The Sins
Chapter 2: Unclean
A/N: There is only one chapter after this one. Happy reading.
A bitch... yes. A slut... sure. A user... of course. But... to call her unclean... it simply wasn't true.
She always uses protection, and showers twice a day. She was as clean as any girl could be, even virgins. (Not that there were many in the school)
She was decent too. She never did any first years or second years. (Which explained why there were any vigins at all) When you got past the cold-hearted, immoral, lustful, slut, there was a good person. Well, maybe. Couldn't be too sure. No one had ever tried to look, not ever Hermione herself.
It was not her fault that she liked sex and power. Who Doesn't? She simply acts on her impulses. Heeds her own wants. She enjoys life. The sins, the feels, the tastes, all of it. She really lives life. How many people can say the same?
On top of all of that reasoning, she was the best student, like... ever. So how could anyone even think, THINK! to call her unclean?
That stupid bitch had no right, no right to judge. Who was she to talk of unclean? Fucking bitch! Like it's Hermione's fault that she can't get laid. How dare she take her PMS out on Hermione? That Pansy Parkinson had put her in the only bad mood.
It's not good to go to be pissed off in Muggle Studies. When one is pissed off one may often do irrational things. And when your professor is Fleur Delacour, the one person who had ever gotton to you in a fuck, its best to be as level headed as you can be.
Delacour. That name gave Hermione goose pimples. That woman is a completely sadistic bitch. Hermione's hand instinctively began to rub her throat. Massaging marks that were no longer there.
"Miss Granger" Delacour said. Her accent made the words sound like thick molasses.
"Yes Professor?" came Hermion's reply. It sounded bored and uncaring, hiding her loathe of this person.
"See me after class in my office please." Hermione's eyes showed nothing. Everyone was watching her. She did exactly what was expected of her. Licked her pouty, red upper lip and nodded nice and sultry.
Pansy watched her tounge dart out to moisten her lips and found herslef imagining the things she could do with that tounge...
The fact that Delacour had strangled her as she came meant nothing. It was still the same game. There was just a new rule now, get even.Hermione was still in control. Still able to make the woman whimper and beg.
As the period came to a close Hermione gathered her things and walked after Delacour to her office. She slipped her wand into her left garter for good measure.
Delacour played rough, played dirty. Hermione had her number. This time would not be like their first encounter. As soon as the door was shut Hermione grabbed her by the robe and threw her against the door.
Her mind was screaming at her 'Why are you doing her again after what happened last time?' She reasoned with herslef. 'Revenge'.
Hermione's tounge fought a vicious battle with Delacour's. Both women wanting control, fighting for it. Neither one giving in. Hermione was more qualified for a contest. She lazily wrote her name on the roof of Delacour's mouth, while Delacour just tried to keep up.
She could feel the other woman begin to get disoriented. Time to move. She pulled the robe off of her. Hermione's hands moved to the shirt. Button after button came undone beneath trained fingers. The bitch was braless. How very... her.
Pale skin waiting to be tainted. Hermione flicked her tounge at Delacour's nipple. She ran her tounge around the pink flesh and moved up to the nape of her neck. Hermione bit down on her collar bone and ripped her skirt off.
With every movement she was awarded with a little french moan. Hermione pressed her thigh against the soft folds between the other woman's legs.
With her right hand she braced herself against a wall. Her left hand traveled down the supple form before her. She traced complex patterns across her lower abdomen.
In one fluid motion her middle finger was inside Delacour. Delacour in turn writhed and pressed against it. Hermione proceeded in fucking her. With a series of thrusts that were so slow that they were actually causing Delacour some pain, she brought her to the edge before the fall into ecstasy.
Then violently pulled her hand from the woman. She cried out, a wanting, needy cry. Exactly what Hermione had wanted. Hermione pulls the wand from her garter and binds her to the floor. Delacour squirms on the cold stone floor.
She gets on her knees next to her. She runs one long finger down her body. Her neck, between her breasts, across her stomach. Delacour's breath is coming in shallow gasps now. Hermione sees it in her eyes. Fear. She bends down and bites her right ear. "You like pain, do you?" she whispers huskily to her.
Delacour's eyes cloud over. Human defense mechanism. Sheilding herself from what is about to happen to her. They say Hermione has no heart. That there is a dry piece of toast there instead. They're wrong, it'sa small block of ice.
Hermione won't have that. She wants her to be fully aware of every little thing that happens to her body. Hermione slaps her. The clouds dissapear. Her eyes hold fear again. Hermione smiles. "What do you want?" she asks.
"Untie me" the woman whimpers.
"You want me to untie you?" Delacour nods pitifully, eyes wide. Hermione kisses her. She moved her mouth down her body. This should be extremely pleasurable for Delacour, but her nerve endings betray her. Instead of pleasure, the fear turns it into pain.
Hermione stops at her center. Her warm breath hits Delacour exactly where her body wants it. She half moans, half cries. When something feels really good, but you would rather be not having it done to you, it is very confusing and sends you into a type of shock. And she shudders in what could be pleasure or pain, or both when Hermione's tounge enters her roughly.
Hermione keeps her on the edge for 10 minutes. Poking, prodding, pentetrating and pulling away. Making her moan, making her cry. It got boring. Hermione had already spent almost an hour here. Waste of her fucking time...
Hermione thrust two fingers into her roughly. In and out, snaking, twisting, turning. Delacour came and called began to call out her name. Hermione bit down on her breast, drawing blood."Don't say my name." she said harsly and walked out.
She walked in the halls. Looking for a fuck. Her eyes roamed the halls for anything. Her eye was caught by the very thing that pissed her off earlier. Pansy Parkinson.
Her eyes were filled with lust and hate and something else. Hermione hadn't had that bitch yet. Hermione makes her way to Pansy. "Hello Pansy." Hermione purrs into her ear.
Pansy's body tensed up. Hermione snaked her hand up the girl's shirt along her spine. She unhooked the girls bra and walked away.
Pansy turned to watch her walk away, her left hand re-doing her bra. Her hips swaying, her mary janes softly clopping across the floor. She would have that little slut. And it would be on her terms.
It was time for a plan of action. And the bitch had smelled like sex. That is rude. Pansy began to think of just how much she wanted to get Hermione. That little whore, that perfect, little, bitchy, whore. Pansy followed Hermione to the prefects bathroom.
There she stood waiting for the opportune moment to make her move. She would make the icy girl warm. She would fuck her until she cried and begged. She would do to Hermione what Hermione did to everyone else around. Pansyisn't someone you fuck with. And what Hermione had just done, that was fucking with her head. Pansy wouldplay this game with her. But she would win.
A/n Review bitches.