A/N: I apologize in advance.
Bedmione
It all happened very suddenly. One moment Hermione was standing back-to-back with Ron, battling a couple of rogue Death Eaters…and the next, she was a bed. The Death Eater who had cast the transfiguration upon her had combined it with a curse that penetrated her shield. It was, academically, a very impressive spell. Realistically, it was quite problematic. In an instant, her arms shot to the ground, pulling her backwards into a crab crawl position. Her body expanded, lengthening and widening until it took on a squarish shape. Her stomach and abdomen became a mattress, her breasts became plump pillows, and her head and neck became a simple wooden headboard.
Ron, still caught in the battle, glanced at her in confusion but focused on their opponents who seemed just as startled as they were. The one who cast the spell cackled incredulously that it had worked, distracted enough by his success that he was, ironically, rather easily subdued. The other was so mystified by the transfiguration that Ron was also easily able to stun and bind him, ending the fight. Ron prodded both Death Eaters with his foot and, once satisfied they were both stunned, turned his attention to the bed in the middle of the abandoned road.
"…'Mione?" he asked, hesitantly. Hermione, being a bed, was of course unable to answer. "Right," Ron said, gathering himself. He leveled his wand at her and cast, "Finite!" Nothing happened. "Finite incantatem!" he tried again. Still nothing. "Oh dear," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. While not as bookish and accomplished as his girlfriend, Ron did know a number of counterspells worth trying and he systematically worked his way through them…all to no avail. Hermione stubbornly remained a bed. "Bugger."
One of the Death Eaters began to twitch, slowly recovering naturally from the stunner. Ron sighed and spoke aloud, "We'll figure it out, 'Mione. Don't you worry." He then proceeded to shrink her and slip her in his pocket before grabbing the Death Eaters by their collars and apparating to the Ministry muttering about having to play auror on his day off.
Taking Death Eaters into custody and processing them was a lengthy process and by the time Ron was able to leave the Ministry, he was knackered. He apparated to his modest flat, kicked off his shoes as he walked in the door, and shuffled into the bedroom, falling face-first on his bed. Just as he was about to drift off he suddenly remembered Hermione and sprang up, exhaustion forgotten. He pulled her carefully from his pocket and examined the little bed in his palm.
"Oh, Hermione," he whispered. "Now what?"
Looking around the small bedroom, he realized there wasn't enough room to cancel the shrinking charm just yet. So he shrank his bed, set it on a shelf, and put Hermione in its place. When he canceled the charm, she expanded and took up most of the room, being significantly larger than his bed. Knowing it was futile but feeling the need to try anyway, Ron once again went through every counterspell he knew to undo the transfiguration. Exhaustion crept back up on him and his eyelids drooped and his speech slurred. He figured it was best to stop before he, in his fatigue, did more harm than good by accidentally setting her on fire or something. He placed a palm on the mattress – her stomach – and rubbed it gently. "I'll keep trying, 'Mione. I'll figure it out," he reassured her.
He looked longingly at her soft mattress and pillows then looked longingly at the tiny bed on his shelf. Shuffling to the linen closet, he pulled out a spare pillow and blanket. He started to carry them to the couch in the living room but turned around and returned to the bedroom. He didn't want to leave poor Hermione by herself. So he decided to wizard-up and made a pallet on the floor next to her. "G'night, luv," he whispered as he shifted uncomfortably on his pallet.
Though unable to express herself, Hermione was touched as she watched her boyfriend drift off to sleep on the hard floor, keeping her company.
It lasted three nights before Ron couldn't take it anymore and he slept on the couch. That lasted a week until his back fully protested sleeping on anything other than a bed. When that night came, Ron bashfully approached Hermione and explained his predicament. Sore back, difficulty sleeping. Surely she wouldn't mind, right?
He took his favorite sheets – blazing orange Chudley Cannons – and gently made the bed. I'm dressing Hermione, he thought absurdly, as he did so. I'm dressing her in Chudley Cannons! He snickered at that thought, knowing she would wallop him for it once she was back to herself. He blushed as he placed the pillowcases on the pillows. It's not as if he had never touched her breasts, but it just felt…weird.
And kind of erotic, actually, now that he thought about it.
He rubbed his palm gently across a pillow, smoothing an invisible crease. "Can you feel that?" he whispered. There was no response. Ron shook his head and turned out the lights. He crawled onto the mattress – her stomach! – pulled the sheets and blankets up, then slowly lowered himself to rest his head on a pillow – her breast. He laid exceedingly still, his muscles tensed, for a few minutes waiting for something horrible to happen for using his girlfriend like this. But, of course, nothing happened. The night was quiet and still. Hermione was a bed and unable to talk or move. And she was quite soft and comfortable and warm.
Finally, he relaxed, nestling his face into her pillows and curling up on her mattress. "G'night, luv," he whispered in the darkness. Grateful to no longer be laying on the floor or a couch, within minutes, he was asleep.
In the long stillness of the night, Hermione watched and embraced her boyfriend as he lay curled on her stomach and cuddling her breasts. She wondered when it would occur to him to seek Professor McGonagall's help, seeing as the Headmistress held a mastery in transfiguration. If she was capable of sighing, she would have as she acknowledged she had to wait patiently as Ron problem-solved at his own pace.
Days passed and Ron, quite busy with work as an auror, never seemed to find the time to devote to undoing the transfiguration on Hermione. He picked up the odd book here and there and tried some new spells and countercurses on the weekend, but remained unsuccessful.
Meanwhile, Hermione's disappearance from the wizarding world did not go unnoticed. One evening, Ron sat up in bed, leaning against Hermione's headboard – her face – and read the latest Daily Prophet article about her disappearance aloud to her.
"Harry's pulled some strings, of course," he said, upon finishing the article. "He was able to get into Azkaban to interview Mullins – that's the scumbag who transfigured you. But apparently they'd already administered the Kiss so there wasn't much of an interview." What Ron left unsaid was that Harry did not know Hermione had been transfigured. Ron had left that detail out. He had only told Harry that Mullins had shot a spell at Hermione and she disappeared. He was embarrassed about his incompetence with undoing the transfiguration on his girlfriend, but moreso he was ashamed that he was using her as his bed while she was transfigured. He wasn't ready to share that with anyone yet…probably ever. Guilt flooded him and he snapped the newspaper shut, turned out the lights and slid under the covers, hugging one of her pillows tight.
That night Ron felt a complex swirl of emotions. Guilt and shame were at the forefront, but lust, desire, and a sense of power crept in as well. This, of course, made him feel more guilty and ashamed, and those emotions came in waves. At some point around two in the morning, lust and desire won out and he could no longer ignore his erection as he thought about Hermione and how he was laying on her stomach. Staying under the covers, as if she wouldn't notice, he shimmied out of his pajama pants, kicking them to the end of the mattress. He pulled a blanket over his head and hid under it as he stroked himself. One hand snaked out from under the covers and pulled a pillow in with him. He plumped the pillow then squeezed it, imagining her breasts, knowing he was squeezing one of her breasts as he did so. He curled up around the pillow and increased his pace, stroking and squeezing. His shame kept him quiet and he only panted and gasped, stifling his moans of ecstasy when he finally came, shooting ropes of cum on the pillow and mattress as he breathed her name.
"Hermione…"
He lay panting, cocooned under the blankets, overwhelmed with guilt and shame. A well-practiced cleansing charm took care of the evidence and he slowly crept up the mattress until his head emerged from the blankets. He clutched the abused pillow to his chest and gently rested his head on the other one. "G'night, luv," he whispered as he drifted off to sleep, his body finally sated after two weeks of tension.
That night, as it turned out, was a turning point for Ron Weasley. At random points throughout the next day, while at work, he relived that moment. While on its own, it was a rather run-of-the-mill wank, when he considered the bed he was in was actually Hermione and he was the only person in the world who knew it…an ugly sense of power began to take over. Overall, Ron was a good person. He had been raised by good people and instilled with good values. But power is power and it can seduce even the best of men. And the power he currently held over Hermione was…intoxicating.
That night, he didn't bother with his pajama pants. He strode into the bedroom naked and surveyed his bed. Yes, his bed. Hermione was his bed. His cock began to harden at the thought and his hand automatically was drawn to it, cupping and stroking his shaft as he stood in the room, staring at his very own Hermione bed. He groaned, partly in pleasure at the dark thought of owning her…and partly in frustration that he really, really wanted to fuck her.
He tilted his head in contemplation. It wasn't ideal, but it would do.
Ron climbed up on her mattress and pulled her pillows down to the middle of the bed. Kneeling over the pillows, he squished them together then reached down and continued to stroke himself. A sudden surge of guilt flowed through him and he grabbed his wand, muttering "Nox" to extinguish the lights. Under the cover of darkness, he felt more comfortable and once his cock was primed and ready, he eased himself down on the pillows, nestling his shaft between them as he squeezed them together. Her pillows were warm and smooth and felt oh so good as he thrust his hips over them.
Whereas before he hid his sounds of pleasure, this time he grunted aloud with each thrust, groaning as his balls finally clenched and his seed spilled forth, pooling over and between her titty-pillows. He collapsed on top of them, not bothering to hold himself up and letting his full weight rest on them. He lay spread-eagled on his stomach, his cum soaking into his pubes as he caught his breath. Idly, he stroked his hand up and down the mattress, his head resting on his arm, and a satisfied smile creeping over his face. "Gods, I needed that," he sighed.
By the time his cock softened and the warm pool on the pillows was cold and sticky, he peeled himself off, rolling onto his side and pulling the pillows out from under him. He cast the cleansing charm and tucked one of the pillows under his head. He kissed the pillow and stroked it with his hand as he whispered, "G'night, luv."
Hermione was appalled.
It was a strange sensation having her tits as pillows. When she was in her proper form, they had a tendency to stay in one place. But as pillows, they could be moved around. But she still felt them. Every squeeze, every pat and stroke…and when Ron had jammed his cock between her pillows, she had felt it as if he were fucking her breasts. He had just titty-fucked her! Without her permission!
Oh, she was well aware that he had masturbated under the covers the previous night. He had been fisting himself while laying on her stomach, after all. Plus, she could still hear just fine, thank you. The sound of him wanking was not particularly subtle, try though he might. But the audacity of tonight! To just stroll up to her naked, grab her breasts, reposition them and fuck them as if she were…an object! When she regained her form, they would be having words, no doubt about it.
As the days went by, Hermione became more and more concerned about her predicament. Ron seemed to have lost his enthusiasm for helping her end this curse and he seemed to have gained enthusiasm with his wanking. He had now taken to pleasuring himself every night and every morning in her presence…on top of her…shooting his jizz all over her. He seemed to take particular pleasure in shooting it on her headboard – her face. And he had grown comfortable enough with it that he no longer had to turn off the lights every time.
He was a real piece of work tonight, as a matter of fact, as he plastered his bare arse to her headboard, wiggling and dragging it across her face while pumping himself furiously. "Oh god, oh fuck, oh Merlin," he groaned, his balls and arse slapping against her. He looked positively ridiculous. He spun around just before he came and painted her headboard with his cum. But this time he didn't clean it up right away. He left it there to cool and stick as he slept under it, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
From Hermione's perspective, she could feel a stickiness on her cheeks, forehead, eyelids, and lips. And now drool on her left tit. Arse, she thought, infuriated at being used thusly and then left a mess. When morning rolled around, he was already fisting himself before he fully woke, the horny wanker. He stretched luxuriously, grabbed one of her tits and rolled over, hauling it under his hips to hump it. When he was ready to cum, he rolled up to his knees and sprayed it all over the pillows, mattress, and headboard. He sat back on his heels and sighed happily, grinning at his achievement. "Fuck, that's hot," he said, stroking the mattress – her belly.
He took his time that morning, getting ready. It was a Saturday so he wasn't in a rush to go anywhere and, once again, Hermione felt his cum cool and stick to her body as he leisurely took a shower and got dressed before turning his attention to his mess. He propped a hip against her side and looked at the wreckage lazily. "I suppose I ought to clean you up, eh old girl?"
The fuck? OLD GIRL?
He patted her mattress condescendingly then casually flicked his wand, sending a cleansing charm over her – two over her headboard – her goddamn face. With another flick of his wand, the hideous orange Chudley Cannon sheets straightened back into place and the blankets folded over.
Hermione was fuming.
Ron gave her another pat then left the room to go about his day, which clearly no longer involved trying to help her.
He came home very late that night, sighing happily as he slipped between the sheets. "G'night, luv" he whispered as he fell asleep. It was the first night in weeks that he hadn't masturbated. If she had been able to, Hermione would have narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Of course, he was back in top form first thing in the morning, laying claim to her transfigured body as only a horny man can. He was in a suspiciously good mood as he whistled his way to the toilet and readied himself for the day.
The next week continued on as normal…as their new normal, anyway. Ron would come home, wank all over her, wish her goodnight, and fall asleep on top of her. He would wake in the morning, wank some more, then head off to work. He had a little extra bounce in his step when he came home on Wednesday evening and he didn't come home at all on Friday. In fact, it wasn't until Saturday afternoon that he waltzed in the door wearing yesterday's clothes. He stripped and hopped up on top of her, unceremoniously flopping back on her stomach, spread-eagled.
"Ahhh," he sighed as he stroked himself lazily. He lounged against her tits, one arm behind his head and slowly dragged his fist up and down his shaft, twisting it just so, occasionally detouring to fondle his balls. "What a night," he sighed again. He let go of his cock to pat her gently. "I missed you last night," he said, eyes closed, still smiling. He stroked his hand up and down her mattress then returned to stroking his cock. "Mmm, it's always better on you," he murmured. He took his time, stroking slowly and leisurely, and when he came, he rolled on his side and emptied himself lazily on her stomach next to him, one arm still casually hooked behind his head. He cleaned her and took a short nap before going back about his day, spending a lazy Saturday puttering around at home.
Hermione's heart broke.
She realized then that she was well and truly stuck. Ron had no intention of undoing her curse. And it seemed he had moved on from her as his girlfriend. She was devastated.
And enraged.
But no matter how she felt, there was nothing she could do. She was at Ron's mercy. And Ron, it seemed, had plans for next weekend.
Throughout the week, Hermione saw him cleaning up the room, tidying and even dusting. He removed the Chudley Cannon sheets from her, making a lewd remark about stripping her as he did so, and replaced them with the patterned gray sheets that Hermione had always preferred. Friday morning, before he went to work, Ron took great care to ensure the sheets and blankets were made up well. He winked at Hermione and gave her a pat as he said, "See you later, luv."
She stewed all day. She had an ugly suspicion what he was up to. And that suspicion was confirmed hours later when she heard Ron's voice in the other room and a feminine giggle. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could follow the tone of their voices. His was low and suggestive. Hers was shrill and giggly. They were suddenly quiet and before long Hermione was able to make out the slurping and panting of Ron snogging another woman.
She heard them talking again, voices low, and they began to move around. Footsteps began to approach and Hermione was horrified. Surely he wouldn't? Oh, but he would.
They were snogging as they entered the bedroom, Ron guiding her through the doorway. Her back was to her, but Hermione could tell who it was. She had shared a dorm room with her for years. Lavender fucking Brown. Unable to look away, Hermione watched as Ron disrobed Lavender, trailing kisses down her body as he did so. Her hands were on his shoulders as he knelt in front of her and her head tipped back in ecstasy.
"Oh, Ron," she gasped. "Oh, yesss…" Hermione could see that Ron was exploring Lavender's little cunny with his mouth, the bastard. He stood suddenly, swooping her up in his arms. She shrieked and kicked her feet, giggling, as Ron carried her to Hermione and dumped her in the center of her belly. Lavender writhed naked on Hermione's stomach, gesturing to Ron to come hither.
He yanked his robes off and stood naked before them, staring at Lavender laying unknowingly on top of Hermione. "Oh, fuck, Lav," he breathed. "So hot…" he stroked Hermione's stomach while staring into Lavender's eyes. And then suddenly he was on top of her and they were rolling and giggling all over Hermione who could only watch on in distress.
As they came together, fornicating loudly and wildly on her, Hermione felt every thrust of their hips, every wiggle of their bodies. She heard every shout, every groan, and every whisper. She heard the slapping of their skin and felt as fingers clawed at her stomach while one or the other orgasmed. Her breasts were grabbed and thrown about – first under a head, then propped under Lavender's hips, tossed aside and rolled on accidentally, caught up between scissoring legs. Her tits were squeezed, pinched, humped, used and abused all night long as Ron and Lavender fucked, and fucked, and fucked some more.
Lavender had four orgasms to Ron's two before they fell asleep. And though Ron came inside her both times, his cum and her juices leaked out of her during the night, leaving a wet spot on Hermione's navel. She could feel Ron drooling on her left breast while Lavender snored on her right. And in the middle of the night, they both half-woke and snogged each other across her tits before falling asleep again, locked in an embrace.
Lavender woke before Ron and Hermione watched as the other woman observed him sleeping with a smug smile. She carefully crawled down Hermione's stomach until she was eye to eye with his morning wood. With a lecherous grin, Lavender swallowed Ron's cock whole and sucked greedily.
Ron woke to the most wonderful sensation of hot, wet pressure on his cock. He groaned in pleasure and cracked his eyes open to see Lav bobbing up and down his shaft. "Oh god, Lav. Fuck!" He involuntarily thrust his hips then looked at her wide-eyed, hoping he hadn't hurt her by doing so. On the contrary, she was grinning around him. She had loved it. He reached down and tangled his fingers through her hair. Holding her gaze, he thrust his hips again, this time on purpose. She groaned around his cock which sent wonderful vibrations down to his balls, causing him to thrust again. "Fuck!" he yelled. And before he knew it, he was holding Lav's head and thrusting his hips into her face, shoving his cock in and out of her throat. And instead of getting mad at him, she grinned and groaned and oh she felt so, so good. He pulled his knees up, bracing himself as he fucked her face harder. Just a few…more…his balls clenched and he came with a roar, throwing his head back on to the pillow – oh god, Hermione's tits! He's fucking Lav's face while rolling around on Hermione's tits! Life didn't get any better than this, he was sure.
Laying on Hermione's body (secretly) in bliss, Ron sighed happily as Lavender milked every last drop of his cum from his cock, swirling her hot little tongue around his softening shaft. When she finished, she had the very good manners to lick her way down his cock and kiss his balls as they recovered. A kiss, suck, and lovely little smack of her lips and she released him and crawled up his body, draping her naked form across his chest. Ron happily pet her, stroking her sides, her hips, her breasts, her arse as he sucked and nibbled on her neck. Her beautiful, perky nipples scraped across his chest, reminding him that his head was resting on Hermione's tits and Lav had no idea. Gods, it was erotic. He felt fucking powerful.
She mewled and groaned and before long Ron's cock was back in the game. He rolled them over, pinning Lavender between him and Hermione. He stared into Lav's eyes while slowly rubbing himself against her. All he could think about was the fact that he was fucking one woman on top of another and how fucking hot that was.
"Fuck me, Ron," Lav said. "Fuck me hard."
No need to ask him twice.
Ron growled and flipped Lav over. She squealed in delight as he manhandled her, dragging her onto her knees. He guided her hands to grip the headboard – gods! He was making Lav grab Hermione's head! And then he slammed himself into her from behind. She shouted in surprise and continued to shout in pleasure. Loud "Oh-oh-oh's" echoed about the room as he gripped her hips and pounded her pussy relentlessly. Ron purposefully thrust hard, shoving Lav forward so she had to catch herself, squishing her perfect tits against Hermione's headboard. Before she could recover, he fucked her harder, pinning her into place, staring in awe as her tits rubbed up and down Hermione's face while she shouted her pleasure over and over. He pistoned his hips harder and faster, eventually reaching around and placing his hands next to hers on the headboard, gripping Hermione's head as he squashed Lavender's entire body against her face with his hips. Lavender's shrieks of joy were interspersed with his carnal grunts as he forced Lavender's body to hump Hermione, her clit rubbing against Hermione's face, bringing her ecstatic pleasure as he roughly fucked her, thrusting as hard as he could. Lavender's orgasm was intense and felt bloody amazing as her cunt clamped down on his cock. Her shrieks coalesced into one long, loud moan and she began to sob in pleasure.
It was the goddamn best fuck of his life.
When he came, there was no stopping him. He shot rope after rope of cum into Lav's pussy, slamming their hips into Hermione's face with each powerful thrust. His grip on her headboard was painfully tight as he held on for all he was worth. His chest slammed into Lav's back, shoving her tit-first into what he figured was Hermione's forehead as her sweet, juicy, tight-as-fuck cunt rubbed and shoved somewhere around Hermione's mouth. Merlin! He came so much he was leaking out of her. He didn't care. He kept thrusting until he was well and truly spent.
And when there was nothing left in his balls to give his girls, he cooled down with a gentle, leisurely hump. Still gripping the headboard, Lavender pinned between them, Ron leaned forward, nuzzled her hair to one side, and caught her lips with his own. Gently rocking their fused sexes against Hermione's face, their juices leaking onto the headboard, Ron snogged Lavender senseless.
As his cock softened and began to slip from Lavender's cunt, Ron finally pulled away, flexing his aching fingers as he let go of Hermione's head. Tenderly, he turned Lav around and sat her on Hermione's tits, spread her legs, and sat back on his heels, admiring the scenery. Gods, they were beautiful. Lav sat naked, her cunt wide open and spilling their mixed passion down her slit and dripping onto the pillows underneath her beautiful arse.
Without any prompting on his part, Lav slowly rocked her hips, unwittingly humping Hermione's tits while causing more of their juices to gush out of her. She leaned back against the headboard and lazily thrust her hips up, driving her arse down into the pillows. The sight of it – the secret knowledge of what she was really doing – drove Ron wild. His cock was tired but he needed more. He dove forward and drove his face into Lav's pussy, resting his chin on Hermione's tit as he lapped up their combined essence, teasing Lav's clit with the tip of his tongue.
He felt as Lavender adjusted her position, leaning back and bracing herself against the headboard so she could properly fuck his face as he drank her dry. And that took time because she was so, so wet. He licked and slurped and slipped his tongue inside her, causing her to shout. She moved her hips wildly, bouncing her sweet arse up and down on the pillows while pulling his hair. It was a sweet pain that he was happy to tolerate as it brought his mouth right where he wanted, right where Lav needed. He pulled her clit between his lips and sucked. Lav squealed and slammed her back into Hermione's face, her hips jerking on Hermione's tits, and her cunt slamming into his face. Ron grinned and tickled her with the tip of his tongue. She squirmed delightfully. He gripped her hips and ate her, drank her nectar greedily, and worshipped her body as she deserved. She was a fucking goddess.
He made sure to tell her so. Often. He wondered what Hermione was thinking. She was probably furious. Humiliated. Murderous. And it didn't matter because she couldn't do a damn thing. She was a fucking bed. She was his fucking bed. And he was going to fuck and fuck and fuck on her. Because she was his and that was what beds were for. Hermione was made to be fucked on. God it was glorious. He chuckled into Lavender's cunt as he rubbed himself along Hermione's stomach. His best fucking secret.
It didn't take long before Lavender moved in with Ron, and while not every night was as wild as the first they shared on top of Hermione, they were a passionate couple and they expressed that passion most nights…and mornings…and many afternoons.
Days turned into weeks which drifted into months. Hermione bore witness to Ron proposing to Lavender during their pillow talk ("titty talk" as Ron secretly called it when he whispered his dirty thoughts in Hermione's headboard ear as he spilled himself across her face one afternoon when Lav was out with friends). And then Hermione was disgruntled but not overly surprised she was the star destination for their wedding night, which was just as wild and intense as their first on her. That night, Lavender, who had certainly caught on long ago that their sex was always most satisfying – Ron at his horniest and most insatiable – when on this particular bed, lowered her lashes and stroked the mattress while referring to it as their "marriage bed." Ron groaned in erotic pleasure at Lavender's innocence to Hermione's humiliation, feeling stronger and more powerful than ever as he tackled his delighted wife, driving her relentlessly and unknowingly into Hermione's belly, tits, and face for hours until they both collapsed in sweaty, exhilarated exhaustion and slept tangled together in Hermione's unwilling embrace.
Hermione was certain her heart was hardened and there was nothing left to break by this point, but some months after their marriage, when Lavender announced her pregnancy to Ron, something within her cracked. And that night, when Ron made gentle, tender love to Lavender and whispered in her ear as they fell asleep, "G'night, luv," Hermione's heart broke all over again.
She watched as Lavender's belly grew and though her libido remained strong, their sex changed to accommodate the growing babe. Ron was gentler and their nights were filled with more kisses and caresses, Ron stroking Lavender's rounded belly and gently palming her heavy breasts as they whispered their plans for their baby's future. When Lavender had her baby – at Saint Mungo's, so Hermione was not present for his birth – Ron collapsed into Hermione's embrace that afternoon when he'd been kicked out so the new mother could rest, crowing about his good fortune.
"I'm a father, 'Mione! Can you believe it?!" And then, to Hermione's humiliated rage, he sat up and placed his cheek to her headboard, tenderly stroking her face – his fingers gliding down her forehead, nose, lips, and chin – as he said, "And it's thanks in large part to you, luv. You've been perfect for me – for us. Our sex is stronger, more magical with you, Hermione." He kissed her cheek. "Gods," he groaned, palming his hardening shaft as he sat on her breasts, cuddling her wooden face. "He was conceived on you, you know. Well, of course you do, you've been here every night. Merlin!" He grunted, taking pleasure from his hand as he placed another kiss to her headboard. "I'd make you his godmother if I could." He grunted and groaned again. "Eurgh, but I can't," he panted. "It'd be too weird." He stroked her face with one hand while his other pumped his cock and he kissed her again. "Fuck!" Another groan. "It'll be Parvati, of course, as godmother. And Harry will be his godfather. I wouldn't have it any other way, you know." His monologue devolved into grunts and groans, interspersed with the occasional kiss until he came joyfully over her face and tits. Panting, he pressed his cheek to a dry section of the headboard – Hermione's cheek, as it happened – and further enraged her as he sighed, "You're a treasure, 'Mione. I'm so fortunate to have you." He kissed her again then patted her on the head as he stood. He dressed, cast a cleansing charm on her, then left the room, returning to his wife and son.
Hermione's existence continued in stoic silence as Lavender and Ron adjusted to parenthood. Lavender often propped Hermione's breasts against her face and leaned back to nurse their son in the middle of the night. Despite the child, they maintained a very active sex life and it wasn't long before more children were conceived and born until they had a whole brood and moved house, bringing Hermione along with them to their new, larger bedroom. And through it all, Ron always remembered to secretly acknowledge her, whether with a whisper, a stroke, or witty double-entendre. There remained plenty of occasions for a solitary wank, though he was quieter about it with so many children in the house, and he made sure to pay homage to Hermione during those moments, crooning in her ear as he came across her face.
Time passed and the horny couple grew older, their children received their Hogwarts education and moved out one by one. They eventually retired, which allowed them to spend more time at home and they found their passion did not diminish with age though their bodies moved slower and their touches were gentler in deference to aching joints.
And then one night Lavender came to bed alone, crawling under the covers in quiet shock. She lay her head on one of Hermione's breasts and pulled the other to her, clutching it tightly as she broke down in sobs. As Hermione connected the dots, realizing Ron had passed away that day, she felt a confusing mixture of emotions. There was her ever-present rage still stirring within her, but it was accompanied by a deep sadness at his passing and pity for Lavender who was clearly heartbroken. And an emptiness consumed her as she realized that now there was nobody left in the world who knew where and what she was. Until now, she had been used as an object but quietly acknowledged as a person. Now, that acknowledgment would no longer come. She would forever be seen as a bed and nothing more.
Shortly after Ron's death, Lavender's health declined as her will to live diminished. Their children visited her at her bedside and Hermione saw them now as adults with their own children and grandchildren. Lavender died in her sleep, her head propped on Hermione's breast, surrounded by her family.
As for Hermione, she was passed down through the family. Generations of Ron and Lavender's descendants were conceived on her. Relationships formed and torn asunder across her body. She was forced to witness all forms of carnal pleasure: new fumblings, sordid affairs, secret lovers, abusive relationships, tepid fulfillment of duty, and occasionally passionate loves like Ron and Lavender's. Babies were born on her periodically, and some of them later died of old age in the same place.
She remained ever-aware in her cursed existence. Eventually, Hermione's brilliant mind grew dull from lack of academic stimulation. And when she made that dreadful realization, she broke one last time. Her spark of life, magic, and awareness dimmed and finally, finally, Hermione's soul was released, leaving her bones behind in the shape of a bed. Shortly after that, the current owners of said bed noticed it was beginning to finally fall apart and so they replaced it and chopped it up for firewood. As Hermione's soul stretched in release, reveling in her freedom, the descendants of Ron and Lavender sipped wine and shared a kiss before a romantic fire, the hisses and pops of flames and scent of burning wood filling the room as the remains of Hermione's earthly body faded into ash.
