Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. It's just a fanfiction.
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Hermione couldn't help herself.
She hated flying. It wasn't a secret to anyone. Since her first year she displayed an obvious aversion to the idea of being on a broomstick and everyone assumed it was due to her evident fear of heights. And in a way, they were right. She was afraid of heights and always have been since she fell from the balcony of her grandmother's house when she was five. The pain she felt when she fell on her arm and the irritant feeling of having her arm in a cast for five months was a constant memory in her life, enough to make her afraid of heights when she discovered that in being a witch she was supposed to fly on a clearly dangerous and no reliable piece of wood. So, when her friends supposed that she didn't like to fly on a broomstick because she was purely afraid of heights, she let it be.
They weren't exactly wrong, after all.
What they didn't know, though, was that it wasn't the only motivation that made her dislike the apparatus. Well, dislike wasn't the right word, actually. Uncomfortable was more like it. She was uncomfortable of being on a broom. And that feeling wasn't even remotely related to heights, pain, casts or falls. Not even close.
It was closely related instead to the feeling of having a stick rubbing her between her legs.
All the brooms nowadays had a Cushioning Charm of course, what made the act of flying not painful to wizards and witches after hours of sitting on a broomstick, but even so, even if softened, the pressure that the weight of someone's body made on the stick when a person sat on the broom was enough to make Hermione uncomfortable. It was, in the end, a soft pressure, a pleasurable press, an incredible perfect squeeze...
On someone's clit.
Especially when this person was highly sensitive and easily responsive, like Hermione was.
She didn't know exactly when she discovered the wonders of a human body for the first time, or rather, the wonders of her own body. She hadn't even been aware of what exactly happened and why her body reacted like that when she touched her genitals and self-stimulated herself when she was feeling bored. She only knew that every time she did it, it made her feel good and that she pretty much enjoyed doing it to herself.
She couldn't remember when she touched herself for the first time, but she could pretty much remember the first time she reached the apex of it. She was only a kid, about eight years old, when she felt that strange sensation for the first time. She was used to take long showers and play during it, usually singing and dancing carefree or simply pretending to be a superhero using her aquamarine powers, which were nothing more than the water that flowed down her arms and run down different ways through her fingers and that she could "manipulate" while swinging her arms.
But that day, specifically, she decided to play differently.
Using the handheld shower, she cleaned herself up and, at some point, she innocently decided to use the water's pressure to clean her intimate parts. Her mother always told her to pay close attention to these parts of her body and to always make sure that she had washed herself correctly, after all, so in her head it just seemed logical that it was a good idea. What she felt, however, made her sure it was a good idea. The feeling of having the water's pressure caressing the sensitive skin between her legs was indescribable and propelled her to keep up doing it. After some minutes, some strange feeling, completely foreign to her body, crashed upon her and made some parts of her that she didn't even know existed constrict and contract.
She didn't know what it was for sure, but she did know it was good and that she liked it.
She liked it very much.
Of course, she didn't know that she had just had her first unconscious orgasm, but she surely knew that she wanted to feel the "good pain" - the name she used to describe that sensation that affected her body - again, as soon as possible.
And in the next day, there she was, with the handheld shower between her legs reaching another good pain, that wasn't painful at all, transforming this habit in a habit she would willingly repeat whenever she felt like it.
She didn't know what it was and why her body reacted like that for a long time in her life, and differently from her custom, she didn't try to find its answer on a book or tried to ask her mother about it. That is, where should she even start her research? She had already read all her school books that talked about the human body and she couldn't remember even one mention about some strange sensation caused by water's pressure and she clearly couldn't approach her mother about the subject without telling her what she did.
Her mother was a kind and wise woman who always knew what was best for her daughter, always taking care of her and teaching her the right thing to do. She already knew her little daughter liked to play with her sex, after catching Hermione masturbating while watching TV when she was only five years old and kindly explained that it was a normal thing to do, something entirely ok, as long as it was done privately, preferably in her bedroom or in the bathroom, and that she should never tell someone about it, do it in front of other people, let an adult do it for her or do it on someone else. But even if her mother knew her daughter's habit, Hermione couldn't possibly tell her about the good pain and ask questions about it. Intimately, she was old enough to know that if her mother told her to do it privately and tell no one about it, then something was clearly not normal about the act.
Years later, when she finally understood what was happening, she knew that her mother was completely right since the beginning and that she approached the subject in the right way. Children's masturbation was a taboo all around the world, even if it was a pretty common behaviour among toddlers, and thus, it was usually approached in the wrong way by parents. Children's masturbation wasn't dirty, wicked or even sinful, and it wasn't some kind of medical problem. It wouldn't cause some harm to the child and wouldn't resolve in promiscuous behaviour either. It was a part of being human and growing up, a completely normal thing to do, even for a child. It was just a way to release tension and feel good, and if approached in a wrong way by parents, it could cause some kind of trauma, and later, sexual inhibition.
And sexual inhibition was something that Hermione, definitely, didn't suffer from.
On the contrary.
Hermione Granger loved books. It wasn't a secret to anyone, either. She liked every and any kind of book, from academical works to fiction books, everything that could teach her something or tell her a new wonderful story. And it was with a book, when she was thirteen years old, that she found out the confirmation, unintentionally, about what the good pain was.
She had just returned from her second school year at Hogwarts (a particularly horrible year, taking into account that she had remained weeks in the Hospital Wing, firstly because of the incident with the Polyjuice potion and secondly because of the basilisk that had petrified her) and was relaxing inside her bedroom, reading some silly romance novel, when the main characters of the book started to engage themselves in an erotic scene and she felt, inadvertently, her knickers damping while reading it. When the woman in the book reached the edge during sex and the author described the sensation of having an orgasm, she understood that the thing she felt every time she stimulated herself with the handheld shower was indeed an orgasm.
She had her suspicions, already. Kids, after all, even more when they live all together in a board school, talk with each other about their experiences, about puberty, about the new transformations their bodies were going through and, of course, about sex, all the time, even if the majority of them have not even had their first kiss yet. And Hermione, specially, was privileged with that kind of information, since she shared a room with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. She had her suspicions, sure, but after reading that novel she was certain.
And she freaked out.
Hermione was already thirteen, old enough to know what promiscuity and depravation were, and old enough to be afraid of being taxed as an easy girl by society. Old enough to know that girls who like to explore their sexuality and enjoy the sensation of pleasure were judge by people and seen as immoral and obscene, and she didn't want her parents and her friends to think less of her because of her sexual drive.
Her first reaction, then, was to eliminate masturbation completely. She didn't touch herself anymore and she tried to be as quick as possible in the bath to resist the urge of using the handheld shower on herself. She tried to avoid all the things about sex, any kind of innuendo about intercourse in books or on television and even tried to scold herself every time she felt the urge to release some of her pent-up tension. She even felt disgusted with herself when she casually felt her knickers getting damped because of some unintentional stimulus.
Her second reaction was to distract her mind and her body. She tried to fil her free time with more books and some physical exercises. Hermione was never a girl interested in sports or exercise, but that summer she started some healthy habits with the goal of forgetting. Forgetting about the pleasure, forgetting about the sensations, forgetting about everything she ever felt while touching herself, as if her muscles aching could possibly make her forget about the aching between her legs.
But it was almost impossible.
Hermione had a sensitive nature, not just talking about her heart but about her body as well. She felt very much and she responded very easily. She was always on edge and was always susceptible, always inclined to sense everything around her. Every touch, every smell, every stimulation, everything tempted her and everything sent her on overdrive. And no, it wasn't related to the fact that she was used to release herself since she was a kid. Infant masturbation wasn't related to high sex drive. She was like that because she was just born that way, simply as that.
Her attempts, therefore, lasted only a few weeks.
She had tried. She had tried very hard to fight against her body's urge and for a long time she was successful, but after weeks trying to repress herself, she finally gave in. She felt dirty, wicked, completely filthy, yes, but she knew she couldn't stop it anymore. After that, every time she wanked she felt really ashamed and afterwards wished that she didn't. She knew she would feel like that in the end, but she did anyways.
She needed it, even if she felt bad for doing so and deeply condemned herself for it.
At sixteen, however, she found peace with herself. At thirteen, she was too young to know that girls have all the rights of being sexually active and to know that society were wrong about girls who like to please themselves, but at sixteen she could understand it perfectly.
Girls, the same as boys, are the owners of their own bodies and have all the rights in the world to explore themselves as they please. If they want to self-stimulate their bodies and play around with their genitals, inducing their bodies in a rampage of orgasms, they can. It's their rights. They have the ownership of their bodies and no one, not their parents, not the society, not males and even other females could say otherwise. Their bodies their rules, and that's nobody else's business.
Hermione was once again in control of herself and that's how she reached her inner nirvana.
That's how she freed herself from that conservative view about female sexuality and made peace with her own body.
However, even after finding out and accepting that desire, pleasure, self-stimulation and masturbation were normal things to do and that it wasn't abnormal or sinful at all, Hermione still had a problem. As stated previously, she had a very responsive and easily stimulated body, one that was easily aroused.
Even by a broomstick between her legs.
"Earth to Hermione, Earth to Hermione, is anyone there?" She woke up from her trance with a start and she would have almost fallen off the broom if Harry had not been quick enough to hold her up.
She was so lost in thoughts that she didn't even notice when Harry called her for at least ten times, much less noticed him when he approached her from the side and waved one of his hands in front of her eyes with the purpose of drawing her attention back to the real world.
"Harry!" She almost screamed, grabbing the broomstick's handle as if her life depended on that. Harry, knowing she would freak out even with the most remote possibility of falling out of a broom, grabbed her by the shoulder and gently helped her regain stability.
"Sorry, Hermione!" He said, still holding her up. "But you weren't listening to me."
"And that's why you decided to almost kill me?" She lectured, furrowing her brows at him and he instantly retracted his hands. He knew it wasn't wise to be near her when she was pissed like that. A pissed Hermione was a dangerous Hermione.
"I'm innocent, I swear..."
"Come on, Hermione!" Ginny intervened, approaching them on her broom. "We need to start if we want to play a little before nightfall."
"Guys, I think I'm not in the mood..." She said, straightening up on the stick, what made her unfortunately rub her clit on the wood, increasing her arouse. "Shit..." she murmured, so low that no one beside herself could understand her word. She was already feeling her knickers getting damp and her skin starting to tingle. Her breasts, in turn, were getting tender, as if they were asking her to be fondled.
"What?" Harry asked, and she shook her head.
"Nothing, Harry..."
"Hermione, your face is red... Are you alright?" Ron asked, joining them around Hermione, and once more she cursed low.
"I'm alright, Ron. I'm just a little distracted..."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, reaching for her forehead, in a tentative of feeling her corporal temperature. Although his actions were innocent, Hermione knew her body wouldn't understand the gesture as a merely gesture of concern, so she instantly backed off, out of his reach, before the situation could get worse.
"I'm sure, Harry. Probably it's just a cold..."
"Perhaps you should go see Madam Pomfrey..." Ginny said, looking concerned.
"Yeah, you're right, Ginny..." She mentally thanked Merlin and God for the perfect opportunity of getting out of there that Ginny just introduced.
She wanted to step out of there as soon as possible. At that exact moment.
"I'll take you there..." Harry proposed, but she quickly dismissed him with a shake of her hands.
"No, Harry. You, Ginny and Ron can enjoy the afternoon, play some Quidditch and have fun. It will be better without me anyways..."
"Are you sure?" He asked again, and she nodded before making her way down and safely land on the lawn. They weren't occupying the pitch, since they weren't really practicing Quidditch but just playing amicably to pass time. It was their first weekend back to Hogwarts for their seventh year (sixth for Ginny), and they were still on vacation vibe, hence why they were previously playing two-a-side as they were used to play at the Burrow. For Hermione's chagrin, of course.
"Fuck" she coursed in a murmur, when the impact of her feet reaching the grounds pressured her clit once more, sending some shivers down her spine. Trying to pretend that nothing was happening, she waved her hands in her friends' direction and tried her best to demonstrate a calm posture not to alert them.
She wasn't afraid anymore and she didn't feel that masturbation was something wrong and dirty, but she kept being super secretive about it. Yes, she knew the act was an expression of loving her body and herself and wasn't ashamed that she did it frequently, but she also knew that normal society wasn't very kind with that kind of independent woman and was very judgmental about sexual activities. Even more wizarding society, which was formed by a whole bunch of conservative bigots.
Then, as soon as she was far enough from them that they couldn't realize that something was wrong, she ran as fast as possible towards the castle and her bedroom where she could be as secretive as she wanted to be.
Hermione Granger was lying down on her bed and completely naked from head to toe.
The best part of being Head Girl was definitely the part where she had a bedroom all to herself. No Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil gossiping around, no chatter in ungodly hours of the day and finally no interruptions to her wanker. She could play with herself all day and not be afraid that one of her roommates could pull the curtains off her bed without warning and witness something she shouldn't have. Luckily, she had never being caught by her roommates before, but no one ever surely knows. Being responsible and possessing a brilliant mind came in hand sometimes, especially when these factors presented her with the position of Head Girl and a pretty private bedroom.
Of course, the whole thing wasn't exclusive, since she shared a common room with Theodore Nott, the Head Boy, but Nott was a secluded boy who liked to be alone most of his time, even among other people, and didn't share any amicable feeling for Hermione, reason why he avoided their shared common room most of the time, preferring the dungeons where he could be alone too, but among purebloods. So, usually, she had the whole quarter just for herself all day, like she had at that moment. What made her new bedroom the perfect environment for a good solo-loving.
Clearing her mind and closing her eyes, she then started her so desired exploration.
Hermione Granger didn't like to go for it. She liked to play and tease, to feel and touch. She liked to caress herself and slowly build the sensation before reaching the precipice and threw herself from it. It was exiting, it was... pleasurable.
So there, lying face down, she put a pillow between her thighs, adjusted her position so that her clit could receive the perfect pressure from her weight, and slowly began to grind her hips down against its soft material. With one hand, she started to fondle her tender breasts, careful to avoid her nipples, and used her other hand to softly scratch her nails over the right parts of her body, like her neck, stomach, hips and thighs building some rhythm with her ministrations and lingering around some places where she felt more responsive.
While caressing her body, she could feel herself getting wetter between her legs and her fluids slowly soaking the pillow according to her thrusts. She had a pretty good amount of natural lubrification when aroused, never needing to use any kind of lube. She had enough for herself, and she loved and hated it. Loved, because it helped a lot when she was loving herself and hated because it could make her pretty uncomfortable when it gushed out of her in inappropriate moments.
Feeling really good with her caresses, she let a little moan escape from her lips when she unintentionally caressed one of her nipples before she tweaked it, hardening it into a peak. Doing the same to the other, she grabbed her butt and squeezed it, making her hips rock even more into the pillow, and making her skin tingle, sending shivers down her stomach directly into her clit.
After some minutes of teasing herself and riding the pillow, when she was already feeling some kind of knot building inside her belly, she lowered her hand between her thighs and slowly ran her fingers along her inner folds and all along the sides of her clitoris, not allowing herself any direct contact yet. Diligently, she fondled the place between her clit and her vagina, enjoying the way her fluids allowed her fingers to glide comfortably, making her sex all slicky and all so good.
Goosebumps covered her skin and her fingertips got even more wetter, all covered by her natural lubrication, when she gentle stroked her clitoris drawing some circular patterns all over her bud. She was reaching the zenith, she could feel it inside every muscle in her body. She could almost feel the blood inside her crotch running wild while she touched herself, while the pressure of a good wank pleasured her.
Even though she was using her hands on her clitoris and didn't need the pillow to create some friction anymore, she continued to bounce on the bed, pretending to be riding someone or something. Hermione liked the movement, liked to be active and to feel daring, so she bounced up and down while she intensified the pressure applied on her most erogenous zone, until one of the best orgasms of her life crashed on her and made her whimper in despair, washing and engulfing her body with an incredible sensation of lust.
"Fuck" She murmured while she rode her orgasm by continuing to caress her clit slowly, feeling her inner muscles clenching in pure ecstasy and euphoria.
It had been great.
It had been awesome.
But it hadn't been enough.
"Fuck, I want more" She said, taking a deep breath and letting her body fall on the mattress of her bed.
She was already thinking about the possibility of lying still until her body recovered from the previous orgasm to indulge herself in another round, when a voice, coming out of nowhere, startled her completely, making her open her eyes and scream desperately.
"Care if I join you, Granger?"
When she opened her eyes, she could hardly believe what she was looking at. Or better, whom she was looking at.
Standing at her door, with her knickers tangled in one of his hands, Draco Malfoy was looking at her with a treacherous smirk on his lips.
At that moment, she could swear that what she wanted the most in the world was that embarrassment could really kill someone.
Because if it could, she would be more than dead already.
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A/N: I hope you liked it! It's not proofread, so, if you find any misspelling or any grammatical error, just tell me and I will adjust it.
In this story, Voldemort was somehow defeated by Dumbledore in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries and no one has heard of him since. Yes, they are in their seventh year at Hogwarts (so Hermione is seventeen years old, almost eighteen) and most of HBP didn't happen. So Dumbledore is alive, Draco isn't a Death Eater and Lucius is still in Azkaban.
See you next chapter!