Hermione gasped.

Her wits had left her the moment Ron had come in, sweetly offering a shag-of-a-lifetime. But now they were rushing back, demanding attention. This was her first time. Why wasn't she screaming? Why wasn't she feeling her hymen break? Why wasn't she cursing Ron?

With another thrust, those thoughts were chased away at once, leaving room for only pleasure and ecstasy. Merlin, the things Ron was doing to her, she'd never imagined this, not like this. She'd never gone as far as this in her daydreams, even though she was loath to admit she had any at all. He reached in between their joining, and began to rub the bundle of nerves hidden there.

She really felt like a bitch in heat. Pants and grunts came out of her mouth involuntarily, and the position they were currently sporting reminded her of something she'd seen on the discovery channel back in the muggle world. He alternated between quick, shallow thrusts and slow and tantalizing ones, keeping her one the edge and pushing her over it several times.

At the same time, he continued to tease her nipples mercilessly, causing them to tingle and wiggle around for more contact. She'd never known this kind of passion, this kind of pleasure. And just as the logical part of her mind started to crawl back once more, mewing out that this must mean that Ron was experienced, therefore had slept with girls before, he finally joined her over the edge, triggering another of her orgasms, yelling her name as he almost pushed her face into the mattress.

With spent strength, he twisted her around, lifting her leg over his head, still deep inside of her, and lay both of them down higher on the mattress.

Still breathing heavily, Hermione looked over to Ron, smiling triumphantly. Yes! She thought inwardly. I'm not a virgin anymore! She felt a strange pride overcome her as she thought upon that.

Ron smiled back, and closed his eyes, sighing contently. She watched his shallow breaths turn into deeper ones, lashes firmly closed over his brilliant eyes, indicating sleep. Finally, she gave into the temptation of sleep over the choice of watching Ron sleep all night.

A little over a minute later, Hermione felt Ron shift in his sleep, kiss her lightly on the nose (at which she smiled over) and leave the mattress. Thinking he'd gone to the bathroom, and forgetting that she was underneath Myrtle's, she snuggled back into the warmth of the blanket that suddenly happened to be there. A deep and dreamless sleep beckoned, and she gladly surrendered.


Draco felt extremely satisfied and tired. Who knew a mudblood could be so enjoyable? He thought, knowing that soon, the potion would wear off and he would, once again be Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, inside and out. The Weasley body was starting to give him a slight itch, particularly on a spot just on the bridge of his nose. He scratched at it, but the itch seemed to get even more irritated, so he just settled for scrunching up his nose. Perhaps this explained the Weasel's permanent frown.

The strange but familiar feeling of bubbles under his skin returned shortly, shortening his hair, firming his frame into a more lean body, making his fingers more slender and long, restoring his sharp nose to itself. Each aspect of himself had returned, down to every single blonde eyelash on his grey eyes.

Once he felt everything stop, he put on his robes again, and fell into a shallow sleep on the chair right there in the observation room. Near dawn, his muscles still slightly tense, Draco shifted in his dreams, running away from some unnamed foe, muttering Unforgivable curses while his dream self screamed them out like his life depended on it.

Responding to its master's cries, the wand lying on the table glowed green, killing instantly a black widow that happened to be scuttling over it. The wand seemed frantic to get into its master's hands, just itching to fulfill some of the spells he was muttering. Strangely, unlike an ordinary wand, it didn't seem to be fully inanimate. The peculiar wand emanated an aura of its own, demanding attention.

Abruptly, Draco awoke, and upon his awakening, the wand stopped moving. Scowling, he rubbed the sleep grime from his eyes, stretched rather slowly, and ran a slender hand through his hair. Pocketing the wand, at which point it seemed to preen from the contact, he leaned on the table, waiting for Granger to wake.

She seemed reluctant to do exactly that, and just rolled around on the mattress, possibly because she was not yet fully conscious. She stopped rolling all of a sudden, as if realizing her surroundings. She looked a little frightened, trying to assure her pompous little Griffindor self that nothing was wrong. Draco was a tad bit disappointed. He'd expected her to

Draco saw her lips move, saying something like 'Ron where are you.' Draco chuckled at her naïveté and vulnerability, and patiently watched for her to find the little table again.


Harry Potter slept uneasily. He knew, and his knowing of things that should be unknown kept him miles away from the pleasant dreams he desired oh so much.

Ron was out again.

His best friend had taken to the offer Malfoy had offered, and now worked as a prostitute for his disgusting organization. Each night, Ron would become another person, fuck a few girls, and return to their dorms at dawn, exhausted but content. If Hermione asked about anything, Ron just told her he'd stayed out late patrolling. And she would believe it, not suspecting anything of her red-haired knight in shining armour.

Harry wanted to tell her. To tell her what a perverted scam Malfoy was running, and how Ron had jumped at the chance to join it.

But he'd been forced to sign a contract. It was signed with his wand. If his actions even suggested a betrayal of the contract, the magical bind could leave him crippled, or so Malfoy had threatened it could. And though Harry suspected the ferret of lying through his teeth, he did not want to test the bind. After all, it could leave him crippled; in no condition whatsoever to even dream of fighting Voldemort.

Remembering the day this entire ordeal had started, he shuddered in his sleep. Images of himself fucking Parvati and Ron jerking off ran through his head, not allowing him any peace.

Suddenly, light spilled into the room, chasing away what little sleep Harry had.

'Hey Harry,' Ron said cheerfully, as he made his way to his bed. 'Still awake?'

Harry didn't respond, just glaring at his best friend. He didn't know Ron anymore.

'Hey, come on, mate. I just do what I love to do,' Ron said defensively, mocking Harry. 'You don't know what you're missing. Guess who I was tonight? Ernie Macmillan. He's a nice bloke and all, but Harry, you wouldn't believe the size of his--'

'Shut up, Ron,' Harry said a little forcefully.

'Whatever mate. Nothin' like a good shag to get to sleep.' Ron yawned a little louder than necessary, settled into his bed, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Listening to Ron's snoring, Harry looked at the blurry ceiling. It was going to be a long night.

A/N: I know my posts have been little and far between.. sorry about that. I'm still developing the characters a bit, and all. Hermione will understand soon, and then... You'll see. ;)