Tuesday

Evidently Harry believed in the value of repetition in the learning process, because he asked her for her knickers again that morning. Despite having a pretty good idea what he was going to do to them by the time she'd get them back, she offered them up without protest. So that lead to her attending class without knickers or bra, leaving her realizing that but for her robes, skirt, and shirt, she might as well be naked. Strangely enough, the thought left her more excited than afraid and she caught herself rubbing her thighs together several times throughout the day. Weasley's gang stepped in front of her as she left for dinner, but a quick snarl and a show of her wand made them step away, slightly confused. It wasn't until she finished her meal and went to Harry's office, that she realized she had actually stood up to her bullies—and she hadn't even really noticed it!
"Congrats, Hermione. That's why we're doing this. You're well on your way to being a confident witch. By the way, here are your knickers," Harry said, tossing her another ball.
"Should I ask what happened to them?" Hermione asked, inspecting them to find them just as sticky as she had expected. She wasn't even annoyed, the good mood of scaring of Weasley and Harry praising her just now overriding it.
"Spell residue. Why don't you put them back on? Oh, and I think your skirt could be a little shorter."
"I'll see what I can do, sir," she said, stepping into her soiled knickers. "Brrr. Cold."
"Good night. See you tomorrow morning," Harry said, dismissing her.

Wednesday

Making her skirt shorter brought it clearly into micro-skirt territory, and Hermione was well aware that if she had not been wearing robes, anyone walking behind her as she ascended the stairs or was behind her as she had to duck, would get a free view of her lacy knickers. Well, at least before she had to take them off and hand them over to Harry, that was. All went well until it came to her last class for that day, Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"We've gone over silent point casting in the previous class, now it's time to see if you can do so under pressure," Professor Shacklebolt, an Auror who had been assigned by Minister Bones to teach for that year, told them.
"Split up in pairs. At my signal, one of you will silently cast the Banishing Charm at the other, the other will try to defend themselves with a silenced shield."
Great. A practical… and as usual everyone paired up, leaving Hermione standing alone like the unwanted witch she was.
"Granger, what's the problem?" Professor Shacklebolt asked. Around her, pairs of students had started facing off in the impromptu duels.
"I don't have anyone to practice with, sir," she mumbled. For a moment Professor Shacklebolt looked worried, not sure how to resolve the situation, until a cry came from the far side. He rushed over, finding Weasley unconscious and slumped against the wall.
"What happened here?" he demanded from the forming crowd.
"My fault, sir. I was partnered with Weasley and probably overpowered the Depulso a bit, it went through his shield and blasted him against the wall," Harry Potter spoke up, twirling his wand. "It was an accident. Will he be okay?"
Professor Shacklebolt critically looked Harry over. "And can you cast it without overpowering it, Potter?"
"Yes sir."
"Fine. I'll take Weasley to the Hospital Wing. Potter, partner with Granger. And Granger, lose the robes already. This is a practical, not theory."
Hermione felt the colour drain from her face at the Professor's words. It was true, this was a practical and all other students had shed their robes… but she wasn't quite wearing the standard uniform beneath. As Harry was well aware of.
"Best do as the Professor says, or you might earn detention," Harry said in a deceptively calm tone. The amusement was clear to read on his face, though.
"Fine," Hermione muttered through clenched teeth. She stripped off her robes and put them on her chair, then stood back in front of Harry. "I'll cast first, you shield."
"Of course," Harry said, doing a mock bow. It was on.

It wasn't until much later that Hermione realized what a show she must've given the rest of their class, twirling around with a very short skirt and a white shirt that was almost becoming see-through from sweat, making it quite clear she was forgoing a bra. Her only relief was that some other witches had also not worn one, so not everyone's attention was on her.
"Longbottom! Stop trying to look up Granger's skirt and cast at your opponent already, or it's detention for you!" Professor Shacklebolt's voice suddenly sounded. Hermione turned her head to see Neville Longbottom's flushed face looking away, but that meant she had to take her attention of Harry. A fatal mistake, as she saw a white blast leaving his wand and coming to her. She had no time to raise her wand let alone try for a silent Protego, and so was slammed back and on her back.
"Focus, Granger! Potter, help her up," Shacklebolt called out from elsewhere in the room.
Hermione looked up to find Harry standing over her, offering her a hand.
"Didn't know you kept it trimmed, Hermione. Looks pretty on top of the pink," Harry whispered.
Of course, she must've given him a nice show when she fell flat on her back. Mortification battled with outrage, outrage won. A resounding slap echoed through the classroom, and for the rest of the lesson Harry battled Hermione with a red hand print on his cheek. Being told she was pretty, even in such a back-handed way, caused a slight smile to remain on her face for the remainder of the day, though.

"I've come for my soiled knickers," Hermione announced as she entered his office after dinner. "So, what is your excuse this time?"
"I came all over them when I remembered how pretty your pussy looked," Harry said as he tossed them to her.
"W… what?" she stammered.
"You heard me. Put on your knickers, then I have a gift for you," Harry said, smirking.
"Unbelievable… you're the absolute worst," Hermione muttered. "Eew… it's still warm. And there's so much of it..." She shuddered as she imagined it sliding down her leg later.
"Here, put this on," Harry said the moment she looked back up at him, tossing her something.
She held it out in front of her. "A shirt?"
"A crop top, actually. And before you protest, it is not against school rules. Put it on, I want you to wear this instead of your standard skirts from now on."
"What, here?" she asked, still inspecting it. It would expose her navel for all the world to see, if she put it on.
"Would you prefer the middle of the Great Hall at breakfast? Yes, here."
"Fine," she grumbled. "Turn around."
"No, I don't think I will."
"Then I will," she said, smirking at her victory… until she realized a large mirror was on the other wall. "Has that always been there?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder.
"I don't know what you mean," Harry said, pretending to look innocent.
Taking off her shirt while attempting to keep her breasts covered with one arm was difficult enough, putting on the crop top—which indeed did little else than cover her breasts and left her midriff entirely exposed—was another thing entirely. She was sure she showed Harry much more than she was comfortable with while changing.
"There, it's on," she said, turning back around.
"Excellent. That will be all for today. Unless you wanted to show me your pretty pussy again?"
"Drop dead, jerk," she said, although there was no real venom in it. She just wanted to get some sleep now… and not think too closely about how viable his swimmers all over her knickers still might be.

Thursday

"Do you want my knickers again?" Hermione asked, entering his office.
"Thanks for the offer, but I have something else in mind. We've been neglecting your self-destructive tendencies," Harry said.
"Oh? What do you mean?" she asked, hanging up her robe.
"Come over to this side of the desk. I want you to stand in front of my chair, rest up against the desk a little."
"Sure. What else?" she asked, doing as he asked, only for him to put his hands on her breasts. "Harry… move your hands," she warned.
"Oh, okay," he said, grinning. He began to softly knead her breasts through her clothes.
"Not what I meant and you know it. Let go or I'll—"
"Tell me about your favourite class," Harry said. His right thumb flicked her left nipple, and she shuddered.
"Harry… why are you touching my breasts?" she asked, fighting to keep the good feelings from clouding her mind.
"You need to learn to be able to think straight even when someone is touching them. If you could do that, Weasley's attempt from last week would've gone nowhere. So, tell me about your favourite class."
Nothing in her eighteen years of life, six of them as a student of magic, could've prepared Hermione for the difficulty of having to talk calmly while having her breasts fondled, pinched, even lightly slapped once. By the time she had stopped talking about Transfiguration her nipples were hard enough to cut glass and her knickers were suspiciously moist, with her own fluids for once.
"That will be all," Harry said. "Meet me after classes."
"You're seriously going to leave me hanging like this?" she asked, incredulously. While she wasn't quite happy with being fondled, it had started to feel good near the end and she was getting close to a small release.
"I'm willing to go on if you remove your top completely," Harry offered.
She mulled it over in her mind. "Fine, but just your hands. No mouth or… other parts."
"Deal," Harry said, grinning. She took the crop top off and placed it on his desk, then leaned her head back to silently endure (or enjoy) the feelings as he continued touching her. At first, at least. She realized after a bit that only his left hand was still playing with her and looked down. What she saw shocked her. He had fished his thing out, and was slowly pumping it with his right hand.
"Harry… I didn't say said you could do that," she said, unable to look away. To her inexperienced eyes it looked massive, his hand unable to even fully close around it as he pumped it slowly. The top almost looked like an angry eye to her, purple and bloated with a top slit that was slowly leaking a clear liquid.
"I'm not touching you with it," Harry said. "Just let me finish."
"Harry… please… put it away," she said. His left hand was circling her nipple and she was getting quite frustrated, but she was even more intrigued by his… cock. There, she'd named it by a proper term. Because it clearly was a cock. Or a dick. A massive instrument of destruction… not fit for the clinical term penis.
"I am… going to… cum," Harry panted.
Hermione panicked. If he came now, he'd splatter her clothes. But it had to go somewhere. The waste bin was too far away, and she was definitely not going to let him come in her mouth… yet… either one…
As quick as she could she grabbed his cock from his own hands, half straddled him, and pushed it up against her inner thigh. As he moaned her name—and boy, that made her feel good to hear—he pulsed once, twice, several more times, coating the inside of her skirt, her knickers, and the top of her stockings with hot, white, sticky semen… cum.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why?" Harry asked, pulling up his trousers after wiping off the excess cum with a tissue. Hermione was standing in front of his desk at her usual spot, everything normal except for the fact she was still topless, and that she was absolutely covered with his cum beneath her skirt. A fact she was very aware of as she felt it slide slowly down over her skin.
"I panicked, okay? I didn't know what to do."
"You could always have put your lips over it," Harry suggested.
"I'm not one of your skanks, Potter."
"Doesn't mean you can't give me a blowy when I ask for it."
"Fuck off and die," she said, this time with some actual venom in it. She made to walk to the door, then reconsidered, grabbing her crop top and putting it on before stomping out.
She didn't go to him after dinner.

Friday

Perhaps she had missed it the previous day, but Hermione seemed to be getting a lot of attention from male students of all ages and from all Houses. She used the period she normally would've gone to Potter, who could rot in hell for all she cared for suggesting she should blow him (not when he hadn't even kissed her yet and Oh Morgana where did that thought come from?), to corner Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor one year her junior. It was perhaps a little mean, but he was both physically unimposing and known to be easily intimidated.
"Colin. Mind telling me why you and all other boys are looking at me like that?"
Colin swallowed. "I, it's just, there's rumours, Hermione."
"What kind of rumours, Colin?" Hermione asked in a fake sweet voice.
"They're saying that you're going around almost naked under your robes. Is, is it true? Can I see?"
"I'll just pretend I didn't hear that, Colin, or I might have to hex you. And I assure you, I am wearing the proper uniform. Who, pray tell, started the rumours? A certain Head Boy maybe?"
Colin looked perplexed. "Potter? No! He's actually been warning people who were talking about it out loud. It's Finnegan and Weasley, mostly."
"Weasley… I should've known," Hermione growled. Colin made the wise choice to run.
She found Weasley with his gang, loitering near Myrtle's Bathroom, after the last class for the day.
"Weasley! I hear you've been spreading lies about me?" she called, stepping up to them.
"Look guys, it's the bookworm slut," Weasley said to his followers. "Come to show your tiny tits to some real men?"
"Tiny? I'll show you tiny you—" she started to yell, only realizing what she'd said exactly when Finnegan started to laugh.
"Locomotor Mortis!" Thomas exclaimed, casting the Leg-Locker Curse on her. Hermione felt her legs snap together and she toppled over.
"Quick! Get her robes off!" Weasley commanded. Greedy paws snatcher her robes and before she could tell what way was up, her robe was stripped from her.
"You said she was naked under there! But she is clearly wearing knickers!" Weasley complained to Finnegan. Hermione grew furious when she realized her skirt had flipped up a little in the commotion. As the boys argued, she grabbed her wand and cast a Finite on herself.
"Shit. She's up," Thomas warned his colleagues.
"You are in so much trouble… assaulting an innocent witch in the corridors," Hermione said in a strained tone, keeping her wand trained on the trio. "Any last words?"
"Yeah, bitch. Why don't you suck on this instead of playing with your wand?" Thomas laughed, dropping his trousers. Hermione's eyes went straight to his black cock, standing at half mast and pointed at her. Her wand hand wavered.
"What's the matter, muddy? Never seen a real cock before?" Thomas taunted.
"Maybe she wants one in the pink and one the in the stink," Finnegan added, laughing as he dropped his own trousers. Hermione let out a squeak as Finnegan seemed to carry an illegal broom stick down there.
"Fuck you guys, I get first crack at her," Weasley said, not to be outdone and dropping his own trousers and proving he was a natural red-head.
Hermione wasn't sure what to do, looking from cock to cock, the grip on her wand slackening even as the boys stepped closer, surround her.
A loud 'meow' interrupted them all. "It's Filch's bloody cat!" Weasley yelled. The boys scrambled to pull up their trousers and ran off as if Death Eaters were chasing them, leaving a trembling girl behind.
"No loitering in the hallways," Mr. Filch grumbled at her as he stalked past her, hot on the heels of his trusty cat.

Hermione knocked on the door to Harry's office.
"Enter! Oh, it's you, Hermione. I thought you didn't need my help any longer," Harry said.
"I… I froze again today," Hermione admitted. "Help?"
"Tell me everything," Harry said, patting his lap. Hermione hesitated only a moment before taking a seat, and telling him of her encounter with Weasley's gang.
"There, there," Harry said, patting her back. "I can help you, Hermione."

"Really?" she looked up at his face, smiling. "You can?"
"The problem is you don't have any experience with guys, so you freeze up. So I'm going to give you that experience."
She was intrigued. "And how will you do tha—Mmh!"
His lips closed over hers as he pulled her closer to him. For a couple of seconds, leading up to a minute, she sat there wide-eyed and frozen as he licked her lips, then she melted against him and allowed his tongue to enter her mouth. She was vaguely aware of his hands slipping lower on her body and inside her skirt, cupping her cheeks over her knickers, but she was too lost in the feelings of the kiss to care. Right up to the point where she felt a finger prod her pussy.
"Harry… no," she said, pulling slightly away from him.
"Not yet then? Okay. We should work on your problem as it is," Harry said, moving his hands away from her. He guided her to her feet, then began pushing on her shoulders forcing her to kneel.
"Harry? What are you doing?" she asked.
"You need to stop being so afraid of cocks, Hermione. So I'm going to get you acquainted with mine."
"What?" she started to ask, but Harry didn't wait for an answer. He dropped his trousers as he stood in front of her, letting his cock free and right in front of her face.
"Touch it, smell it, lick it. You need to stop fearing it," Harry instructed.
"Is there really no better way?" Hermione asked. Still, she tentatively reached for it with her right hand.
"I'm just trying to help you," Harry said. "Put your hands around it and stroke it a bit. Don't be afraid."
Touching a cock wasn't that bad, Hermione decided. She liked how it felt when she put both hands around it, amazed a bit that even with two hands she couldn't fully fit around its thickness. Only the knowledge that eventually she might be able to push a baby out through the same opening made it believable to her that it'd ever fit inside her… if she wanted it to.
"Touch my balls, too," Harry instructed her. "And give the shaft a lick."
Clear instructions, that's what she liked. She stuck out her tongue and licked a small spot on the massive shaft. To her enjoyment Harry shuddered all over when she did, so she did it once more, a longer lick this time.
"Fuck, you're a natural," Harry grunted. "More. And take it in your mouth when you're ready."
A few licks later she felt prepared enough and moved her mouth over the head, closing her lips around the shaft. She just held it in there for a bit, not sure what to do next.
"Suck it, Hermione… try to work it in all the way. Keep licking it, and don't forget to play with my balls. And look up at me when you do so."
Geez, any more instructions? She wanted to ask him, but speaking with your mouth full was something her parents had taught her never to do… although she doubted they had quite this scenario in mind. Still, she did as he asked, licking, sucking, and fondling.
"Fuck… you have no gag reflex? Any idea how rare that is?" Harry said, moaning as she slurped him deep into her oesophagus.
Hermione tried to giggle, learning it was hard to do so with a massive cock down her throat. The vibrations must've worked wonders on Harry though, because he grunted out "I am coming!" and placed both his hands on her head.
In the moment it took her to register what he was saying it was too late for her to protest. His hands locking her in place meant she had no choice but to accept the salty liquid as it pulsed out of his cock and into her throat. To her mind it took forever before he stopped cumming and finally allowed her head to break free, coughing up cum and spit alike.
"Bastard! Could've warned me," she complained, still coughing.
"I tried," Harry said. "Congrats on your first blow-job. Still afraid of cocks?"
"First and last! You took advantage of me! I didn't say I wanted to swallow!" she protested.
"Would you've preferred it all over your face or tits? Because it has to go somewhere. And I didn't hear you complain about the taste, you know."
She got up on her feet, grumbling about inconsiderate stuck up jerks. As she put her school robe on she turned back to face him.
"You are taking me on a date to Hogsmeade tomorrow, Potter. Call off whatever slut you had on standby instead."
"Should I tell Ginny Weasley that you called her a slut when I break her dreams?" Harry asked.
"Only if you don't mind getting castrated," she sad in a sickly sweet voice before stepping out.
She licked her lips as she walked to her dorm room, realizing she really didn't mind the taste. And that she would finally have a real date… with the biggest Casanova of the school, no less.
"Oh Merlin, I'm not ready," she muttered to herself after ascending to the Gryffindor tower, falling on her bed.