I don't own Harry Potter.
This and chapter four are actually the most grotesque if you really think about it, so if you can survive this, you should be a freaking drill sergeant in the army cause then you can survive anything. By all means, enjoy… if you can.
It started when she was four
Her father told her he wanted to have a little chat with her.
"Poppet, I'm going to show you something." He told her gently, taking her into his arms.
"What is it, Daddy?" Hermione asked curiously, watching as her father unbuckled his pants. She was expecting him to have the same thing that she and her mother had, but she was surprised when something long and fleshy came into view instead of the slit that she possessed. Looking on in wonder, she moved closer and examined it. It was definitely fleshy and there was nothing below it except two bag-shaped appendages, but even those were different than her antomy (four-year-olds don't know how to say anatomy).
"Can I touch it?" she inquired, pleading brown eyes looking up at her father hopefully.
"Of course, Poppet. Go ahead."
Reaching out, Hermione hesitantly took the member into her palms and more thoroughly examined it, squeezing and poking at different parts and noting that her father made strange sounds whenever she would do something in particularly, like rub the tip or squeeze the base. Stroking it, Hermione was rewarded with the reaction of her father's hips thrusting into her hands to get her to keep going.
"Put your mouth on it, Poppet." John groaned, pushing her head toward the member. Hermione opened her mouth to receive it and John's breath grew short, his hips thrusting faster as he held her head in place. Hermione could feel the saliva dribbling down her chin and wanted to pull away to wipe it off properly, but her father's hand kept her in place. Tears popped to her eyes as his member hit the back of her throat and suddenly, a sour liquid squirted down her throat, making her choke as she tried to spit it back out.
John relinquished her and began cleaning her up with his shirt, which was on the floor. Hermione wondered when he had taken it off, but dismissed this thought as he cleaned her. "Now, you mustn't tell Mummy what we've done here, right?" he told her softly, pressing his finger to her lips in the classic 'stay quiet' gesture.
Hermione was confused as to why her father wanted her to keep something a secret from her mother, but she complied, wondering if it was just going to be revealed to her mother later. The incident was forgotten over the next days as the young girl worked on learning to read once more and sounding out the letters she was seeing. As she was working her way toward the letter 'V' Jean walked in and requested to speak with Hermione in private. The youngest brunette glanced up and nodded, standing from her place on the floor and following her mother to a separate room.
Her mother had dropped to her knees before her. "Hermione, Mummy's going to show you some things, alright?"
'Alright, Mummy." Hermione replied, wondering if it was the same as what her father had shown her.
Jean began to undress and instructed Hermione to do the same. To the younger girl's relief, her mother looked just the same as her, if a bit bigger in a few areas. Jean knelt down once more and brought Hermione close. Bringing one tiny hand up to her breast, Jean began using it to massage her. "This is a breast, darling." She began explaining, little Hermione taking in every word and movement. "This little nub at the tip is called the nipple. You drank milk from it when you were little." Hermione cocked her head in astonishment.
"Is there still milk there?" she wondered aloud.
"Put your mouth there and find out, dear." Jean told her.
Hermione quickly complied, latching onto her mother's nipple and suckling just as she had done four years ago. Jean groaned and held her head there for a few seconds longer before Hermione pulled away. "There's no milk." She sighed, large brown eyes looking up at her mother.
Jean shook her head in reply before turning to the door. Hermione glanced back as well and spotted her father leaning against the door frame, completely naked. Jean stood and made her way over to him, swaying her hips as she did so. "How does it look from your angle, love?" she inquired huskily.
"Beautiful, love." John praised, hugging her close and pressing his lips to hers. Hermione watched the exchange in complete confusion and both of her parents turned to her.
"Don't worry, Hermione dear." Jean told her fondly, kneeling next to her. "We'll teach you much more than any book of any kind ever could on this subject. Are you ready to learn?"
Large curious brown eyes brightened at the thought of learning something and she nodded vigorously. Both parents grinned and moved closer to their daughter, ready to deliver the most important lessons she would ever learn.
Six years later, Hermione felt dread fill her stomach every time either or both of her parents was around, not feeling comfortable being alone with either or both of them together. Lounging in her room one evening just before bedtime and reading a horror novel to test the theory of nightmares, Hermione heard someone come into her room. Glancing up, she saw both of her parents walking into her room with John locking the door behind Jean.
"We'd like you to join us for dinner, poppet." John grinned. Hermione's heart sped up because she knew what that meant. Super meant food, dinner meant… something else. Brunch meant food, breakfast or lunch meant that same something else. She wasn't entirely certain what to call it yet so she simply called it something else. And something she had learned over the years was that she didn't like that something else one bit.
"I-I don't want to." Hermione whimpered, backing away from both of her parents as they closed in on her.
"Poor dear, you don't know what you're saying." John shook his head as he tutted.
"We are your parents." Jean told her sternly, taking her arm.
"B-but I don't want to!" Hermione cried, tears streaming from her cheeks.
"Hermione dear, if you resist it will hurt." John cooed, quickly slipping off her shirt.
"Please!" Hermione sobbed as her mother unclipped her skirt.
"Now just relax dear." Jean purred, stroking down her sides. "We'll be just as gentle as we usually are if you cooperate.
"P-please…" the sobbing girl looked up at her two grinning parents with large pleading eyes, but they simply stripped of their own clothing. John moved to hold Hermione from behind, grinding his erection against her as Jean held her from the front, stroking her daughter's sides and stomach casually. Hermione glanced between the pair, her heart hammering in her ribcage as Jean dropped to one knee, one slender hand sliding between her legs.
As his wife worked below, John's hands began working above. Sliding his hands along Hermione's exposed shoulders, he moved his strong hands to her chest, kneading at the relatively flat skin there. He also dropped to one knee and began kissing and licking at Hermione's throat, coaxing soft whimpers from the girl, more out of fear than any of the pleasure her parents were obviously feeling.
"John, I fear she may end up being a late bloomer." Jean sighed, stroking her finger into and out of the poor girl. "She's not quite as slick as I thought she would be at this age."
"Perhaps a slow reaction due to her being as tense as a tightrope?" John asked, lifting his head from where he was still working at his daughter's neck.
"Perhaps. I suppose we'll have to have more sessions until she reaches where she needs to be."
John leered up at Hermione at this and stood back up, grinding against her once more. "I suppose you're right."
Spreading the youngest brunette's legs wide apart, John positioned his hard member at her entrance and began pushing in, groaning at how tight his daughter still was. "Hermione!" he gasped, thrusting as slowly as he could in order to let her get used to his size.
The brunette in question felt him moving inside her and felt a tingle beginning to spread within her body, but not understanding what it meant. John groaned as he thrust faster, feeling her grow a bit more slick inside, though that was probably due to his own precum. Hermione wiggled in his grasp and Jean began stroking her hair in order to try calming her. Hermione focused on her memories of the times when her mother would do that as a simple kindness, not so that it would be comfortable for this activity.
John's grip on her hips was tightening and Hermione buried her face in her mother's shoulder to keep from crying as his thrusts came almost painfully fast. Mouth formed into a primal snarl, John leaned down and kissed his wife passionately as he came, spilling his hot seed into his daughter and feeling it drip from her entrance. With a few more hard thrusts, he finally pulled out and smiled at the two women.
"Come here, Hermione." Jean cooed. "Does it hurt?"
"A-a little." Hermione sniffed, staring into the large gentle eyes of her mother.
"Poor dear. Here, let me have a look."
Hermione nodded and spread her legs, letting her mother slide down and have a look between them. She could feel Jean poking at different parts of her and cringed every so often at certain places, but the examination was quiet. Then, Jean winked up at John and stuck out her tongue. Hermione gasped as a new feeling erupted in her stomach. Something wet and slimy was poking and swiping at her very core and it felt amazing. Clutching onto her father for support, Hermione whimpered at the feeling and groaned in want as her mother pulled away, licking her lips.
"You taste absolutely delicious on her, love." Jean grinned up at her husband, standing and taking her daughter back into her arms. "Come, let's let our little girl have her rest. And I can show you how well you taste on me."
"Very well then." John agreed with a smile, turning to Hermione. "Good night, Poppet." He kissed her forehead and exited the room.
Jean waited until he had left before staring hard at her daughter, seeing amber flecks within the chocolate brown eyes and wondering what they meant. No one in their family ever reportedly had amber eyes. Shaking her head to clear it, Jean knelt down and placed a soft kiss to Hermione's forehead, smiling at her. "Good night, Hermione."
Standing, the Granger matriarch left the room with a wave. Hermione sighed, finally able to rest. Curling up in her bed, she stared at the night sky and wondered if she would ever be able to escape from her parents. Snorting at the thought, Hermione resigned herself to sleep, wondering what tomorrow would bring.
Ah, Hermione's parts are always the easiest to write. I absolutely adore writing Hermione no matter what the trauma, what the age, what the badassness. I pawsitively love the girl. Now, since you've survived this one, surely you can survive the next? Review and tell me whether or not you can or can't. I'd love hear it.
