'only' girl.
Even though she was sure Hermione was terrified of that exact thing.
Fighting to not get bogged down by thoughts of the fight again, Lavender took the huge co*ck into her mouth and sucked down in a fit of wilder indulgence, desiring the pleasure and chaos she needed to give up to, setting the stage for deeper pleasure and madness while giving in to all these mad desires. She knew what she had to do and how desperately these pleasures burned through her, and she was fully committed to giving in with sloppy joy to all these pleasures, feeding hotter satisfaction while she praised his co*ck all over, letting the storm of sloppy and reckless obsession guide her down into this. Submission had never felt better, and she was eager only to keep chasing it. With her mouth open wide and full of his big dick, she was able to push for the deeper satisfaction and passion to have to succumb to.
Bobbing her head up and down his co*ck, Lavender savoured the hunger building within her, a throbbing bliss she pushed inf or, delving down to suck his co*ck off and give him all the pleasure she could offer. Harry's groans were a rumble of pure hunger, built on the urgent need to give himself in to all of this and really lose all himself to. There was an unreal and unrelenting bliss to these feelings, pleasure that invited him to really give up and give in. Allowing herself to slide into this intoxicating desire, she paid his co*ck lots of sloppy praise in slathering it up with her spit, getting him nice and ready not for a blowj*b, but for something else. She made sure to suck every bit of her taste off of his co*ck, seeking the pleasure inviting her into deeper excitement into a delight and a desire she wanted to really succumb to. There felt like no control or restraint behind these now, a delve into the wild need, bliss and urgency that she couldn't ignore.
Once she had his co*ck nice and wet, she went for his co*ck, grabbing hold of his base and pulling up from it, dragging her body up with a big, dramatic motion she swept along with, getting her breasts around his co*ck and wrangling his dick into the pillowy paradise she offered him. Her ample breasts enveloped his huge co*ck as best she could, and she grabbed hold of her chest, squishing her tit* together and diving in on the wild pleasure of giving in, delving into this mad heat and the pleasure she wanted more and more of now. It felt so f*cking good, the invitation into pure satisfaction that she did what she could to give in to now.
"Are these what you wanted?" Lavender asked with a growing, sultry rumble. "These big tit* wrapped around your fat, juicy co*ck?"
"Always," he groaned, unable to hold himself back. He thrust upward into her cleavage, f*cking her tit* and giving in to the pleasure, a ravenous and reckless beast of hunger and desire. "I always want to f*ck them. Now I can just say it." His admission had Lavender struggling not to shriek in surprise and delight, the throbbing insanity and wild bliss of something to give in to now, the pleasures to give in to now, deeper obsession and fever, chaotic and wicked that kept up this pace. "I don't want to make this about Hermione or anything, but--"
"No, say it, say it!" Lavender whined. She was a good friend, but right now everything gossipy and hungry inside of her begged to know. "It's fine. We both love Hermione, we’re not saying anything bad about her. But I need to know!" She grabbed her tit* harder and worked them up and down his co*ck in an increasingly shameless pursuit of speed, throwing everything she had into the pleasures of giving up so completely. She felt conquered by the unreal and outrageous obsession, feverish in the throes of all this pleasure, inviting he frantic and unwavering bliss. "Tell me while I make you cum with my tit*. It's fine."
Harry groaned, "I could tell she was getting jealous of other girls. You and Daphne especially. You when we started hanging out more, Daphne once she joined the DA. You didn't seem to be trying to make Hermione actively mad the way Daph was, but she... Well, I was looking at your tit*. Of course I was. Not because I thought Hermione wasn't good enough or anything, just... They're really great tit*." His hips worked shamelessly upward, and he let slip a bit too much of his frustrations, the rolling burn of jealousy and smouldering frustration all working to get the better of him. "I'd never do anything she wasn't okay with. Unlike Hermione, apparently. But now that you're here and part of this, I can f*ck these perfect tit*." He let it all out, words that he'd maybe spared because of what he worried the impact of them would be. That had completely melted away now; the insanity of these throbbing and heated lusts left him struggling for focus, an uncontrollable heat keeping this pleasure up, delving into the unreal confusion and frustration of how hard he fell apart.
Freeing himself to the point where he could say something and ask about this invited his deeper pleasure, the chance to keep up this sloppier and wilder pace, something he was able to really commit to, deeper pleasure keeping him needing more now. All of his most ravenous and most sloppy pleasures kept him focused on the wilder desire he threw himself into, a pleasure that he was happier to give in to. Inescapable obsession kept him in motion, kept him focused with a maddening joy on these wild heats, a pleasure that he couldn't possibly ignore. He let the words out, let them carry him forward in burning need, heated desire pushing him to keep needing this, throwing himself into the unreal and unrelenting bliss of what he needed. The pleasure was so much to give in to, and he felt powerless to contain these feelings, all guiding him to need to lose himself. There was just so much f*cking pleasure to give in to now, a delve into throbbing frustration he wanted more of.
"You're free to say it. And you can f*ck these perfect tit* whenever you want, Harry. Now that it's okay. And even if she gets jealous again, well..." Biting her lip, Lavender knew she was in danger of stepping over the line, yanking back at the last minute and trying what she could to not completely get caught up in the mess of this, the throes of wilder frustration she wanted to do something to make any sort of sense of, these pleasures became the most fascinating sorts of pleasure, a satisfaction to need to embrace. She wanted to give in to all of this, pleasure that carried her to need more. She raced quicker along, seeking the joy of tending to his co*ck, working with unstoppable joy in delving into offering him this. Her breasts were ready to give in to all of this, delving hotter down in the name of sweet bliss, a satisfying need to lose herself to all of this. Her ego swelled, and Lavender savoured every second of pushing him on along in the name of deeper madness, obsessed with the joy of giving in to this sweet satisfaction now.
Harry had f*cked Lavender's tit* before, but whether out of pent-up need or trying to 'get back' at Hermione in the distance, maybe, he happily let out a huge load that caught Lavender by surprise for just how much he came. Hot ropes of spunk that were as stunning to her as when she took the first load from him, a surprise she shook through harder. This pleasure was a more important and fascinating heat to want to give in to, the pleasure shivering through pure desire and hunger, delight that she needed to really lose herself to. Bucking through all these shivers of lust and satisfaction left Lavender drenched in his seed, her body shivering, breath heavy. He groaned and he shook, and he made a grand mess of her face.
"f*ck!" gasped Lavender, dragging back from his lap, taking another spurt still onto her tit*. She thought he'd done enough, but he had another shock for her, and let her take his cum, the of pure madness, of a satisfaction she was ready to fully lose herself to, the shivering pleasure of pure need now. "It's a good thing I'm not your date tonight, if you're going to cum on my face that much."
Harry smirked. "If Daphne drags me back to her dorms tonight instead, I want to make sure you've been taken care of."
Lavender sighed. It brought her back down a little bit, but she nodded along, accepting it. "Right. Yeah, that makes sense." But she withdrew a little bit; the fun and games of having Harry f*ck her and talk about ogling her tit* was a very different reality from having to deal with the fact Hermione wasn't here.
She wasn't stupid. She knew the game Hermione was playing. At least, she f*cking hoped she did. She hoped she wasn’t so f*cked up and burnt out on all her potions that she'd actually try to hook up with McLaggen. Hermione f*cking hated McLaggen, but Lavender worried Hermione may have hated herself more at times. She desperately hoped that Hermione was going to come to her senses, that Harry could f*ck her straight, and that the two of them and Daphne would all be back in the Gryffindor dorm room again to be normal and f*ck all night with her instead. She wasn’t sure it it could happen. She had a lot of reasons to be afraid it wouldn't. But it was all she really had to hold on to in the throes of this embarrassment, and the fear that hung over her.
"I hope you have fun tonight at the dinner," she said, forcing a smile. "Don't let the McLaggen thing get in the way of your night, okay?"
*********************************
"I hope this gets in the way of his night," Hermione said while looking at herself in the mirror one last time, fixing up her make-up and preparing herself for the dinner. The Slug Club was almost assuredly not going to be a fancy affair. It wasn’t a f*cking ball. But she was dressed like it was. Her nicest new special occasion dress, one she'd picked up over the summer and hadn't found any reason to wear yet. Her tit* looked amazing in it specifically because she bought it when it was too big on her, confident she'd grow into it. Her chest was irresistible in it. She had all the cleavage that she'd wished a year ago she could tempt Harry away from looking at other girls' bodies with. Now, she'd be the 'other girl' for whichever girl he decided to bring as his date. She’d steal his eyes and make him so jealous that another guy was there beside him.
Was it unnecessary? Yes. Would going this over the top draw a lot of rumours all weekend about what she wore and how slu*tty she was getting? Absolutely. She was showing as much thigh as she felt she could get away with. Her ass looked immaculate. But that was the point. Bad girl Hermione Granger was here. Gone was the girl who hid what she had. It was beautiful. It was magical. She deserved it, and she finally had it to flaunt. Her clothing had grown less frumpy over the past year, but this was another step up still from all of that. She was going to look irresistibly sexy and make her boyfriend mad, and when all the boys in school saw her differently because of how blatantly gorgeous she'd always been, Harry would think twice about getting into fights with her again.
Fights over what she was doing for him in the first place.
Hermione felt galvanized by this mess, and the more she lingered on these feelings, the more certain she was that she was entering a new stage of her life. She'd corroded away what little vestiges of who she was, of the old Hermione. The traits ready to come to the surface now weren't even particularly new. Some form of them existed. She'd gone from fearing expulsion more than death to the whole fiasco with Quirrell and the philosopher's stone in a matter of months. She'd changed thanks to Harry and Ron, become willing to bend rules and even break them to do what was right. Well, helping Harry was right. The world didn't want what she was doing to do it, not even Harry it seemed, but she was confident in this above everything else. One more sacrifice to make for what was right and to help Harry come out of this alive.
She valued her intelligence, but not more than she valued this. War loomed. Real war. It was a miracle that Harry survived the war to begin with, that trying to kill him had ended it. Now, she needed to give Harry the power to truly end the war. Schoolwork, a career, being the smart woman she was always meant to be... Those were secondary values she was happy to give up for this single thing. Sacrifice brought Hermione inner peace. These things were worth giving up for what she was doing, and she didn't waver, even now. It was simply time to take it further, accept and acknowledge who she was, and to act on it. To weaponize it. She did not make herself the perfect, most desirable woman for Harry that she could be, only to lose him and be sad in the bathroom. Right now, that meant playing dirty.
"Let's play," she said in the mirror, and pulled herself away, ready to have her night and ready to look damn good doing it.
She strode out of the isolated, far-flung bathroom looking like sex on legs, and prepared herself for the night. It was late, lest she go to the dorm room and walk in on Harry balls deep in Lavender, yelling about how he didn't need Hermione anymore. It was hard to keep getting dressed and not stew over everything about Harry's distance. The second she stepped out of the bathroom, all of those concerns came rushing back, the growing fear and discomfort. Her desire to stir jealousy came right from all of her own jealousies, and she felt more acutely aware of them now than she had before, all the mirror confidence falling away with the reminders and dark insistence dragging her back into this. Could she even be mad, though? She was the one who set him up with those other girls. Invited them into the relationship because he was too much for one girl to keep up with. Or at least, this one girl. One more way in which she 'wasn't enough'.
No, this wasn't helping. Hermione shook it off. She had come too far to let this stop her. She was sexy. Unstoppable. She just had to keep that in mind. Hermione was the bad girl. Bad girls didn't fall apart under the paralysis of jealousy, they turned that sh*t around and won. And she was going to do that. She was ready, and headed off to meet up with Cormac at the Gryffindor common room, traveling all the way upstairs just so she could stride in.
When she stepped int the common room, every set of eyes were firmly on her. In her gorgeous dress and her high heels, she was the slinky, seductive beauty that she'd always wanted to be, dressed up for a finer night out than the Slug Club ever deserved. Her cleavage looked perfect, the form of her waist and hips perfectly clung to. Her legs looked immaculate, like anyone in there would have wanted them wrapped around some part of their body. Boy and girl alike looked at her, either out of lust or jealousy or some throbbing combination thereof.
She caught Harry out the corner of her eye, sitting with Lavender presumably in anticipation of Daphne, given Lavender's hair was pulled up and her face freshly washed off. They definitely f*cked and he came all over her face. Her wits weren't that far gone. But she didn't care, striding across the room toward Cormac, who seemed more stunned than anyone else about how she looked.
"I'm ready for our date," Hermione said, offering her arm to him. Cormac looked at it in confusion, not processing that she wanted him to take it, and she held it there for probably longer than she should have before rescinding it. She was not too thrilled about the night ahead of her with his behavior, but that was inevitable, something about the boorish prick she'd stumbled into that she felt like she had to make peace with. Hermione needed to do this. "Let's get going."
"Sure," Cormac said. He got up and reached to grab her ass in front of everyone. Hermione clenched up, wanting to smack his hand away, but she winced and simply left the common room, heels clacking through the stunned silence of a room fallen silent to witness this. It was bold. It was insane.
Once she was out of it, Hermione swatted his hand away. She wanted to call him a creep, but she kept calm and behaved. "I have a boyfriend," she remarked. "My body is off limits tonight."
"Well then why’d you ask me out?" asked Cormac with a smug smirk. "C'mon. You know you want me. You chose me over him for a reason, didn't you?"
Hermione looked at him with a flat, stunned glare. She was awestruck by his lack of awareness in understanding his role here as the fill-in. He was here because he was specifically a guy Harry disliked, a distasteful buffoon here to make Harry angry and possessive over her. She wasn't going to f*ck him, but Cormac wasn't going to understand that. She knew there was no point in trying, and explaining it to him would ruin the night. So she just had to play calm at this and be nice about it, even while her thoughts strayed off into any direction she could think of that might see her freed from beside him. There was nothing but the pure insanity here. She'd made a mistake, probably. But it'd be worth it if her plan paid off.
"Touch my ass again and I'll hex your hand off," she warned, straightening herself out and then putting her arms properly around his, sidling up beside him like she'd tired to signal for him to. The idiot had no idea what he was doing, clearly, but she had to roll with it. "Now take me to the dinner."
"Yeah, we're going to f*ck later," Cormac remarked with all the confidence in the world. "I know what hard to get looks like."
He didn't. But that was okay.
**************************************
Slughorn talked. Slughorn talked a lot. The first meeting of the Slug Club was an absolute drag of him prattling on and on about how important and useful the Slug Club was, and how members of it sent him lots of gifts. She wasn't surprised by what it was, and she realized while sitting there that there was absolutely nothing going on here.
Another Hermione probably would have loved this. A teacher with an eye for talents, affirming to her that she was brilliant and an academic firestorm, offering her an on-ramp to all the connections she couldn't make. The old Hermione, who had become a bit more sociable and did have friends, but was very insular with those friends, very focused on them. Friends who didn't really have connections to offer her, not that she was there because of the promise of those. Slughorn could have opened doors, though, opened up so many opportunities and put her in touch with the exact people who surely would have set her off for an incredibly promising career. How many marvelous people could he have introduced her to? Written a letter to that got her an entry level position as a researcher, as an intern, as something that would let her take her vast quantities of brilliance and pour them immediately into something amazing?
This Hermione was not so impressed. Cormac McLaggen was invited, for f*ck's sake. A nepotism invite with a powerful relative, nothing more. He was the least spectacular boy she had ever met, and she was deeply displeased to have him around at all, realizing in that moment how utterly vapid this was. Hermione had he future already set or her: being Harry's. The change of her course gave her the detachment to know how empty this was. That Slughorn just put people in touch with one another in exchange for gifts, but that 'merit' took on many forms. Maybe McLaggen's presence would have bothered her and pushed through any starry-eyed awe if she were still 'normal', but the wake-up to Slughorn's reality as she sat there on a date beside this pathetic goon knowing that it wasn't her being on his arm that got him here was an absolute chore.
People looked at Hermione with a lot of strange bafflement. Everyone was dressed a little nice for it, but not like this. Hermione was dressed for a very different kind of party, and she seemed utterly out of place, pointedly sitting right across from Harry and Lavender. Lavender had on a nice dress, but nothing like this. Hermione had brought a gun to a knife fight in a room full of people who had no idea what a gun was. It was a distraction nobody could ignore, least of all Harry. This was all to ‘get back' at him. To piss him off. Was it working? She wasn't sure. But she sure knew that he was looking at her plenty and that the more he focused on her, the more confident she felt in this victory, and that she'd won. Sort of. She'd won enough to take her gleeful victory lap over this situation and continue to poke at her food, confident in what she'd managed to do here.
Cormac tried to asset himself as the hapless date several times, and it was embarrassing to have him keep trying. Hermione made as small talk with him as it seemed necessary to, and she did what she could to otherwise avoid engagement, avoid talking too much with him. Everyone else at the table could tell this was an uncomfortable exercise in pissing Harry off, except of course for the oaf thinking he could charm his way into her pants.
"You really traded up," McLaggen said loud enough for others to hear, but he spoke with food in his mouth. "I look a lot better tonight, don't you think?" Hermione didn't respond, making sure to get some food in her mouth at once. The round table and the small crowd meant that there was absolutely no privacy for that conversation. It was just happening, a visceral throb of embarrassment for Hermione to need to overlook somehow, no matter how dire it got, for the sake of trying to deal with all these insane attentions. he was a f*cking joke and a chore.
Daphne played it cool and distant. She didn’t want to drive Hermione any further into jealousy, fearing that if she was on a low point on her various addictions and her enhancements, she might try to escalate it. She didn't want to make Hermione actually flirt with that creep, so she played it very distant, sitting and eating and doing what she could to just try and avoid anything uncomfortable or unfortunate. It was all much easier said than done, though, frustrated that the one time she got to have a 'real date' with Harry, it was one she spent holding back. She’d wanted this! She'd been waiting for it. She saw the opportunity to hang off of Harry's arm, flirt with him, be all cuddly and affectionate. But instead, she was, for the sake of being a good friend, compromising all of her wants so she could keep Hermione from doing something she regretted. It wasn't the best feeling, but it was the one she found herself stuck with.
Harry said nothing. He kept his head down and his eyes off of Hermione in general and McLaggen in particular. He was not having a good time with this, seeing her even making a bad effort to feign interest in him. He Just like Hermione had been around him for so long she almost took his presence for granted, save for their brief time away during summer, he was so used to her that the thought of not having her any more was absolutely maddening. He wanted to grab her, hold her, kiss her.
f*ck her.
He also wanted to make sure McLaggen never laid a hand on her again. He knew this was a game on some level. Lavender had the smarts to finally confess to him before they finished up that Hermione was doing this to piss him off. But even knowing this was meant to induce jealousy could not temper Harry's jealousy, especially once he saw Cormac take a handful of Hermione's ass. It filled him with boiling urgency and an anger that he had to express, had to push against. The frustrations building inside of him left him frustrated, dizzy, an urgent wreck of confusion and heat that left him absolutely floored. It was a lot of sensation that he had no idea how to contain, realizing what he was in for and what utter f*cking doom this was about to be. The urgency that looking at Cormac filled him with made it hard to deal with this.
What he didn't realize was how this wasn't exactly out of nowhere. Not just the building of jealousy. Harry was strong now, wound up with a lot of sensations and a lot of emotions that all demanded some very frustrating things, feelings and sensations and needs that he wasn't quite sure yet how to manage. Hermione bound herself to him with that virginity ritual, and now that she was his, it was the power that ritual imbued in him that made it difficult for him to contain himself. Feelings he knew were irrational, knew were playing into Hermione's hands, became irresistible. His body ached with unreal urgency, the throbbing heat and the urgency of what he was absolutely to sure in how to process. He wanted to fight against this, wanted to be smarter and stronger and better. He wanted to fight this off, but he was aggressive, furious, burning with unreal frustration and feeling the urgency leave him baffled, leave him furious. He wanted to really fight off these attentions, the throbbing feelings keeping him in a rough place now, and he was not ready for.
Hermione was disengaged emotionally. Harry was struggling to keep it together. Cormac happily took any attention he could from Slughorn. "Yeah, Uncle Tiberius told me a lot about you. I hope I can have a good Ministry job like him one day, too. For now though.... I don't mind taking it easy and bringing cute girls like this in. I don't even have that job yet."
Hermione's chair squeaked a little bit along the floor as she put another thankful fraction of an inch between herself and her date.
"Yes, well, seeing the two of you come together fills me with hope. Many a couple have ended up happily married after spending time together in the Slug Club." Slughorn went into a story that made Hermione's eyes glaze over. She was sober today. She'd intentionally not taken anything that would make her crash mid-party for fear a judgment clouded by anything alchemical rather than emotional would lead to her doing something she'd regret forever. She was just bored out of her f*cking mind. He had so many stories and they were about himself or how he saw greatness in someone else but in a way that framed it back to his keen eye. It was flattery to everyone at the table on the surface, but in her cynicism and her frustration, Hermione saw it as something else. And she was gradually starting to lose herself to the despair and the frustration of realizing how deep into darker feelings her emotions were running now.
Then came the twist, the surprise that even Hermione could never have seen coming. Marcus Belby sat at the table like had been invited by accident; he was a rather normal Ravenclaw with a famous potion master uncle, and Slughorn took interest in him because of that association. But Belby barely saw his uncle due to his father not getting along with him, and he hadn't even taken potions at a NEWT level due to middling performance, which made Slughorn give him the cold shoulder from the moment he'd first heard about it. But Belby's invitation hadn’t been revoked. Oversight? Cruelty? Miscommunication? It didn't much matter either way; Slughorn showed off what his priorities were with that single gesture. Marcus didn't speak much, each time he did showing him be pushed down into embarrassment again, being humiliated with just how little the teacher cared about him.
Marcus said something just as Hermione came back into reality a little bit, a comment trying to play off of the professor's story. It was simple. An awkward student trying to do anything to get the approval and appreciation of his teacher, sharing in his anecdotes and trying to follow up with something. Slughorn didn’t even let him finish the sentence, abruptly cutting him off to ask Hermione what her parents did. He looked to her, clearly expecting an answer he could hope for, and Hermione felt the spotlight now forced onto her.
But she didn't want to tell him what her parents did. She didn't want the judgment of a table full of primarily people who had never left the magical world wondering what a f*cking dentist was. Hermione felt angry. Angry on behalf of a boy she didn't know, and she found herself compelled to speak up. Being cross with a teacher wasn't a completely new thing for her, but she'd usually had big, broad reasons to do so. Not just rudeness at a dinner party. But something inside her snapped, and she shot back with, "I don't think it matters; they aren't famous or influential. They're just muggles, so they're of no use to you, and you've just shown that you can't treat people well if there's nothing in it for you."
The entire table went stone silent, and all focus was on Hermione in her aggression, the burning righteousness of a girl who was suddenly calling out Slughorn and not sounding happy with him. Slughorn himself was kind of stunned by the remark, his jaw dropping as she spoke to him with what was absolutely out of line. "Miss Granger, that is not appropriate, and--"
"And neither is how you treat students who you think aren't going to benefit you to pay attention to," she shot back. "All I've gotten from this party is that you really enjoy receiving gifts, and helping people you think are going to give you free things down the line. You’re a teacher; helping all of your students should be expected, instead of hosting favoritism dinner parties where our main takeaway is to stay in your good graces for the rest of our time here so that you can help us fulfill the potential we already have inside of ourselves are supposed to be learning how to make the most of our selves."
The words just flew out of Hermione. She felt incredible, chest pounding tight with an adrenaline rush she usually only got when her wand was out and she was barking spells at whatever new threat that school year offered. Slughorn was not the threat. He was just self-absorbed, but she let her most venomous and most intense aggressions fly loosen ow, her eyes narrowing as she took in this desire to push back against all of this, throbbing with a frustration and a fury simmering through her. She had to do something about it, and she felt relief in letting it out. It felt freeing to do so, but to say it was absolutely exhausting, the frustrations building and bubbling with unreal confusion, a burning pressure that made her feel frustrated and worried in the face of all of this, faltering in the worrisome face of all these ideas.
Continuing to chide him, Hermione had more going. "Do you know anything about Marcus? Do you know what he's good at? Because I've had Ancient Runes with him, and nobody could pick up or place unfamiliar symbols like he could. But you aren't seeing he's a talented student because you give people mere seconds and a memory check on their last name before you decide their worthiness." She rose up from the table. She had no feelings whatsoever toward Marcus. He was a wholly neutral student she'd never said a word to before. But, overcome with anger at his mistreatment and feeling the urgency burning through her, she had to take her stand. Her frustrations weren't about the teacher, but she was so filled with disgust at how he was acting, and at realizing how he was. "I'm leaving. If sucking up to you is the cost of your 'help', then I’ll forge my own way."
"Woah, hold on! Come back, babe." Cormac said.
"Babe?" burst out half the table at once in pure disbelief. Hermione was already on her way to the door. Harry and Daphne were the loudest and most incredulous of everyone at the table; it was so much to hear, a baffling inspiration of raw disbelief on their parts as they heard him say something so hilariously, blatantly incorrect.
Still clueless, Cormac moved toward the door. "Sorry about my date, professor, let me go talk to her. She shouldn't talk to you like that." He raced to the door too, calling after Hermione.
That was the breaking point for Harry. "No," he said, getting out of his chair too, leaving it behind. Daphne was right on her feet to follow him out, too. The dinner party was left in disarray, with Slughorn trying to restore order, voice loud not in a shout but in a panic as he tried to distract the remaining students and keep them from looking at any of the juicy drama going on.
Hermione Granger had just cussed out a teacher and stormed off. Her idiot fake date was trying to get her to apologize because he somehow thought his 'new girlfriend' would turn the teacher against him. And her real boyfriend was rushing off to fight off that fake date. It was insanity, and there was simply no way that anyone was going to behave to stay away from this now. They rushed out of the room with little idea what was going to happen, but knowing they wanted to see it. Hermione had unintentionally plunged the Slug Club dinner into ruin, and she hadn't even meant for it to. She got her wish. She got it more than she was necessarily prepared to deal with.
Cormac gave chase down the hall to rush Hermione. "What was that?" he asked, and she kept walking, refusing to turn around and actually look at him. "I said come back here." She kept walking. "I don't appreciate being embarrassed by my date."
That got Hermione to turn around, her eyes igniting with pure anger. "Your what?" she asked, incredulous. "I was never your f*cking date, Cormac!"
"You came here with me. You let me grab your ass. Come on, don't play hard to get after what a c*nt you were--"
"I was using you to make Harry jealous, you dim-wit!" She stomped her foot, something impressive to do given her heels and how little her feet made contact with the ground. "I'm not going to f*ck you. I'm not going to kiss you. I don't even like being around you, but you're the guy I knew it would piss Harry off the most to ask out who wouldn't make me throw up in my mouth if I had to sit next to him."
"Stop acting up," Cormac said. "You need to apologize to Slughorn. You were my date, and you insulted him. My uncle told me how I had to act around Slughorn, and you're f*cking that up." Reaching for her, he moved forward to grab at her. He found her arm and yanked her back, almost sending hr toppling over on her precarious heels. "You made me look back, and you f*cking lied to me? You're going to apologize to Slughorn, and then that c*nt mouth of yours is going to--"
"Get off her."
Cormac was strong enough to pull Hermione along. Harry was strong was enough to pull Cormac pulling Hermione. Hermione fell to the flood under a lack of footing. Cormac was not so lucky, dragged up against the wall and dealt a blow to the chin that would have sent him dropping like a bag of rocks if Harry didn't have him by the scruff, in place to get another punch, and then a third. When he fell, it was because Harry didn't drop him, but threw his body to the floor hard enough that he slid a few inches on impact.
Everyone who followed Harry out of the room cheered and murmured and yelled out in response. Harry heard none of it. He was too busy being red. Daphne rushed over to pick up Hermione, who was fine aside from one of her heels having snapped in the fall. Hermione didn't care, though, grabbing tight hold of Harry and flinging herself into his powerful arms. He was already in the midst of rushing forward to kiss her, but Hermione wanted it now just as bad from a different angle. Both of them were committed to the utterly outrageous sensation and the heat of pure chaos throbbing through them. Urgency and frustration hit them head on, their entwining frustrations getting the better of them both from radically different angles.
Grabbing her ass and pulling her in tight, Harry let his territorial fury hit him. He wanted to f*ck her right there, and only the presence of other people gawking kept him from doing that. Still, he pushed her up against the wall like he was about to, his muscular, fearsome body eclipsing hers, like he was trying to make her feel small, primal feelings inside him making him want to feel big and to intimidate her, to assert himself over her. He was a burning, unstoppable lust pushing him to feel the depth of wild pleasure, urgency and aggression that consumed him. She felt the pleasure drive him mad, a pleasure too urgent and too hazy to be able to ignore.
Hermione was not being a good woman by being turned on by her boyfriend punching a guy. She didn't care. The utter bliss made her throw herself into the maddening passion and the unraveling joy she felt take her, a throbbing spectacle she needed to really commit to now, giving in without sense to the sweetness and the bliss of these senseless desires. Her head spun so hard. She was deprived of sex and Harry, and she realized in that moment how hopelessly addicted she was. The pleasure compelled her into sloppy obsession, a wicked pressure and obsession she needed to give in to. There was nothing but pure bliss to this desperation, a desire and a hunger she was eager to submit to. Pleasure kept her drunk on these wild needs, urgency and frustration to have to give up to now. She felt so f*cking good, the throb of unreal desire that made her melt into this gooey joy.
Something in Harry made him want to throw Hermione over his shoulder and carry her off like a caveman, but with her heel broken entirely, she was going to need help being carried anyway. So he didn't go quite that far or that insane, but he did decide he was going to make a stand on it and start to shove forward. He moved her around in his arms to carry her off bridal style instead, a good compromise for what he was after.
Hermione stared up at harry with gleaming eyes. "You hit him," she marveled.
"You're never doing this again," he told her. It was all he said on the entire walk back to the dorm. He didn't talk. Not even when he came in through the common room with Hermione in his arms and Daphne sheepishly stumbling in behind them. There were some cheers at seeing them both together again. When they reached the foot of the stairs, Cormac finally got himself to the entrance of the common room, with his nose busted open and several places on his face where already swelling with what were about to be nasty bruises when he woke up. That made the cheers stop a little bit.
Then they got louder.
Harry didn't have time for them, carrying Hermione up the stairs, moving almost on autopilot through the halls in pursuit of a way to get to what he needed. He wasn't particularly patient for nay of this, having little to no interest in playing nice or being calm. He had his eyes set only on the stairs, then on the door. When he barged in, Lavender shrieked in surprised in surprise and delight, rushing over to them and asking what happened, glad to see Hermione back. Harry all but walked through her. He didn't have time for Lavender. He moved over to the bed and slammed Hermione down onto it, climbing himself up on top of her. Wordlessly, he ripped her dress open, not caring about how much it cost. He bought it for her and he could afford another one. All he cared about in that moment was getting at her panties. she hadn't worn anything special underneath for her date with Cormac, something that he blew right by in his awareness as he tore her panties off of her too.
His pants came off a bit more delicately, but not by much, his belt buckle swatting down against her thigh and making Hermione kick up and hiss, only for him to slam down against her again, this time driving every inch of his co*ck into her with wordless fury and a throbbing desire that utterly leveled her. Hermione had no way to prepare for him to do this to her, and she shrieked out in awe at the feeling of his huge co*ck madly pounding down into her. The unstoppable and ruthless pleasure kept up a desire and an urgency that she had no idea how to contain. "Harry!" she howled, but words seemed lost on him as he slammed into her.
Never before had harry been this animalistic in how he f*cked her. Hermione struggled to process all of it, his strong his crashing down upon her enough to be a little bit painful from the sheer impact of his body hammering down into hers. He was usually gentler than this even at his most intense; soreness only came from long, marathon f*ck sessions and the size of his co*ck making her bow-legged, but here, she was treated to something so much more deranged, the brutality and the unhinged greed of his hungers getting to him. The pleasure was outrageous and forceful and did to her things she had no way to prepare for, clumsy and confused in the throes of all this attention. Hermione could do nothing but take him on at his most senseless, the erratic and desperate thrusts into her c*nt catching her off guard, a hopeless mess of burning greed and want that hit her head-on. Hermione couldn't prepare for nay of it, and found herself trapped in underneath him now, howling out while being roundly, soundly ignored.
Daphne and Lavender watched in awe, stuck on the fringes and beholding Harry's burst of dominance. Turning to Lavender, Daphne wanted to ask if he'd been like this earlier, but she didn't even need to ask; Lavender met her gaze and shook her head. This was new. Harry had been a bit more intense, sure, but this was not simple intensity.
The bed never struggled to hold on like it did now, the struggling, screeching mess under all the struggle and the chaos wearing at the moment. This was all simply too much, an unfocused burn of pleasure and fever pushing the limits of dignity now, the senseless chaos that kept up a pace as reckless as Harry could muster. He wanted to slam down into her with some vengeful need to teach her something. To put her in her place. He had seen her sitting beside another guy, and she knew full well it was an empty gesture to piss him off, but he was not going to entertain any of that. He showed it to her. He f*cked her with unrelenting desire and made sure that she was losing herself to this all, that the weight of these feelings were rapidly becoming too much for poor Hermione to handle.
"You! Will! Never! Do! That! Again!" Harry yelled, the first words out of his mouth and they were pure dominance. There was no restraint here, no moment where he could show Hermione calmness or decency. He wanted to get across a point, and he f*cked that point into her as hard as he could. It was the only way to make her learn. The ruthless greed threw him harder into this, the pleasures building out of control, escalating with senseless and sinful joy while he made the most of using her. "You are mine. You are only mine!"
Stunned while pinned underneath him, Hermione throbbed with joy. She’d accomplished precisely what she set out to do. Did Harry realize it? She wasn't sure. But it didn't matter. As he slammed into her and f*cked her like a possessive beast, he reaffirmed over her everything she wanted to hear, feeling the plunge into maddening joy, into the wonder and delirium of knowing that he was going to give up to her precisely what she craved. No hesitation, no restraint. He f*cked her like a wild beast, slamming into her c*nt, hurting her with the intensity behind all of his thrusts but proving in the process to be capable of falling for this. Hermione was so smart she’d toyed with Harry and got him to feel all the dark sorts of sensations that wrapped her up for the past year. He got to ache like she ached.
Harry threw everything he had into these mad satisfactions, the wicked satisfaction of pleasure and desire and greed that he continued to throw himself into. Burning desire and pure aggression continued to compel him forward. "You asked out McLaggen! To make me angry! f*cking of course it was going to make me angry. We had a big fight about you not respecting yourself, and then you went and asked out him?" His anger was direct and it was biting, making Hermione howl out louder in the throes of this mad satisfaction, powerless to stop him while he used her so intently. "Never pull a stunt like that again, for your own sake. so you don't have to deal with f*cking Cormac McLaggen threatening to f*ck your mouth because he doesn't like what comes out of it. Only I f*ck your mouth, and it's because you can't stop sucking on my co*ck anyway."
"I love your co*ck!" shrieked Hermione. “I love sucking on it and being f*cked by it like a filthy slu*t, and I love being put in my place for being a nasty bad girl. f*ck me. Use me. Take your anger out on me. You're the best. You're f*cking unstoppable. You tell me I'm supposed to value myself, but you want to f*ck me like a nasty slu*t and make me scream your name so f*cking bad. Use my c*nt so I know not to be a dirty girl, Harry. f*ck me so stupid that I can't even pretend another guy is worth anything. I'm your little f*cktoy slu*t and you want me to be!"
Hermione had engineered this flawlessly. Everything went better than expected, down to her blow-up on Slughorn and McLaggen putting his hands on her. She could not have asked for a better outcome for an of this. It played itself out perfectly, proved the merits and the weight of her absolute submission. It was a perfect mess of sloppy euphoria now, fascinating and frustrating, burning her up with a molten joy that continued to push her along, a delve into throbbing, sloppy passion she needed more and more of. It felt too f*cking good, like she was finally able to express the burning obsession and the joy she needed most. There was something shameless and perfect here, and she felt like she had never been more ready to lose herself to this. Burning lust and excitement carried her forward, kept her needing to crave these mad pleasures. It was pure craving, a burn of pleasure and heat and deeper satisfaction she was eager to really give up to now.
Even being told he'd been played couldn’t stop Harry. There was only the purity and madness of losing control. HE was already balls deep in her, already lost to the burning pleasure that carried him to ruin her. Powerful strokes and a throbbing lust kept him needing more, throwing himself into all of these burning ideas, attentions and throbbing fascinations that he was able to handle. Harry let his ugliest urges come out, the throbbing joy of throwing himself into delirium and brutality, f*cking Hermione's brains out in the maddest fit of lust he was capable of. He was failing miserably at self-control, but that didn't matter if he got to f*ck her brains out hard enough to teach Hermione her f*cking place. He knew what mattered.
What mattered was throwing himself even harder into this greed, in making her scream for him. Nothing she could have said would have made him f*cked her nay less intensely; the burn of pure euphoria had him craving this, throwing himself with all he had into satisfaction and debauchery. The unstoppable burn of lust and decadence threw him into the madder satisfaction, a throbbing and desperate heat he continued to claim. Harry wanted to push her to break, and he wasn't taking any answer but her absolute dissolution now.
Hermione was too pent up to think clearly, a mere day without him priming her to lose her mind when the pure insanity carried her to cum harder than she was built to take. Pure ecstasy washed over her, her howls of joy a drunken expression of raw satisfaction, of the need to lose all control and allow herself this chance to bend for this bliss. She loved every second of giving in to this now, embracing the hunger and the desire that it offered, and all she could think about wash ow incredible it was to lose herself like this. Harry pumped her to the brim with cum and she melted happily into the sloppiness and obsession of this raw devotion, of a pleasure she couldn't do anything now but give herself to wholly. The fullest extent of sloppy obsession and chaos left her crushed, worn down, broken in a fit of pure desire and delirium. And she loved it. Harry's body moved with throbbing, erratic joy against hers, and the whole thing became too much for her to process.
But Harry wasn't done with her. He pulled her up off of the bed, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her across the room, past Daphne and Lavender once more, so that he could shove her up against the wall. "If you want to be treated like a sex toy so f*cking badly, then fine, I'll treat you like one," he snarled, slamming into her from behind. "f*ck you from behind so I can see your perfect ass while I use you."
"Yes, Harry, please!" wailed Hermione, banging on the walls in sloppy, hopeless obsession. His co*ck rammed back into her again, and he wrangled a fistful of her hair, gripping it like a ponytail as much as like a handle while he plundered into her c*nt. The ruthless and sloppy obsession pushing him forward offered a bliss of pure madness now, of pleasures and attentions meant to completely ruin her, and Hermione welcomed it. She wanted to be ruined. Needed to be ruined. Everything Harry did to her felt like the expression at long last of the hungers and the needs breaking her apart, and she felt prepared to go down with all of it in a fit of mania and ecstasy.
"Then I'll treat you like a slu*t. I'll degrade you. I'll f*ck you until you break down sobbing in whorish delight for Lavender and Daphne to witness, until they find you pathetic. You want to be a brainless bimbo? You are one now, but you are for my eyes only!" He continued to rail her, his flood of dominance and greed throwing him into things he'd probably regret saying once this was done, but he was long past the point of any sort of coherent 'return' now. Consumed by jealousy, by anger, by all of the feelings she invoked in him when she fled their argument to go ask out Cormac, Harry could not slow down. He was ruthless, driven by all of the most brutal desires he could channel into this fury, throwing himself forward with single-minded obsession and a need to keep f*cking as hard as he could. He pushed Hermione to the breaking point and loved every second of doing so, making her bend to his will harder and making her howl out for him in sloppy, hopeless need.
The walls themselves were not going to shake because of how hard Harry f*cked her. But for Hermione, it felt like they were. Felt like the cloying brutality of him bearing down on her was all the more intense, his hard body continuing to pound down on her and continuing to work at breaking her in the name of rougher, wilder aggression. He moved with a greed like nothing she had known before, and the more that he impressed this pleasure upon her, the happier Hermione was to take it. She'd found a new level of intensity in him, and that excited her. They had spent so long not having sex proper, but it felt so routine now that it happened. Amazing, but normal. Daily. So normal he did it with other girls with her in the room. But this was something new, wholly deranged and urging her to want to give up to the pleasure, drunk on the bliss that made everything feel so perfect, and she simply had to slide into the acceptance behind it.
Lavender and Daphne watched in awe at how Harry f*cked. They weren’t sure they could handle him in that state; it looked too intense and too unhinged for their own comfort, but they were happy to open up to it, rubbing themselves and giving in to the throbbing satisfaction of touching themselves. Down on the bed, leaning in against one another, feeling each others' bodies up and enjoying the throb of pure desire and need taking them. There was nothing but pure joy to this heat, a desire to continue to succumb to now, the deeper bliss that continued to push these feelings to the limit.
Keeping up the pace with unrelenting and unreasonable desire, Harry continued to push form ore of these pleasures, seeking the feelings of pure need to keep throwing himself up to. To keep up these pleasures and these needs, he wanted more and more of the sensations. Her c*nt yielded to his co*ck, and he felt the power surge across him like never before. Hermione folded like a cheap whor* for his co*ck, and the wilder attention kept him in a brilliant position, a confident place to keep chasing. It was so much to want to throw himself into, and he wanted to see these further, deeper satisfactions. Nothing could hold him back from the uncontrollable obsession.
That Hermione was beautiful didn't need to be explained to him, but this was the first time he became aware of how much other guys figured it out too. Not just him and the girls who flirted with her so hard she invited them in for threesomes. Other guys were aware and they wanted her, and he needed to make sure she remained his. He'd never felt this sort of sensation before, never felt this desperately lost to these feelings. Dark emotions that begged him to throw himself harder at the satisfaction, deeper into the pleasure. He couldn't control himself, but he didn't want to. He wanted to own her. Mark her. Do anything he could to overwhelm her so thoroughly that she would do nothing but submit fully to him. It was a pleasure that felt like an all-conquering burn of need now.
Her moans were sloppy, aimless, getting increasingly ragged under the sweetness and spectacle of what she gave in to. It felt too good, and she continued her slide into the madder and hotter spectacle, into the euphoric satisfaction that made her have to just give in to this. She loved everything about these wild feelings, the pleasure and the passion of deeper obsession. This may not have been the best she ever felt, but it was certainly the most intensely she'd ever felt it. Harry put her into a new focus, granted her a perspective and a passion that didn't make much sense, and the harder she fell in to it, the more that this bliss broke her down into sloppiness and into joy. She was ready to follow anything he said, learning to appreciate the value of submission at its most extreme. She’d never experienced something like this, and she wanted to really succumb to it.
The throbbing and the pounding and all of Harry's most reckless attentions continued to escalate beyond anything that Hermione was built for, and as the weight of these lusts continued to escalate, Hermione's thoughts unraveled. She was doomed here, falling to pieces while he used her, while he put her in her place. The passionate make-up sex she was ready for was darker, more brutal, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to leave her bed tomorrow once it was all done, but every hard pull back on her hair made her howl out louder, and she fell into the beautiful delirium and euphoria of pleasures that were simply too much for her to resist. She had to cum. Had to fall apart. It was the only way forward now. He yanked on her hair and provoked noises from her that continued to drive her mad, and the wild satisfaction to continue falling in to.
Another load inside of her, another burst of sloppy ecstasy and passion for Hermione to fully submit to. She loved every second of giving up to these lusts, of embracing the pleasure and the need that broke her down completely. Her body shook in wild urgency, the needy throb plunging across her. She was overwhelmed, lost to this, allowing this pleasure to be too much for her to possibly ignore. Harry held her up against the wall flush and he pumped her so full of cum that her brain shut off.
"So good, so good." Hermione slurred her words, f*cked so dumb that she actually drooled. Spit dripped from her outstretched tongue. She was ruined. Harry had done too much to her and f*cked her into a state of mad confusion.
"I guess you were right; you really want to be the better bimbo. Well, let's go then. If you don't have brains, and you want to be disrespected so much..." Using his grip on Hermione's hair, Harry dragged her down to her knees and shoved his co*ck right into her mouth. "Suck your c*nt off of me." He was ruthless, throwing himself right into this with a burning urgency, with a need to let himself go all out. It was pleasure in its strangest and most wicked form, the pleasure that he was committed to in deeper excitement now, the messy obsession that kept coming.
Hermione's eyes didn't uncross with his co*ck sliding into her mouth, but they didn't have to. Drunk on satisfaction and dick, happy to feel at last the sweetness of having been so thoroughly conquered, Hermione got to work at the obedience and obsession of sucking down his fat co*ck, moaning around it with a hopeless need to please him. His tight hold on her hair wasn't just to keep her head under his control, either; he jerked her along to keep her bobbing on his co*ck, setting the pace with more than just the motion of his powerful hips.
"Gluk gluk gluk gluk gluk," was all Hermione needed to say. All she was capable of saying. It boiled her down to her purpose as his sex object, and taught her that she was finally on the receiving end of it . In all of his bitterness, Harry proved himself ready to objectify her like she needed, to assert with clear intention this time that this was what he wanted to do to her. Not that she was in any place to speak while he f*cked her, but she could no longer advocate for herself. No longer plead her case. No longer act. She just sucked. She sucked and she sucked and she let him throatf*ck her into complete silence and submission like the dumb bimbo housepet whor* wife she wanted to be all along. Whatever string of words, no matter how grammatically clumsy and ill-arranged they were, that could apply to her.
Forced to drool and happily doing so down onto her gorgeous cleavage at the best it ever looked despite being stuck in her plainest bra, Hermione was in a state of pure madness so deep in to delirious submission that it all stopped making sense. A little too much pleasure, too much heat. She was happy to let it take her, happy to give in with unreal desperation to these feelings. The pleasure ripped her apart, and she felt herself only collapsing into the hotter excitement that came with it. Harry's co*ck ruled her, and she was desperate to have it take her, to let the sweet wrongness of being claimed and violated drive her wild. Fingers jammed into her creampied c*nt, stuffing his dripping seed back into her where it belonged.
She loved every second of this attention, almost convulsing under the sloppy obsession and the dizziness of being taken this deep. She loved what he did to her, moaning around his fat co*ck, closing her eyes and simply accepting what he did to her. She felt all sense eclipse her, the unreason and the obsession of losing herself. Hermione needed more of it, so lost now in the idea that submission and deference was the right way forward. It took asking out another guy to make Harry want to really use her like she wanted, but now that she'd triggered these feelings in him, she knew that the spells had worked. All of them. She hadn't traded away her own dignity and smarts by mistake. Hadn't failed in setting up the ritual to trade their virginities. Harry was dominant and possessive and controlling over her specifically because she was his. Bonded to him. What she gave him was power, and that power needed a direction.
The desire to protect those he loved was how she had framed it, flexible and vague, but certain to ensure he would always want her and fight for her. He proved it now in his own insane way, the downright deranged heat of these insistent pleasures. He f*cked her throat because he really loved her, an expression of pure madness that all made total sense to her in the state she'd found herself in. There was no escaping it now, the pleasure ravenous and sloppy enough to invite her total downfall. But she took it. She took it because everything Harry did proved she'd won. She set him up, empowered him, and now she brought out his dark side. The day was hers, and her face was only taking the second most abuse that Harry had dished out on that night.
The thrill of hammering down Hermione's throat left Harry aching. He said little while he throatf*cked her, continuing to apply the pressure on her hair and working her back and forth on his co*ck with a downright brutal insistence that she melt for him. It was all so simple, the burning satisfaction of a deeper pleasure to give in to, satisfaction that kept him throwing everything he had into his use of her now. Her pretty face was his to claim, and it felt so easy to simply take her by storm, to violate her throat and send her spiraling even further. How far could Harry take this? How deep was he willing to go? The burning urgency of his temptations and his needs left him shaken by the sheer scope of this downfall and all of the most satisfying excitements he found within himself now.
There was no escaping this pleasure. Hermione remained hopelessly committed, drooling and sputtering and gagging in a fit of wild devotion, truly lost to the satisfaction that invited her deeper into this mess. She knew only the joy of surrender, submitting without focus or care, letting him do to her things that she never would have let any other man do. Never would have even considered. But this was Harry. If he'd wanted to f*ck her mouth like this a year ago, well before she'd begun all of her frantic, dramatic compromises, she would have let him. She would have knelt there like a good bitch and turned her eyes cross for him while he violated her throat and used her like a cheap whor*. Like a sex toy. It was all she needed to be for him, and she proved it when she made him cum again, because the sounds he made sure were as dramatic as they could have been.
Harry yanked back as he let himself go, slapping his co*ck across Hermione’s face and unleashing another massive load for her to appreciate. Her moans cut the space in between frantic grabs for breath from a girl so far gone that she hadn't realized how close she was to probably passing out until the co*ck no longer clogged her throat. The ecstasy continued to burn through her with unreal urgency, and she felt herself slide into the fit of unfocused confusion and need that she'd craved this whole time. He painted her face white, a grateful addition given how red she'd turned, and she trembled in joy for him. It felt too good, and as he stepped back to assess her, she knew he wasn't done, just appreciating his work.
"What do you think?" Hermione asked. Her hair was a mess. She wore cum and spit all over her face. Her slu*tty dress was torn open but still hung onto her body. "Do I make a good bimbo, Harry?"
"The best." He picked her up and dragged her back over to the bed again, and showed her that what she'd inspired in him was not something he was going to easily work his way through over a few loads. Daphne and Lavender were left to fend for their own pleasure that night, but they had each other, and they had an amazing view.
****************************************
Lucidity and a sense of purpose set in once the morning arrived. When Harry realized the intensity of how hard he'd f*cked Hermione, and Hermione found herself staring up at the ceiling, barely able to feel her legs after what he'd done to her. She was elated. HE felt relieved, but he also had a lot he needed to work through, and Hermione knew it.
"We've got to pick up form where we left off when we were fighting, don't we?" she sighed.
"It doesn't have to be now."
"I think it does," she sighed. Grabbing his shoulder, she pulled herself to a seated position. He'd f*cked her so hard she wasn't getting out of bed today, which was a problem, given how fast she'd be trying to suckle on his co*ck under the sheets. "Or else it's going to be an all day kind of thing." She leaned against him and opened with the only thing she could say, "I'm sorry. I was high and petty and I decided I'd make you jealous by doing something I knew you wouldn’t like. By the time my head cleared, I realized I could make you feel what I felt when other girls had your attention. I was never going to do anything with Cormac."
"I know," Harry groaned. His arm went around her. "Obviously. But you did it."
"I know you've found me beautiful this whole time. It means everything to me. But last night was the first night I felt really sexy. Not just to you or Lav. But in general. A girl who could turn heads. A girl who nobody could resist. And that made you mad in ways that... Look, the only way you're going to understand half of what I'm about to say, is if you realize that I've had to deal with that jealousy this whole time. Even bringing Daph and Lav in. It's control. I'm the one who gives girls access to you even if we call them girlfriends now. I have to be, because last year, I was afraid those two were competition, and if both of them hadn't tried to make out with me over the summer break before you and I even lost our virginities, I don't think I could have agreed to it. You are the handsome, athletic, famous, strong, big, muscular, great Harry Potter. When I first met you, you were underfed and scrawny. You didn't stay that way for long, and the more you grew up, the clearer it became. I stayed frumpy and awkward, and I had to give everything to change that."
Harry fell silent. It was a lot of emotion to deal with, and he wasn't sure how to respond to her, mostly because he knew she had more to say, that she was laying groundwork here. Pieces for the explanations to come. Jealousy alone did not make her plunge out of schoolwork and into wit sharpening potions.
"When we began dating, I had a lot to keep up with. Sex with you is amazing. Time with you is amazing. But then we had the DA. Then we had so much we needed to do and you were spending so much time around other girls. I wasn't getting prettier, but you were getting more interesting. Strong. You weren't just fit, you were huge. Strong. Girls who thought you were pretty good looking suddenly wanted to undress you and worship you with their tongues. I heard some of them. Girls who were so much prettier than me. Big boobs, big asses, pretty faces, good hair, good skin, good lips, good everything... And I was just the awkward girl you liked because she's smart. Well, Daph is smart, too. Daph is smart, and she has big tit*, and she has those 'f*ck me' look that's so good it made me realize I'm into girls too. How long until you fancied her instead when she became such a close friend?
"So I went looking for things in the library. I found some books. There are some good cosmetic potions that don't do a lot to me. Maybe they have some bad after effects if I don't keep up with them, but that's fine. I don't have to trade anything but my time. That means school slips. Because you're important, and DA is important, and being the best woman I can be for you is important, so school started to slide. Some of the potions and the promises require a little more, though. I have to give up something. I can get bigger boobs if I become a little dumber. I might take another hour to read a book than I used to, but my skin is cleared up and silky soft. Who needs to get full marks on a paper when I can get ninety and a great ass? So school slid, and I had to fix that up. Wit sharpening potions keep me from losing ground. I traded away a little more of myself because the potions kept me doing school work well enough, and I looked even sexier, and even if you don't want to admit it, you like me better this way."
"You're right, I don't want to admit it," he grumbled. "I don't want to tell you that you should do this, and I would really love you in any form. But you look amazing."
"And I want to! I'm smart. I'm not the genius I used to be, but I'm not stupid. If I'm not going through the brain fog after those potions, I am still mostly a good student, and I feel more clever than ever now that I've let things relax on academia. These decisions were mine to mine, and I made them for you, because it's not just me getting fuller, softer lips from these spells. My power isn't all going to making my body more desirable. Some of it is going to you." She pressed in tighter now against him. "Can you feel it?"
"Our first time," he said. It was instant. He knew from that moment. "You did something."
"I didn't do anything crazy, don't worry. But with the right spells, you can turn losing your virginity into a chance to get something more. You can lose it in a ritual, so I set up a ritual. I made use yours made you stronger and a better fighter. It made you want to defend the people you care about. I split mine between making my body better, and giving you more."
"Why didn't you use it to get back what you gave up mentally?"
"Because I don't want to! I knew that was an option, but I didn't ever consider it. I've made my decision, Harry. I'd rather be the woman you'll fight for and have at the end of this war, than be the lieutenant whose huge brain saved the day. I'm still here, and I'll still fight, but I don't want to be the brightest witch of my generation anymore. I want to be best wife of my generation." She squeezed tighter against him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about all of this. I've been running around and hiding it. I knew you'd hate that I was cheating on tests. But I made my choice, and I made it because it really does mean that much to me, and I'm not going to change it. Not unless you tell me right now that you can't love me unless I do. The only thing I will give being the perfect woman for you up for, is you entirely."
It was a lot for Harry to take in. Probably too much. He sat there wondering what to say about all of it, trying to articulate and organize thoughts that felt like they had fully spun off in all directions. He had some insight now into something, he just wasn't sure exactly what. But he had a hard choice in front of him, and he knew that his answer was going to change the course of her life.
"I trust you to do what you think is best," he told her. It was all sobering to think about, but as he looked at Hermione, it was hard not to think about the Hermione that was. Maybe this Hermione in front of him now had weaker judgment, prone to more emotional volatility, not as ready to read all day and chime in with the vital piece of knowledge a topic needed. But the Hermione who he dated a year ago was. The soundest mind and the sharpest wits. And if she decided that these sacrifices were worth making, then they were. She'd made the decision to dumb herself down and give herself up to this, and he was going to respect it. Or enable it. He wasn't sure which one he was doing as he pulled her in against him and reaffirmed this. "But please make sure there's something left of the Hermione I first fell in love with. I don't want a full, total bimbo. I want to know you're still in there. The only thing that could make me fall out of love with you, is if you stopped being you."
It was a respectable line. A good thing to ask. Hermione felt so far removed from who she was a year ago, but in a weird way, having Harry reaffirm that she was still in some way the girl he fell in love with was oddly reassuring. She wasn't certain she knew where anymore. But he saw it. He saw it after her 'bad girl' awakening. Saw it after all the nasty things they did in the bedroom. After the foursomes. After she yelled at Slughorn. After she asked another guy out just to piss him off. She had gone so far and done so much, and he didn't lose faith in her. It was enough to force tears into her eyes as she squeezed tightly around him.
"I'll keep myself," she promised. "I'll keep myself, and we'll win."
She expected wild, rough make-up sex. She expected him to deck Cormac. She even expected they'd have to sort out the rest of the fight. What Hermione didn’t expect was to come away from all of that with renewed hope, and appreciation for just how amazing Harry was to her.
