A/N: All previous warnings still, and will continue, to apply. Not for children or the faint of heart, or anyone sexually conservative. You've been warned.
Thanks as always to my amazing Beta, Hrymeigh, for going back and editing everything I've already posted before digging into new content.

Enjoy, pervs.

Chap. 5: Hermione's Study

He woke up earlier than he expected, but still later than usual, to the sound of Ron's call, "Harry, get up, mate! I'm heading down to breakfast, and Hermione'll- er..."

"Be annoyed, if I'm not down soon?" he finished, smirking at what he imagined was an exceptional amount of embarrassment over what the girl had done to Ron (especially if Ron was right about Harry watching, which the black-haired boy had been). "Tell her to relax, I have the whole morning off. I'll be done- er, down- in a little bit."

Ron snorted, muttered, "Yeah, done with your friend. Morning, Lilith. See you later, Harry."

Then the door shut, and the room was quiet.

Only, when Harry finally got around to opening his eyes and glancing about the still-closed curtains (the Silencing Charm must have worn off during the night, unless Ron had learned to cancel them finally), the Succubus was not to be seen.

Then there was a quiet knock on the door, followed immediately by a mental push, It's me, Master- get dressed before you open the door.

Harry blinked, then threw off the covers, noting that the small divot where Lilith had been laying when he'd finally drifted off was still there, but cool, as started hunting for clean clothes and called out, "Just a second!"

Is there someone there, Harry attempted to ask mentally, but there wasn't a reply.

I don't know, he concluded, maybe the communication is strictly one-way. Or maybe I'm doing it wrong.

Three minutes later, he jerked the door open, then froze.

Standing in front of him was, indeed, Lilith. It could be no one else. Except, maybe, Don't-Call-Me-Nymphadora Tonks, an Auror and member of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix he'd met the previous summer.

At least, he hoped it was.

Because either of those two would be vastly preferable to who it looked like was there.

"Um... P- Professor Umbridge? What can I- uh... do for, well, you?"

"Hem, hem," the dumpy woman (Lilith? Still, Harry hoped!) simpered, then gave one of her patented, sickly-sweet smiles, "Oh, just a word, Mr. Potter. May I come inside? Of course I may- I am the Headmistress! Step aside, boy!"

And she pushed right past, forcing Harry to step quickly out of the way.

Then, against his pounding heart's better judgment, he pushed the door closed, sealing himself in with... her.

Fortunately, no sooner had he done so than Umbridge's form melted away, down into the adorably cute and sexy, scantily-clad Succubus he was used to.

Swaying slightly on his feet at the sudden drop in tension, Harry let out a long sigh. "Don't do that," he growled, grateful his hand was still on the door to steady himself.

Lilith giggled, "Sorry, Master- I needed a convincing test. Since you were clearly expecting me, your reaction was genuine, right? How was my performance?"

"Spot-on," he growled again, shaking his head, "Nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Good," Lilith said confidently, "Then Phase Three is ready to go off tonight, like I planned. Phase Four should be right before your finals. O.W.L.s, right?"

Harry nodded, watching, as fascinated as ever, while Lilith's clothes melted away into pink smoke, revealing her completely.

"Come on, play with me, Master- get that horrid woman out of both our heads, if you don't mind. Then you should probably go and join your friends... and maybe study. I hear that's important."

Harry snorted, but did as she asked, even if getting Umbridge from his mind was the primary purpose. He stepped forward, pulling the girl close enough for her shorter arms to just reach his zipper, then ordered, "Alright, little one... how about you show me what you've learned about adult kisses."

"O- Oh," she suddenly went very shy, glancing up at him demurely as her violet eyes faded to a deep, almost pine green and her pink bob changed to a single, honey-brown side-tail, "A- Alright, Mas- Master."

Then she sank to her knees slowly, and started tugging at his fly.

Too quickly, he was free, half-erect, and she was tugging slightly, gently, with one hand while the other still worked little fingers on the button.

Harry leaned against the door, smiling down, and groaned quietly as she took him, now completely hard, into her tiny little mouth and started to suck.

But she only bobbed on him for a few seconds before withdrawing with a pop, then looking up at him plaintively while she still stroked with her other hand, "How's that, Master? Did I learn good?"

"Yes," he murmured, then glanced downward.

She, like he, must have been quite aroused at the young-looking form on her knees before him, because there was a growing puddle between the succubus' knees. "On the bed, then, pet. If you want more of it, you can have it."

She obeyed quickly, but only half-way, scrambling up and starting to climb up into the bed- it was a little over knee-high for her- before Harry's longer, rapid steps brought him close enough to grip her around the waist with both hands. "Bend over," he ordered, and at once, she put her hands on the bed below.

A moment later, he pushed inside her dripping channel with another grunt, all the way to the bottom. He hadn't been so deep inside the Succubus since their first, long night, and it felt as amazing as ever. As good, in fact maybe better, than the subdued flesh of Pansy Parkinson the night before, for all that taking her had been more an exercise in control and power than pleasure for him.

"Ugh," Lilith grunted as he slammed home, then softer as he did it again, "Not- not so hard, M- Master, please!"

He was gentler- just a little- on the next push, but even harder on the one after, making Lilith squeal in delight, "Oh, M-Master!" she cried softly, "Y- Yes, harder!"

After that, Harry did not hold back, and, like he'd done and learned to appreciate those first few times he'd had sex, he pounded into the tight hole as quickly and as hard as he could stand to, until, less than even two minutes later, he exploded with a roar, his climax so strong that he, too, fell to his knees, still clutching Lilith, who fell back against him, twitching, as he did so.

"Still got it," she eventually murmured, then flipped around to start licking his scrotum, penis, and a little from the floor- from the floor- clean, before rising up with a satisfied smirk. Then she kissed Harry- he was glad that, this time, he couldn't taste any trace of himself- and stood the rest of the way. "Alright, Master, you really should get going. I'm going to be out of the castle most of the day- paperwork for my new identity- but you really should study. Try not to focus on shagging until after dinner, if you can help it."

Harry nodded numbly, and watched his nude little servant, with a drip of his semen still running down her leg- (for his position behind her as she'd stood had shown that she clearly had not absorbed that particular dose) vanish from sight under her own form of invisibility, then fluttered to the window, opened it, flew out, and closed it again.

Then he struggled to his feet, feeling rather weak-kneed- he hadn't had that rapid an orgasm in ages, including his first one with Lilith- and tucked himself back away before freshening up and heading down to breakfast.

A breakfast that, all told, was surprisingly normal. No one flirted with Harry (much), no one fondled him beneath the table, no one...

Well, did much of anything, except study. Most of Gryffindor's fifth and seventh years were busily cramming for their end-of-year exams by this point, as their O.W.L.s were literally just around the corner: a week and a half away. Umbridge's attentions on the school had seemed to drift, and in small part, the student body had gotten back to something approaching normal, though each was wary about crossing any of the new Educational Decrees.

Instead, at least in Harry's classes, Umbridge was never in her DADA class, and he only heard or saw the woman briefly- and she ignored him entirely- either leaving her classroom or coming back, ever since Lilith had first mind-dived the woman and sent an illusion in her place.

For that matter, he realized, is the one I'm seeing even really Umbridge? It's not like anyone ever wants to get close enough to brush up against her. Just thinking about it makes me want to wretch.

Harry shook his head as he headed up to his bedroom from the nearly empty Great Hall, preparing to head for the library until lunch, and then his only two classes of the day on Thursdays, Double Potions (as always, with Slytherin), and double History of Magic, with Hufflepuff. A good time, in other words, to study.

Harry felt a moment of panic set in, before quashing it down. True, he hadn't been putting in the effort Hermione, no doubt, expected of him. His parents, either, come to think of it... not that he could say for sure, as he could barely remember them.

Would he be alright? No doubt, Umbridge or Fudge would do their best to remove him from the school if his scores were sub-par...

Then again, did he care? As long as he got the requisite 3 O.W.L.s to keep his wand when leaving- he'd checked very carefully with Hermione about that earlier in the year- did he honestly care what Umbridge or Fudge did?

Harry shook his head, threw the last of his books into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, passing Dean on the way out with a nod, and skipping every other stair as he headed for the library. No, I really don't. I can always just take my wand and head... well, to MACUSA if nowhere else. I'm sure I can make a place for myself somewhere. Probably without even riding on my 'fame'. If I have to.

Harry's thoughts grew slightly darker as he moved down the three floors and half-way across the Castle, on a well-travelled path that, again because of Hermione, he felt that he could navigate in his sleep.

There were no free tables when he arrived, but Harry was not perturbed. He could always just check books out, no matter the disbelieving stares that Madam Pince gave him whenever he tried. He just had to find several things.

Of course, the magic of the Hogwarts Library meant that, as long as books were not removed from the Castle itself, a temporary spare could always be made for reading and study, so he could find anything if he tried hard enough.

... And maybe enlisted help, though Hermione was not in the library due to her own Ancient Runes class.

Still, as Harry made his way into the stacks, things weren't hopeless. Several Ravenclaws were also there, including Cho if he could get her away from her friends (for help with finding books, of course, though more, er, extracurricular activities wouldn't go amiss later), and there were also a trio of Hufflepuffs Harry knew fairly well: Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie MacMillan, and Kevin Entwhistle, a member of Hufflepuff's Quidditch team.

... Not that he could play against him any more, so Harry was trying very hard not to care.

"Hey, gents, mind if I take a seat here?" Harry asked as he approached, indicating the seat across from Ernie and next to Justin.

All three boys glanced up from the pages they were perusing, then shared a glance. After a moment, Ernie announced, "Of course not, Potter. You won't find any enemies in Hufflepuff, not anymore. Right, guys?"

Justin, who was also a member of the DA, nodded at once, immediately sliding one of his books over to give Harry more room. Kevin hesitated, then nodded, turning his attention back to his study.

"Thanks," Harry said, dropping his backpack in the empty chair to hold it, "Just gotta go find a couple books. Be back in a moment."

It was almost strange, thought Harry as he stretched two and a half hours later, to be spending time with people not just in his circle of friends, but outside his House, in Hogwarts.

Not that any of the three were annoying, or rude, or anything.

Ernie, despite being rather pompous on occasion (his announcement that he believed Harry and Dumbledore's story about Voldemort being back earlier in the year, for example), was quite friendly and helpful. Justin, it turned out, was descended from Muggle nobility, and was a wealth of information about recent history, and someone who also made a point during the summers to catch up on movies (though he was saddened that Harry had no idea about any of them, something Justin vowed to fix if he ever had the chance). Kevin Entwhistle, it turned out, had a sister a year younger, Annabelle, who Harry had never met. He was certainly the shyest of the three, at least around Harry, but that wasn't all that shocking: He, alone of the four, was not a member of Dumbledore's Army, and therefore did not know Harry as well.

Still, between the four of them, Harry felt he had made good progress on reviewing DADA (not that he would need help there, but he was always willing to answer the others' questions), Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and Charms, something Justin found himself revelling in as a subject.

He was feeling quite a bit less stressed about the upcoming exams going into lunch, and even all the way through it as he, Hermione, and Ron chatted about normal school things.

Potions, however, was a different story.

The familiar- all too familiar- spike of apprehension was washed away by confusion when Snape was not present in the classroom after the door slid quietly open to allow them in.

Instead, there was a familiar-looking woman with long, wavy dark hair, a fairly angular, beautiful (if slightly lined by age) heart-shaped face, and...

"You," he roared, a moment behind Neville, who he had followed in.

His wand rose, right alongside his friend's- all four of them. A moment later, the few students who'd been ahead of them in the queue into the room gasped, then followed suit.

Behind Harry, Ron, and Hermione, almost all of the fifth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors were in an even more heightened state of confusion.

Harry, though, suddenly felt only rage.

Rage which intensified as the woman's own wand flew from deep blue robes into her left hand and flicked.

Her eyebrow raised as his, Neville's, Ron's, Hermione's, and half of the four other student's in the rooms wands fell to the ground at their respective feet. Before Harry could begin to question why this woman, this woman of all people was in the castle, why this woman had only disarmed six people with one twitch of her wand instead of killing indiscriminately, Neville gave another roar of fury and charged.

Again, the wand flicked, the other eyebrow raised, and Neville skidded to a halt, lurching forward on the last few inches as his feet were apparently frozen to the floor. "I will appreciate it," the woman announced in a firm, nearly monotone voice, "If I am not attacked each and every time you see me over the remainder of today's lesson, or any future time in which you might see me."

"Lesson?" roared Ron, "Why would we take lessons from you, Lestrange?"

This time, the woman's eyebrows, which were still raised, lowered into a carefully-schooled expression, but not one of fury or rage. It was only then that Harry began to think that something might be wrong.

"For one thing, Mr... Weasley, I presume, I have not had the name of "Lestrange" in my life. I was born Andromeda Black, and was a cousin of your friend's godfather."

Harry noticed several people around him gasp as his jaw, likewise, dropped open when the woman's eyes unmistakably moved to Harry for a moment.

Not many people knew that Sirius Black, currently escaped non-convict (thank you very much) of Azkaban Prison, was Harry's godfather.

Now, though, it seemed the secret was well and truly out.

"Furthermore," she continued, stowing her wand back up into what Harry suspected was a wrist-mounted holster, "my last name is now Tonks. I believe at least you three," she gestured to Ron, Harry, and Hermione, "are familiar with my daughter, Nymphadora."

Harry blinked. Familiar, indeed! Tonks'- er, 'Dora's' mother was this woman, who so closely resembled...

Andromeda sighed, then pointed toward their feet, "You may as well pick up your wands and enter- peacefully. I, like your regular instructor in this class, will tolerate no foolishness when there is brewing to be done. It simply isn't safe. However... yes, I am the sister of two people that some members of this class will know."

Harry followed, numb, as Neville took a seat front and center, as if to protect the other students, while never taking his eyes off the woman. He was still glaring, though much less hatefully than Harry might have expected.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, gesturing to Neville, then with an apologetic look, took the place at his side. She immediately leaned over to the other boy and, while pulling out her supplies and potions book, started whispering furiously in his ear.

Ron grunted, equally quietly, "We should split up to provide cover, if we can. Yeah?"

Reluctantly, Harry nodded. If this woman was going to attack students, it was best if they were able to cover as many of the students as possible. Ron, then, took the right front desk with Lavender Brown, cutting off Parvati Patil. While Parvati gave a little huff, her friend did not seem nearly as bothered, instead flushing slightly and shooting the dark-skinned girl a wink, which made her giggle.

Harry rolled his eyes- clearly, despite the DA's attentions, they were not aware of the possible situation. But at least, he hoped, they could be counted on once- if- things went south.

That, though, left him sitting alone while several students entered past him, and the only open seat in the front row belonged to...

Draco Malfoy.

Harry snorted, then dropped his bag next to the chair. "Malfoy," he smirked, remembering quite vividly the humiliation he had scored upon the blonde boy just the previous night.

The blonde boy stiffened, not bothering to look in Harry's direction or respond verbally. Instead, he went about preparing his own things with mechanical motions, seemingly barely cognizant of what he was doing.

Harry's grin widened, then fell away as his attention returned- partially, for he dared not lower his guard to Malfoy at any time- to the woman at the front of the classroom.

"Before we begin, then, just to clear up any confusion you may be experiencing. As I said earlier, I am not Bellatrix Lestrange, though we share an unmistakable family resemblance: she is my sister. I was disowned from the Black family for daring to ignore a betrothal agreement and marrying the person I wanted to, a muggle-born."

Several people, including Malfoy, sneered, but Harry glanced back to see that, indeed, Daphne Greengrass was not.

"I am related, through the Black family, to two people in this room. Still, it is somewhat coincidental that it is those two which know who I am the best, I would think, one through our other sister, who is his mother, and one through my daughter, who is an acquaintance of one Mr. Potter."

"You're no aunt of mine," Draco growled nearly quietly enough not to be heard.

The woman, though, did not react with anger. Instead, one eyebrow raised again, and she replied, "As I said, I was disowned. The blood does not lie, however, nor does the strength and nature of my magic. I am a pure-blood as old as any, for what that is worth, and I will brook no disrespect in my classroom. That goes for all students, of any House, between each other, or the faculty. In return, you will each be treated as the young adults you aspire to be."

Harry swallowed, then nodded in time with most of the rest of the class.

Clearly, she had been expecting an attack of some sort to react that quickly, but this was not a witch he wanted to cross without a plan, and it seemed that, for now at least, she was not an enemy. Besides... Tonks had spoken well of her parents.

Did that mean, then, that they were decent folks, despite where Mrs. Tonks had come from?

He would have to assume yes, until proven otherwise, he supposed.

The class proceeded apace. Andromeda Tonks, a Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries by profession, was a highly skilled potion-maker and a more than adequate teacher. So adequate, in fact, that when the class ended, the entire Gryffindor student population of the class, and no small amount of the Slytherins, stood and clapped for a few seconds, making the older witch blush slightly.

"Thank you, that isn't necessary," she said with a raised hand, "Now, shoo. You have other classes to attend, I'm sure."

Herbology, another double period with the Hufflepuffs, was abuzz throughout with the news of the probably-substitute teacher for Potions.

So much so, in fact, that half-way through the period, Professor Sprout caused her wand to eject the same cannon-blast noise that Dumbledore was known to produce and loudly cry, "Enough! Enough! Fine! If it's what you want to talk about, then fine! Yes, Healer Tonks is here for a few days while Professor Snape is ill. That is the whole story! Can we please get back to work on the review? We were on, I believe, the properties of Bubotuber Pus. Yes, of course, Miss Granger...?"

Harry had to suppress a grin. Neville frequently gave Hermione a run for her money (or out-did her completely) in Herbology, but he was never going to get that one, since she had experienced the effects of undiluted pus first-hand.

When Harry made it up to his dorm, straggling after Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean, near eleven that night, it was to find his bed cold and empty.

Unfortunately, while he would have loved to spend some time with Lilith, he just didn't have the energy, anyway. He was asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow.

Friday. Double History with Ravenclaw, double Charms with Ravenclaw. Lunch. Defense Against the Dark Arts, another double lesson (with Slytherin, as usual), but this time Umbridge was present. She said nothing, instead watching silently and pointing at the board above her until each and every student had entered. The only other motion she made was glancing at her magical quill, which was taking down the names of each student as they entered in her roll.

The class was spent in dead silence aside from the turning of pages.

At least now, Harry thought to himself, I can read something more useful in peace, since she doesn't even walk around anymore. The fat lump.

Indeed, Hexes for the Vexed was quite an entertaining read, if nothing particularly useful for deadly combat. At least he could think of several tactical, field-control uses for some for the spells. That was something.

Saturday, and Sunday too, were spent in twelve hour cram sessions that, once again, left Harry exhausted. Sunday night, at least, Lilith was laying, naked but invisible to all but him, in his bed when he crawled in. "I'm so tired," he murmured, slipping beneath the covers in nothing but his boxers. The weather had finally warmed up enough to permit that, at least; for Harry hated the constraining feeling of pyjamas with long sleeves or pant legs, but the castle was just too cold, even with the fireplace and thick blankets, in the winter to do anything else.

"Rest, then, Master," she whispered, snuggling into his stomach almost like a child, "I can do the work, if you'd like... but I do need some recharging soon. I'm a few days behind, in case you've forgotten."

Harry yawned over her head, then rolled onto his back. "G- Go ahead... if you want."

"Oh, I do," she cooed, but did not do more than reach a hand down to lightly grasp him. "And in fact, I will, but first I have some news. I've been busy, and fortunately have gathered enough semen to stay here for another day or two, but after that I'll have to have yours again, tonight will just take the edge off, so to speak."

"Okay," Harry muttered, then lifted his head just enough to kiss the smaller creature, who had just started to move her own over his in an effort to, he guessed, straddle him.

She froze, then kissed him back fervently. More so, really, than he had the energy for. She seemed to sense that, and backed off immediately, choosing instead to pepper his own lips with little feather-light kisses as her right hand continued stroking him to fully erect.

Even as tired as he was, it didn't take long, because it had been days since he'd even had one.

"So," the Succubus continued between kisses as she moved down his throat and onto his chest, punctuating each word with another kiss or two, "Umbridge is about to fall. Turns out she hasn't been to classes in a week, which means she was stealing from Hogwarts, which means she was stealing from the Ministry. A whole week's wages, can you imagine? What nerve! Then, the woman's started having an affair- with a student! The scandal!"

Harry's penis started to flag at once, just from thinking about that- that thing in a sexual light at all.

"Sorry, Master," Lilith chuckled, then her head disappeared beneath the blanket. A moment later, he was stiffening up again, as he gasped. Lilith licked him again, then pulled half his length into her mouth and started stroking the lower while she sucked without bobbing.

That continued for a good minute, until Harry was nearly ready to pop again, before she lifted her head and moved up to lay down on his chest, squirming her cunt down onto his length with a sigh. "Mm, that's good. Thanks, Master, I really needed this."

She started sliding up and down his body slowly, revelling in the sensations they were giving each other, while Harry's hands moved up and over to her to pull them a little closer. He really did enjoy the feel of her small, firm chest against his, and the feel of her vagina was, of course, nearly indescribable after such a long wait. How had he made it fifteen years when, now, it seemed just three days was interminably long?

"Anyway, we just need to get her caught, now. Shouldn't be hard. I was thinking, the first day of your exams, for maximum fun. Sound good?"

"Sure," Harry groaned, luxuriating in the bliss she was giving him without him having to move more than a few muscles.

"Alright, then. So... ready to finish, Master, so you can get some sleep?"

"Er..."

Now that she mentioned it, Harry wasn't sure. This was really nice, maybe they could prolong...

He felt her vaginal walls spasm, then flutter. And they did not stop vibrating around him for sixteen seconds, until he grunted and spilled himself into her still-squirming warmth, his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sudden spike in ecstacy.

"Good job, Master," Lilith whispered, even while she moved back underneath the covers to lick him clean, "Now, go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake."

History of Magic was, Harry decided (not for the first time), designed as a course to be failed.

At least, History as Professor Cuthbert Binns, the school's lone Ghost Professor, taught it.

Droning on about one Goblin Rebellion after another was quite bad enough, especially in Binns' absolutely dead-pan (no pun) monotone. But the fact that the Professor was so very out-of-touch with what was actually going on in his class that every single student, aside from Hermione, who sat on Ron's far side from Harry, today, was usually asleep within minutes, and slept right through the entire class period.

Even she, though, frequently struggled to stay awake for some of the more boring lectures.

Now, though, at least two other students were awake besides Hermione: Ron and himself.

Ron, for his part, seemed determined to find out exactly how far he could slide his left hand up Hermione's right thigh before she made him stop. Currently, his pinky finger was, as far as Harry could tell, actually underneath the lower hem of her school skirt, while Hermione was, still red-faced, doing her level best to ignore the creeping hand, or Ron's half-victorious, half-terrified expression, or look anywhere in Harry's direction, at all.

Not for the first time, Harry was glad that Hermione was sitting further away, though, because he, too, was tempted to do the same.

... He just had more temptations in the room.

True, they shared the class with the other fifth-year Ravenclaws, and he wasn't known for paying attention, but Ron and Hermione's little game had gotten him thinking once again (it was so very difficult these days, he knew) of the fairer gender.

Mandy Brocklehurst, a solid 'maybe'. Su Li, a definite 'yes'. Morag MacDougal, 'probably'. Lisa Turpin, another 'yes'. Padma Patil, 'absolutely'

There were others, of course, who Harry wasn't as attracted to, though not because of their looks. Ravenclaw, as a House, tended toward bookishness as opposed to vanity, but he could only think of one truly unattractive girl in the entire House, and his year seemed to have a greater proportion of attractive than not.

I don't know, he found himself musing while watching Lisa cross, then uncross and re-cross the other way, her legs, Maybe Hermione has just made me like smart girls.

Needless to say, by the end of the class, both he and Ron were quite frustrated, because that single pinky was as far as Ron had gotten, too.

But at least he got that far, Harry thought as he followed his friends from the room.

Monday's Potions class, since Thursday's double period had been derailed by the appearance of Andromeda Tonks, was Harry's first real chance to see the reactions of the 'gang' of Slytherins that followed around Draco Malfoy to the events of the previous Wednesday night. Pansy, Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and even the older members of the Inquisitorial Squad had been strangely absent on Friday, and Harry was quite used to not seeing any Slytherin outside of the library on weekends.

Not a place, he knew, any of them were likely to go if they could help it.

Even so, Harry was unsurprised to see that Millicent Bulstrode was still absent from the class, though he was quietly amused to see Draco Malfoy, who shot him a single venomous look then ignored him completely after he had entered the room, and both Crabbe and Goyle looking a little green around the gills, still avoiding looking at even each other.

The small joy Harry got from that little, non-verbal interaction spiked when, once more, it was Professor Tonks who walked into the room from the office, rather than Snape. "It seems," the Healer said by way of introduction, "that Professor Snape's illness was worse than had been thought at first. He will be taking a few more days, and there is a slight chance he will not return this term."

Professor Tonks, wisely, gave half of the class time to give a single shout of joy- perhaps she'd been expecting a 'no' or expression of worry?- before resuming, "As such, I have been asked to remain as your teacher for the remainder of the term or until Professor Snape is fit to return for duty. Fortunately, your brewing skills are, on average, better than Professor Snape reported to me. This means that, including today, the remainder of our classes before your O.W.L.s begin next week, will be spent in review."

Again, Professor Tonks paused to allow her class to express some relief. This time, even the majority of the Slytherins, Daphne included, Harry was surprised to see (she had always done quite well in Snape's classes), exhaled a sigh.

"So, your assignment for today: Pick any Potion you have learned from your third year- I believe that was the 1993-1994 school year- on. Brew it, writing down in your own terms each step as you complete it, including the why things are done the way they are. Once that is complete, you may bring me your sample and notes, clean your workstation, and quietly review the notes you have taken thus far this year. For your Thursday class, should I still be your teacher at the time, you may expect a more formalized review session."

Harry blinked, smiled, then shot a quick glance to Hermione, on his right, and Ron, on his left, who was sitting today with Neville. All three were smiling, though to his surprise, Hermione's seemed the most strained.

He, though, didn't spare the girl more than a few thoughts, even if he was momentarily distracted by peering down her cleavage as she'd sat much more quickly than he had. There was a simple Potion, a fourth-year, that he'd messed up in class.

One he felt he could make more easily without Snape distracting him.

A specific type of sensory-improvement concoction, one he'd heard Hermione describe as a 'fantasy x-ray potion'.

It sounded great to him, especially if it worked the way x-ray vision seemed to in television, rather than showing only skeletal forms and the slightest of bits of flesh.

So he leafed through his index of Magical Drafts and Potions, by Arsenius Jigger, until he found it: "Elixir of the Piercing Gaze," he murmured, before remembering Hermione was right next to him. She, though, did not seem to react, intent on scanning her own Invigorating Draught.

Harry quickly turned to the appropriate page, immediately realizing why he'd messed this one up. His distraction had kept him from realizing the instructions took up more than the two pages. Likely, this was the first Potion they had been asked to make that had.

Fortunately, there was only a single paragraph, including adding one more ingredient, that he'd missed on the next page. Had it been any other Professor than Snape, Harry knew, he'd have likely received at least a Poor, rather than the Dreadful he'd been given the previous year, for that alone.

Still, it meant it wouldn't be that difficult to brew, so Harry immediately set to work, pushing all else out of his mind.

Yes, even Lilith.

It was worth it, he suspected.

Thirty minutes later, Harry jumped just as he finished counting the sixty-third clockwise stir and lifted his silver stirring rod from the cauldron. "An excellent job, Mr. Potter," Professor Tonks said from over his shoulder, "Perfect coloration, a good odor... interesting subject, but I suppose you're of that age. Please do not attempt to use your potion within the requisite thirty feet of myself. You will find it... unpleasant."

Harry shuddered at the amused, quiet, not threatening, yet altogether terrifying tone the older witch had used, slapped his book shut, then quickly ladled a sample vial full, corked and labelled it, then handed it to the Professor with a slight blush he couldn't quite force down.

"And you, Miss Granger, very good Invigorating Draught so far. Another ten minutes and I think you'll be done. Early, even. Well done- four points to both of you."

As Hermione, still beaming (they were both still so utterly unused to earning points in Potions, no matter how hard any Gryffindor worked), finished packing her things away and reopening her own Potions book, she looked over at Harry and hissed quietly, "What Potion was that, Harry? Why did Professor Tonks say what she did?"

Immediately, his blush, which had only just faded, returned full-force. "Er, N- Nothing. Don't worry about it, Hermione," he stammered.

One eyebrow raised, and for a moment, he feared she might question him further.

Instead, the girl turned her attention back to the book, leafing through it rapidly.

With about ten minutes left, the class had grown uncommonly noisy a short while later, once nearly everyone- all but Goyle, in fact- had finished brewing, most students using the time to quietly quiz one another on Potions, with some, undoubtedly, gossiping.

That, of course, was when Hermione whispered, "Ron told me you saw us the other- last weekend."

Harry froze.

He said nothing, did nothing, did not dare breathe.

This was the moment in which it could all come crashing down, he realized.

Hermione would, most likely, be furious. She would tell McGonagall. Tell her everything, about the sex, the Succubus, why Harry's stress level had seemed to decrease while everyone else's in their year was constantly rising... he'd be kicked out of the school.

And his wand, O.W.L.s untaken, would be snapped.

"I don't mind," she continued, and out of the corner of his eye- he dared not even look in her direction- he saw her look toward him slowly. "I don't, it's just... I thought you'd be... jealous. But you haven't said anything. I thought you wanted... well, me?"

The last two words were said so quietly that, even as the class began shutting their books in preparation to leave, Harry only just made them out. "I do," he replied just as quietly.

"Then... why haven't you...? Well..."

"Done anything?" Louder, now, but still below a whisper.

She nodded, looking away and pushing her book back into the always-overloaded backpack she carried.

Distantly, Harry noticed the straps beginning to fray, and only then realized she'd gotten a new one each summer. It wasn't hard, once he noticed, to realize why. "I... you're busy, I'm busy... it's O.W.L.s. I figured you'd want to study. Or, since you went to him first, you were... satisfied. You..." Harry gulped. "You... seemed, well..."

"Satisfied?" Hermione said, turning back to look at him with a little smirk, then over his shoulder at Ron, who was now standing. "I was."

Harry frowned, looking back at their ginger friend, who winked in response to the betrayed glance he'd been given.

"Look, Hermione," Harry murmured, "This really isn't the best time or place to talk about it."

She sighed, "No, I suppose it's not... come on, then. Maybe in the Common Room, then."

But Harry's woes were not over that day.

Double Divination wasn't terrible, though once again he had to sit at the back of the room, this time to avoid as much female attention as possible. If he were honest with himself, he needed a break from girls, too, if only a small one, while he tried to think about what he wanted to tell Hermione... and worried about what she might tell, or ask, him.

Fortunately, Neville and Ron had done a gamely job of distracting Hermione over lunch with question after question, things she'd been only too happy to answer as they pertained to school and their exams.

I might need to get Neville set up, too. I owe him after these last couple weeks, Harry mused while he sought out the least-questionable table.

Double Transfiguration, once again with Slytherin, well... that was a problem.

Normally, even Malfoy did not dare do anything in McGonogal's classes, stern as she was.

This time, though, it seemed the boy had a bit more to prove.

He had waited until the end of the class, just as they were standing to leave the last class of the day after yet another arduous lecture and review period, before acting.

There was no incantation that Harry could hear, though he had caught Draco's wand-tip moving in his direction out of the corner of his eye.

Unfortunately, Draco, no doubt in an attempt to conceal his misdeed, had not aimed precisely, because he had not been looking at Harry.

Instead of striking him, the nearly-invisible ripple had flown past him beneath one arm.

By the time Harry had looked behind him, the effect had passed. No one, from Hermione to Parvati to Lavender or even Professor McGonogal herself seemed the slightest bit amiss.

So Harry could only scowl as the blonde wizard strutted from the room, swagger thoroughly back in place after having missed several classes due to being 'ill'.

Harry shook his head, packed away his things, and carried on.

Dinner, too, was a relatively quiet affair, though Harry noticed Ron's oft-exploring hand was getting progressively higher still up their mutual female friend's thigh.

He could only look around the room in growing frustration, though. All the students he'd already shagged seemed exhausted. Even Daphne Greengrass, who seemed unflappable most times, was showing signs of wear. Who could he go to for relief before bedtime...? Heading up to his room right after dinner would be highly suspicious, so Lilith was out of the question for now.

Then he saw her: Cho Chang.

She was not taking her N.E.W.T.S. this year, and significantly less busy than anyone else, aside from maybe one of the Gryffindor Seekers, he had access to.

"Mm... I just remembered, I need to write a letter to Snuffles," Harry said quietly, "I'll see you guys later," then left the Great Hall as quickly as he could.

A sharp-looking Barn Owl dropped off a reply, written in elegant, flowing cursive, twenty minutes later.

Alright, Harry. Marietta wants you to bring your friend. Same place, eight. But it has to be Saturday, we have Astronomy tonight, then we're alternatingly busy- we have end-of-year exams too, you know. Sorry.

Harry frowned, then shrugged. It wasn't like he could do anything about it. Even with an Invisibility Cloak and Lilith's help, he didn't dare go looking for a shag during a class. That was just asking for trouble.

Still, that left him without prospects until at least an hour later, and he was still trying to avoid Herm-

"There you are, Harry," a too-familiar voice said breathlessly, "I've been looking all over. Ron had to go up to your room to get the Map to find you. Now can we talk?"

Harry was silent for several seconds, while he stared down the starlit corridor on the fifth floor, two floors below the Room of Requirement, and about half-way between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Tower entrances. Some forty feet or so ahead and maybe twice that behind, a few students still moved back or forth, mostly fifth- or seventh-years trying to squeeze in a last little bit of study before the exams.

Almost everyone else was either in their common rooms, or in the case of the younger years, in bed. Harry had even, mostly, been on the way himself now that asking Lilith to join him upstairs, since going to bed at this time would be seen as reasonable as opposed to unusual.

Not that he intended to sleep, of course.

"Well? What have you been doing? Can we talk?"

"Yes, Hermione, we can talk," Harry said quietly, resigning himself to his fate, "Just... not here, okay? It's too... open. Can we go up to the Room?"

"I suppose," she said, walking up beside him at last, before holding out a familiar piece of old parchment, neatly folded. "I already turned it off."

"Thanks," he said softly, looking longingly at the Marauder's Map for a moment before pushing it down into a pocket of his open robes. How come he hadn't yet thought of using that to find a likely prospect...?

Only, when they reached the room of requirement, the door was already present, and it was slightly open. "Hold on," Harry whispered, drawing his wand as he glanced around.

Higher up, above the entrances to any one common room, there was much less foot traffic. Dinner had ended an hour and a half earlier by the time they reached the Room's entrance, and he saw no sign of anyone, yet...

Beside him, Hermione, too, drew her wand. "It's quiet," she whispered, looking around as furtively as he was.

Harry nodded, then reached out a hand to slowly push the door open a little further and looked inside.

It was dark, but he could make out the shifting orange-yellow light of one, or maybe as many as three, candles. The light was wane and diffuse, as if shifting off more than one wall, and he could smell... Bluebells? Or was it the less-common Wood Anemone he was smelling? Something grassy, too, and an evening breeze.

"The Astronomy Tower?" Hermione whispered from beside him, "We didn't take a wrong turn, did we?"

Harry shook his head, pointing wordlessly over his shoulder at the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmey.

Agonizingly slowly, worried at any moment that this was a trap designed by Malfoy to catch him unawares and unprotected (relatively, he knew Hermione to be no slouch as far as spellcasting goes and plenty quick in a fight, but Ron as backup would have been nice), Harry pushed his head through the crack.

What he saw as he entered the Room of Requirement's field of demi-reality (or so Hermione had described it earlier in the year to one very confused Michael Corner) was... not what he expected.

He did, in fact, see what looked like the parapet edges of the very same Astronomy Tower he'd helped Lilith set up blackmail material , and given Pansy the shag of her life on.

Only, there were differences, too. For one, the air was, while still resembling the early spring they were in, warmer, almost a balmy summer evening aside from the scents. And... Honeysuckle? That wouldn't bloom for months, yet...

Perhaps it was the Astronomy Tower being represented, but Harry looked up at the stars. They were... off, somehow, though he couldn't quite place how. The moon, too, seemed to be in the wrong phase, less than a waning crescent when he expected a nearly-full waxing gibbous. And voices... two of them, on a night when no one was taking Astronomy Practicals anyway, to the best of his knowledge.

Two students, one male, one female, whispering...

Trysting.

He backed out quickly, slightly red-faced already, "You... you don't want to go in there," he murmured to Hermione, attempting to hold her back.

But it was useless, he knew, as soon as he saw the girl's dark brown eyes roll in the dim light. "It's fine, I'm a prefect, we'll just kick them out and..."

Reluctantly, he followed Hermione into the Room of Requirement.

What he saw as he fully entered the room was much as he expected.

They were standing on the Astronomy Tower, much as if they had left the actual door structure, leaving them on the lower landing with just five steps between them and the top.

And on that top, on a bed that certainly did not exist on the actual Tower, were two students Harry recognized quite well.

At once, Harry grabbed Hermione's collar and yanked downward, causing her to squeak.

Her hands flew to her mouth as she stared, horrified, dreading that one of them had heard.

In fact, there had been the briefest of moments, of pauses, before the rhythmic creaking of the bed had resumed.

Harry knew that Hermione was as red-faced as he was. But he couldn't look away, even as he felt her turn toward him.

On the bed were his roommate, Dean Thomas, the dark-skinned artist and Westham fan, and below him, thin, pale legs wrapped around his waist, Ron's little sister, Ginny Weasley. Only... again, something was off.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but...

"Ung," Dean said, drawing Hermione's attention back, but shaking Harry out of his fugue enough to begin drawing the Invisibility Cloak out from its now-habitual pocket in his robes, then spreading it slowly over them, "You're- so good, Gin."

"It's so big, Dean," Ginny said, somewhat woodenly, "I can't believe it fits."

Dean continued thrusting, pushing what Harry knew to be an above-average, yet not shockingly so, erecting into the soft, pink flesh of the slight, athletic girl he'd once, until that moment, fantasized himself about. Ginny did not move, except to rebound from Dean's thrusts, her arms wrapped around his back and her legs around his buttocks.

"We should go," Hermione whispered, shuddering slightly beneath the Cloak as its filmy inner surface obscured and warped the view.

"We probably should," Harry agreed, but continued, "But do you want to? I want to watch."

Somehow, Harry felt that Hermione should have objected.

Would have, certainly, objected, before the influence of Lilith into his life.

Yet... "Er... alright," Hermione whispered, then, "We should find- find a more comfortable position, if we're going to stay and w- watch. One where we can both be covered."

Harry swallowed, but nodded. Personally, he could think of only one way to guarantee they stayed covered, and that was by getting even closer, but... could he stay quiet?

Hermione, though, must have had something else in mind, for she grabbed Harry's hand and, as quietly as she could, tugged him, half-upright, up the stairs and half-way around the edge of the faux entrance to the shadowy side, far from the moonlight or candlelight from the two candles Dean had (apparently) set up on the far parapet.

Below, Harry could see an accurate, if fuzzy, representation of the Hogsmeade Valley, which grew progressively less distinct with each passing mile. It seemed even the Room had limits.

Hermione, though, was not looking out into the false distance. She had, instead, turned her attention back toward the rutting pair, their heads and half of Dean's neck obscured now, at least to Harry, by the edge of the stonework they were hidden behind. Then she sank down to her knees before awkwardly sliding them out from beneath her to rest, knees up and slightly spread, against the stone wall.

Harry gulped; he could clearly see, even in the dim light, Hermione's white- and blue-striped knickers, yet she seemed either utterly unashamed, or uncaring. Indeed, all her focus was on the way Dean's large penis continued slamming into Ginny's dripping cunt, the noises both seemed to be making- him, grunting, her gasping- and the regularly, slowly increasing creak of the soft-looking bed.

Harry shook his head, thinking for a moment how crazy this situation was, that he and Hermione were watching Dean Thomas and Ginny, their friend, have sex, and not stopping it, but...

"Whatever," he murmured under his breath, then took up a position next to Hermione, making sure he was still below the cloak, even out to his toes.

It only just covered them now, he knew, but a whispered sticking charm- from inside the Cloak so it would work, at least temporarily- held it against his feet, and another to the back of his head. Just in case.

After a few seconds of listening to the coupling going on about ten feet away and Hermione's rapid breathing, he almost jumped when she whispered, "Are- are you going to? Do you want to? Y- You know... w- wank?"

He didn't know why he'd said it. Perhaps it was the absurdity of the situation, or the late night, or the frustration of how very long he'd been looking and unable to find a partner, but Harry's reply was simple, "I can think of people I'd rather do."

Hermione's flushed face, if anything, deepened. "N- Not to- tonight. I'm... I know you know about Ron and I, but... I'm not... not ready. For more. And... I'm not sure if I..."

"Do you want to watch me wank, Hermione?" Harry whispered, interrupting what he was sure would have been a fascinating- had it not been about him- monologue about how very unsure Hermione was.

She gulped, then swallowed, "If- if you want to. I- I don't mind. Especially if... if I can."

"Why?" Harry asked, genuinely curious, as well as aroused, "Do you like watching, or something?"

Hermione shrugged, "I... don't know. I walked in on my parents, once. It... I was mortified, but fascinated. I stayed in the doorway until they noticed. They couldn't look at me for days."

Harry and Hermione both chuckled softly, glad that Dean was now grunting enough to hide it completely (or so Harry hoped).

"If you want to," he agreed, "I'd love to watch you."

"Not- not Ginny?"

Harry shrugged, looking over at the couple for a moment, then turning back to the nearer girl, "I'd totally shag her, she's very fit. But I don't see it working out long-term, you know? I'd always wonder, in the back of my mind, if..."

"If she really loved you, not your- your image?"

Harry nodded.

"Well... I do," Hermione assured him, "I really do. And Ron, too."

"I don't love Ron like that," Harry quipped, hoping to lighten the tension just a little, "so don't expect me to shag him, like, ever."

Hermione shuddered, gave Harry's shoulder a light- quiet- slap, "I hope not. The way you two get on, you'd never have time for me if you did."

Neither said anything else.

After a few seconds of looking at each other, Hermione turned her eyes, then her face, back toward the two on the bed.

Harry watched her, more than them, as at first hesitantly, then with sudden certainty, Hermione's left hand moved up to fondle herself over her sweater, while the right slid up the inside of her thigh, much like Ron's had done.

Only her hand did not stop, not until, with a shy glance in his direction, Hermione flipped the hem up skirt up to lay against her stomach. He watched, transfixed, while the hand then flattened against her abdomen, and slid down, fingers first, over the striped knickers to cup what he knew very well, at this point, was her sex.

Already, even over the artificial smell of spring flowers, he could smell her.

He wasn't sure what, exactly, he was smelling, but it was truly intoxicating, almost like Daphne's. Stronger, perhaps, than any he'd smelled except Lilith's own bubblegum aroma.

"W- Well?" she asked.

Harry jerked, then grinned. It still took him too long to pull free- his pants were entirely too tight these days, especially when he was aroused- but eventually, he smirked when Hermione gasped at the sight.

"You're... you're bigger than I expected."

"Er, thanks," Harry said, confidence waning slightly as she stared. "I... I haven't had any complaints."

"Nor would you, from what I hea- er, read," Hermione murmured. "Do it... stroke it for me. Wank, Harry. I want- I want to watch."

So he did, wrapping his right hand around the base then pumping up, down. He could barely get his fingers around himself, he was so aroused. Yet that feeling mounted, so to speak, when Hermione's right hand starting working slow circles into her groin. The left, too, began moving, kneading and pawing gently at her sweater for a few seconds, before, with another glance up at his face, tracing its way downward, then up underneath the hem of her sweater and shirt, giving Harry a tantalizing glimpse of moon-bathed, surprisingly toned stomach as well.

Hermione gasped lightly as her hand made contact, and when she finished, her lips were parted slightly as she began to pant herself, though much less desperately than Ginny.

Hermione watched, too, as Harry continued to stroke, facing her more than the couple, her eyes alternating between watching his hand pump, or his shaft as it wiggled and throbbed in his grip, or the distant couple.

"Dean's big," Hermione whispered, glancing back to watch Harry's reaction to this statement.

"He's supposed to be, it's genetics," Harry replied. Somewhere, he'd heard that dark-skinned men were larger on average. Maybe it was from Dean, Harry couldn't be sure. But he, too, knew that he was a little bigger. Ron, too, was quite well endowed, maybe even longer than Harry, if not as thick. Sometimes, showering with your friends was a pain.

It was all, until that moment, information Harry hadn't known he'd ever need, and still wished he didn't have.

"Mm. Maybe," Hermione replied, "He's probably average then, for a dark-skinned boy. I don't know. Yours and- and Ron's, and his, and my dad's are all... and I was little, then so I'm sure my impression was... off."

"I can see it now," Harry smiled, imagining it even while he watched Hermione continue to jerk herself, increasingly rapidly, "Little- what, nine-year old Hermione Granger, watching her parents fuck."

"D- Don't say it like that," she whispered, face reddening again. "That makes it sound dirtier than it was."

"But you liked it, didn't you? That does make it dirty, Hermione."

She swallowed, looked down. But she continued the circles. Sped them up slightly. "Maybe I am dirty," she whispered after several seconds. "I want to suck you. Like I d- did with Ron. C- Can I?"

"God, Hermione," Harry moaned quietly, "I thought you'd never ask."

Before she could say anything else, Harry had cast a Silencing Charm around the pair of them, then fully freed himself, ball sack and all, from his trousers, before moving to lean against the entrance wall.

For a moment, he wondered how any girl could see an erect penis and not laugh.

But the expression on Hermione's face told him she was thinking about anything but humor.

Instead, still beneath the Cloak, she knee-walked over and put her arms against his waist with her hands on the stone, and leaned in. "You smell... like wood, and wax, and grass, and... sex."

"I haven't, not since last night, and I showered this morning," he informed her, hoping the smell wouldn't put her off. He did, indeed, bathe regularly. More-so, now.

"I like it," she murmured, then leaned in further and stuck out her tongue.

Harry's eyes rolled up as the rough, smooth surface moved across the bottom of his scrotum, circling each testicle three times before moving up the outside of his shaft.

Now just eight feet away, Harry heard a grunt and looked up, away from Hermione, who was also distracted.

Dean's and Ginny's feet were now aligned, with the bottoms up, and the squeaking of the bed had increased. "Doggy," Hermione whispered.

Harry nodded.

"Hot," Hermione said.

Harry nodded again.

"I want you to come down my throat."

Harry blinked. "Er..."

Then Hermione took half of him in her mouth at once.

She gagged, coughing, on his size, but did not back up.

Instead, eyes watering even as she looked up through now-wet lashes at his face, Hermione forced herself down his shaft, inch by inch, until her nose was buried in the flesh and curly hair at his base.

He jerked spasmodically as she swallowed once, twice, around him, then backed off, giving a single low gasp as she did.

The whole time, her eyes had stayed on his.

"Gods above, Hermione," Harry whispered, though he needn't have bothered. Just a few feet away, Dean was now groaning more than not.

"I did it," Hermione, too, whispered, "I took both of you- all of both of you- the first time. It- it took a lot of practice, but..."

"Fuckin' hot," Harry said softly, eyes locked on hers.

She grinned, then opened her mouth again while lowering her head.

This time, he watched as her lips formed around his girl, forming a tight seal, and her cheeks withdrew as she inhaled on the back-stroke, her tongue working across, side to side, on the up-stroke.

He watched as her chest swayed with each bob, her hair half-obscuring her face except for the idle, barely-considered motions she made to push it out of her way.

Harry was also aware that, unlike Lilith, Hermione did not literally have a throat made for fucking, and that, at this angle, if he pushed forward she would choke.

So as much as he wanted to, he refrained, instead settling back against the wall while Hermione went to work on his shaft, one hand lightly atop her head, the other cupping his scrotum, kneading it softly.

It was still, despite not daring to force himself into her, truly exquisite.

"Coming soon, Hermione," he said quietly, just seconds after Dean's loudest roar yet announced his climax, while the last creakings of the bed foretold the couple's settling.

With wide eyes, Hermione pulled herself off, inhaled sharply, then dove back down, once more forcing herself, inch by inch, down until he was bottomed out in her mouth.

Again, she swallowed, and it was suddenly too much.

Harry pushed forward, though he couldn't go any deeper, out of pure instinct, carrying Hermione's head with it. Off-balance, he was forced to take a single step with each foot, into what surely was sight of Ginny or Dean or both, with bushy-maned head equally off-balance between his legs.

But his throbbing, pulsing dick did not care. It only cared to give Hermione exactly what she'd asked for, a load of his semen down her throat.

Harry forced himself back quickly, hoping no one had noticed, that Hermione would not hex him into next week, or worse.

Instead, as he allowed her to pull off him, the girl's expression was one of bliss.

He watched as she smacked her lips, licked them, showed him the barest remnants of seminal fluid far in the back of her throat, then, still looking into her eyes, swallowed the lot. "Now, Harry... we should get back to bed."

"No," he murmured, glancing around the corner. Fortunately, Ginny and Dean were both facing away, she spooning into him. "Too risky. I... I want to return the favor."

She flushed, "No, I- I haven't..."

"Come on, Hermione," Harry said, leaning down to grab her hands and pull her upright, "You blew Ron first. Let me be the first to do you. Er, with my mouth."

"W- Well... alright," Hermione agreed, then spun around him to lean against the wall herself. "Then on your knees, Harry."

"Think you're in charge now, huh?" he grinned, but obeyed all the same.

Before his knees touched the stone of the false tower, Hermione's striped knickers had done the same, and her hands were lifting the skirt's lower edge, higher and higher.

Like Daphne, she was unshaven. Hermione, though, at least seemed to make some effort to tame the mess of wild hair, worse even than her head's, with a comb or... something, because he could still see the important bits, glistening and swollen with arousal. "Did you come already?" he asked quietly.

He still wasn't sure, really, what made him ask. Why he'd wanted to know with Pansy.

Maybe he just wanted to make sure his partners were satisfied before he had his fun?

Or something less altruistic, maybe he wanted to leave them quivering messes?

"A little one," she confirmed, "before- well, when I decided I wanted to... 'blow you' as you put it."

"Well," Harry said, "Since you've just given me one of the best orgasms of my life, I want to try to return the favor."

"Please, do, Haarreeeeee!"

He put all he'd learned so far to work, using not just his tongue, but his lips, fingers, nose, even his cheeks to work, far more than he had for Cho, more than he had so far for Lilith, or Daphne. Harry laved, licked, rubbed, squirmed, and prodded for more than five minutes, enjoying what he now identified as the taste, mild though it was, of clover honey.

Hermione squirmed, bucked her hips against his face. She keened, she wailed. Twice, he felt her flow drastically increase against his face, until, in a brief moment's respite, he looked down to see the dark gray of his own sweater drenched nearly black down to the belt with her sticky fluids.

He grinned as he felt another of her orgasms approach. This would be... what, five?

Then, just as she neared her peak, he stood, "Can I put it in, Hermione?"

"P- Put what? O- Oh, I- oh, Yes, Harry, p- please!"

Perhaps it was a bit manipulative to drive her to an orgasmic frenzy before taking a girl's virginity, Harry mused as he used his left hand to line himself up at his best friend's opening, but it had worked well for him so far.

Then, his right hand suddenly sliding up underneath her shirt to grab the same breast she had been kneading earlier, Harry pushed up and in, while his right hand fell against her mouth to muffle any wail.

But Hermione did not wail.

Instead, with a wince, the only noise he could hear was a low, almost guttural, "Ugh," sounding almost like Dean's first grunt as he drove home.

He could feel the blood, and her other fluids, mixing. He could feel her heat, hot like an oven, squeezing around him like a liquidy vice, feel her pulse in every throb of the flood-drenched region. Feel her breath as her mouth fell forward to suckle wildly at the base of his neck, her breasts, modest, neither too large or small, pressing against his own chest, felt her legs, both of them, wrap around his waist much as Ginny's were with Dean's earlier, her weight entirely supported by his pressure against the wall.

"Glad- glad it was you," she murmured, pulling off what Harry was sure would be a truly epic hickey to whisper in his ear, "either would- would be great, but glad it was you. I'm- safe- if you want- inside."

"I love you, Hermione," Harry replied into her ear, nibbling as he started to thrust, careful to push more up than in. Unlike Pansy, he truly didn't want to hurt Hermione on the stone.

"I know," she said softly, coming back to herself slightly, enough to pull her head away and upright, to look slightly down at him while he pumped into her depths. "I love you both. I know it's weird. But I feel like I- like I always have."

"You're- at first," Harry confessed, "You were like a sister. One I always wanted. Then..."

"What, Harry?" Hermione whispered, "Tell me what changed."

"Puberty," he growled, staring down at her cleavage, just visible at the top, "Puberty did it. Two years ago. I just couldn't- I didn't know what to do about it. Lilith... showed me how."

"I should thank the tart, then," Hermione whispered, "Because I've been waiting a long time for both of you. And now... fuck it's good. That's great, Harry. Don't stop."

Harry snorted, "I can go for an hour, if you want."

"M- Maybe not that long," Hermione shuddered, pulling him tight against her for a few seconds, "I think even one more small climax- she exhaled, panting, "might make me pass out."

"You don't care about- about Lilith?" he asked, still, despite fucking her up against the wall, in some ways 'just' the seventh 'conquest' he'd had since summoning the demoness, if Hermione disapproved.

"Not- maybe a little, but- n- not right now," Hermione moaned, pulling one arm from around his neck to tug her shirt up above her chest, giving him easier access. Like her knickers, Harry was happy to see the bra was white and blue striped, and in fact, from what Harry had seen, her breasts were dead-average in size, but stunningly proportioned and shaped. The one nipple he'd freed (or had she been the one?) was light and pink, like the small areola around it, but stiff as a rock and jutting between his fingers. He thought for a moment about suckling, but instead leaned in to capture her lips with his, heedless that those same lips had licked off Ron's semen a few days before, then smacked at his own mere minutes earlier.

They were Hermione's lips, so he didn't care.

Fortunately, she didn't seem to notice Harry's implication that he did, in some ways, still see her as a sister. That might be uncomfortable.

But for him, it was a secret thrill.

"You're sure... inside?" he grunted a few seconds later.

"Gods, yes," she said, "Don't you dare pull out."

She came with him, both groaning into the other's mouth, until Harry's shaking knees could not support him, much less both, and they slid painfully to the stone floor.

They continued to lean against each other, his hands idly working her chest, now, their tongues dancing softly, while he, too, softened inside her then eventually, with a light plop, fell free.

Hermione then, with a coy smile, pushed Harry onto his back then, pulling the cloak about herself again, bent low to lick him clean, much as Lilith had done the previous day.

It was almost, Harry thought, too much. But Hermione only continued to lick their juices off him until she was satisfied, then, staring into his eyes, swallowed it all, before giggling and pulling her sweater back down before gesturing him to his feet. "Come on, we should get going."

Only, they did not get far.

No sooner had the two Cloak-covered teens rounded the corner than Hermione stopped cold.

Dean was now on his back, nude, erect once more, and there was no Ginny.

"Where did she go?" Hermione whispered, "Did she- see?"

"I don't think she was here at all," Harry whispered, the pieces only just then clicking into place, "Did you see how awkward and stiff she was? It was like... a robot Ginny, not really her. Like the room created her as- I don't know, some kind of sex toy for Dean."

"You could use that a lot," Hermione whispered, eyes locked onto Dean's penis, her hand still in his.

"I could," Harry admitted, "Now that I think about it, but... only if I'm desperate. It was so... stiff. I'd probably be better off just doing it myself, even if that never works anymore."

Hermione shrugged, "Well, if you ever get really pent up, you know you can ask me, right? I mean, I have to study, and there's apparently a war on, but... I don't want to stop. Unless..."

"No, Hermione," Harry pulled her against him, "I don't intend to stop being in love with you, or wanting your body, or anything. No matter how much I might shag other people. You were always the first on my list."

"Your... list? We'll have to discuss that in greater detail at some point, Harry Potter," she said against his chest, then pulled away and started tugging him toward the door.

Only to stop a moment later, let go of his hand, and make her way to the bed.

There, gingerly, he watched as Hermione bent over, licked a bit of pre- or maybe old cum from the tip of Dean's penis, took his head in her mouth, sucked once, and then pulled off with a pop.

Again, she swallowed the lot before returning to Harry.

"Now," she whispered with a saucy wink, "I can say I've sucked off three boys. That's two more than Lavender- if she asks."

"D- Damn," Harry murmured, "I can't believe..."

"That I did that in front of you?" Hermione asked shyly.

Harry shook his head, "No, that I can believe- you probably like people watching, too, if you like to watch- but I can't believe how sexy it was."

Hermione shuddered, then immediately grabbed his hand and made for the door, "We really need to get out of here if we plan on getting any sleep tonight, lover-boy. I'm not ready for a threesome with Dean, quite yet."

Harry's eyebrows rose. His last shot, the last thing either said before separating in the now-empty Gryffindor common room, was, "The idea does have some merit..."

Wednesday evening, Hermione dropped her backpack onto her bed with a huff before glancing around the empty dorm-room. As usual, Lavender and Parvati's section of the room was full of clutter, mostly make-up containers and loose stacks of Teen Witch Weekly or similar rags, while Fay and Luca's were more organized but still filled with various knicknacks, like extra brooms, beater's bats, and a cauldron that Luca had melted through with Seamus' help the previous year. Her own area, by contrast, was neatly organized with everything in it aside from the book she was currently reading before bed put away neatly. The sight of it drove her mad.

But it shouldn't, Hermione frowned as she reminded herself, I like things organized. Just because I can't decide who I love more between Ron and Harry doesn't mean I don't like being in control of my life. I like things to go smoothly. So I like things to be organized.

Still, the girl knew something had to change, had to give. It wasn't her part of the dormitory that was the problem, Hermione was more self-aware than to think that was actually true. No, the need to just change things, to make a mess out of her structured life was but a symptom of a larger issue. I'm... randy. I want to shag Ron. I want to blow Harry again. Hell... I want to blow Dean, too, and if either Neville or Seamus asked, I probably would. I'm... How? Why? It doesn't make any sense. I can blame it all on Lilith's influence, but it can't just be that, can it? I know...

Hermione sighed as she dropped onto her bed and pulled her feet up to sit in nearly a lotus position while she worked to keep her mind focused. Her eyes drifted shut as she put her powerful mind to use. I've always been curious about sexuality, of course, and humans are built to experience physical pleasure so of course I enjoy when they touch me, too, but...

Have I always been so... wanton?

To that, Hermione had no answer. Her first truly sexual experience of any kind had been witnessing her parents making love, and her own curiosity had driven her to watch for several minutes rather than push her away or give her the feeling most teens, she guessed, would ascribe to that scenario: disgust. No, she had thought it then (and now) quite beautiful. A demonstration of passion and physicality, but also of love and romance. Which, she reasoned, would explain why I want to have that with Ron and Harry both, because at this point I'm fairly certainly I'm truly in love with both of them. But that doesn't explain the... other things.

She was certainly not 'in love' with Seamus Finnegan, or Dean Thomas, or Neville Longbottom. Yet... I have to admit, I would gladly suck them off. If they were brave enough to do what Harry did, and drive me wild with need for more, I'd probably shag them, too. Which would make me a slag. But I don't feel like a slag.

The girl sighed once more, then spoke out loud into the empty room, "I just don't have enough data points. I need more information. I need... research." Decided, she stood up, shucked her outer robes as classes were over for the day, and glanced quickly at herself in the mirror. Not worth the bother. I know he doesn't care if I 'gussy up'. Then she snorted in self-derisive amusement for a moment before striding from the room and back down the stairs.

She found her quarry in the common room, studying for once, and for a moment Hermione felt affection and pride wash over her. It's even Transfiguration. Well... sorry, Ron, but I'm going to be selfish for once. She glanced quickly at Harry, next to the red-head, then at the taller young man in question. "Ron? Can I talk to you for a bit in private?"

He jumped at the first mention of his name and, like Harry, smiled when he saw her. "Sure, Hermione. What's up?"

"In private," she reminded him, "Er... let's take a walk?"

She had not intended to be so unsure, but Ron didn't seem to notice. Harry had, she knew, because he raised one eyebrow, but did nothing else aside from share a questioning look. She kept her own face carefully neutral, hoping he would not read too much (accurate or not) into her secrecy. "See you later, mate," Ron said casually, leaving his books where they were at the table he and Harry were using. She couldn't help but admire him as he stretched to the point of his back popping, then watched him for a few moments as he walked toward the portrait-hole. "You coming?"

"Er... yes, sorry," she muttered, but couldn't help but respond mentally, I sure as hell hope so...

Hermione did not waste time on a meandering stroll, however. Instead, she quickly took the lead. Within five minutes, they were standing across from the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. She ignored her target for a moment more as she paced back and forth, then gave him one last, hopefully smokey-eyed look before she led the way inside without a word. Hermione smiled as she saw what the Room had created. The image wasn't perfect, but it was very close.

"Er... is this... your bedroom? Back home, I mean?"

Hermione nodded, "Close enough. Ron... I had sex with Harry."

She watched him, one of her best friends, someone she loved, as his face, his entire body, seemed to wilt. It took a piece of her heart with it, but a moment later, he stood up. For the first time in what seemed like years, Hermione did not know what he was thinking based on his expression. It was neither angry nor sad, and she could not place what it meant. Then he said, "You told me you wanted to keep things fair. I figured you'd, you know, use your mouth when you went with him that night."

"And that's all I planned on doing," she whimpered softly, stepping past him to sit on the edge of the fake bed, finding it quite as comfortable as her real one. "We... we came across two, er, people, in the Room. They were using it first, for, uh... things. And I did do... that. But then he, er, offered to return the favor, and with those others distracting me and... I didn't say no."

"So you shagged with others watching?"

Again, Hermione was surprised by the lack of accusation or hurt in Ron's voice, but still felt the need to clarify, to explain, as something so powerful she could not deny it. "Er... not exactly. He used his mouth on me. And... and he was really good. It... I came. Hard. A lot, actually, and I..."

"I'd have done that if you asked, for sure," Ron told her flatly, "but I don't blame you for that. It'd... be a bit hypocritical of me, after..."

Hermione looked up at him for the first time in more than a minute. "Er... I didn't think of that," she acknowledged, "but I also didn't, well... double standards and all."

"Huh?"

"We've talked about this already," Hermione reminded him, "if a guy has a bunch of girls, he's a 'stud', but if a girl sleeps around, she's a slag."

"Yeah, right," Ron nodded, stepping to her desk chair and sitting down facing her, "but we've talked about other stuff, too. If you're with me and Harry, you aren't a slag, you're just... our girlfriend. Or whatever."

She nodded slowly. This didn't make sense. Ron was the jealous type. Surely he was upset that he hadn't been, couldn't be, her first? Even if she was jealous herself that she was neither of her boys'. Yet, that too would be hypocritical. She wanted sex, the same as they did, but had been too unwilling (until Harry) to provide it herself, so how could she, logically, blame them for going elsewhere?

If I'm honest with myself, some part of me even likes the idea. My boys- my men- are so 'manly' that just one woman can't satisfy them. I... Mum would be furious if she found out Daddy ever cheated on her, but I'm not Mum. But it would be damned hypocritical of me to want both of them for myself, if I can't make up my mind, either.

Also... it's hard to think with Ron standing there, looking so... so... yummy.

Hermione swallowed deeply as she gave up trying to figure out the best course of action, and let her eyes rake up and down her taller friend's body. Even clad in robes, she could tell he was fit, lean, strong. And his cock tasted so good... even his semen tasted a bit like cream crackers. Cream... God, I want some of it. I want him.

She swallowed again, then looked up. "Ron?"

"Hm?"

"It... it isn't fair." She wanted to continue the sentence, to explain, but... he was so distracting. Hermione wanted to blame her lust on Lilith's appearance, for she certainly noticed a school-wide increase in students pressing the boundaries of what was socially acceptable, much less allowed by Umbridge's insanely-strict decrees. But she could not, not completely at any rate. She had been having this issue since she was twelve, but with every month it had grown incrementally more severe. Now...

"Huh? What's not fair?" Ron asked, running a hand down the back of his neck while he continued to peer around her room, no doubt gathering far more insight into her character than he let on. Not that anything was entirely accurate, she knew. Pulling any of the numerous books from the bookshelves (and there were many of those) would reveal mostly blank pages if removed by anyone but her. The Room of Requirement could only reproduce perfect copies of things within Hogwarts' grounds, and even that had limitations, as evidenced by the flat, robotic-like Ginny 'doll' Dean had used to get himself off on the night she'd lost her virginity.

Hm. Well, if Ron continues being too clueless, I guess I could try that myself. But I'm not ready to give up yet. I'll just have to... be blunt. "It's not fair... that Harry's been with me, and you haven't. If we're going to be together, long-term, I... we should do it too, don't you think?"

Predictably, Ron blushed deeply, his mouth suddenly falling open for a few moments before it shut again with a clack. "Er... I mean, of- of course, if- If you want to," he stammered, "I don't... I wouldn't want to, er, p- pressure you."

Suddenly feeling much more in control of herself thanks to Ron's own shyness, Hermione let herself relax just a little by stretching up, making sure to arch her back in a way that accentuated her full, but not over-large chest as she shrugged her own robes off her shoulders. "Hmm... well, Harry and I did it a couple of days ago, and I don't feel like I'm too sore."

"So, uh... just to be clear," Ron asked as he turned to face her, eyes locked onto her school blouse as she unbuttoned the top two, displaying a not insignificant amount of cleavage, "you, er, mean right now, right? Like... here?"

"Right now, right here," Hermione agreed with what she hoped was a sultry, teasing smile as she continued to unbutton, but paused half-way through once she was sure he could see her cream-colored brassiere, "Unless... you don't want to?"

"No!" he cried, "No, I- I do. I really do. Gods, Hermione, don't you know I've fancied you for years now?"

She grinned, "Well... your performance the other night did give me a few hints. Tell me... did you like it when I used my mouth on you?"

He smiled too, and she giggled a bit to see the glazed look fall over his eyes as he remembered, "Uh, yes, Hermione. Merlin, that was brilliant. I mean, you said you'd never... done that before, but it felt so good."

"Well... I'd like to try again, if you don't mind," Hermione murmured softly, "but only to get you... warmed up. Then... maybe you'd like to return the favor before the, uh, the- the main event?"

He chuckled too as her words faltered on the last sentence, a blush of her own stealing completely down the gap between both sides of her shirt, which was now fully open but still covered her breasts. "I thought you'd never ask. Er... maybe we should start with you first, though? I mean... I'm not sure I'll, uh... l-"

"If you don't last," Hermione interrupted, "We can always just keep going until you can again."

"Okay!" Ron agreed at once, and burst into motion, quickly shucking every bit of his clothing while Hermione more carefully removed hers. He pushed his boxers shamelessly down his legs first, and Hermione again goggled at his sheer length. How exactly she'd gotten him completely inside her mouth a few days previously boggled her mind. Just a bit longer than Harry, if not as thick, Hermione's mind idly calculated that at least three inches had been inside her throat itself when her lips grazed his scrotum, which currently hung down a few inches in the increasingly hot weather.

Hermione let the bra fall carefully at first, but forced herself to appear brazen and without a hint of shyness as she bared herself to Ron for the first time, too. Even before, when she'd blown him in their dorm, she had kept the knickers and bra on. Now, it was just the former. She let Ron stare for a few seconds, smirking confidently as one hand moved to his member, already hard, and started stroking it while he gazed upon her, licking his lips hungrily. Then she crouched, just a little, to force her knickers down around the curve of her hips and stood tall again. "Ron? Stay there."

"Uh, huh," he muttered, seemingly barely cognizant as she stepped toward him, one of her fake pillows in hand, and dropped it at his feet before sinking to her knees. Days before, she had been so eager just to try it that the girl hadn't given herself time to admire the slender, pale rod her friend sported. She pushed it against his thick thatch of red curls first, sliding her open palm and hand against hit from bottom to top, then following gently with her tongue washing it back and forth, then held it there as she licked back down before laving his furry sack, too, all the way around his balls, even behind them a bit before finally angling him down to her face.

"Fucking amazing," Ron murmured, "You're so amazing, Hermione."

"Thank you, Ron," she replied just as quietly, then took his tip into her mouth. Hermione liked to think that her libido was quite healthy compared to most girls, and as she'd already thought to herself, she dreamed about having sex on a regular basis, especially with Ron and Harry. Recently, though, those particular dreams had become, if not less frequent, lesser in proportion to the number she had of a cock in her mouth. The feminist in her might have thought it demeaning to service a boy like that, if the same feminist didn't know full well how much power it gave her over that same man. Nothing so crude as to bite him off- she'd never, unless maybe it was a Death Eater who'd forced himself on her- but she could hurt him, and she definitely controlled his pleasure. Boys, as Lavender was wont to say, would do anything for a good blowjob.

Hermione didn't know if that was true, but it sure felt like it as her lips sealed around Ron's dick and she sank lower, her eyes moving up to look into his which were glazed over again. I am in complete control right now, she thought to herself, and pushed herself further. I want to taste him again, all of him. God, I love this...

And she did. Hermione knew it deep down in the depths of her soul, knew it as deeply as that she was a woman, that she loved magic, her family, and that she loved Ron and Harry both.

Hermione Granger absolutely loved sucking cocks.

So her tongue danced over him as she took him deeper, then released him slowly, making sure to keep up the pressure. Heat built up in her depths, stronger than it had been at any time except right before she had begged Harry to fuck her in another version of this very room, and she knew that she would not forgive Ron if he left after one orgasm. But she was also not about to just have sex with him, either. No...she wanted to taste him, fresh and hot, on her tongue and against the back of her throat, to feel his slimy goo sliding around her mouth and down her esophagus.

There wasn't even a question of gagging as he pushed past her tonsils again and again, and soon Hermione, aside from the gack, gack sounds her throat made as it adjusted to his size and released, she could hear an unsteady drip, drip as her sopping-wet pussy ran down her left leg, but on the right simply dripped from her folds.

I- I haven't even touched myself, she realized dimly, but I'm about to cum- I'm going to cum just from sucking Ron's dick.

His grunting tipped her over, and more by accident than design Hermione's mouth gaped open as she arched backward, pulling most of the way off him so only the very tip of Ron's penis was resting on her tongue when he unloaded, shooting several times into her mouth. The heat, the smell, the flavor of it both prolonged her orgasm and made it more intense, so that Hermione was shaking from her pelvis to her elbows as she collapsed backward onto her arms.

She was still savoring his flavor unconsciously, swishing Ron's seed back and forth in her mouth, swallowing it bit by bit as she felt her world spin.

It wasn't until he put her down that she realized Ron had picked her up to put her on the bed, and she did not really return to reality fully until his lips closed around her swollen clit.

Then she shrieked, and forgot herself for several minutes as Ron's tongue lashed around her, lapping up her copious fluid. She was still panting, "Yes, yes, yes," when he, several minutes later, stood up again and asked a simple question.

She didn't even hear it, not really, but knew afterward that the answer would have been the same.

All at once, the empty aching need, partially sated but also left with greater longing, was full as Ron slammed himself into her. She cried out again as he pulled away, half-way out, then pushed against her womb.

And Hermione was lost, just as securely as she had been when Harry had been the one shagging her brains out against the fake wall of the astronomy tower.

Even years later, she could not fully recall the events of the next hours. What she did know was that it was not the first or last time Ron had been inside her, but that he was still there, snoring quietly beside her when she woke up the next day, aching, sore, and finally sated... for now.

A/N2: Review, folks! New chapters posted monthly, but I will post early when I hit 10 reviews per chapter!

Also, yes, that means that Hermione (and many other girls) will be 'sharing' themselves, and not just with Ron and Harry. There will be a 'core group', an extended group, and then 'the friends'. I'll leave it up to you to figure out who's going where, but the core will have about 10 people total, the extended 20 or so, and many more 'friends'. Think of it as something like building a circle of Death Eaters... except that's not what they're eating. ;)