Ralph S.

…  Hermione?

Sighing, the fifth-year Prefect closed her copy of the Prefect’s Guidebook she had been studying. Trust Harry not to make it through the first week before consulting with her…  not that she’d admit to being happy about that, of course. Still. It wasn’t her fault Ron had made prefect rather than …  well, Harry. And if she silently thought of him as her Harry one more time she’d –

H-hermione? I…  I really need your help.

She would not look up at him. She wouldn’t! She did. And she immediately regretted doing it. Oh my god… . Harry! What happened?!

Battered, bruised and dripping wet her b… est friend stood before her, the very definition of pathetic. A quick drying charm and barely restraining herself from fussing over his injuries, Hermione swallowed and simply patted the empty space beside her. You look terrible, she said and felt foolish the moment she said it. Not like he wouldn’t know that himself, she chastised herself. Not that she’d c… . c…  she couldn’t seem to finish that thought.

After some long moments of silence, Harry finally blurted, I’m married.

Hermione reeled back in shock. This couldn’t be happening, not now, not when she’d been trying to distance herself from him, how could they be… . wait. What?! she choked. Married? But we never, I mean, we… . I…  you can’t be married! You didn’t notice that slip, you didn’t notice that slip, you didn’t…  No such luck. Harry’s eyes had snapped up to meet hers, then dropped to gaze at his hands. Then he mumbled something; Hermione didn’t catch it and was too scared to ask.

Taking a deep calming breath, she tried again. Run that by me again. How…  how can you be married? And…  and why didn’t you even tell me you fancied someone? Her face did NOT get hot all of a sudden, and she certainly didn’t have tears threatening to fall! She didn’t!

Here’s what happened, Harry said haltingly. This morning, when I went to breakfast, I ran into Jimmy. But…  this time…  When he wouldn’t continue, Hermione queried, He managed to touch you? The youngest Weasley had made some kind of game; he’d try to touch Harry whenever he saw him. So far, Harry had managed to avoid being felt up by the little creep.

Harry gulped. M… .mmm. H-he did. And there was this flash of light, and now I have a soul bond with him! he suddenly burst out. He’s been squealing around since then, chanting Finally, finally, finally over and over which is driving me nuts and he says it means WE’RE NOW MARRIED! Do something! Hermione! PLEASE!! Suddenly, Hermione had two armfuls of Harry (how did that happen? I didn’t hug him again, did I?) clinging to her in desperation. He’s here, in my head, I even went to ask Snape for help seeing how he’s been able to fool both Tom and Albus, but he just laughed! I didn’t know the man /could/ laugh, but he did! And now that stupid fanboy is here in my head, seeing and feeling everything I do, squealing and saying how happy he is and that we were meant to be and I can’t…  I can’t…  Hermione!

Desperate situations called for desperate decisions, Hermione decided. So what if Harry was married to Jimmy, or if he wasn’t going to be a prefect, or that she’d have to bin all the plans she’d been making since learning just who’d she be Prefects with.

Everything? she asked and hoped she sounded a lot more confident than she actually felt. Everything, a shaken Harry confirmed. It’s not cheating your wife if he knows what’s going on, is it? With that, Hermione kissed him.

And Jimmy? The Prefect’s Bath is going to be occupied tonight.

Ralph S.

Hermione Granger was miffed. Nothing she did seemed to work; Harry always was at least half a step ahead of her, sometimes even more. She even had the bite marks to prove it!

But so did he. Or that unknowable female helper of his. She didn’t know which, but she didn’t care; one way or another, she HAD been able to get her teeth in.

Thank — uh, someone not name Godric, Maeve, Merlin, or Morgana — for small favours!

Overall, though, Harry was STILL ahead of her. He was far too agile, to quick, too fast for Hermione Jane Granger!

What she needed was…  was… .

Her eyes lit up.

That evening, as she went into her room to prepare for Operation ‘This Time, I am Gonna Nail YOU’, she was greeted by a piece of parchment stuck to her mirror. In her own handwriting.

The next morning, Hermione greeted her best friend with a soft kiss to his cheek and a smile on her face; the latter of which he returned with a wide but slightl confused smile of his own. Strangely enough, she in turn was greeted with a similar kiss to her cheek and a fond smile — by Lavender. But before she could say anything, the blonde had skipped over to her friend Parvati, leaving only a cheerful ‘Be seeing you two!’ echoing in Hermione’s head.

 

Hermione trembled as a pair of hands gently bounced her breasts between them and…  another pair lightly parted her legs?

What the — ?

Biting her lip, Hermione made ample use of talents she never thought she had, much less needed: one, to remain quiet in class; two, to solve a problem put before her by someone not a professor; and three, to return the favour unnoticed. Not an easy thing to do when you couldn’t see the person to be done that favour!

Lord of Bones

Struck dumb, Hermione could only stare at the mirror.

And stare.

And stare some more.

She felt her breathing quicken as her mind struggled with the idea that Harry was still way ahead of her, and somewhere deep inside her the same overachieving little girl with the perfect report card rose up defiantly and shouted that she was not about to back down.

Also, somewhere within her a kinky-haired witch in a scandalously short schoolgirl’s uniform added even while bent over Professor Potter’s desk, but that’s another story.

Hermione felt unknown forces within her, compelling her to raise her right hand and point dramatically at the mirror. As myself as my witness, I WILL nail Harry Potter!

The ominous clap of thunder and dramatic music was ruined by Parvati standing in the doorway, staring at her blankly while switching gazes between her and the mirror, before quietly stepping out and closing the door with that same deadpan look on her face.

 

Things were not going exactly as planned. Hermione could admit that she’d seriously underestimated Harry’s daring.

While the crowded nature of the Great Hall during lunch was an easy smokescreen, she found it much difficult when she was in a much more intimate setting… such as in the Gryffindor common room, sitting next to a quietly writing Lavender and trying not to squirm as Harry gently kissed a spot on her inner thigh.

She felt the warm lips travel north, and bit her lip; caught between wanting to spread her legs more or trying to retain some semblance of secrecy.

Are you alright, Hermione?

It’s… it’s nothing, Lavender, just a little cooo — EEP! I — I mean, I’m just fine!

Hermione did manage a smile at Lavender’s concerned look, and was completely taken off-guard when the blonde looped an arm around her and drew closer, so that they were almost touching. This better? she murmured.

There was a sharp exhale as Harry’s teasing kisses turned to warm, affectionate laps, and Hermione managed to grin. Th — thanks.

Ralph S.

Lavender? Have you seen Ron?

Actually, yes. He’s up in his dorm, playing chess. Against himself, I think.

Again? Honestly, that boy! … . Say, do you think you might accompany me and Harry to Hogsmeade tonight? We’re going to look at a couple things we need to deal with, Harry has to take care of some business he refuses to share she cast a mock-annoyed-glance sideways and received a warm smirk in return and Ron, well he was supposed to help us both, I mean, he’s quite good at giving advice – Lavender smiled, warmly. Of course, Hermione. I’ll help you with anything you need.

Thank you. Harry touched her shoulder. We really appreciate it. And if you need anything from us, just name it.

Wrapping her arms around both of their waists, she guided them towards the Great Hall. No time like the present, eh?

Upstairs, in his room, Ron sat, his chessboard before him, eyes unmoving, fixed upon the White Queen as his fingers guided his Black King to win another game for him, a couple chocolate frogs heedlessly hopping about him, lost to the world.

Ralph S.

Lavender couldn’t help but take Hermione up on her ‘offer’; she smiled and put her arm around the shivering brunette.

She was a little stiff at first, and every now and then Lavender could feel a light tremor run through the other girl; it probably were after effects of Hermione being cold — those final few twitches to shake off the last remnants of the cold but if she lowered her eyes a bit and let her imagination run free, Hermione wasn’t cold at all; no, instead, she would be biting her lips, trying to contain her mounting excitement, trying to keep soft moans from escaping.

That the slightly older girl’s trembles didn’t grow weaker but stronger never made it through to the blonde’s conscious thought processes. Already she heard breath quickening, saw Hermione’s throat twitching as she gulped hard, felt her push back into her arms in her fantasies.

That was when she noticed an unfamiliar sensation at her neck and, surprised, Lavender’s eyes snapped open. And just managed to keep from rubbing her eyes in surprise.

There, in her arms, was Hermione Granger, Bookworm Extraordinaire and Lavender’s long-time crush, flushed, legs parted slightly, moaning lightly and softly kissing along her jawline.

Leave this Goddess to Ronald Weasley? Not if Lavender, no middle name, Brown had /anything/ to do with it.

She reached around and began to lightly massage Hermione’s breasts. For better or worse: she was committed, now. And a Brown always protected what was hers.

Lord of Bones

Hermione bit her lip as the delicate fingers traced their way down her sides, lingering at the curve of her hips.

There were two of them.

She held back a whimper as plump lips touched the curve of her neck and soft breasts pressed against her back.

There were two people in the castle bent on driving her into orgasmic bliss whenever they wanted, and one was a woman.

There was a warm exhale on her right inner thigh, and a tongue gently flicking upwards; before a slender finger slipped into Hermione’s mouth to muffle the ensuing moans.

 

Hermione gasped in shock as strong hands suddenly grabbed hold of her; her surprised squeak muffled by the lips claiming hers. She relaxed instantly at her invisible lover’s unmistakeable taste, and slowly caressed his tongue with hers. Calloused hands lifted her up by her arse, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Today was the day she was finally going to return the favour.

Only to be interrupted by a softer body pressing against her back and delicate hands criss-crossing over her front.

Hermione smiled. She was going to get them both, and finally see who her best friend was tag-teaming her with.

Much later… 

Hermione slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. While she looked presentable, she could still feel the tongue running along her nipples and the rough denim grinding against her soaked silk knickers.

They’d done it again.

She’d been unable to unmask Harry or his mysterious accomplice, OR return the favour, but she still managed to gain a small victory. The surprised gasp when she managed to slip a hand into her female phantom lover’s blouse still echoed in her ears.

Ralph S.

The next night, Hermione climbed into her bed, quivering in anticipation. Turning this way and that, she sought her invisible bedmate.

But, there was no one there.

Sighing in disappointment, she curled up and eventually fell asleep, various senses of smell, touch, and sight haunting her dreams, kept at bay by an unfamiliar sense of security.

The next day, Hermione woke to that same sense, still feeling the soft and warm body pressed into hers. Smiling to herself, she idly hoped this particular night would never end.

In fact, she even felt a pair of hands cupping her breasts, gently squeezing them, and a warm body pressed into hers from behind. She gave an involuntary moan of disappointment — she was going to have to get up soon and then these glorious feelings would be gone with the wind — she wriggled a bit and without thinking, reached up to cover those dream hands with hers.

And gulped. Those were no /phantom/ hands.

Unbidden, she remembered herself being disappointed last night, of having to sleep…  unfulfilled. Then, she remembered this last night - the best night of her life so far if she stopped to think about it.

And so she pressed the hands holding her more firmly against her chest before slightly turning her head, eyes closed still, to whisper a heartfelt ‘Thank you’; which resulted in a momentary tightening of that embrace she was in and she would later swear she could feel the warmth of a smile behind her.

Ralph S.

Dark overtones.

Hermione, do you…  do you want to be my girlfriend?

He watched as a curious expression passed across her face, almost too far for him to catch.

Overcome, she only just managed to croak, Ron, before opening her arms in silent invitation.

Grinning widely, he picked her up, wrapping her in his arms, hugging her tightly.

But not as tightly as she did him. In fact, now that he thought about it, even his mother couldn’t compete with the sheer ferocity of the infamous Hermi Hug. Ron closed his eyes and succumbed to her embrace.

Hermione’s eyes, cold as frozen earth, motionless, lifeless, never twitched as she slowly reopened her arms and felt rather than saw Ron’s body hit the floor at her feet. Stepping back, she reached behind and mimed wrapping arms around herself before turning her head sideways and fiercely kissing something that didn’t seem to be there.

Take me. Here. I want to remember this moment, forever. Make me remember, always. Now, Harry.

Lord of Bones

There were times when discretion was called for, and this was one of them.

At least, that was what Hermione assumed her phantom lover was thinking, given that there was nobody between her thighs in the middle of lunch. That did not explain, however, why she felt the distinct presence of hands on her shoulders. Very familiar hands.

The pad of a thumb brushed against her cheek softly, before the sensation vanished.

Hermione exhaled, only to clap her hands over her mouth as she let out a surprised yelp. Several faces turned to her but went back to their plates and chattering at her nervous smile. The bushy-haired witch inhaled sharply when she realized the hands had somehow found themselves inside her robes.

She swallowed nervously and reached for the roast beef on her plate; hoping the food would distract her from the sensations of-

Her fork clattered on her plate when, somehow, those wonderfully rough fingers tweaked the tips of her breasts just like-

No! She had to concentrate! Hermione gulped down her pumpkin juice when one hand finished its playing with a playful squeeze of her left breast, before a fingertip playfully trailed down her trim stomach down to-

Hermione ‘eep’ed.

 

It was not much later when Harry left the table; a cocky smirk on his face. He’d practiced ages with that spell, and putting it to good use helped in his little ruse. Of course, while Hermione left blissfully smiling — and with a firm spank on her lovely rear — another naughty witch did need to be taught a lesson.

Lavender, left alone at the table, whimpered as, again, the fingers stopped just before she went over the edge.

Ralph S.

In the dark, long past curfew, a disillusioned Hermione Granger paced. She had researched long and hard until, eventually, a book had fallen into her hands (literally; she’d been looking for something entirely unrelated) that detailed ways to get yourself invisible — and how to detect invisible people.

It was therefore trivial enough to develop methods to prevent those detection techniques from working.

And so she had, armed only with her wand, made her way up to the Boy Dorms — to Harry — to pay him back for all the things he had done to her; all the bruises her lips had suffered; all the orgasms she HADN’T been able to scream to the heavens the way she had wanted.

Blast that boy! If only he wasn’t so sexy, so skilled, so deliciously green-eyed!

Then when she’d gathered her Gryffindor courage and reached out to open the doors, she had once again felt those oh-so-familiar hands in oh-so-familiar places. Which, if she were honest about it, used to be not-so-familiar not so long ago — she certainly hadn’t known there were parts of Hermione Granger that were so…  so sensitive! Or that a certain green-eyed best friend had ways to make ALL of Hermione Granger that sensitive!

It had mattered not that she tried to resist. It had mattered not that she had given as good as she got — or tried to; but at least Harry didn’t seem to mind much. It had not even mattered that she’d gone to great lengths to return the favor.

Because an invisible Harry had simply caught a just-as-invisible Hermione Granger — on his doorstep no less — despite everything she had done to prevent just that.

And so, a thoroughly disillusioned Hermione Granger paced around her thoroughly …  slept-in looking…  bed, heedless of her excitement trickling down her legs and certainly heedless of an invisible, face-splitting grin wearing Harry licking his lips at the sight.

Ralph S.

Hermione sat in her stall, waiting silently. She knew Harry would drag Ron with him or die trying; all she had to do was to make sure Ron was close enough to the troll while Harry…  wasn’t. The rest would take care of itself.

It always did.

Lord of Bones

Hermione looked around, making sure the drapes of the other beds were tightly shut before she slipped the straps of her nightgown from her shoulders. The fabric slipped down her body, pooling at her ankles as she stood in the moonlight.

There was a sharp intake of breath from her bed.

She smiled and strode to her bed; the gentle sway of her bare hips alluring in the pale moonlight. She extended her hand, only to gasp as a calloused hand firmly but gently seized her wrist and drew her to the bed.

Then her bed-mate kissed her.

She barely managed a muffled squeak as she was pressed against the hard chest of her companion, before his tongue darted between her lips.

It was quite some time before they parted, a single strand of saliva bridging the gap between them. Hermione panted slightly; face flushed from both the kiss and her companion’s unexpected forwardness. There was obvious affection in the way he nuzzled her neck and cupped her breasts, gently running the pads of his thumbs over her nipples; and she barely managed a gasp as he pulled her down.

She heard — and felt — his heartbeat through his chest, lulling her to sleep as he held her close.

It was early the next morning that she stirred, feeling her impromptu pillow move before depositing her head on a soft pillow. She had the sudden feeling of someone grinning at her cheekily before a firm palm playfully smacked the bare cheeks of her curvy rump. Her indignant squeak of surprise was silenced by a playful kiss before he departed, leaving a blushing — if content — brunette on her bed.

Lord of Bones

Hermione Granger was in a bit of a quandary.

Firstly, she now had an understanding with Lavender. It was a very nice understanding, in her opinion.

Secondly, that understanding had encompassed Harry as well. It had been a bit of a surprise for Lavender, at first, but now, well… Hermione flushed pink at the throaty moan from the semi-clad witch stading in front of her bed.

Thirdly, when Harry was not invisible, they shared a quiet intimacy. Hermione treasured those quiet moments where she’d simply lean against his shoulder while he looped an arm around her waist, while she knew Lavender often entwined his fingers with hers when they sat together.

Fourth, she liked to watch. She could admit this rather shamelessly, which is why she was currently enjoying watching the buxom blonde beauty in front of her moan as a glistening patch of wetness appeared along her neck, while an invisible hand teased a bare breast.

Fifth, she still had no idea who the female half of her two lovers was. Of course, Harry didn’t exactly exempt her either; given that she’d been driven into little-death-caused-wrecks even while pleasuring the bushy-haired brunette. She did get a vibe of smug sensuality off the hidden witch; whoever she was she took a great deal of satisfaction in driving her — or Lavender — over the edge.

What was her quandary?

Even with another person, she was still no closer to returning the favour to Harry. Hermione pouted. There was something absolutely loveable and infuriating about that boy, especially when she and Lavender routinely used his chest as their pillow while being too tired to seize the moment.

It was almost as though he was challenging her!

Lord of Bones

Harry Potter was a tease.

At this point, Hermione was willing to believe it was genetic. Only James Potter’s son could prove he was just as good a prankster as his father by applying that knowledge to carnal relations. She’d spent most of the night with Harry just beyond her field of vision, as he took care to ensure that she only caught quick glimpses of his movements at the corner of her eyes

The end result was predictable, and a half-asleep, sated Miss Granger soon found herself in a bridal carry as she was returned to the girls’ dorms, tucked under the covers and left with a lingering kiss and the familiar sensation of a playful swat on her bottom.

 

It was raining.

It was raining, and Hermione was being driven insane.

Harry was playing her like a harp in accordance with the weather, weaving sweet caresses and licks with firm finger-thrusts and harsh sucks. Thunder and lightning means those rough fingers between her thighs would switch from gentle thrusts to swift pistoning, while the mouth that alternated between her lips and her breasts turned hungry and greedy, trading gentle licks and soft kisses for harsh suckling and nips with even teeth.

With a muffled shriek, she let go, and felt him smile against her neck.

Then there was a shocked female gasp, before Hermione felt her invisible lover move.

There was the sudden dipping of the bed and soft curves against her, before Hermione realized her other playmate had returned.

She heard a distinct female moan and a masculine growl (and it made her both blush and curse the fact that both of them were invisible), and a pleading mewl — which she recognized as being very, very similar to how she’d sometimes sound when Harry *just wouldn’t stop teasing* — before she felt both male and female hands and bodies pressed against her.

And they were alternating.

It was much, much later that she’d fallen asleep, and even moreso when she woke up with the distinct memory of being in a mutual embrace with her mysterious female lover, bodies writhing against each other’s, as they pleaded with their shared lover to finally let them cum.

Ralph S.

McGonagall sat in her office, idly skimming over the essays in front of her. Her latest class had been suspiciously…  /quiet/. She couldn’t put her finger on it — it was most strange.

It was Miss Granger’s paper falling into her hands that caught her attention. This in itself was not unusual.

What WAS unusual was that, while her work was as impeccably written as always, there were…  issues with it. Small ones, to be sure. Insignificant, even.

Times when the hand holding the quill hand twitched; none in the beginning, occasional ones later on, a couple times McGonagall thought Miss Granger must’ve almost dropped her writing implement rather than being able to write with it (she marvelled at the young woman’s tenacity; it was obvious from the dried ink before her she’d never even considered stopping) before steadying again until, a few paragraphs into the conclusion, according to the parchment before her Miss Granger must’ve stood in her chair and screamed to the heavens; except McGonagall knew better as she’d had an eye on all her students.

It was…  most strange. Especially since she knew the girl had never stopped writing, and the narrative never wavered either; but McGonagall still blushed and then wondered what in the name of Godric could possibly make her redden like that for no reason.

Miss Brown’s paper was next; it meandered slightly and McGonagall got the distinct impression of a mind schooled to hide itself but failing, willingly or unwillingly; either way, McGonagall made a mental note to talk to the girl soon. No — the young woman, she corrected herself; clearly, there was more to Miss Brown than met the eye.

Mister Weasley wrote of food, chess, and quidditch. Nothing new there; but then again that might have been her own fault as she’d been the one to tell him in no uncertain terms to ‘play to your strengths’. She sighed. In some ways, she concluded there must be more to Ronald Weasley than met the eye also. Just not very much.

And she’d have to remind him her class was called /Transfiguration/. With an N. And ending in TION.

Finally, Mr Potter’s. His papers had become surprisingly upbeat of late; she was very happy to find he’d stopped moping about and seemed to become more like his father, if not…  quite…  as much. If pressed, she’d have to admit she was glad about that, too. Over time, she’d also noticed an interesting trend to his thoughts as he put them to parchment; he’d started to work his way from more superficial aspects to deeper reasoning and carefully connecting the two where, before, he’d skipped minor aspects altogether and then floundered with the major ones, not finding applications for them. She was certain this was NOT Miss Granger’s influence; she’d have to keep her eyes open, though, and see if he spent any time with one of her…  flightier…  cubs.

She sighed and took the parchments before her before rolling them up and putting them into her bag. Students kept thinking professors were nothing but professors; but she did have a life of her own, thank you very much.

And as she took her wand, bag, and cloak to leave, a faint…  smell…  caught her sensitive nose. Sniffing once, twice, three times, she concluded that yes, she knew this particular scent; but that no, she was not inclined to investigate in any way, shape, or form.

And that Miss Granger’s drive to excel, even in the face of adversity, was to be commended in the strongest terms possible.

Ralph S.

Hermione undressed, slowly, before turning around with a yawn and sitting down on her bed.

Only to squeak and shoot back up in surprise. Had that been a tongue, there between her legs when she’d sat?

No. Impossible. There was nothing there.

Carefully, she sat again.

THERE!

After a few minutes contemplating the conundrum, Hermione concluded that since the sensations…  down there…  were far too exquisite to be real she a) was hallucinating or that b) Harry’s cloak prevented the Stair Wards from working.

That, and it was getting too difficult for her to think.