The Lust of Gryffindors
Chapter 14: Baths and Secrets
Harry yawned as awareness slowly came back to him. He raised his head, the only part of his body not covered by a naked girl, and looked around. Parvati was nestled into his right side, snoring softly, and Hermione was on his left, her leg wrapped around him and her face buried in his arm pit. They were occupying a bed in one corner of the Pride, all three of them nude.
Memories of the previous night rushed back to him in a flood. He couldn't resist a little smile. Merlin, what a night. He wasn't entirely certain how many people he had slept with. After his session with Hermione, he recalled a brief, blissful encounter with Alicia Spinnet. Then Parvati had shown up, very late to the party and in a foul mood because of how Ron had treated her sister. He remembered them spending some time in this very bed, and then being joined by—who had that been? He vaguely recalled Parvati kissing a red-headed girl, and he remembered another couple occupying the bed with them as well, but the details were fuzzy.
Other parts of the night were hazy too, likely a product of alcohol and the lust potion. But he remembered the vividness of his sensations after Lavender had dosed him with it, and definitely wanted to feel it again. No wonder they kept that potion locked up tight.
The last thing he remembered with clarity was dragging an exhausted Hermione into the bed with them, where she had immediately passed out.
He blinked and looked around the Pride. The room was an absolute mess. Alcohol bottles littered the floor, as well as discarded clothes, flowers, shoes, and who knew what else. Evidently the house elves wouldn't clean when people were there. Other beds were occupied too, judging by the snores and sounds of movement.
Hermione stirred against him and reached a groping hand across his chest. She mumbled something unintelligible and sat up. She blinked rapidly, taking in her surroundings, then collapsed against his shoulder again. He laughed, which caused Parvati to stir.
"Ugh, what time is it?" the Indian witch muttered, not yet willing to open her eyes.
"No idea," he replied. "The party went late."
Hermione made a pitiful sound next to him. "My head hurts. So does everything else."
Parvati snickered. "You have to be sore after that. We tried to put some murtlap on your bits, but you just wanted to sleep."
Hermione took a deep, bracing breath and sat up again. She looked down at her body and winced. Dried fluids shined on various parts of her and she could feel them on her ass, thighs, pussy, and elsewhere. Her hair was a rat's nest, as far from the sleek curls of the previous night as it could get.
"Shit," was all she could manage to say.
Parvati sat up too and smiled at her consternation. "You were a mess last night, girl."
"Oh, God, why did I take that potion?"
"Same reason we all did, I bet," Harry said, smiling at the state of his best friend.
"I didn't even get any," Parvati pouted. "Lav saved some for me but I was too mad to use it and people were already going to sleep."
"Why were you mad?" Hermione asked. She was still looking at her body as if it had betrayed her.
"Ron Weasley. I stayed with Padma for two bloody hours while she cried her eyes out. I swear, I am never doing something nice for that boy again."
"Oh, no. What did he do?"
"He was a rude git to her all night. He danced with her one time, at the very beginning, and then just sat there and sulked. He barely spoke to her."
"I saw him storm out when I danced with her," Harry said. "What the bloody hell is the matter with him this year?"
"I don't know and I don't care."
"I'm sorry, Parvati," he said. "I wanted you to have a good time last night."
She smiled and patted his cheek. "I had a great time with you. You were a wonderful date. It's Ron that I want to castrate."
"You probably could have brought Padma back here," Hermione said. "Angelina wouldn't have cared."
"No, she was miserable. Plus she would have freaked out. She's still a virgin."
"I was too until a couple months ago. Right now I wish I still were."
"Liar. You're a slag and you love it."
Hermione's head fell into her hands. "I don't even remember the end of the night. What did I do?"
Parvati giggled. "Oh, not much. Just fucked the whole room while out of your mind with lust. There was a line for you when I came back, and you were moaning like a bitch. I wish I could have taken pictures."
"Oh, Merlin."
"Slut," Parvati said affectionately.
Hermione looked between them almost desperately. "Who else was here? Did everyone see? What must Viktor think of me? I didn't even see him again after we arrived."
"Stop that. Everyone else was a mess too. It's just funny to see you like that."
"You saw Viktor again," Harry said gently. "Sort of. You just don't remember. He was in the line right behind me."
"I didn't even know. Oh my God."
"Relax, Hermione. Breathe. He liked seeing you like that. He said he thought you were amazing."
"He did?"
"I promise. And he signed a contract, don't forget. He couldn't tell anyone even if he wanted to."
She took a deep breath, trying to regain some of her composure. There would be time in the coming days to agonize over her behavior. Parvati giggled again and Hermione glared at her.
"Don't look at me like that, Hermione. You're not allowed to do your angsty bint routine again. You're a slut and we all love it."
Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, then stuck out her tongue at Parvati. "You're a slut too. And we all reek."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry yawned as he woke and looked around his empty dorm room. The silence felt strange. Everyone had returned home for break after the Yule Ball, but he had chosen to remain in the castle.
The twins had invited him to the Burrow, but he had politely declined, given the situation with Ron. His supposed friend had refused to even look at him the morning after the ball. Harry couldn't summon up any sympathy for him, nor any guilt for dancing with Padma. It was entirely Ron's fault that he was a terrible date.
With Hermione gone too, he felt ready for a reprieve from the stress and chaos that had defined the year so far. He went to his trunk to get dressed and was surprised to discover several Christmas presents stacked on top of it. They were a day late, but he supposed that made sense, given the madness surrounding the ball.
He was thankful that he had owl-ordered gifts for Hermione and a few members of the Pride weeks ago. For her, he had settled on an expensive voucher from Flourish and Blott's. Though a touch impersonal, he didn't want to buy her a book she didn't want, and he knew better than to buy clothes for a girl. For the others, he sent boxes of nice chocolates.
He dove into the packages, curious what people had given him. Mrs. Weasley made him another jumper, despite the distance between him and Ron. A few members of the Pride gave him cards and some silly knickknacks from Hogsmeade, but they still warmed his heart. Hermione gave him a pair of leather quidditch gloves that he couldn't wait to try. He received two pence from the Dursleys.
The next one caught him by surprise. He unwrapped it and discovered a cardboard tube. He fumbled with it for a moment before realizing there was something clinging to its interior. He pulled out a thick white parchment, unrolled it, and spread it on his bed.
It was a drawing. It was done in what appeared to be charcoal and ink, and it was animated. It depicted Harry's fight against the Hungarian Horntail. He was on his broom, ducking under a gout of flame and barrel-rolling around a sweeping tail as he flew toward the exit. The scene reset itself, playing on a three-second loop that showed off Harry's acrobatics.
He stared at it, stunned. It was a genuine work of art. He could see the details of the arena, the stands, his uniform, and even the dragon's scales.
"Merlin," he whispered.
He glanced at the bottom and saw that it had been signed by Dean Thomas. He had known Dean was an artist; he could often be found doodling in the common room. But Harry had no idea he was so talented. Nor did he realize he knew how to animate drawings.
He really needed to do something nice for Dean, he realized. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift, and Dean had stayed out of the drama surrounding him and Ron, distancing himself even from Seamus.
He looked at the wall, wondering if the picture would look good there. Maybe he should look into getting a frame.
The final gift was a heavy brown package that read 'FROM SNUFFLES' in sloppy lettering on the top. He opened it and pulled out a huge stack of magazines, then gaped at the covers. Every single one was a PlayWizard from the 1970s, and they looked well-used. Harry burst out laughing and reached for the card that accompanied them.
He scanned it quickly, his smile growing as he read, then looked at the calendar on his wall.
"Out-fucking-standing."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry wandered the corridors almost at random. The castle was pretty much deserted and he could explore to his heart's content. With two more weeks before the January term started, most students had returned home after the Yule Ball. There were a few Gryffindors around, but he didn't think any of the Pride remained. It seemed to be mostly younger students at meals and in the common room.
It didn't bother him to be almost alone in the castle. The corridors were cloaked in silence and it felt like a holiday from his troubles. The only things he had to think about were his upcoming meeting with Sirius, whom he hadn't seen in person since that fateful hippogriff ride, and the golden egg tucked under his arm.
Cedric had cornered him before everyone departed, both to thank him for the invitation to the Pride and to give him a hint about the second task. He had told him to take a bath with his egg, and given him the password to the prefects' bath.
Harry had been putting off the trip for two days now, but when he found himself wandering on the fourth floor near the bathroom, he decided to just get on with it.
"Pine Fresh."
The door swung open. He entered and looked around curiously. For a bathroom, the place was massive. It was more akin to an opulent Roman bath than the little bathtub he had imagined. There were several changing cubicles along both walls, places that could easily be used for other purposes. No wonder people came here for secret liaisons.
The bath itself looked like something you could drown in. He walked to the edge of it and fiddled with the various controls, watching as a spout spewed out scented foam and bubbles.
With the castle deserted, he supposed there was no reason to worry about being nude. He disrobed and then plunged into the water with the egg. Trusting Cedric's advice, he opened it. The banshee screeching he expected was replaced by melodious singing.
He listened to the song three times to make sure he understood it before returning to the surface. 'The prospect's black.' That didn't sound ominous at all. What would he sorely miss? A thing? A person? Or something more abstract? The only clear thing was that the second task would involve water.
He would need Hermione's help with this. Possibly Cedric's too, if he was still willing to train with him. He couldn't care less about winning the tournament, but this task would involve swimming or being underwater for a long period. He had no idea how to deal with that, or what spells he might need.
"The other boy brought his shiny egg too."
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.
He looked behind him and found Moaning Myrtle floating above the water, her huge eyes watching him with fascination.
"Myrtle, you scared me half to death."
She giggled. "Sorry."
"Can I, er, help you with something? I'm kinda naked here."
"I know you are. I've been watching you."
"Oh."
He had no idea what to say to that. It didn't really matter, he supposed, since she was technically dead and not really a student here. All the same it felt a bit creepy.
"So you, er, watch people a lot then?"
She giggled again. "Maybe. Are you going to tell on me?"
"No. I don't have a reason to, do I?"
"Good, because the Bloody Baron would be mad at me," she said, shivering. "I'm not supposed to watch the students, but I get so bored. No one visits my toilet anymore."
He nodded in sympathy. He'd probably take to watching students naked too if he were a teenaged ghost in Hogwarts. "I don't have a problem with you seeing me, I guess. As long as you don't tell anyone."
"I won't tell anyone if you won't," she said with a shy smile. "You've got a nice thingy, by the way. It's bigger than most."
Harry laughed. Thingy. The girl was probably 70 years old, but stuck in a state of perpetual adolescence. They were the same age in terms of appearance. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. The castle's almost empty, you know. Do you want to play a game?"
"What kind of game?"
"The fun kind," she said, dragging a spectral toe along the water. "You are naked, after all."
A shiver of dread ran down Harry's spine. "Er, yes, I am."
"You could put on a show for me. I like to watch boys do that. I won't tell."
"A show?"
"You could play with it," she said, giggling again. "Does it get very big? I remember a Slytherin boy who had a really big one."
Harry briefly wondered if he had gone insane. A ghost wanted to watch him masturbate.
She watched him expectantly. With her pigtails and school uniform, it was much less weird than it could have been, he supposed. He didn't want to imagine Nearly Headless Nick propositioning him.
"Please?" she said, almost begging. "I'm really bored, and you're always nice to me."
"I suppose I could do that for you," he ventured cautiously. "If you promise to never, ever tell anyone. Ever."
"I promise! I don't squeal on my friends."
He sighed. Was he really going to do this? He recalled Tracey Davis telling him that Gryffindors were dumb, and thought she might be right. "Okay, then."
"Yay! Come to the shallows. It's hard to see details underwater."
Harry swam slowly into the shallows and sat at the top of the little stairs that led down into the water. He was completely exposed now, and Myrtle zoomed toward his position to examine him. Her face was only a foot from his cock and she stared at it with a silly smile.
"I wish I could touch you," she said excitedly. "I would get naked for you if I could."
"That's okay."
He supposed it would be awful to wear the same thing for eternity, but he didn't really want to see Myrtle naked.
"Shall I just get on with it then?"
"Please," she said breathlessly. She leaned in even closer as Harry began fondling himself. He wondered how many times she had played this 'game' with other students. Probably not much, or she'd end up exorcized.
He grew hard much easier than he expected. The situation was awkward, but there was still a girl staring at his cock with admiration.
"Oh, my, that is a big one!" she said, clapping her ghostly hands.
"Thank you."
Harry stroked himself as she watched him. Her face was enthralled, and he was starting to find the situation strangely erotic. He didn't want to disappoint her, both because she was being nice to him and because he didn't want to know what would happen if she told the whole school about this. He was growing much bolder when it came to sex, but this might be a touch on the foolish side. Oh well.
He tensed as he got close, his breathing becoming heavier.
"Are you going to do it?"
"Yeah, any second now."
"Make it go through me!" she said, and put her face directly in front of his cock.
He couldn't help it. He laughed just as orgasm overtook him. His bursts shot straight through her hovering face, arcing into the water beyond.
She giggled with each one. "Ew! Ew! Ew! That feels warm. I like it."
For the last couple, she leaned in even closer, until her face was hovering right on top of his crotch. Harry gasped as the sensation of cold washed over him, but it didn't stop him from finishing for her.
Myrtle pulled back smiling. "That was fun!"
"Er, yeah. It was for me too."
"Thank you, Harry. Maybe we can do this again sometime?"
"You're welcome, and maybe."
He certainly wasn't going to commit himself to anything. He couldn't imagine what the members of the Pride would say if they knew. Or even Hermione. He might never hear the end of it.
Myrtle giggled and placed a cold ghostly kiss on his check.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry whipped off his cloak as he approached the end of the tunnel. Luckily, he had encountered no obstacles on his way out of the castle, and it was easy to bypass the Whomping Willow's branches once you knew the trick. He hadn't been here since the end of third year. The long walk felt much less creepy this time.
He cautiously opened the door. On the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack sat a huge black dog, its tongue hanging out and its tail wagging.
"Sirius!"
The dog barked excitedly and nearly tackled Harry to the ground. He had to push it away to stop an assault from a big pink tongue. A human form took the dog's place, and Sirius Black swept up his godson in a hug.
"Harry!"
He disentangled himself and held Harry at arm's length. "Merlin, you're growing up fast. You're almost as tall as I am!"
Harry laughed. "You're looking pretty good too."
Sirius no longer looked remotely like an escaped convict. His hair had been cut to a reasonable length, his goatee trimmed short, and his clothes looked brand new. He had gained at least twenty pounds.
"Well, of course, I look good," he said with a grin. "I'm a Black. We're notoriously beautiful, even when we turn out evil."
"I'm glad to see you, but you're taking a huge risk. You should be far away from here."
"Nonsense. Someone is trying to harm my godson. They've got you fighting bloody dragons, kid! I'm going to do my damnedest to protect you."
"Just don't do anything stupid. If you get caught, I'll never forgive you. Where are you staying?"
Sirius grimaced. "My childhood home. It's a godawful nightmare, but it's got great wards. It hasn't been cleaned in a decade, and the house elf there is insane. But I'm safe enough."
Harry took a moment to enjoy the simple presence of his godfather. He was still getting to know him, but it felt good to have someone in his corner, especially one who provided a semblance of family.
"I got your present," he said. "That was, er, quite a collection."
Sirius smirked. "I thought you could put them to good use. I remember what it's like to be a teenager in Hogwarts. Those weren't your real gift though. I brought you a nice broom-polishing kit too. Top of the line," he said, pointing at another package on the floor.
"A broom-polishing kit and porno mags? Exactly what are you implying, Padfoot?"
"Me? Nothing. But brooms need regular polishing so they'll be in peak condition when the ladies are ready to go for a ride."
Harry burst out laughing, amazed at how natural their rapport felt. Sirius was in some ways more immature than he was.
"I don't need much of an education in that department. Thanks though."
"Oh, really? Got a girlfriend already, do you?"
Harry shrugged. He had wondered if it was possible to talk to Sirius about the Pride, and now was a good chance to find out.
"Not exactly. Were you by chance ever a member of a secret society in Gryffindor?"
Sirius' eyes widened and he started laughing until it turned into a coughing fit. "Oh, Merlin, Harry! Your father would be so proud! I can't believe it."
"So you were a member of—"
He paused. The contract hadn't allowed him to speak the words. What an odd sensation.
"I really couldn't say," Sirius said. "But I like to think you're following in my footsteps."
"Am I following in my parents' footsteps?" he asked hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer to that question.
"Let's put it this way: your mother wasn't quite as adventurous as your father."
"Ah. Good to know, I guess. We can't really speak directly about it, can we?"
"Probably not. I think that works only with the people who are at Hogwarts with you. Alumni count as outsiders."
"I guess that makes sense. You wouldn't want relatives knowing what you get up to."
"Or some old biddy blackmailing you," Sirius agreed.
He looked at Harry and almost started laughing again. "Merlin! Look at you! Already a member of the club. I wish you could tell me about all your adventures. I'm going stir crazy in that house."
"Well, I could tell you about one. I got dragged into a broom closet by a Slytherin the other day."
"What?! Are you sure she wasn't trying to hurt you?"
"Pretty damn sure. I can't tell you her name. I promised not to tell anyone. But we were both drunk after the Yule Ball and she decided she desperately needed some alone time with a Gryffindor."
Sirius shook his head fondly. "This conversation is just what I need. Come over here and sit down. I brought a bottle of firewhiskey."
The pair spent the next two hours simply talking. The firewhiskey flowed, and by the end they were trading stories about Hogwarts. Sirius was horrified by many of Harry's, and vowed to do something to keep him safer. Harry enjoyed listening to him curse Dumbledore in new and inventive ways, and learned more about his parents than he had ever imagined.
The evening ended with Harry promising to write regular letters, and Sirius promising not to do anything stupid. Well, too stupid. Both were hopeful that they could spend the summer together.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The next afternoon Harry went to the library to retrieve books on underwater creatures and underwater spells. Research wasn't his forte, but he had nothing better to do and he wanted a distraction.
He had woken in the middle of the night with his scar aching painfully. He had the vague sense he had just dreamed of Voldemort, but couldn't remember anything specific. Just a feeling of anticipation that made him uneasy. There was nothing to do about it, so he tried to put it out of his mind.
He took the books back to the dorm, but grew bored with the lonely atmosphere and decided to read in the Pride. It had a welcoming ambience even when it was deserted.
Except it wasn't deserted.
He descended the stairs and stared in surprise at finding another person in the room. Livia Tinkerfell was reclining on a couch, fully clothed and reading a book.
She looked up when he entered, and there was a moment of awkward silence.
"Er, hi," he said.
"Hello, Potter. I didn't realize you were in the castle."
"I didn't realize you were either. I haven't seen you at meals."
She shrugged. "I like to keep odd hours when I don't have to get up."
He nodded and sat down on a couch opposite her. She returned to reading her book, paying him no more attention. Tinkerfell had always seemed a bit cold to him. She was blonde and beautiful, but had the haughty air of a pureblood princess. She talked mainly to her friend Saoirse, though he knew she sometimes slept with people in the privacy of the beds. He didn't recall seeing her during the debauchery after the Yule Ball. In fact, he wasn't certain if he had ever seen her nude.
When she continued to ignore him, he pulled out his books to do his own reading. She was the only regular that he hadn't slept with, though his sole liaison with Alicia had been an unmemorable affair under the influence of lust potion. He was curious about her, but she didn't seem interested in him at all. There was no need to have an unwanted conversation about it, he supposed.
A couple hours later, he grew tired of reading and decided to go for a fly around the pitch. He hadn't spoken another word to Tinkerfell the entire time, and she seemed content with the situation.
"I'm heading out," he said. "Have a nice day."
"Likewise," she said, giving him a smile that was polite but distant.
He returned it and walked away. He was almost to the stairs when he turned around on a whim.
"Livia? Or do you prefer Tinkerfell?"
"Livia is fine," she said, looking at him curiously.
"Livia, then. I just wanted to say, if you're ever interested in spending some together—in here, I mean—you just have to say so. I wasn't sure if you were interested and I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."
"Oh. Okay, Potter. Thank you. I'll keep it in mind."
"No problem. And call me Harry."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The next night he was sitting in his four-poster, reading a book on charms, when he heard a soft knock on the door frame. He looked up to see Tinkerfell standing at the edge of the door.
"Er, hello," she said. "I hope you don't mind that I came up here."
He put down his book and stood. "It's fine. Hermione comes up here all the time."
"Ah," she said, then stood there awkwardly for a moment. Her face was flushed, which was very noticeable with her fair complexion. "Would you be interested in going to the Pride for a little while?"
"Certainly," he said with a smile. "Just let me brush my teeth."
A few minutes later they walked together into the Pride and she led him to one of the beds. She closed the curtains around them even though the place was empty. She seemed nervous, and he couldn't quite understand why.
"I'm sorry if this seems weird," she said, "but will you promise me something?"
"Sure."
"Would you please not talk to people about me? Gossip, I mean. With the others in the club."
"Of course. Why would I do that?"
"I just like to keep things private. You'll understand in a moment. Other people know, but still—I don't like the idea that anyone talks about me."
He nodded, curious but mystified. "I promise."
She began disrobing self-consciously, and he followed suit. He shot looks at her body, wondering why she had extracted such a promise. She was attractive: fair skin, deep blue eyes and long blond hair, nice breasts with pale pink nipples. Her body was definitely on the soft side, but not all the girls were toned quidditch players.
She noticed him staring. "I'll just show you, so we can get it out of the way."
She lay down on her back and spread her legs. She had a small triangle of light blonde hair, thicker than the other girls, and a very large, hooded clit that stood out noticeably from within it.
"You're beautiful," he said hesitantly. "What are you showing me?"
"This."
She closed her eyes and began teasing her clit gently. He watched as she spread two fingers around it, teasing it from the sides. It slowly grew as she became aroused.
"Look," she whispered, not meeting his eyes.
He peered closer between her legs, feeling a little awkward. She pushed aside her outer lips, exposing more of her clit to him, and he understood.
Her clit wasn't just on the large side. It was huge. She pulled her lips back further, and it emerged from its hood until it stood erect, almost like the head of a tiny penis. It even had the shape of one. A small bulbous head, smooth and glistening, protruding from a little shaft of flesh that extended more than an inch. She moved it back and forth so he could see its dimensions.
She watched him apprehensively. "It's freakish, I know."
"No, it isn't," he said, trying to sound reassuring. Some of her behavior finally made sense. "It's big, but I don't see the big deal. It looks fun to play with."
"I don't like it."
"I think it's cute, Livia. Is it really sensitive?"
She shrugged. "I've got nothing to compare it to, but I think it's the same as other girls. It's just bigger. Except one little spot at the end, where it, er, really protrudes. That part's super sensitive."
"Can I touch it? I'll be gentle."
She nodded and he scooted forward in the bed. He pushed his fingers against her puffy lips and her clit extended even further. It really was enormous, completely overshadowing the pale pink lips below it. He squeezed it gently between two fingers and then rubbed a finger across it, amazed at its firmness. It was as hard as a cock.
"Just tell me what feels good," he whispered. "Can I kiss it?"
She nodded, still looking apprehensive, as he lowered his face.
He teased his tongue across the head of her clit and she breathed out and closed her eyes. She spread her legs wider. He took that as a good sign.
He rubbed his fingers along either side of it, squeezing it gently, then pressed down. Her entire clit released from its hood, standing up hard in arousal. It looked like a tiny erection. He gently took it in his mouth and suckled it, testing her reaction.
"Easy," she said breathlessly.
He suckled it even more gently, teasing the underside of it with his tongue. She moaned.
"Keep doing that."
He slid a pair of fingers into her as he kept light pressure on her clit. She was very wet, and she spread her legs wider for him. He stroked her soft walls, gently sucking her clit as if it were a giant nipple, and it grew even harder in his mouth.
"Yeah, just like that," she whispered.
It turned him on that she was trusting him. He could understand her insecurities, but really it wasn't something to be ashamed of. It was actually kind of hot.
He pressed his mouth against her lips and pulled her entire clit toward him, applying pressure all along its length and teasing the underside with his tongue.
She gasped and her legs started quivering. She grabbed his hair, and he plunged his fingers deeper. Her walls pulsed around them, and soon he could feel her clit actually pulsing in his mouth. He moved it back and forth with his tongue as she moaned.
She let out a huge breath and relaxed. She opened her eyes and smiled down at him a little shyly.
"You're good at that."
"Thank you. We can do it anytime you want."
"Promise not to talk about it?"
"I promise. But seriously, your clit is gorgeous. I like it."
Her smile grew. "Most people here know, but I don't like to think of them joking about it. It took Saoirse a long time to convince me to come here. I still make everyone promise."
"Honestly, Livia, it's hot. You've got a super clit. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
She laughed again. "Super clit. Come up here, Harry."
What followed was an oddly formal session of lovemaking, but a pleasurable one nonetheless. Her personality was naturally a little distant, he realized, probably a product of her pureblood upbringing coupled with her insecurities. But she was eager to please as a lover, and thoroughly enjoyed it when she was on top. She could rub her clit against him with ease.
An hour after they began, both were sated. They lay in bed together, and Harry was grateful that things were no longer so awkward between them.
"You did wonderfully well in the first task," she said. "It was exciting to watch."
"Thank you. It was fun in a weird way, except for the fact that I was inches away from dying."
"Well, yes, there is that. Why are you here? In the castle, I mean."
"My relatives don't want to see me over the holidays, and I want to see them even less. I could go to the Weasleys but Ron and I aren't getting on at the moment."
"Ah. I'm sorry."
"Not your fault. Honestly I like the peace of the castle right now."
"Me too."
"Why are you here?" he ventured. "If you don't mind my asking."
There was a moment's hesitation. "My parents are visiting my great-aunt in Norway. We don't get along well and I begged to stay here."
"Ah."
There was a long silence, and she sighed.
"You seem trustworthy, Harry, but this is not something you should gossip about either."
"I won't."
"She wants me to marry my cousin, her son. He's 20 years older than me and a disgusting lecher. She's been talking about it since I was 10. She wants to 'keep the money in the family.' My father has to humor her because she gives us a stipend, but he hates her too. They're letting me pretend to be ill this year."
"God, that's awful. They're not going to force you to marry him, are they?"
"No. My father wouldn't do that. We just try to remain polite and avoid the topic. Hopefully she'll drop it eventually. You can't pick your family."
"That's definitely true."
"I like the peace and quiet here anyway. Saoirse invited me to her home, but it's a madhouse there. She has like sixteen cousins and I can barely understand a word they say."
He laughed. "Well, I'm glad you stayed. We can do this whenever you want. Maybe you can help me be less clueless in the tournament. Know anything about casting spells underwater?"
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The rest of the students returned on January 10th. Harry was almost sorry to see them come back. He missed Hermione, as well as some members of the Pride, but he had gotten used to blessed silence in the last two weeks. He didn't see Tinkerfell every day, but they did hook up a few more times in the Pride. She made some useful suggestions for research, even if she didn't know anything about underwater spells.
Hermione returned ready to go. She was again enthusiastic about her studies and his preparation for the tournament. He suspected she had done some soul searching over the break. It irritated him that her behavior in the Pride sometimes caused her distress, especially when he loved watching her lose herself like that. But her conclusion seemed to be a positive one.
Cedric also returned with enthusiasm. Pleased that Harry had successfully worked out the clue, they had a brief discussion of possibilities and Cedric promised to help him if he requested it. They agreed to work separately in the spirit of fair play, but neither wanted him to die in what looked increasingly like a murderous plot.
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Hermione sighed as Dean Thomas teased her clit almost lazily and then pressed his tongue between her folds, licking the outer recesses of her walls.
It was a random Tuesday night, a week into the start of the new term, and she was reclining on a couch in the Pride. She was surrounded by books, having been studying for transfiguration when Dean asked her if she'd like to take a break for an orgasm.
She had laughed at his phrasing.
Now his head was buried between her legs, and when he was finished, she would return the favor. She liked sucking Dean's cock, even though 'sucking' wasn't the proper word. It was too big for that. Perhaps licking or teasing or even worshiping was more appropriate for such an appendage. She had to be properly prepared if she wanted to fit it inside her, and most nights wasn't up for the challenge.
She and Harry had gotten into the habit of spending an hour in the Pride every night, usually before bed. They needed to relax after a long day of researching what he might need to know for the second task. Sometimes they would casually get each other off right there in public. Other times they would make love in a bed.
Most often they were sought out by others. Harry had a stable of regular lovers, and Hermione almost felt like a celebrity. Every boy in the club enjoyed pleasuring her. So did some of the girls.
She was amazed at how casual everything had become. The Pride was like a brothel, except the patrons and employees were one and the same. It fostered a sense of intimacy that she didn't quite understand. How could such a casual arrangement—a literal sex club—be so sensual? So personal and impersonal at the same time?
Just last night she had gone to the room with a cheap novel, needing a break from studying. Julian Martigan had been there writing an essay. He had casually offered to go down on her, just as Dean was doing now. Afterwards he had fucked her, then both had wished each other a pleasant evening and gone to bed.
She barely knew him outside the club. They didn't really speak. But in here she knew him intimately. She had gained a thorough awareness of the bodies of everyone in the club, in fact. She knew what they liked, what they didn't, and how to bring them to orgasm the most effective way. It sometimes revealed more about them as people than a deep conversation would. She was certainly growing closer to Lavender and Parvati through sex than she would have through gossip.
Angelina had been right. The dynamic was surreal, but she was growing to love it. The Pride was like an alternate universe—an escape from reality where the usual rules didn't apply.
The true debauchery was reserved for special occasions, and she thanked God for that. If there had been a crowd of boys present every night, she might not be able to resist the urge to monopolize them: to get on her back and let them worship her body one after the other.
She had mostly made peace with her proclivities, as she liked to think of them, though she hoped Madam Pomfrey was still doing research. People liked to tease her about them, especially the girls, but she was growing used to it. Nobody had truly mocked her, and even Viktor seemed to think she was admirable. She had invited him back to the alcove twice more, though it had been just the two of them this time.
She returned her attention to Dean as his fingers and tongue grew more forceful. She could feel her orgasm drawing closer now. She put her hand on his head to direct his efforts. She could see his cock swinging between his legs, hard in anticipation. She was tempted to ask him to put it in her, just to feel his release, but there was still work to be done, and she didn't want to lose her mind tonight, no matter how good it felt.
There was always the weekend for that.
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Author's Note: Sirius will have more of a role as the story goes on, especially over the summer, which will be very different from canon.
No apologies for the Myrtle scene. That was fun to write. The second task comes next chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I love hearing your thoughts.