Chapter One - The Bridal Bash
Welcome to the jungle we've got fun and games
We got everything you want honey, we know the names
We are the people that can find whatever you may need
If you got the money honey, we got your disease
In the jungle, welcome to the jungle
Watch it bring you to your knnn knne knees, knees
I want to watch you bleed
Welcome to the jungle we take it day by day
If you want it, you're gonna bleed, but it's the price to pay
And you're a very sexy girl that's very hard to please
You can taste the bright lights, but you won't get there for free
In the jungle welcome to the jungle
Feel my, my, my serpentine
Ooh, I want to hear you scream
Welcome to the Jungle - Guns 'N' Roses
A wizard wedding is vastly different from the traditional blessings and floral glitter of a conventional Muggle wedding. In the Wizarding world, marriage is an exhibition of true frivolity, where the two uniting families come together to celebrate both the union of their offsprings hands, but also a chance to share in the dower of wealth, vittles or to share new 'experiences' with their new relations.
For Bill and Fleur Weasley, their wedding was a real celebration of both Wizarding and Veela traditions. Tongues were set free to wag, and loins let loose to run hot with fervour in a pungent mix of hormones and pheromones. All to unite Veela and Wizardfolk alike a festival filled with free food, free booze and free love.
It was a celebration that Hermione Granger found somewhat... overwhelming.
Born to a typically conservative family, Hermione could not help but cringe at the sheer amount of depravity that surrounded her. Her eyes widened as she watched lust drip down Ginny's pale cleavage, her pink silk dress moist with perspiration as the poor dress clung to her body in a last, desperate attempt to preserve her modesty.
Heat flared into Hermione's cheeks, the aching knot above her loins
making her groan as she hugged herself, wishing that she could sink into that safe folds of her chair.
"All Right!" Ginny roared from her place on the outside of the dancefloor, suddenly throwing off her admires in a display of frivolity that made Hermione's mouth run dry. She gaped at the sight of Ginny who strutted her stuff into the centre of the dance floor, her pink heels striking sparks into the wood like hammers on concrete. The redhaired vixen threw her arms above her head, winding her ass around with such hypnotic grace that a swarm of boys came aimlessly towards her like foolish souls tempted by the lure of a striga.
Ginny slammed straight into a Frat Slap before waving her body back up Dean Thomas before popping her hips and grinding her ass into Ernie McMillian. She whipped her wet hair through the breeze like a spray of molten copper, while all around her boys encircled her, their own hips clumsy and baying for attention as erections bulged visibly from the front of their pants. Pent-up frustration reeved around them, that air hot with lust as the boys trapped the sexed-up minx in their midst like a pack of horny dogs.
Hermione gasped as she watched Ginny disappear beneath a rush of clawing hands and sweaty limbs. She forced herself to look away, but found only baseness and lust everywhere she looked. Hermione swallowed and tried to ignore the heat spreading across her face, or the moist heat the tricked between her thighs. Hermione squirmed in her seat, closed her eyes and tried to remember the passage she had just read in the book that rested on her nightstand.
"Experts say women's sexual inclinations are more complicated than men's. While men are very rigid and specific about who they become aroused by, women have less-directed sex drives. Researchers say women are more likely to call themselves bisexual and that their sex drives overall are more "fluid" and can be more heavily influenced by social and cultural factors... The most orgasms recorded by a female was one-hundred and thirty-four in twenty-four hours... and that during that time a minimum of three hundred and sixty calories was burned.'
"Oh, good Gods!" Hermione screamed, the free evening seeming to seep into every fibre of her soul. The smell of sex-infused the air, rich with the scent of moist cunny, hot sweat and sordid passion. Panic roiled in her gut as the music began to flair once more, inciting more disparity as all around her friends degenerated into a pack of dry-humping, lip locking fiends.
"Excuse me!" Hermione cried out, cringing at the quailing innocence in her voice as she hailed a young drinks maid in a blue-grey dress.
"Oui, would you like eh drink?" Hermione gasped as the young maid turned, as with her free hand she brushed aside the drape of her hair to reveal.
"Gabrielle?!" If shame and temptation had plagued her soul before, now outrage flared through Hermione as cast her gaze around them at the shameless nature of her friends. In front of a child as well, how dare they?! "Gabrielle... What are you doing here? Surely you are too young to witness such things?"
Her words came in a blustered mess as Gabrielle's cute little brows furrowed with confusion. The Veela youth looked about her then giggled with realisation, the sound a sweet, girlish trill.
"Dis? Oh no madam Gngar, dis is so very mild. I am now in mah zixteenth year and can now zeek a mate... zpeaking so... Would your friend H'rry be 'ere, tonight? 'as I zay I can now zeek a mate, and I would very like to mate with 'im."
"Give me a drink..." Hermione said desperately, reaching for the goblets of wine that Gabrielle carried. She necked the whole beverage in a single go, and at once felt the calming effects of the alcohol begin to sooth her lewd emotions.
"You Muggles are zo strange..." Gabrielle said with an almost pitying tone as she sniffed the air around them. "You, zuppress zomething zo natural as your human urge for zex... would you like ahnother?"
"I think I'm going to..."
Gabrielle handed Hermione a second goblet of wine from which she swallowed another throat full. Gods If I keep this up I'm going to get drunk... better slow down an'.
"Ooh La La!" The young Veela cooed as her eyes fell upon something to her left. Hermione tried to halt herself, but her eyes followed the young Veela's gaze instinctively and felt her body rock with a sudden burst of fervour.
Luna Lovegood lay with Lavender Brown, herself draped backwards over one of the dining tables, the golden-haired ditts keeping her legs wrapped around the busty Gryffindor as their lips locked in a fiery kiss of passion.
"Sweet... Morgan's staff..." Hermione breathed and found her hand instantly filled by another goblet of wine.
"Tis a good night for love Madam Grnger..." Gabrielle smile seemed almost to mock Hermione's audacious expression. "If you zee Monsieur Arry pleze do tell 'im Gabrielle wishes to make 'im 'er 'ero..."
Hermione turned her gaze away for the lustful Veela and filled her mouth once more with a drink. She almost felt Gabrielle walk away, unwilling to accept the pain that now clamped around her heart had come from Gabrielle's request to inform Harry that she desired him. Harry and Hermione had been friends since their first year, and throughout those years both the prudish Gryffindor prefect and the rambunctiously adventurous seeker had never been anything more than just good friends. Hermione had tried not to think about him whenever the urge to sooth her pubescent needs grew too fierce. She had been afraid to think about Harry. Fearful of what it might do for their friendship. She had already seen one friend turn into an arse after adolescence and desire grew too much for him. To her, puberty had not been a good look on Ron. He had changed from a loutish and lazy slob to a horrid and brutish lout, prone to acts of petty jealousy and spiteful resentment whenever Hermione had expressed interest in anyone. Often using their friendship, not as a crux for change, but emotional manipulation and abuse.
Also, for Hermione, the thought of what her parents would say if they were to find out that Hermione had 'experimented' in school was near untenable. Both Mr and Mrs Granger had raised her with a strict conservative sense of moral decency, and even though they had tried to be supportive of her individuality, nurturing her bright, educational gifts and were proud of her vast and lofty, they had always expressed their desire for her to remain 'unsullied' before her wedding day.
Yet now, surrounded by so much sex, and breathing in the lewd cocktail of hormones that infused the air, Hermione could not ignore that lance of jealousy that plunged its emerald dagger straight into her gut. Hermione growled low and deep inside her chest, the sound rumbling in her throat like a vicious lioness striving to defend what was hers.
Wait! What?! The notion struck Hermione like a cane to the head as she shook her head to try and snap herself out of that spat of bitchiness.
Where on earth did that come from? Hermione had 'never' wanted to rip a girls throat out before, especially not a sweet little child like Gabrielle. She had not even been brisk with her feelings before, even when she had asked him if he and Cho had kissed. She had not been brisk even back then... hadn't she? And Cho had more chance of stealing Harry away from her than
Gabrielle... Steal Harry away?! Hermione shook her head again and prayed to see another drinks page come over to her. But I swear to the Gods if that bitch Gabrielle serves me again, I swear, I will give that little french hussy such a-
Hermione blinked, shock and surprise racing stopping her mid-rant when she saw, to her surprise, that the grail of wine she had been holding had magically been refilled. But... wait? These goblets don't have an abundance charm on them... do they?
Hermione glanced up to see who it was that had refilled her cup and felt her stomach flip at the sight of the utterly gorgeous man who now stood towering over her. He was tall, thick of hair that was cut still in a short, military-style buzz. His frame was still the powerfully made build of a pure athlete, with thick, broad shoulders and arms that strained the fabric of his dress robes. Eyes that sparkled like stones of pure obsidian glanced down at her behind a strong, hawk-like nose. The sight of him made Hermione's quim grow moist with desire as Viktor Krum gazed down upon her with a smile that lit his windswept face with charm.
"You looked thirsty... Hermione..." he spoke her name slowly, but to her surprise with perfect pronunciation, the sound of his voice after so long made her heart flutter from within.
"You... you said my name... correctly..." Her words came with a gasp and Viktor smiled her a most endearing smile.
"Of course... I practice for many days back in Bulgaria..."
"Why...?" Hermione felt her heart quiver, her blood running hot as she forced herself to take a mouthful of wine. He was right... her throat had suddenly run dry, yet the wine did nothing to sooth the burning heat in her body but fan the flames of desire the night had long stoked inside her. Hermione felt her head grow light as the hot influx of wine and passion sent heated desire searing through her veins. Her eyes traced the outline of Viktor's strong, muscular arms, stripping away layers of straining fabric as her mind tried to imagine how hard and chiselled those abs and pecks were that he had so cruelly concealed beneath those robes. Her eyes slowly settled on his ruggedly handsome face and wondered what it would feel like to taste those hard, windburnt lips again.
Hermione felt her cheeks burn with shame at these notions, at this horrendous objectification of her ex. Yet as she hid her wretched thoughts behind another draft of wine, Hermione could not conceal the feeling of growing wetness that had begun to pool between her thighs.
'Shh... Easy girl... it's just the heat... it's just all the shameless sex that's on display around us... we don't need to get all excited... we don't need to be...'
"Oh fuck it Viktor, I don't care!" Hermione roared fourth now, forgoing all resistance as another crash of carelessness flooded her soul with her second drop of drink. If this sudden display of crudeness from the otherwise virginal Hermione startled Viktor, the gorgeous seeker did not seem to care. Instead, his smile appeared positively radiant as a hearty Hermione threw herself out of her chair, before throwing her arms around him in one of her sheer hopeless abandon. Viktor's strong arms crushed her against the sheer wall of muscle that was his chest, driving all the air from her lungs in a moan of lust.
Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in her ex-lovers manly scent, the pleasant aroma of cedarwood caressed her senses as she affectionately nuzzled against the softness of his beard. Her heart beat with vibrant passion, as in the depths of her imaginings, so the face of a second man filled her musings. The thought of a second man, taking her so vehemently into her arms and crushing her against his own wall-like chest.
The thought of Harry's arms around her self Hermione's knees buckling beneath her, driving the orgasm she'd been fighting so hard to resist out her body in a quivering moan of desire. Shaking her to the very core. Oh, Harry why...? Why now...? When it is another man's arms that hold me?
Hermione tried to let herself ride out the cascading waves of passion that had sent her body rippling with desire. But the feel of Viktor Krum's obvious 'appreciation' felt suddenly wuite apparant as it dug vehemently into her stomach through the heavy fabric of his dress robes. Oh no... I've got to calm this down.
Forcing herself to step away from her ex, Hermione tried to fix her lust strewn hair and rosy cheeks. She could already see Viktor's lecherous smile, the sense of pride and hunger that now shadowed his already darkened eyes. Oh no... he thinks he did that... oh no Viktor, please don't.
"It's so good to see you again, Viktor." Hermione squeaked, sounding like a mouse that had suddenly noticed a broad and powerful house cat. "Come on! Let's go have some fun, then you can tell me all about those mistresses you had been sleeping with, during that Krumgate scandal!"
At least Viktor had the good sense to look somewhat embarrassed by Hermione's mention of his infamous infidelity scandal. Hermione smiled and wound her arm around her ex-lovers waist, trying to keep as much good distance between herself and Viktor as he led her towards the dancefloor, unaware of the pair of ravenous eyes that stalked her from the shadows of the pavilion.