Chapter 2: The Shack's Secret
The sounds that had been coming from the Shrieking Shack with more frequency since All Hallow's Eve horrified the people of Hogsmeade. They would, of course, never dare to approach and investigate the abandoned house high on the hill, but the moans and groans carried on the incessant howling of the wind were making their minds play tricks on them. Faint lights and shadows dancing on the walls had been observed coming from the place since the end of October, beginning of November. Theories - and outlandish ones at that - ran wild. Satanic rituals, some said. Or worse.
However, if one were to look beyond the boarded-up windows, if one were brave enough to enter from the secret passage underneath the Whomping Willow on the Hogwarts grounds, they would be in for the surprise of their life.
On the sagging four-poster bed in one room, by the light of magical floating candles, two young people lay together in heat. And the moaning and groaning and some sighing that the locals heard was the direct result of the lovemaking taking place atop the dusty linens...
Two bodies wriggled and squirmed together in a rhythm only they knew, their sweaty skin slapping together with the exertion. Beads of sweat were gathering on Hermione Granger's brow, as she arched her back into Neville Longbottom, who was straddling her naked form, his toned arse cheeks sitting astride her trembling, open thighs. Neville Longbottom captured her lips in an intense kiss, before kissing away the sheen of sweat trickling down to her nose and into her eyelids that were fluttering closed by the warmth she felt.
At last, with a grunt that Hermione had never heard uttered before by man nor beast, Neville's entire frame quivered and he ejaculated into her, his body wilting on top of hers with each pulse of his seed into her womanhood. Still, Hermione rubbed her perky breasts with rosebud nipples against Neville's chest, grinded her pelvis against his to keep up the friction.
"Neville..." With a sigh, Hermione came, riding her orgasm as her walls clenched, her thighs squeezing Neville's middle so she could better milk and coat his cock with her fluid. Kissing Neville full on the mouth, Hermione rolled them both over so that they lay wrapped in each other's arms, the post-coital glow almost as tangible as that emanating from the candles. Neville kissed each of Hermione's breasts tenderly, his one leg slung over hers.
"I love you, Hermione. And I love that you were my first time," he whispered.
Hermione smiled, touched. "I love you too, Neville. And I love that you were my first time, too. And I especially love how you plucked up the courage to kiss me."
Neville smirked. "It was a dare, you know."
"Hmm. Haunted kisses always are," Hermione mused. "That's what makes them so... romantic."
And the lovers continued to have sex until just before the sun rose.