The Lust of Gryffindors
Chapter 11: Questions, Answers, and Toys
Harry was bemused by the days following the First Task. Much of the school-wide hostility directed at him dissipated. Now it was mainly just the Slytherins wearing the Potter Stinks badges and sneering at him in the halls. Flying circles around a terrifying beast had apparently generated quite a bit of respect for him, no matter how he had entered the tournament.
His Gryffindor classmates were now wishing him good luck and asking casual questions about the mysterious golden egg. He still hadn't discovered how to stop the loud screeching noise it made, and had stopped trying for the moment. His dorm mates certainly didn't appreciate it, especially Ron and Seamus. Ron continued to ignore him, though he did occasionally catch him casting longing looks at them in the Great Hall.
Harry and Hermione mutually decided to take a brief break from training for the tournament. They had nearly burned themselves out preparing for the First Task. They had no idea what he would be facing in the next one, and her list would be waiting when they were ready to resume.
She seemed to need reassurance that he was still alive. He was happy to provide it, especially since it involved so much sex. She had even pulled him into the Pride between classes one day, afraid he might disappear if she let him out of her sight.
The biggest surprise for him was the apology he received from Cedric Diggory. Cedric praised him for likely saving his life. He tried to wave it off, but Cedric insisted on returning the favor in the future. He had even suggested they train together for future tasks, a tempting offer that he and Hermione would have to consider carefully. Cedric was treating him almost as a friend, and was almost certainly responsible for the Hufflepuffs no longer shunning him. A few Puffs from his year, including Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, had even apologized.
All told, the state of things for him at Hogwarts had vastly improved.
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He strolled leisurely down the stairs that led to the Pride, taking in the scene before him. The place was mostly deserted tonight. Hermione was in the library researching something she wouldn't explain to him, and he was bored. This was actually his first time in the club without anyone accompanying him, and he was curious to see what would happen.
It was only ten days after the task, but his mood had shifted considerably. He hadn't realized how much stress he had been under. He only now felt like he could relax and explore the possibilities of the club.
He and Hermione had visited several times since the blowout party after the task, though none of the visits had ended in debauchery. The Pride had become part of their routine, as normal as writing an essay. They slept with each other often, especially in the hidden alcove, but both had acquired other regular lovers: Parvati, Katie, and Angelina for Harry—Julian, Lee, and Fred for Hermione. There were others, of course, but even in a sex club, comfortable cliques formed.
None of his regular lovers were present tonight. Alicia Spinnet was reading on a couch, as members sometimes did when they wanted to escape crowds elsewhere. Stewart Perkins was studying at a table in one corner. He could hear the moans of two girls coming from one of the beds, but the curtains were drawn and he couldn't identify them.
He poured himself a glass of water and walked around the room, paying closer attention to his surroundings now that he was alone. The wood on the beams looked very old, even older than the corridors in the castle. The deep red carpets looked almost new, no doubt aided by house elves cleaning them every night. He looked inside the locked potions cabinet and saw a dozen different labels. He had no idea what most of them did.
He had never paid any attention to the paintings on the walls, but now he examined them curiously. There were no talking portraits, probably to avoid voyeurs who could report on what they saw there. But there were several paintings of erotic scenes, all of them moving, and most of them very explicit. One witch lay on a blanket in the middle of a golden field, her legs spread wide and her face basking in the sun. There was a herd of centaurs in the distance behind her. He shook his head and moved on, deciding he'd rather not know.
The sex toy table no longer made him blush, but he was hesitant to inspect it too closely. There were a multitude of different-sized dildos, including a few that were absolutely enormous. A couple were strap-ons. He had never seen any of the girls use one, at least in the open. There were buttplugs, beads, bottles of lube, a couple jars of murtlap, and even a little stack of dirty pictures. He glanced at them, but they didn't seem to be of Hogwarts students, much to his relief.
"Lookin' for anythin' in particular, Potter?" said a low Scottish voice.
He turned to see Saoirse Manson smirking at him. She was totally nude, her red bangs hanging in her eyes and nearly obscuring them. She was one of the few 'regulars' in the Pride he hadn't slept with. Something about the tone of her voice always seemed a little hostile to him. She was usually in the company of her friend, Livia Tinkerfell, and seemed to have a preference for girls.
"Er, no, just exploring, I guess."
"Lotta things to explore on tha' table, though not many o' the boys dae."
He glanced at the display of dildos. "Yeah, I can see why."
"If yeh'll excuse me?"
"Oh. Sorry."
He realized he was standing directly in front of the table, blocking her access to it. He moved to the side and watched as she picked up the largest dildo there and examined it appreciatively. It was long and jet black with monstrous girth, easily putting Dean to shame.
"I reckon this'll dae," she said, and picked up a little bottle of lube too. "No sense in usin' a wee one, is there?"
"I guess not," he answered, wondering how she could possibly expect to fit such a monstrosity inside her. Manson was tall and very thin, and the dildo stood out like an alien creature against her pale skin.
"You can jain us if you want," she said, her eyes inviting him and judging him at the same time. "But I dinnae want to put ye out if yer waitin' on one o' yer girls."
It took him a moment to decipher her accent, not because of its thickness but because of how lowly she spoke. Her tone sounded almost threatening. "My girls? Oh. No, I'm not waiting on anyone."
"Yer call then. I'm jest havin' a go with Molly."
"Er, sure."
She turned without another word and walked toward a bed in the corner, the one that had been producing moans earlier. He followed her with a little apprehension. He had never been with either Saoirse or Molly Beckwith. He had barely spoken to either of them. Molly had a reputation for being very kind, but he knew almost nothing about Saoirse.
He parted the curtains of the bed to find Molly reclining nude against the headboard, her huge breasts hanging low. Saoirse sat on her haunches next to her, applying some lube to the black dildo.
The pair made for a striking contrast. Molly was a plump girl with a pretty, florid face. She was also easily the most well-endowed girl in Gryffindor. Saoirse was pale and skinny, covered with freckles and almost flat-chested.
Molly seemed surprised to see him.
"I found a Sassenach wanderin' out there by hisself, Moll," Saoirse said. Harry had the vague sense that he had just been insulted, but he wasn't sure.
"Er, hello," he said.
"Oh. Hello!" Molly replied with a smile, cute dimples appearing on her face. She glanced at Saoirse and then back at him. "Are you joining us?"
"She invited me, but I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable."
"Heavens, no. You can join us. I'd have asked you long before now if I thought you were interested."
Harry relaxed at her pleasant demeanor. "Why wouldn't I be interested?"
The two girls looked at each other. "Well, yer the Boy-Who-Lived, fer one," answered Saoirse. "And ye seem a bit particular 'bout your partners."
Molly giggled. "You're a bit intimidating too. No offense."
"Wait, you think I'm intimidating?"
"Well, yeah."
He couldn't hold back a laugh. "I was terrified of this place when I joined. I thought some people wouldn't want me here."
Saoirse eyed him skeptically. "Aye. Havin' The-Boy-Who-Loved among us is a total disgrace."
He smiled, amused at the idea that girls could find him intimidating. He realized with some surprise that he hadn't actually propositioned anyone in the Pride. He had only slept with people who were already his friends or who sought him out. Maybe he needed to be a little bolder.
"Well, I'm here now. What would you like to do?"
Saoirse smacked one of Molly's boobs with the giant dildo, earning a huff. "Just guin to loosen Molly up with her favorite wand. 'Course, we hae two wands now. What say ye, Molls?"
Molly blushed when she looked at him. "I'd say that sounds lovely, if he's willing."
"He's still got he's kit on, though. Bit of a problem, that."
Harry snorted and began removing his clothes. The girls just watched him. He still wasn't sure what they were proposing to do, but he had no problem being in bed with them, so long as the dildo wasn't meant for him.
Saoirse stared at his soft cock. "Ye get 'im hard, Molly. I'll prep yer centaur cock."
He scooted forward on his knees until Molly could touch him. Saoirse sat next to them and poured lube all over the huge dildo, coating it completely with her hands.
Molly smiled a little shyly and began fondling him.
"You've got a nice one."
"Thanks."
He couldn't help but stare at her breasts. This was the first time he had seen them up close. They dropped slightly but that didn't make them any less alluring. Even on her large frame they looked enormous. There were little blue veins beneath her pale skin and her nipples were very large and very pink.
She hefted one in her hands. "You can play with them if you want."
"I would love to."
He caressed both of her breasts with his hands while his cock grew hard in hers. Her flesh was soft and spread around his hand. He marveled at how heavy they were. He wondered absently if all girls named Molly had huge breasts. There was this Molly, Molly Weasley, and a Molly in Hufflepuff who could compete with Hannah Abbott's impressive bust.
He traced a finger around one of her nipples and it grew hard.
"Go on and suck it," she whispered. "I like it."
She released his now hard cock and he leaned forward to tease the big pink nub with his tongue. She sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. Growing bolder, he lifted her breast with one hand and drew her entire nipple into his mouth. He suckled it gently, feeling like a baby at his mother's teat.
"That feels good," she murmured.
He kissed it once more and pulled away. Saoirse was watching the pair of them and smirking.
"A right proper welcome," she said. "Shall we make 'er whine like a whelping bitch, Potter? She's gaggin' fer it tonight."
He laughed. "Sure."
He still had a hard time reading Manson. Perhaps he had mistaken playful sarcasm for hostility. Perhaps it was just her expression. Her smile was more of a smirk, and the heavy eye shadow she wore made her look vaguely gothic. Perhaps she was just very, very Scottish.
She squeezed one of Molly's breasts. "I'll take 'er cunt then. Yeh've got her arse."
She tossed him the bottle of lube, and he caught it in surprise. Only now did he realize what they were proposing. Jo Hampson had offered her ass to him before, but hadn't offered again. The idea felt dirty to him, even if he had fingered her asshole. It was also enticing.
"I've never actually done that," he admitted.
Molly's eyebrows rose and Saoirse laughed. "Oh, Merlin, this is guin to be a lark."
Molly smacked her thigh. "Hush, Saoirse. We didn't know, Harry. We don't have to do that. We're just fooling around."
"It's fine. I'm game. You'll just have to tell me what to do."
Saoirse started laughing again, her face turning red with mirth. "Dinnae reckon we'd need Madam Pomfrey for this one. Yer tadger goes in her arse. It's the hole 'tween her cheeks."
"Saoirse!"
Harry smiled and flipped her the bird. "I gathered that much. I meant—ugh, just tell me when you want me."
Molly giggled and scooted down the bed, still on her back. She spread her legs wide, exposing a little tuft of barely visible blonde hair. Her pussy had thick, puffy lips that almost obscured her clit.
"We'll let Saoirse go first. You can just watch."
He had no problem with that. He truly wanted to see how she intended to fit the dildo inside her. Manson had oiled it up until it shown with lubrication, but even so, it looked monstrous.
Saoirse spread her outer lips with a pair of fingers, revealing a very pink and glistening set of inner lips. She rubbed the head of the black dildo against her several times, coating her pussy with lube, and gently pushed forward. Molly closed her eyes as its head slipped inside her.
It stretched her lips so wide that he could scarcely believe it, but somehow it fit. Saoirse wriggled the shaft, and another inch slipped inside her.
"Merlin," Harry whispered.
Saoirse smirked at him. "Make ye feel inadequate?"
"Little bit, yeah."
"Dinnae worry. Yers is a muckle. Moll's just got a big, fat cunt to fill, don't ye, girl?"
"Yeah," Molly breathed, not sounding at all insulted by her friend's words. Her breath came faster as Saoirse stretched her pussy to its limits. "Keep going."
Another inch slipped in, and Saoirse twisted and turned it, pushing forward slowly, until most of it was deep inside her.
"Ye good?"
"Just a little more," Molly said breathlessly.
Saoirse pushed forward on the dildo. Molly moaned and yet another inch slipped in. A good four inches of the thick shaft remained outside her, but she had managed to take most of it. Harry stared at the sight in awe, his cock growing even harder. Her lips were stretched so wide it almost looked as if she were giving birth to a huge black dildo.
"Yer up, Boy-Who-Shagged. Put a big dollop o' tha' goop on yer cock."
Harry blinked out of his trance and poured some lube onto his fingers, surprised at the viscous texture of it. Saoirse watched him all the while, smirking. He had the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her as he rubbed it along his cock, making it extremely slick.
"Now coat her arsehole with it. Gentle-like."
Molly closed her legs and obligingly rolled onto her side, presenting her ass to him. She moaned as the giant dildo was compressed inside her.
He gently spread her cheeks and looked down at the dark, puckered flesh at their center. It felt sort of gross looking at someone's asshole, but he had to admit it turned him on. He hesitantly rubbed his fingers against her sphincter, coating it with lube, and she shivered.
"She's good," said Saoirse. "Now put the thing tha' looks like a cock inter the thing tha' looks like a hole."
Harry laughed at the crude smirk on her face. She was enjoying this moment far too much. Oh, well. Everybody's gotta learn sometime, he supposed.
Molly helpfully spread her cheeks for him. He lay down behind her and rubbed the tip of his cock around the lubed-up flesh, guiding himself by feel. When he found the proper spot, he pushed forward gently and she sighed.
"That's it. Put it in slow. You're not exactly small."
He felt her asshole relax against the pressure. His head slipped inside her and her sphincter wrapped around him, gripping him tightly.
"Wow," he whispered.
"Oh, Morgana, go all the way."
He pushed in slowly until she was taking his whole length. The tightness of the sensation was amazing. It was almost too tight, and different than what he was expecting. The passage was narrow and slick, and not very wet compared to a pussy.
She opened her leg, releasing some of the pressure on her lower belly and giving Saoirse better access to her. The Scottish girl grabbed the end of the dildo and smiled at him.
"Let's feck 'er silly."
He smiled and began thrusting gently into Molly's ass, amazed at how far he could penetrate. Saoirse began twisting the dildo, pushing and pulling on it roughly, though it could barely move. Her thumb went for Molly's clit, and soon she was moaning and writhing on the bed. Her eyes closed as the pair took control of her body.
Harry tried to pick up his pace, but the tightness was overwhelming. He could feel his cock brushing against the hardness of the dildo every time he pressed deep inside her.
"Give it to 'er proper," Saoirse said, pushing and pulling on the dildo as hard as she could. Molly was growing so wet that he could hear every penetration.
He reached around and grabbed her huge breasts, squeezing them to gain some leverage. Then he began pounding into her, despite the awkward angle.
She let out a long guttural moan.
Saoirse rubbed her clit faster and plunged the dildo into her as fast as she could, which wasn't very fast.
"Take it, ye whore," she said. "Love havin' yer cunt filled, dinnae ye?"
"Yes," Molly gasped. "Dear Merlin, don't stop!"
She writhed on the bed, her body being pushed and pulled by them as they penetrated her. Her lust was too much for him. His orgasm approached relentlessly and he didn't try to stop it. He squeezed her breasts hard and pumped himself deep into her ass, panting with exertion.
Molly gave a strangled cry just as he spurted deep inside her. Her ass contracted against him with unbelievable pressure and he could even feel the contractions of her pussy as orgasm tore through her. Each spurt felt like ecstasy. When he finished, she was still gasping and Saoirse was rubbing her clit at a furious rate.
She threw a forearm over her eyes. Her whole buddy shuddered and she gave it out one long moan. A light sheen of sweat glowed on her forehead and her face flushed red.
"Okay, stop!" she yelled. "Too much."
He pulled out of her ass with a little slurp, and Saoirse stopped rubbing her. Molly collapsed onto her back, the huge dildo still buried deep within her.
"That was intense," she said, panting.
"It looked like it."
Saoirse planted a little kiss on one of her nipples. "Ye feckin' whore. I love it."
He was amazed at what had just happened, and wondered what Hermione would look like with him buried deep inside her ass.
Saoirse looked at him with hooded, lust-filled eyes. "Get over here, Potter. I'm drippin'."
She fell on her back and spread her legs. He climbed over Molly toward her. The fiery red hair crowning her pussy lips was an inch long and he ran his hand over it luxuriously before teasing her lips. She was indeed sopping wet.
"Yer tongue," she said. "Sassenachs are born to lick Scottish cunts."
Harry laughed and obligingly teased her clit with his tongue. He slipped a pair of fingers inside her. She moaned and gripped his hair, and within moments her hips were writhing around his fingers.
"Bloody feckin' hell."
In no time at all she was almost hyperventilating, and came on his face and tongue without warning. Her pussy flooded with wetness and Harry suckled on her clit intently as she panted.
When she was finished, he leaned back and observed the pair of them. Both were on their backs, staring up at the ceiling glassy-eyed. Molly still had the huge dildo stuffed inside her, and seemed in no hurry to remove it. She was absently rubbing her clit again.
He shook his head, wondering how this had become his life. One moment he was fighting dragons. The next he was having a threesome with two very horny girls. He had a feeling he was going to grow quite fond of Molly and Saoirse.
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Hermione closed the book with an exhausted sigh. A week's worth of research had turned up nothing. She had read virtually every book in the library related to sex, and nothing provided any insight into what she now thought as her 'condition.' Only the restricted section remained, and she doubted that Madam Pince would react well to inquiries about sex magic.
She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with her.
She didn't believe the problem was psychological. She was coming to terms with her own desires—owning them, as Angelina called it. Joining the Pride had given her the bravery to examine them critically. She had looked deeply inside herself for the first time, and what she found there wasn't as scary as she had feared.
The worst that could be said of her was that she was vain. And maybe a little self-righteous. It thrilled her to be thought remarkable, whether it was for her mind or her body. She liked to be watched by admirers. But it wasn't just being watched—she wanted to feel like she was being worshiped. Like she was an irresistible goddess, so alluring that men would compete with each other to pleasure her. It was an absurd fantasy, of course. She was no goddess, and she knew that—but if fulfilling her fantasies didn't affect her self-esteem or her reputation, what was the harm in satisfying them?
It was the physical sensations that actually worried her—specifically, the feeling of overwhelming pleasure she received when a boy ejaculated inside her.
All the available literature, which frankly wasn't much, implied that the feeling was common knowledge. But nowhere was it implied that it caused the witch to feel overcome with desire. Her body wanted more and more, and when she succumbed to its cravings, she almost lost her mind to them. That lack of control scared her. It was as if someone were striking a match and lighting her magic on fire, and she only wanted it to burn brighter and hotter.
How could that possibly be normal?
She sighed and returned the books to their proper shelves. It seemed she had no choice but to seek out an expert, no matter how embarrassing it would be.
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She looked around the spotless infirmary, relieved that it was empty of other students.
"Er, Madam Pomfrey?" she called out.
The witch bustled out of her office. "Yes, my dear? How can I help you?"
"Do you have some time to talk? It's about something personal."
"Of course. What ails you?"
Hermione couldn't stop her blush. "Er, I'm not ill. I just wanted your opinion on something that is very personal."
"Whatever you say will remain between us, Miss Granger. I've heard everything there is to hear, and I don't gossip."
"It's about sex," she almost whispered.
"What about it?"
Hermione glanced around. "Could we do this in private?"
She smiled knowingly. "Come this way."
They both entered her office and Pomfrey cast a silencing spell on the room. "There we go. No one can overhear us. Now, what's got you so worried, dear?"
"Well, please don't think badly of me for this, but…"
"Hermione, dear," Pomfrey said when she didn't continue, "I will not think poorly of you unless you tell me you are committing some hideous crime. I don't think we need to worry about that in your case."
Get on with it, Hermione chided herself. Gryffindors dare.
"I've been having sex. A lot of sex. With a lot of different people."
She searched Pomfrey's face, but the witch gave away nothing. "And?"
"I'm, er, experiencing something weird. Something that other girls don't experience, as far as I can tell. I've done lots of research, and found almost nothing."
"What are you experiencing?"
Hermione closed her eyes. "When the boy ejaculates inside me," she said, her face nearly glowing with embarrassment, "I get this rush. It's not intense exactly, but it's very pleasurable and it kind of makes me lose my head."
"Lose your head?"
"It's a feeling of bliss. It's not like an orgasm, it's just—it's hard to describe. But the problem is that I want more. I want that feeling to continue forever, and so I…"
"Yes?"
She opened her eyes, and was relieved that Pomfrey wasn't watching her with disapproval. "I sometimes have lots of partners, one right after the other, without any rest. At the time it feels amazing, and I never want it to end, but the next day, when my mind is clear, I'm mortified. I've talked to An—"
Hermione blinked and paused. She had felt a little twinge in her magic, and suddenly remembered the contract she had signed. Had that been a warning that she was about to say too much? What a peculiar feeling.
"Are you alright, dear?"
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry. I'm just saying—as far as I can tell, the experience is pleasurable for other girls, but it doesn't make them lose their minds with lust. That's what it feels like for me."
"I see. Before we go further, I have to ask: are you experiencing any problems with the consequences of your activities?"
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Are you being bullied or mocked for being promiscuous?"
Hermione reddened at hearing that term, never dreaming it would apply to her. "Er, no. That's not—the people involved are discreet and they're friends. The problem feels physical."
"I see. Just to be clear, all of this is happening in a safe environment with your consent?"
"Yes, ma'am. I trust everyone involved."
"Very well. I'm aware that there are a few, shall we say, safe locations in the school. I just have to ask these questions, to make sure you aren't being coerced."
"No, everything is definitely consensual."
Apparently the staff did know about the Pride, or at least Madam Pomfrey did. She would have to think on what that meant later.
"That's good. And you don't feel as if you've been cursed or potioned?"
The option hadn't even occurred to her, but it sounded implausible. "I don't think so, but how would I know?"
"Stand up, please."
She stood and Pomfrey slowly waved her wand around her entire body. She felt a strange tingle occasionally. It was fascinating magic, but she resisted the urge to ask questions.
"Nothing that shouldn't be there, and your birth control potion is working as it should. You are in perfect health."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. That's very reassuring."
Pomfrey smiled warmly. "Now—onto your problem. It may not be a problem at all. The pleasurable sensation you describe is common, as I assume you discovered in your research."
"Yes."
"A wizard's ejaculation almost always produces a feeling of brief euphoria in the witch. It is usually subtle and fleeting, lasting no more than thirty seconds. You are talking about a different sort of sensation, I believe."
"It's overwhelming," Hermione said earnestly, finally shedding her embarrassment. "If it's just one or two boys, I keep my head and remain in control. If it's more than that, the feeling just builds and I crave more. It makes me feel like some sort of addict."
"Can you describe the feeling more precisely?"
"It feels like I'm being flooded. I don't mean the, er, semen, but I can feel that too. It's like I'm getting hit with a wave of pleasure, and then it recedes like a wave too, and I want more than anything for another wave to hit me. I feel it deep in my abdomen. My mind just turns off. I love it and it scares me."
"I see," Pomfrey said with a frown. "To be frank, I'm not aware of the sensation you describe. Very little research has been done on what happens at the moment of orgasm. It has been described as a commingling of magic, but there is no long-term effect. If other women have felt as you do, it hasn't been documented. And it likely wouldn't have been, being such a personal subject. There may be anecdotal evidence, but it's the kind of thing that shows up in erotic literature."
Hermione felt despondent at the answer. "So there's no more research we can do?"
Pomfrey patted her hand. "I don't think so, dear, but I'll look into it nonetheless. It's likely that there's nothing wrong with you at all. You're aware that we tend to have higher libidos than muggles?"
"Yes."
"That is even more true if the witch or wizard is powerful. It could simply be that you are becoming a very powerful witch and this is a manifestation of that."
"But why?"
"Magic is a very mysterious thing. Not all of the answers can be found in books. Everyone has little quirks. Some people are born prodigies in particular fields. Others can almost smell magic, just like goblins and veela can. There are shapeshifters like animagi and metamorphmagi. Nobody knows why. This might just be something that is unique to your magic."
"Of course, you could be a succubus," she added. "They drain wizards of their magic through sex."
"What?!"
Pomfrey laughed at her reaction. "Relax, Miss Granger. Just my idea of a joke. Succubi aren't even human. I didn't mean to startle you."
Hermione took a calming breath and shook her head.
"Don't worry yourself over this, dear. I don't believe you have a condition that requires treatment. My advice to you is to never have multiple partners in an unsafe environment. Be certain there is someone there to watch over you."
"I'll do that."
"And do be discreet. Your desires are not so uncommon, but they are not something you want to be gossiped about, are they?"
"Definitely not."
Pomfrey patted her hand again and stood. "Continue monitoring the situation if you wish, and come see me if something changes."
"I will. Thank you."
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Harry cursed softly to himself as he exited McGonagall's classroom. A Yule Ball? He hadn't even wanted to be a part of the tournament, and now he had to attend a ball and officially open it. The girls in the class had squealed the moment McGonagall announced it, and he could barely contain his groan. That meant dancing—and dresses—and corsages? He wasn't even sure the magical world had corsages.
He trudged toward the tower, wondering what he should do. There were lots of available girls in the Pride, many of whom would be happy to attend with him. The obvious choice was Hermione. She was his best friend, and even though they weren't dating, they were still closer to each other than people who actually were. It would save them both a lot of hassle if they just went together. Katie would be an easy choice too, assuming she didn't want to go with George or Lee or someone else.
"Pssst. Harry."
He looked up to see Parvati Patil standing next to a suit of armor. He had been so lost in thought he hadn't even seen her.
"Hey. I didn't see you there."
"You looked like you were in another world. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, just thinking about this silly ball. It's only two weeks away and it took me by surprise."
Parvati's face blushed a deeper bronze. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."
"Oh?"
She bit her lip nervously. "I don't want to put you in an awkward position. I just thought, maybe, you might consider going with me?"
"You mean to the ball?"
"Yes," she said, looking at him as if he were particularly thick.
Harry almost winced. He had just called the ball 'silly' right in front of her, and he hadn't exactly fallen over himself to say yes. Had she expected that?
She continued when he didn't speak. "I know you've got lots of options, especially Hermione. Katie too. But we've had fun together in the Pride, so I just thought, you know, maybe?"
He smiled at her reassuringly. He had indeed grown a lot closer to Parvati since joining the Pride, and he definitely didn't want to hurt her feelings. He was just in uncharted waters. Would Hermione expect him to ask her? Would others? What was he supposed to do? The ball suddenly seemed like a minefield.
"Er, thank you for asking, Parvati. Can I give you an answer later? I need to talk to Hermione, because—well, you know how we are. If she's not expecting to go with me, I would love to attend the ball with you."
She grinned. "Thank you. I knew it was a long shot, but I wanted to toss my name in the ring first. Just let me know."
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "See you at the Pride later."
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He saw Hermione later that afternoon, but they didn't have a chance to talk about the ball. He was relieved, because he wasn't sure how to broach the subject. She was mercifully preoccupied by something else.
Their conversation at dinner that night was casual, as both were enjoying the momentary respite from the stress of the tournament. When she returned to the library to finish an essay, he decided to walk back to the tower and relax. There would be time later that night to traipse through minefields made of fancy dresses.
He was waylaid by Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang before he could reach Gryffindor tower. They were chatting in a seventh-floor corridor and Cho was giggling at something he said.
"Hello again, Harry," Cedric said with a smile. "We thought you might wander by here soon."
"Hey, Cedric. Cho."
Though he knew Cho as a fellow seeker, he hadn't interacted with her very much—if you didn't count the admiring glances he tossed her on the pitch. The Chinese witch was incredibly attractive, but until this year he would have been scared to talk to her.
"Looks like we've got all the seekers in one spot," Cedric said amiably. "At least, all the ones that matter."
Harry laughed. "Cheers to that."
He noticed Cho's hand slip into Cedric's as they talked. That was a new development, as far as he knew, but he wasn't the most observant of people.
"I've got a question for you," Cho said demurely. "You heard about the ball this morning, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I don't know if you already have a date, but I wanted to catch you early. If you're interested, there's a friend of mine in Ravenclaw who would love to go with you."
"Who?"
Cho smiled, and his stomach clenched at how it lit up her face. "Well, I'd rather not say if you already have plans. I don't want to embarrass her. But she's smart and she's pretty and she's a year ahead of you. We thought you might be interested."
He was beginning to wonder how many times he would get propositioned today. It had only been several hours since they learned of the ball. Why would they suspect he'd attend with a Ravenclaw he didn't even know? Cedric had been exhibiting increasingly 'big brotherly' behavior this week, so maybe he thought he was doing him a favor.
But Cedric didn't know about the Pride. Harry wasn't the shy, inexperienced kid he was last year.
"Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll have to politely decline. Nothing's set in stone yet, but I'm pretty certain I already have plans."
"No problem, Harry. We just wanted to test the waters."
"Please give her my apologies."
"Definitely not a bad thing to have beautiful girls interested in you, eh, Harry?" Cedric said with a wink.
"No, it definitely isn't."
"We'll let you go," Cho said. "I'm sure we'll have fun at the ball no matter what. Save a dance for me?"
"Of course."
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Harry pushed Hermione's hair over her shoulder as she slowly licked and kissed the length of his cock until it glistened. He loved watching her. It was the end of a long day, and they were relaxing on a couch in the Pride. He intended to finish it by making her moan in ecstasy.
Though she was sometimes wild with multiple partners, their time together was usually slow and erotic, with both of them savoring every little moment. She returned her attention to his crown, suckling it gently and looking into his eyes. It throbbed in her mouth, and she bit it playfully.
"Ow!"
"Did that really hurt?"
"No, I'm just teasing you."
"I'll kiss it and make it better anyway."
Her tongue swirled around his crown lustily. A little drop of precum beaded on its tip, and she spread it around, lubricating him with it. She pulled his cock into her mouth again and suctioned gently, drawing out his pleasure for as long as possible.
He still hadn't brought up the subject of the Yule Ball. The propositions from earlier today required him to think about the nature of their relationship. She was his best friend, of course. That hadn't changed. But now she was his lover, his training partner, his confidant, and—well, what more needed to be said?
The confusing part was what all that meant. They were both sleeping with other people in the Pride. Neither had an inclination toward romance, and, as far as he knew, she wasn't jealous of him sleeping with other girls. He felt an occasional twinge of jealousy, but not at the fact that she was sleeping with other people. He loved seeing her in the throes of passion.
So what did that mean when it came to things like fancy balls?
She cradled his balls and stroked him firmly, as if trying to coax out his cum. Her soft lips engulfed and released his crown in the gentlest of caresses. That familiar feeling grew deep in his abdomen, unable to take such exquisite pleasure for much longer.
"I'm almost there," he said.
She pulled her face away and tugged on his cock, watching him as his breathing sped up. He groaned and pulsed in her hand. Thick white bursts of cum shot forth into the air and landed on the floor in front of them. The last few dribbled onto her hand and coated it as she stroked him.
He released a deep breath. "That was wonderful."
She smiled and licked his release from her hand. "I'm getting better at it, aren't I?"
"Full marks."
"Can we talk about something before you return the favor?"
"Sure."
She looked around, but there was no one within earshot. "It's about this silly ball."
He sighed with relief, happy that she had raised the subject before he had to. "Yeah, I meant to talk to you about it too."
"You did? What were you going to say?"
"You first."
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't know what you wanted to do—if you wanted to go together, I mean. Someone asked me to go with them this afternoon, and I told them I'd have to talk to you first."
He almost laughed at the irony. "I have the same problem. Parvati asked me to consider her right after class, and I told her I had to talk to you. Who asked you?"
"Viktor Krum."
"Really?"
"Yes. He apparently doesn't want to go with any of the Durmstrang girls. He asked me in the library."
"Wow."
"I know. It caught me totally off guard. So—what do you think?"
He shrugged. Hermione didn't seem like the type of girl to care about balls, but he didn't want to make any dangerous assumptions.
"To be blunt," he said carefully, "it's not a big deal to me. I was going to ask you, because we'd have a good time and it would save us both a big headache, but—"
"I felt the same," she said. "I was going to mention it earlier tonight, but then Viktor asked me."
"Do you want to go with him?"
She looked at him searchingly. "I don't really know him, but it might be nice to learn about Bulgaria?"
"And shag an international quidditch star?" he added with an amused grin.
"Harry!"
"I'm just kidding. Say yes if you want. You're not going to let me down. I can go with Parvati, and this way you'll be with me when we open the dance anyway."
"You're sure? I don't want you to feel like I'm abandoning you or something."
He rolled his eyes this time. She was apparently just as worried about his feelings as he was hers. They were going to have to talk about that eventually. "Stop that. It's just a ball, and with the Pride we've both got plenty of options. It's not a big deal."
She smiled. "Okay. We can go with different people and just meet up here later."
"Sounds good to me."
"Excellent. Now tease me with your tongue until you're hard again, then I want you to shag me silly."
Harry laughed. He was starting to love the new Hermione.
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Author's Note: I'm not Scottish, nor I do know anyone who is. If I fucked up Saoirse Manson's accent, don't hesitate to tell me and I'll fix it. I want it to sound halfway decent. She won't have a huge presence in the fic, but I like her character and I may write an omake/missing scene featuring her.
If you have ideas for specific characters, feel free to throw them out there. I can't guarantee I'll use them, because so much is already planned out, but I do intend to write some alternative scenes, omakes, etc. in this universe.
I'm ten chapters ahead now, but it takes a while to edit them. Next one will be out in a week. Thanks for your reviews.