tw: sexual assault
The Hogwarts Coven
Harry Potter and the Witches' Secret
Chapter 12 – On Melancholy Hill
"I think we should do it," Hermione declared as she dropped a dusty tome onto the table they were seated at. Harry and Ginny simply smirked at her enthusiasm. It was now after Christmas, for which none of them had returned home, so they were sat in the Room of Requirement, all with a mug of hot chocolate, enthusiastically prepared by Dobby.
"Talk us through it," Ginny asked, curious as to what had Hermione so excited.
"Well, I read Magical Flow and the Alluring and Majestic Altered Anatomy of Witches…"
"You don't have to say the whole title every time," Harry interrupted.
"And it is an excellent read," she enthused. "I particularly liked all of the lovely descriptions of witches' cocks and their larger average size," she said, grinning at Harry, who simply blushed in response. "But anyway, I read all about her proposition, which she seems to have taken from Ancient Latin texts, which themselves came from Greece. So, I did some research about those cults and rituals and it was all very interesting. But the really interesting thing was my research into the cult at Hogwarts. And I found here," she indicated to the book she had just slammed onto the table. "A history of cults and covens in magical Britain, in which there is an entire chapter dedicated to Hogwarts. It was written in the 1930s and details the start and end of what it refers to as a 'cult', though that has negative muggle associations, but it does not use coven because that implies, wrongly I may add, 'female-led'."
"Could you get to the point," Ginny inserted, used to her bookish friend rambling breathlessly on.
"Sorry," Hermione smiled. "Anyway, it seems that Iolanthe had an influence in Britain but mostly after her death, as is often the case. So, it seems as if the coven started in 1382. It grew to a very large size over the years, easily replenishing its membership with each seven-year rotation of Hogwarts students, but it started to wane in the 19th century, due to the importing of muggle Victorian prudishness. And then it ended wholesale in 1914. The reason why it ended is particularly fascinating, not least because it has something to do with you Harry," Hermione explained.
"Why's it always me?" Harry sighed.
"The Hogwarts cult, was mainly led by members of two houses, the Potter house, and the Black house. And in 1914, Henry Potter took the pro-muggle position of wanting to join the First World War, this led to a severe fracturing between the so-called light and dark, which trickled down to their children at Hogwarts who ended the cult basically over this political disagreement."
"Typical," Harry muttered.
"But there is one more thing, that is even more interesting," Hermione continued. "In the book before you I found this," she said, brandishing a small pamphlet of parchment. "This, seems to be self-writing, it documents every time there is a ritual of the coven, at Hogwarts. And the last time actually seems to be in the late-sixties. So, I have no clue who that was, but I thought that was particularly interesting given that your parents, Ginny, would have been at Hogwarts then," Hermione finally finished.
"I doubt it was mum or dad," said Ginny quickly. "I'm not sure mum's the sharing type," she admitted.
"Well, who knows who it is," Hermione shrugged. "Point is, I think we should do it, but I need to find a book with the correct incantations," Hermione said. "So I'll need to get permission to leave the school grounds, now that we've missed the Christmas break."
"Can't you get it delivered by owl?" Ginny questioned.
"I don't know the exact book I'm looking for, plus we all know that Filch randomly checks orders and deliveries and I would rather not have to explain why I have a book of ritual incantations from a shop in Knockturn Alley," she explained.
"Knockturn?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Do you really think Flourish and Blotts is gonna have it?"
"So how are you going to get that permission?"
"McGonagall," Hermione replied nonchalantly.
"And how are you going to get permission from McGonagall?" Ginny followed up. Hermione simply blushed and looked away. "So, I guess your sexual confidence only applies to students," Ginny quipped.
"Shut up," Hermione protested.
"Maybe it's just McGonagall that makes her nervous. Worried she'll disappoint her crush," Harry joked. Hermione went an even deeper shade of red. "Told you," Harry laughed.
"Piss off," Hermione muttered, which only caused Harry and Ginny to laugh uproariously. "I'm glad you're having fun."
"Sorry, 'Mione," said Harry. "It's just you and McGonagall were destined to happen."
"I'm not asking her to marry me! I'll just blow her and that's that," defended Hermione.
"How big do you reckon she is?" Ginny asked.
"Big," Hermione said wistfully, before she could stop herself. Harry and Ginny once again exploded into laughter. Hermione simply huffed loudly at them and crossed her arms. "Done?" she asked after a few minutes. And so, the laughter resumed again. And Hermione herself cracked a smile at her two friends. The thought of cults and covens momentarily forgotten.
"Why haven't you even started on the egg?" Hermione asked Harry, her irritation clear to hear.
"Because I don't want to listen to it shrieking at me," Harry replied. The two were at lunch in the Great Hall. Ginny had remained in the Room of Requirement waiting for Luna, supposedly to plan some sort of surprise. Harry did not know whether to feel nervous or excited at the prospect of a surprise involving the strange blonde.
"There must be something simple that we're not thinking of," said Hermione, going to take a sip of her drink. However, a commotion at the Slytherin table drew both of their eyes, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were in some sort of confrontation. Every head in the hall swivelled around to the two, immaculately dressed Slytherins. But Snape was up and on the situation before anything more could develop. It just seemed like a petty shoving match.
"Any clue what that was about?" Harry asked Hermione.
"No idea," Hermione shrugged as she placed her drink back down. "Does the water taste funny to you?" she asked Harry.
"Mine is fine," he replied. Hermione simply shrugged again, before refocusing on chastising Harry.
"You have to put at least a little bit of effort in, Harry," Hermione said. "The other contestants probably know it by now."
"Well can't you just fuck Fleur again in exchange for the answer," Harry snapped back.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Hermione said simply.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "It's just I'm aware of the problem, okay. You don't have to remind me. I have more incentive than you to figure it out, it is my life on the line after all," he said.
"I just get nervous for you. I know how you leave things until the last minute."
"I'll try and crack it, I promise," Harry said.
"Fine," Hermione said. "I trust you, and I also trust Ginny to nag you as much as I am," she added.
"Tell me about it," Harry muttered.
"For what it's worth I'm very happy that the two of you are back together again. You're sweet together," Hermione said.
"What about you and Ron?" Harry asked in response. "What's going to happen with that now that you and Lavender are whatever you and Lavender are?" Hermione had told Harry and Ginny about the surprising and sudden blooming of her love life. But she herself had not come to a definite conclusion about Ron, though she was leaning a particular way.
"Can you seriously see Ron and me working out?" Hermione asked him.
"Answering a question with a question, nice stalling," Harry joked.
"Just answer the question."
"It made sense on a certain level. You're friends, you're shall we say, sexually compatible, even if Ron can't see it yet and you do genuinely care for each other. But fucking hell do you argue. And some friction is good in a relationship, but maybe not this much," Harry answered.
"Since when did you become so well versed on relationships?"
"Since I got in one myself and discussed your relationship with Ginny," he answered honestly.
"So, you reached the conclusion that I should not date Ron?" Hermione asked, seeking not only confirmation of what she expected her friends thought, but also tacit approval of her own conclusion.
"It would be perfect if it worked. And you know I'll back Ron till the ends of the earth. But I just can't see it going well. I mean you spent more time arguing than conversing last year and the trend seems to have continued," Harry justified.
"True," Hermione said with a sigh. "I just hope it doesn't ruin our friendship," she said.
"I'm sure it won't, Hermione," Harry reassured her. "Hermione?" he asked as his friend had just sat bolt upright, a bright red colour, creeping onto her cheeks.
"Err, I've got to go, Harry. Girl problems," she said simply before rushing off and out the great hall. Harry just shook his head and resumed eating his lunch. He did not notice the mousy haired Slytherin eagerly slipping out of the room after Hermione.
"Fuck," Hermione groaned as she desperately jerked her cock off in a girl's bathroom. She knew she had reached the stage where she was unable to cum without some help from someone else, but she was trying anyway. She had suddenly, out of nowhere, developed a need to orgasm. She had at first felt like she needed to vomit, hence the bathroom, but then something else came over her. It was not the usual lustful feeling she might get if she saw a particularly cute Hufflepuff bend over or something, no, it was a burning and all-consuming need. Her balls were broiling, desperately begging to be allowed to release their precious load. Her stomach was full of butterflies, though they were not flitting and fluttering but angrily crashing against her in want. It was as if her entire body had suddenly decided to launch a violent protest until such a time as Hermione came. But without another she could not.
She was just about to leave in search of someone like Lavender, or even go back red-faced to Harry, but as she opened the cubicle door a grinning Pansy Parkinson stood before her. "What do you want?" Hermione sneered at the Slytherin, trying not to let her current state show.
"Feeling a little horny, Granger?" Pansy asked mockingly. She already knew the answer.
"What did you do?" Hermione glowered.
"I may have slipped a little something in your drink," Pansy smirked, before revealing her evil plan in such a stereotypical manner, Hermione could not help but roll her eyes. "I used a little potion that I devised that makes she who drinks said potion incredibly horny and in need of release. I've heard it can get very painful without a proper release. How did I get the potion into your drink I hear you ask, well I got Draco dear to cause some sort of fracas with Blaise, which was not hard, they don't like each other much anyway, and whilst all of you sheep were distracted by the pathetic display of masculinity, I simply levitated the vial, across the room… wandlessly," she pontificated. The last bit actually had Hermione impressed, to levitate something that far without a wand was very impressive. Scarily however, it also demonstrated how much practice and dedication Pansy had put into the plan, which was not a good sign for Hermione. "And now I have you cornered, locked in and desperate to cum. You could always attack me of course, but then you wouldn't be able to get off all alone in here, and trust me the door is very much sealed. I had to dig deep into the Parkinson family library for this particular spell. No little first year Alohomora is going to cut it," Hermione gulped as Pansy finished her villainous lecture. She could not see a way out of this particular predicament.
"Ok, what do you want?" Hermione asked, deciding to give in to the girl in order to lessen her pain.
"You, I want you. To teach you a lesson in manners, that you and all your kind need," Pansy declared, spitting out the word 'kind' with particular venom. Hermione was hardly surprised by this attitude. It did not anger her, or upset, it just made her feel a bit sorry for the girl standing across from her. Her bigotry would come back to haunt her, Hermione knew it, Pansy did not. At least not yet.
Hermione may not have been angry at the bigotry, but at what it was that Pansy was about to do. Rape. That certainly deserved a just punishment.
"How do you want me?" Hermione asked neutrally, already planning what her retribution would be. It was a comforting thought and one that would, Hermione hoped anyway, get her through this ordeal.
"I want you stripped and on your knees before me, as you should be," Pansy barked. Hermione quietly removed her clothes from her body and dropped them next to her. Pansy swallowed as she saw Hermione's body, her perfect handful sized breasts topped with pretty pink nipples. Her wide hips and surprisingly thick thighs. But worst of all for Pansy, Hermione's massive cock. With her body's enforced need to cum, her cock was as hard as it had ever been, its full meaty eleven inches on obvious display.
"See something you like?" Hermione smirked as she noted where the girl's eyes had stayed.
"Not at all, Granger. I have no desire to touch that brutish, beast-like, thing. I didn't realise that muggles mated with horses!" she snapped, her seething anger coming off of her in waves.
"Why are you doing this?" Hermione asked as she got down on her knees before Pansy. "I mean really."
"Because I need to show you that you are not the best! You're not the number one witch in these halls, I am! You can't just waltz into my world, steal our magic and then suck your way to the top. A real witch needs to show you where you belong. On your knees, before a true witch. Now suck!" Pansy shouted, her voice wavering and cracking as she delivered her particularly harsh diatribe. Hermione struggled to tell whether she was shouting or crying. The girl seemed desperate and lost.
Hermione decided to leave the psychoanalysis for a later time. She instead focused on the seven inches of cock in front of her face. Pansy's shaft throbbed angrily at her, representing the girl herself. Blue veins criss-crossed the way up its length, to where it tapered off into the purplish head. All in all, it was a relatively pleasant cock, Hermione mused as she spread her lips around it, trying to ignore her own desperate desire to cum.
"That's it slut, suck your superior's cock," Pansy moaned as she started down at Hermione. Her hatred for the girl, based on nothing but Hermione's blood and her own jealousy, fuelled her desire for her. She wanted to bring the girl down in the most humiliating way possible. She grinned down at the sight of Hermione's lips wrapped around her length and working up and down. Her submission brought Pansy more pleasure than the actual blowjob itself, though the act itself was also very enjoyable for Pansy. "You've done this a lot haven't you, whore? How many professors' cocks did you have to suck to get those perfect marks? I bet you even gobbed on Snape's cock, didn't you?" Pansy taunted, running her hands through Hermione's bushy hair. "That's it," Pansy moaned as Hermione's nose nestled into her trimmed pubic hair. "Fucking slut," Pansy held Hermione's head in place and began to fuck it, loving the sound of Hermione choking on her cock, as she roughly slammed it in and out of the Gryffindor's throat. "Where's your Gryffindor courage now, huh?" Pansy laughed as she continued to use Hermione for her own sick merriment.
Hermione's Gryffindor courage was in fact on full display. In this case it was not blindly charging forth, but instead valiantly holding out. Hermione let herself be used for Pansy's twisted game, knowing full well that fighting was not courageous but stupid. And courage, not stupidity was the defining trait of a Gryffindor, a distinction that she would admit could not be made with some of her previous adventures. But today she would endure, because though difficult and antithetical to her nature, it was the sensible thing to do. And doing the sensible thing, despite it being harder, was courageous. At least that's what Hermione told herself as Pansy used her throat as she liked. She told herself that again as Pansy first made her suck on her balls and then "worship" her ass. Hermione did all of it, with just enough obedience and enthusiasm to satisfy Pansy, whilst trying to keep the girl's enjoyment at a minimum. It was a small act of rebellion, but the only one possible at the time.
"Now for the main event," Pansy announced gleefully, as she released Hermione's head from where she had been holding it, smothered in her ass. "I want you on your hands and knees in that cubicle," Pansy ordered. Hermione obeyed and crawled into the cubicle she had used only some minutes ago. "Put the lid up and put your face against the edge of the bowl," Pansy added, the excitement evident in her voice.
Hermione scrunched her face up in disgust but compliance was the path that she had chosen, so she continued on down it. Pansy giggled loudly behind her. Hermione could feel the darker-haired girl eyeing up her next target.
"Such a lovely ass for a whore," Pansy commented as she placed her cock at Hermione's entrance, in a slightly crouched position, but not on her hands and knees. A vital distinction in Pansy's mind.
"Ahhhh!" Hermione cried out as Pansy roughly shoved her cock into her ass. Though it was still wet with Hermione's saliva, Hermione's ass was unlubricated and Pansy was not slow and gentle. She rammed her member in and within two violent thrusts had bottomed out inside of the top student.
"Your ass is not as well used as I expected. I'd have thought that Ron and Harry would have used this regularly," Pansy remarked. "Maybe they're on the smaller side. Or maybe, you're not good enough for them. Maybe they prefer the real witches in their year and not the filthy leftovers like you. I bet Krum didn't even want to touch you," Pansy mocked.
Tears formed in Hermione's eyes, originally from the pain of the sudden penetration, but also from Pansy's words. Though Hermione had grown tremendously in confidence in the previous few months, there would always be a part of her that was the outcast, the unwanted one. Pansy's words had hit home.
Pansy, unaware of the specific pain of her words, got to work on fucking the bookworm hard. To Pansy, this was deserved punishment for Hermione, for stealing magic and thinking herself better than everybody else. Pansy saw herself as a dealer of justice, a righteous defender of magical society. She preened at the thought of such a title.
Pansy hammered Hermione as hard and viciously as she could. She was releasing her jealousy by way of her cock, by way of the ultimate domination. It felt incredible to Pansy, Hermione's tight ass gripping her cock, but this was not truly about sex. It was about power, domination and vengeful envy, wrapped up in a warped view of justice. And now Pansy was going there was no stopping her. "Stick your tongue out and lick the bowl, slut!" Pansy demanded. Hermione shuddered at the though and for once did not comply. "I want to see that slutty tongue!" Pansy cried, striking Hermione's ass with forceful blows over and over again.
Crying out in pain, Hermione gave in and did as she was instructed. "That's it!" laughed Pansy. "Taking dick and cleaning toilets that's all you mudbloods are good for," she jeered. Hermione, tried to stay strong in the face of the humiliation, but could not. She let the sobs wrack her body as Pansy continued to pound into her. "Crying now are we?" Pansy said in a babying tone. "Weak!" she cried, "Fucking weak!" She smacked Hermione's ass several more times for effect, turning her cheeks from light pink, to red. "I don't need to hear your sobbing," Pansy declared, suddenly grabbing Hermione's hair and shoving her face into the water of the toilet bowl. "Much better," Pansy remarked to herself as Hermione's sobbing ceased, to be replaced by desperate squirming, flailing arms and legs and drowned out cries.
Pansy was very close before she had dunked Hermione's head underwater, but the ultimate power that Pansy had in her hands, literally, turned her on like nothing else. The fact that she could kill Hermione like this, that Hermione's desperate and panicked flailing was caused by her natural will to live was what, sickeningly, pushed Pansy over the edge into the most satisfying orgasm she had ever had. "Meeeeerlin!" she cried as she came. Her entire body being consumed by sadistic and malicious pleasure. This orgasm felt more electric than any other she had experienced; it was then that she truly understood the French phrase for an orgasm; "the little death".
Hermione gasped in great lungfuls of air as Pansy pulled her head up and out of the water. She was too shattered in that moment to do anything but shake silently on the bathroom floor, water dripping from her hair. She still desperately needed to cum, the potion's curse, still present, even when she had been unable to breathe. It was her constant companion.
"Now I did promise that I would let you cum and I'm not going to renege, I am merciful after all," Pansy said. Hermione did not have the energy, will or wherewithal to snort at the absurd statement. "So, stand up," Pansy commanded. "Back against the wall there," Hermione did as she was instructed, in too much of a daze to do much else.
Pansy spat on her hand and then grasped Hermione's magnificence and began jerking it back and forth. "You like that don't you? Feeling a proper witch's hand on your filthy cock," Pansy continued her goading. "You should thank your superiors when they do something nice for you," Pansy stated expectantly.
"Thank you," Hermione muttered, just wanting the whole ordeal to end.
"Thank you, mistress," Pansy barked.
"Thank you, mistress," Hermione said louder.
"Good little muddy," Pansy cooed.
In Hermione's desperate state Pansy's constant jerking rhythm were getting her close to her own orgasm. Pansy sensed this face, as Hermione's breath shortened, and her body tensed. "You can cum if you say one thing," Pansy said, wanting to humiliate the girl one final time.
"What?" Hermione asked, as she tried to thrust her hips forward to speed up the arrival of her orgasm.
"Say you're a mudblood and that you're honoured to be given the privilege of serving a true witch," Pansy ordered, delighting in the conflicted look in Hermione's eyes.
"I'm a mudblood and I'm honoured to be given the privilege of serving a superior witch," Hermione finally mumbled out.
"Louder!" Pansy screamed.
"I'm a mudblood and I'm honoured to be given the privilege of serving a superior witch," Hermione said louder.
"Fucking louder, slut!"
"I'm a mudblood and I'm honoured to be given the privilege of serving a superior witch!" Hermione cried out at the top of her voice, the tears now streaming down her face. And then she came.
Hermione would always look back on the moment with shame. She knew she had no choice. She knew she had no control. But the fact that she not only betrayed everything she believed in and stood for, for an orgasm, but that the orgasm itself was divine, would haunt her for a long while. Pansy's hand around her cock felt almost celestial as the cum spurted from the tip of her cock, painting the opposite wall of the cubicle in creamy semen. Her legs trembled and body shook as tears still streamed down her face. Her hair was still wet from the toilet water and her ass cheeks were still sore from the spanking. And yet she came and came hard.
And then Pansy's hand was gone and she collapsed to the floor. Broken.
"Pathetic," Pansy spat as she went to collect her clothes and leave.
Hermione was left alone with her thoughts. She stared blankly at nothing in particular as her mind raced to fix itself. Her mind, normally her strongest weapon, her greatest held treasure, was broken.
And she knew not if it would ever recover.
Ron knew he needed to talk to Hermione. But he did not know what he wanted out of the conversation. He knew he wanted her friendship back at a minimum. He had certainly missed her help with homework. But he had also genuinely missed her; her laugh, her arched eyebrow, their shared looks and even her bossiness. He had come to appreciate all of those things, not to mention the sex, which he could finally admit was of the type that he desired most.
But recently it was not Hermione who his mind went to in the moments when it was occupied by nothing else. His fantasies, that appeared in his mind's eye as he drifted off to sleep, were not of Hermione's gargantuan shaft, but instead of the Patil's twins' identical ones. He dreamed of their dark shafts plundering his holes in tandem as they passed him back and forth between them. It was fantasies of this nature, of being plugged by their two twin cocks at once, that had infested his mind and refused eviction.
So now he was meandering. Aimlessly, wandering the Hogwarts corridors, wanting to approach Hermione but not yet knowing how, because he did not yet know what he wanted. The halls were more crowded than usual for Hogwarts during the Christmas holidays, mainly due to the upper years staying on for the Ball. The school had offered a second train journey for those attending the Ball, but most had decided to stay. The main reason was the new relationships that the Ball had formed. Predictably it was mostly sex and not love that was in the air.
So, it was not that surprising that Ron bumped into someone. But what was surprising was who it was and their reaction.
"You are Ronald, non?" the beautiful blonde said as he went to apologise for clattering into her.
"Er, yes," Ron replied, his body becoming tense the moment he realised that it was not simply some irritating third year he had bumped into, but Fleur Delacour herself.
"I think we should 'ave a chat," she said, before turning and strolling, clearly expecting him to follow. He did so.
"What do we need to talk about?" Ron asked, his confusion and curiosity keeping the drooling at bay.
"'ermione," Fleur said simply. "Which classroom is not used so much?" she asked.
"Er this way," Ron said, now leading her. He was very confused as to why Fleur wanted to talk to him about Hermione. He was unaware that the two had any sort of meaningful connection. In fact, he had assumed that Hermione would dislike Fleur. He had more expected her to wrangle clues about the tournament from him that Harry might have told him. Though that would currently be a complete dead-end for the Beauxbatons Champion. "This one should be alright," Ron said, opening the door to a classroom down a mostly empty corridor.
"Good," Fleur said, as she stepped into the classroom, before turning to the door and casting several complex charms. Ron simply stared at the elegance with which she waved her wand. "Done," she stated. "I 'ear you are being stupid with 'ermione," Fleur said, sitting on a desk by the door.
"Erm, where did you hear that?" asked a perplexed Ron.
"'ermione' told me, we are friends," Fleur explained.
"So why isn't Hermione the one talking to me?"
"Because you are being the idiot not 'er. It is on you, not 'er," Fleur elucidated. "I offered to tell you that you are being an idiot. That being on the, how do you English say, bottom? That being on the bottom is nothing to be ashamed of and that if you like it you like it. And you like it, non?"
"I do," he said blushing bright red. "And I have also come to that conclusion, about being an idiot, y'know," he clarified. "I just don't know yet if I want to go back to dating or not," he explicated, deciding that a feminine perspective on the matter could be helpful.
"Oh," Fleur said simply, expecting to have to fuck him in order to make him see his idiocy. "Well, I can't answer for you," she said unhelpfully. "Is there someone else?"
"Yeah, there is," he admitted, as much to himself as to Fleur.
"Do you think about them a lot? More than 'ermione?" she questioned further.
"I do," he said. "I didn't but then we, er, y'know at the Ball and now I do," he answered.
"If you are still thinking about them after sex, then it is probably something," she said sagely. "You know it is not just, 'orniness, but something else. Something more mental than physical," she enlightened. She herself, could not help but think of Hermione and the way that the English brunette had taken over her own mind, even after the sex.
"Er thank you for the advice," Ron said. "How was it you were going to convince me I was being an idiot if I was in fact still being an idiot?" he asked.
"I was going to fuck you and let you fuck me and tell you there was no shame in it, if even a proud French Veela enjoys being fucked by an English wizard," she said bluntly.
"That sounds like a good argument," he joked.
"I thought it would be most convincing," she smiled, her usually austere features vanishing for a moment. It was refreshing for the both of them, a moment of platonic human connection. "We could still fuck if you want?" she offered. "I would not mind particularly as I like being on the top," her features then quickly transformed into lustful.
"You know what, I'm actually going to de-," Ron was about to decline the offer, for reasons that frankly he did not know, but he was. When the pair were interrupted by the most unexpected of people.
"It's Hermione!" this new person cried in a hysterical tone. "She's in the girls toilets nearest the Great Hall! She's been attacked!" Fleur and Ron merely glanced at each other for a moment, before rushing off to where Moaning Myrtle had said Hermione would be.
Harry was lying on his bed in his dormitory with a look of puzzlement adorning his face. It was, for the first time in several days, not because of the Golden Egg that sat on his stomach, it was instead because of an earlier interaction with Cedric Diggory.
The official Hogwarts Champion had not only given him some advice concerning the aforementioned egg, but also made a surprising offer.
"You know the prefects' bath on the fifth floor?" Cedric had asked. Harry nodded. "Well the password is Blatta Pulvereus, don't ask why, and I found it useful for the egg. Just kinda sitting in there and sort of mulling things over."
"Ok," Harry had asked, not entirely sure what Cedric meant but intrigued nonetheless.
"And I also wanted to ask you about Cho. She tells me you and her had a bit of fun a couple of weeks ago," Cedric said in a non-accusatory manner.
"Er, yeah," Harry stammered.
"Well, she wants to see if you'd like to join us one evening, for some more fun if you catch my drift," Cedric said playfully, a boyish grin adorning his handsome features.
"Like a threesome?" Harry asked in a hushed tone.
"Yes, Harry," Cedric replied in a matching tone, his face now closer to Harry's. "Very much like a threesome," he confirmed.
Harry stiffened as he realised that Cedric's lips were now only inches from his own. Cedric moved his lips closer still. Harry's breath hitched in response. "I think we would have a lot of fun," Cedric whispered breathily. The Hufflepuff Seeker grazed his lips against Harry's before moving away again and throwing the completely still boy his trademark smile. "Think about it," and then he waltzed off down the hallway. Whilst Harry was left standing, his cock tenting his trousers and with a very large question mark over his sexuality.
So, it was as Harry was lying in his bed, still semi-hard, pondering his earlier interaction with his fellow Champion that he too received an unexpected guest. "Myrtle!" he cried, startled at the sudden appearance of the ghostly figure. "What are you doing out of a bathroom? I thought you confined yourself to the pipework?"
"She's been attacked Harry! Hermione! In the toilets by the Great Hall. I only saw the end of it!" Myrtle cried in her usual dramatic way, though this time such histrionics were justified.
"Fuck," Harry swore before dashing from the dormitory. The egg lay forgotten on his bed.
"What the fuck happened?" Harry asked as he entered the bathroom in question, to find Ron and Fleur helping up a clearly unwell Hermione.
"She was attacked!" Fleur cried, her eyes a glowing a worrying shade of yellow.
"I'm fine," Hermione said weakly, her voice betraying her words to the truth.
"Hospital Wing?" Harry asked.
"No," Hermione said suddenly and with a certainty that was surprising given the weakness of her previous words. "I want this kept a secret, I will not be made a victim," she asserted.
"So where then?" Ron asked. "You can hardly walk 'Mione, you're all pale and clammy. We can't leave you here for the first person to need the toilet so badly they skip right past the notice-me-nots to find you."
"The Room of Requirement," Hermione said, her voice wavering and fragile again.
"Where?" Ron questioned.
"I know where," Harry said. "Ok, if you want to keep this a secret you're going to have to make the walk unaided. Fleur and Ron will flank you, whilst I run and get the invisibility cloak, then they can escort you the rest of what way under that. Sound like a plan?" Harry asked.
Everyone nodded in agreement. "Let's move."
Ginny and Luna were lying on a sofa in the Room of Requirement, having exhausted the bed and their bodies for the day. They had met to discuss how they were going to execute Harry's surprise but had, unsurprisingly, got carried away and spent the entire day fucking. Dobby had been as eager as ever in providing food for them, so they had not needed to go down to the Great Hall for meals.
But their cosy domesticity was suddenly interrupted. "Get her onto the bed!" Harry ordered, to what looked like to Ginny and Luna no one at all. Then Fleur yanked off the invisibility cloak to reveal herself, Ron and an exhausted Hermione. Fleur and Ron had an arm each over their shoulders and were taking most of Hermione's weight for her, as they had since Harry had met them en route on the third floor.
"What's going on?" Ginny asked, utterly confused but mostly deeply concerned.
"Hermione was attacked, she didn't want to go to Pomfrey so we brought her here," Harry explained quickly.
"Who the fuck attacked her?" Ginny questioned, her brown eyes getting darker, her face going cold.
"We don't know yet, she hasn't said," Harry answered.
Fleur and Ron had managed to get Hermione onto the bed and in a comfortable position, by the time Harry, Ginny and Luna had all joined them round the edge of the bed.
"What is this room?" Fleur asked.
"It's the Room of Requirement, it transforms into whatever you need," Harry explained. "Dobby told me about it."
"Why did you need it?" Ron asked, already knowing the answer from the way Ginny's fingers were gently entwined in Harry's.
"Harry and me are dating, have been since the start of the year. We can deal with it later," Ginny said, her tone cutting off any objections before they formed. Ron simply nodded.
"It was Pansy," said Hermione, her statement cutting through the moment of silence like a scimitar. "She said she wanted to teach me my place, as a mudblood," Hermione went on. "She gave me a potion, made me need to cum and then forced me to have sex with her for relief. She raped me," Hermione cried, sobbing openly into the room.
Her pronouncement received various different reactions. Ginny snarled and let off several vicious curses at target dummies that had spontaneously appeared as she pictured them, before Harry grabbed her and held her seething form in his arms. Fleur instantly climbed into bed and wrapped her body against Hermione's as if shielding her from the outside world, whispering soothing words in French into her ear. Ron simply stood there dumbly, in shock, with one word echoing through his mind; 'rape'. And Luna took Hermione's hand and held it, a simple act of reassurance, but all the more powerful for its simplicity.
Many others in the castle that day, noted a mournful atmosphere, despite it being a rare, bright winter's day. It was as if the castle itself was melancholy. As if, it in its strange form of sentience, it too felt betrayed and angry, but mostly sad.
A little bit more innocence had been lost. And that was always something to lament.
A/N: That scene was not originally meant to be quite that dark, I dread to think what mood I was in when I wrote that.
And Ron was about to turn down Fleur Delacour! Clearly the Patil twins have their ways!
And Cedric's being a tease, poor Harry, now he's really confused.
Anyways, guess the artist, guess the artist!
As always, have a lovely weekend! :) My mood next friday will very much depend on the result of the England v Germany game...