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. This is the first new one, so expect monthly updates. Unless, of course, I actually ever reach 10 reviews per new chapter (hint, hint). Then I'll post as much as 2 weeks early.

Enjoy, pervs.

Chap. 9: Pre-Exam Butterflies

While Harry was unsurprised to see Hermione looking a bit stressed the next morning at breakfast, a quick glance around showed him that he, Ron, and Hermione were among the very least harassed or worried-looking out of the entire fifth- and seventh-year student bodies.

A more thorough scan revealed that Cho and Marietta, at least, were more relaxed as far as the sixth years went, though of course, they did not have O.W.L.s to worry about, only end of year examinations. Tests which, from all that Harry had heard, were considerably easier than the previous year's standardized testing, and far too easy compared to the final year's.

In fact, aside from him, Ron, and Hermione, the only Gryffindor fifth-year Harry could describe as even remotely relaxed was, to his surprise, Neville.

Of course, the boy was, like Hermione and Ron, studying frantically at the breakfast table, trying to fit in some last-minute review for the Charms Theory written exam, which would begin, according to the clock-face above the entrance doors, in just about fifteen minutes.

What could Harry attribute this relaxed- well, more relaxed- feeling to, compared to that of his peers? He could attribute it to one thing, and one thing only.

You look a little tense, Master. You'll do fine, I think. Relax. Would you like a blow-job to help?

Harry blinked, coughing. Fortunately, he had not just taken a sip of pumpkin juice, though he wouldn't have put it past the Succubus to time her input deliberately for that effect. Er- n- no, not right now, thanks. Maybe if there's time between the Theory and Practical, after lunch?

He had to repeat the thought again, a little more briefly but with more intent behind it, before Lilith seemed to hear. When she did, all he heard in his mind was, Your choice, Master. You have time for a quicky though, if you can snag a girl...

Harry swallowed, trying hard to fight down the growing bulge in his trousers. Robes or not, that would be uncomfortably revealing if he stood up just then.

He had just gotten it back down when the daily owl deliveries resumed.

Again, there was an article in the Prophet that Hermione received, but it was merely a repeat of the special edition from the previous night, with no new information.

Still, thinking about Snape and Umbridge- and that poor, poor cat- did the job, letting Harry fully quell his libido before Professor McGonagall stood and, tapping her goblet for silence with a silver spoon, called, "Students! Students, if I may have your attention! The staff would like for you, please, to exit the Great Hall at this time. Those in the first through fourth, and sixth, years, please return to your regularly scheduled classes. Those in the seventh year may proceed, in an orderly fashion, to the second floor corridor on the right hand side, where staff will give them individual instruction as to where their tests are to begin. Fifth year students will return their bags or other school belongings, including ink and quills, to their dormitories and return to the entry hall until you are called in for your Theory of Charms examination. Thank you."

It was, to the best that Harry could recall, almost exactly the same information that Dumbledore had given the fifth- and seventh-year students in the previous four years that he'd witnessed. Doubtless, the speech had been so well-rehearsed over both his and McGonagall's tenure, that she had little reason to review the information before handing it out.

Still, with a great grinding of benches and shuffling of feet, he joined the vast throng heading for the doors, his heart pounding in his chest.

He should have dedicated more time to studying.

Not shagging.

Suddenly, Harry felt woefully unprepared for what were supposed to be extremely challenging tests.

But, ten minutes later as he sat, still breathless from dashing up to the dorm room and back with Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville, he had little time to dwell on it.

No sooner had they, the last Gryffindors to arrive (and almost the last students, only a rather green-looking Draco Malfoy and a furious-looking Pansy Parkinson arrived after them, the former with a limp that Harry was overjoyed to see), than Professor McGonogall opened the Great Hall doors and ushered them inside. "Sit in any place you like, all stations are identical. You will use the ink and quill- and only the ink and quill- provided, each of which has been enchanted with the strictest anti-cheating charms. Let me assure you that, as with the tests two years from now and all of your O.W.L.s, many generations of students have gone before you. You will not succeed where they have not, and where they succeeded, you will also fail. The Wizarding Examinations Authority is not to be trifled with, and any cheating will be dealt with... harshly. Do not turn over your pages until you are instructed to do so by Professor Marchbanks."

Harry quietly joined the queue heading through the doors. It was a much more subdued affair than the panicked rush most had left the Great Hall in just a few minutes earlier. Had they, like he, resigned themselves to their fate?

Looking around as he passed through the doors, giving a solemn, worried nod to Professor McGonagall, who returned it with a tight-lipped smile, Harry swallowed.

The room was nearly identically arranged to how it had appeared in Snape's memory of the day he'd called Harry's mother a Mudblood, with only a few more desks added for the larger class size in their year. He gave a little smile, then slipped in behind Hermione, with Ron sliding in next to her on the right. On Harry's right sat Neville, who immediately began gnawing on his thumbnail.

The ancient-looking witch, the eldest of the lot who had appeared the previous day, sat on the desk that had replaced the staff table on the dais at the far end of the room. The other examiners and Professors McGonagall, Vector and Burbage stood around the sides of the room. A few seconds after the last student had sat down, Marchbanks stood, and in a thin, reedy voice under the obvious effects of the sonorus charm, called, "When I say to turn your pages over, the test begins. Your time will end at precisely eleven. Unanswered questions will not be marked against you, but nor will they count toward your final grade. If you do not know something, it is better to skip it than be incorrect. Cheating of any sort will not be tolerated, and the proctors and I will have our eyes open. If you need assistance, your quill breaks, or for any other urgent need, simply raise your hand and a proctor will assist you. If you need a bathroom break, do the same. You are permitted one five-minute break before lunch, which will occur at nine in the morning. You will be permitted only to use the restrooms without escort at that time, and proctors will be preventing you from going beyond the entrance hall restrooms. Attempting to get past them for any reasons short of life-threatening emergencyies is grounds for failing this examination."

Before Harry could even truly process how dire that threat was, she had said just three more words: "You may begin."

He hurriedly flipped his test over, skimmed the instructions, and... exhaled in relief.

He, like Ron, knew the Levitation Charm backward and forward. With a grin, he began to write.

By ten thirty, he was in a bit more of a bind.

There was a charm to turn paint into acid? Where had they learned that? Had he missed that day?

The next question, too, Harry had to leave blank. Why would someone invent a charm to expel mucous from their nose? Wasn't that what blowing it and tissues were for?

Then, Harry grinned in relief. Finally, one he could answer!

A) describe the wand movement, and B) the incantation, of a charm to amplify one's voice.

Sonorous, merely touching the tip of your wand to the voice box, he wrote, then scratched it out and reversed the order. For a moment, he wondered if that would be marked against him, then decided that if it was, there was nothing he could do about it.

One more question... ten more minutes. Harry took a deep breath, then looked down the page.

A) What is the maximum radius allowed by the Silencing Charm, and B) why does that limit exist?

Harry blinked, thought for a moment. Esoteric knowledge like that was really more Hermione's thing, but... Something about... sound waves...?

He grinned again, and set quill to parchment. The maximum effective radius of the Silencing Charm is fifteen feet from the point of origin, which has led to some Muggle myths or games having such effects or spells as "Silence, 15' Radius". The reason is not magical in nature at all. It is, according to the leading theory of the day, penned by Miranda Goshawk, that the air molecules are stifled in that immediate area, preventing them from bouncing off each other to carry a sound wave. Beyond 10', the effect of the spell is drastically harder to maintain due to the level of force required with exponentially increasing volume contained, and at 15' there is just too much motion for any human to stop with a single spell. Layering and overlapping the spell is somewhat effective, however, though it does, according to Goshawk, have diminishing returns.

For a moment, Harry felt inordinately proud of himself.

He had three minutes to spare, and he'd finished almost completely, only skipping three questions total.

On four, like the last question, he'd even added extra information in an almost Hermione-esque manner.

So he, at least, was smiling when he led Ron, Hermione, and Neville out of the Hall and into the entrance chamber so the staff could return the usual tables for lunch.

"I can't believe I did something so stupid," Hermione muttered, "Mis-writing how the Cheering Charm works..."

"Relax, Hermione," Ron said consolingly, putting an arm over her shoulders as he led her to the stairs to take a seat along many of the other students, "You did fine, and you'd know it if you'd just believe in yourself like we do."

"Don't be silly, Ron," she half-sobbed, "I'm sure I did just terribly."

"Well," Harry said with a smile, "If you did terribly, then I'm sure Ron and I are about to be tossed out of Hogwarts."

"Don't even say that," Hermione groaned, though she did give a weak smile when Ron laughed with him.

Knowing that she would be okay, and that Ron was, at least, resigned to whatever would happen (he was not so invested in being an Auror as Harry was, only wanting the job because Harry did and because 'Aurors are cool'), Harry took the chance to look around at the other students.

Many of them were still visibly worried about their performance, and even Neville looked a bit more worried, but his eyes stopped on Daphne Greengrass, who looked more... what was the word? Panicked? No... but definitely more stressed than the other Slytherins. She was standing by herself, leaning against a statue near the doors, back in a corner. And... reading?

Where, Harry wondered, was her friend?

After a moment's looking around, he spotted the dark-haired girl reading furiously herself, a dozen or so feet away from Daphne. "I'll be right back," he murmured to Ron, then started wending his way through the throng.

Fortunately, there was just enough cover that he was fairly certain his best friends weren't in sight when he slipped around into the little alcove. Ron still wasn't, Harry thought, entirely on board with him having shagged a Slytherin, future concubine or not, and he didn't want to add fuel to the fire. Not to mention, if anyone saw the two of them talking...

It might start rumors.

Harry looked down at the book before she noticed him. Hexes for the Vexed. The same Defense book she had reviewed last week in Potions, when they had shared a desk. "Personally," Harry said quietly, making her jump, "I preferred The Dark Arts Outsmarted. Hexes is a decent read, plenty of good information, but it's just offense. A good duellist or fighter needs both offense and defense."

"What would you know about it?" Daphne asked brusquely, shooting him a glare, "And who said you could talk to me, or that I wanted your advice?"

"Relax," Harry said, smiling, "No one is looking this way, and no one could see you past me, since you're sitting down in the dark. I'm just a guy leaning against a statue, along, talking to myself. No need to worry yourself."

Indeed, after the glance at her book, Harry wasn't looking at the blonde, either. Instead, he was watching the crowd, and moving his mouth as little as possible just in case someone really was watching.

"Fine," she grumbled, "That only answers one thing."

"I know quite a lot about Defense, actually," Harry said a little smugly, "given that everything I ever said in Umbridge's class or in the interview for the Quibbler is true. Not to mention the Defense group I teach."

Daphne was silent for several seconds. "That... the Inquisitorial Squad was put together, according to Malfoy, just to find you. Unless you're lying."

"Little old me?" Harry smiled fully for what felt like the first time in weeks, "I'm honored."

"You've been a real thorn in Umbridge's side... don't suppose you had anything to do with her 'scandal'?"

Harry shrugged, "Not that I can say for sure. I might have given someone an idea, but I didn't directly involve myself in any way."

Again, she was quiet for a few seconds. Then, just when he thought she wouldn't respond, Daphne murmured, "Very Slytherin of you, Potter. I wouldn't have expected it. Well handled, too, from what I can see. You'll have to... explain in more detail, sometime. Sometime not at school."

"Maybe," he nodded, speaking softly since a Ravenclaw girl he didn't know was walking nearby, muttering incantations to herself, "If you can make it worth my while, of course. You're all about dealing, right? Making deals?"

She snorted, "If that's what you want to think, I suppose I can continue that way. I was mostly just looking to hear a fascinating tale of someone being put in their place after being a raging cow."

"Well, then, Miss Greengrass," Harry replied, "I might be more willing to oblige, then. But I really don't know too much. Anyway, how did you do?"

"I performed adequately, of course," Daphne said with a small scowl, "How else would I do? I'm a perfectly capable witch, thank you. While I may not be Granger, I do have a brain between my ears."

"As you do," Harry agreed at once, "and I'm sorry if I implied otherwise. I was just... hoping for a civil conversation that doesn't involve deals or how much we both dislike Malfoy or Umbridge."

Whatever Daphne had been about to say got caught in her throat. Instead, she turned slightly pink and looked down.

This time, she said nothing until Harry gave up and was a few paces away. Then, she whispered quietly, "Dark Arts Outsmarted?"

He nodded, glancing back with a smile, then returned to his friends, just in time for lunch.

Demonstrating the same charms he had just been asked to write about was not, in Harry's opinion, an entirely difficult proposition.

The oldest, male examiner, probably within a decade of Marchbanks herself, a very bald, wrinkled old wizard named Tofty, had been the one to examine Harry. While Harry would never consider himself a Charms master, he did know magic in general fairly well by that point, and even surprised himself with the ease and confidence he felt in casting what, for the most part, were fairly basic, simple charms. Making a teacup tapdance, while not useful, was something they learned early in second year.

Animation charms, temporary though they were, had whiled away many an hour that year. Color changing charms were even easier, a bit longer lasting, and had occupied hours the previous year. Levitation, too, he had mastered at roughly the same speed as Ron. Growth charms, though... The thought of something swelling made him think of sex.

Predictably, his cast for that spell had been a bit awry. His spell, while a correctly pronounced engorgio charm, did not hit the duck he had been aiming at. Instead, it hit Professor Tofty's pants.

They, again predictably, fell to the ground nearly at once. Fortunately, the older wizard was wearing thick robes, and was quick to react. Only Harry, it turned out, saw anything untoward.

"Mm... not to worry, Potter," Professor Tofty grumbled, "Not the first time that's happened... only seems to happen to me, for some reason. Maybe next year I'll invest in some suspenders, hmm? Of course, I think I said that last year, too... but your charm worked, and that's the important thing. Maybe work on your aim. Off you go."

Harry sighed, leaning back into his favorite armchair by the fire in the Gryffindor common room. To his right, on the couch sat Hermione and Ron, with Neville on his left. Beyond Ron, Lavender Brown sat in the nearer of the two armchairs on the opposite side.

The only other occupants of the room at the hour, despite it being only eight in the evening, were two seventh-years Harry did not know the name of, snogging quietly in the farthest, darkest corner.

Hermione, stifling a yawn, spoke up, the first voice Harry had heard for more than twenty minutes, "Alright, that's enough for me. I'm going to bed. Good night, all, and good luck to us tomorrow."

Each of them nodded, wishing Hermione a good night, including Lavender, who had been giving her roommate the stink-eye for days ever since she had verbally complained that she couldn't remember half of what she'd been taught in the previous five years.

Perhaps it was a bit unfair of Hermione to cattily reply that, if Lavender had paid as much attention to her schoolwork as her hair, clothes, or boys, she would have an easier time. As it was, though, Harry was simply glad that the two hadn't been at each other's throats this evening.

In fact, when Ron, then Lavender, begged off, headed for bed themselves, it was the quietest night Harry could remember, and, despite the stress of the tests they were now fully into, he felt more relaxed than he had in months.

True, the O.W.L. exams were very important to his, and all Hogwarts students' futures, but really, they were just... not that challenging. Perhaps it was the lower overall stress level?

The thought made Harry blink, looking up from the Transfiguration notes Hermione had dropped on top of Ron's, who had then dropped them on top of Harry's, before heading to bed.

A quick glance behind him to the right showed that the seventh-year boy had his hand well inside the other girl's robes, but neither seemed to even be aware of the two remaining fifth-years, so he didn't think much of it. Neville, though, was mouthing along as he read through his own notes rapidly, his lips tight.

"Hey, Neville," Harry whispered.

The other boy did not respond.

"Neville," he hissed again, this time a bit louder and more forceful. The other boy jumped, eyes darting around wildly for a moment, before settling on Harry with a scowl.

"What, Harry?"

It was such an unfamiliar expression, aside from in the D.A., that Harry almost snapped back out of reflex before he caught himself, and forced himself to say what he had originally intended. "Erm... you look a bit stressed, that's all. I was wondering if there was... something I could do. To help."

"No, thank you," his roommate sighed after staring, unseeing, at him for a few seconds, then raking his hand through his own dark hair. "I'm... I think I'm going to go to bed. The words are starting to run together, anyway."

"Hold on," Harry interrupted, holding up a hand to stall his friend, "No, really. I think I can help. You... you remember that potion I gave you, right?"

Neville immediately blushed, but his exhausted expression switched to another frown, as he glanced into the far corner. "Yeah, but I'm too tired to wait for it to kick in, and I'm not really interested in seeing... well, whoever that is."

"I know," Harry explained, lowering his hand and leaning in, giving one more glance around the room to be sure no one was listening, "But I... have an idea, and I think it'll help. It's a bit more... well, tactile."

Neville frowned, shooting Harry a half-curious, half-annoyed look, "I don't know what you're thinking, Harry, but I'm not going to wank for you, or anything. You aren't my type."

Before he could stop himself, Harry laughed, making the girl in the corner squeak- apparently, she really had forgotten other people might be in the room. "No, no, that's not what I..."

He waited, watching with his eyes as the older students, both blushing, gave each other a final kiss goodnight then darted up the stairs to their respective dorms. Once they were gone and the doors shut behind them, he leaned in, "You might've noticed I'm more relaxed, lately? I found a... a friend. One who is willing to help with... that sort of thing. She's very pretty, and very good at what she does."

"And who's this 'friend'," Neville asked suspiciously.

That, as well, was not an expression Harry was used to seeing on the other boy, but he had to admit to himself that, had Neville been the one to tell Harry the same information, he would probably react the same way. "I can't tell you," he replied quietly, "For her own protection. You understand- she doesn't want, well..."

"A reputation as a slag?"

Harry nodded.

Neville remained tense for several seconds, then let all the air out of his lungs with a sigh, running both hands through his now messy hair as he leaned back much as Harry had been, eyes locked on the low fire. "I... look, I like the idea, but... I don't want to be with a slag. You already know there's someone I..."

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I get that. I really do. But I'm not asking you to make love to her, or anything. Just... let her help you. You'll be more relaxed and less tense for the O.W.L.s tomorrow, if nothing else."

Neville sighed again. "You and Ron both had her, yeah?"

"No," Harry said truthfully, "Well... in the way I expect she'll be helping you, yes. But so far as I know, the only person she's been with that way has been me."

"I really don't think Hermione would agree," Neville sighed, leaning back even further and closing his eyes, "And if she did, I..."

"It's not Hermione," Harry said when he trailed off.

Neville was quiet for a while, the only sound their own breathing and the quiet crackle of the fire, occasionally interrupted by the whip of an owl's wing as it hunted near the window. "And... okay, say I agree. Then what? It's too late to get a hold of anyone."

Harry fished in his pocket briefly for his D.A. coin, lifting it out to hold up for a moment. "This isn't how I can get a hold of her," he explained, "But what if it was something like this? And she could get here safely?"

Neville gulped. "And... then what? Where would we go? What would I have to do? How would I... I don't know, r- repay the favor?"

Harry was the one to frown this time. "Repay? No way. This is me trying to help you out, it doesn't need payment or repayment. I was thinking right here, since everyone else is in bed. And no, I'm not planning on blackmailing you, or the girl. I think you know me better than that. How...? Well, I was thinking of blindfolding you, but how about the girl being very, very well disillusioned? You'd be able to hear, smell, feel her, but you wouldn't be able to see her."

"I don't know. It still sounds... risky. I'm not sure."

Harry nodded, "Alright. I get it. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

He stood up, packed the notes away along with their books in his bag, and started heading for the stairs. He made it all the way to the door before Neville's voice called out, "W- Wait. I... I'll do it. If I have your word it's safe, and- and Hannah never finds out."

"It'd be as safe as I can make it," Harry replied over his shoulder, "And I can't promise that- but she won't find out from me, or from my friend, that I can promise."

Neville was silent for exactly three more seconds before he nodded. "O- Okay. What do I need to do?"

"Just close your eyes and wait," Harry replied, "I'll go get her after I drop things off. I'll wake you up- so you know it's safe- then be off to bed myself once she's here. If you fall asleep, we'll try again tomorrow. It shouldn't take long to get her, though."

Neville nodded, immediately closing his eyes and leaning back into the armchair. Harry noticed, as he turned back toward the door to the boy's stairs, the other boy surreptitiously adjusting himself in his trousers. The smile didn't fade from his face while he ascended the several flights of stairs.

Lilith was not naked on his bed when he arrived, but she was standing next to it wearing what appeared to be a girl's nightshirt of some sort, about to climb into it. Ron, Seamus, and Dean were all clearly asleep, because the Succubus greeted him verbally, if quietly, "Hello, Master. You came up later than I expected."

"I know," he said just as quietly, crossing over to the small creature and pulling her into an embrace, finishing with a brief kiss before he asked, "Do you want to go help a friend of mine?"

Lilith blinked, then glanced around the room. "Neville?"

It was, after all, the only empty bed.

Harry nodded, "He's in the common room."

Lilith considered, then nodded, "Of course, Master. I can't have sex with him, though."

"I know, he's still a virgin," Harry replied, "I'm working on that, but I'm not sure I even want you to. I just... he was really tense."

"And you thought of me?"

Harry nodded. "If you don't want to, it's fine, I just..."

"No, I do," the Succubus said with a smile, placing a finger against Harry's lips, "I'm happy to help, especially since I get to keep the results. He tastes almost as good as Master. But won't you be lonely?"

Harry shrugged, "I was thinking of going to sleep, actually. I've got Transfiguration tomorrow, remember?"

"Alright," Lilith said with a soft shrug, "I'll come join you later, but I won't wake you up if you're asleep, alright?"

Harry nodded, gave her another long kiss, then climbed into bed as she slipped from the room.

Only after the door shut did he remember he'd agreed to let Neville know it was safe. He shot out of bed as quietly as he could and dashed down the stairs, leaving the door open. He was only going to be gone a few seconds, really, it would be fine.

Fortunately, while panting, he got to the bottom of the stairs just before Lilith touched the other boy, and mentally commanded, "Wait!"

With one hand outstretched, Lilith paused, looking over her shoulder. What is it, Master?

"J- Just hold on. I told him you'd be invisible, for one thing. You can be invisible and solid, right?"

She nodded.

"Do that, then. After I signal it's safe. And keep an- whatever you use to sense other people- open. He's worried about being interrupted."

Lilith nodded once more, then turned toward Neville, letting her hand fall slowly as she partially faded from Harry's sight, I don't sense anyone else awake in the whole Tower, Master, except one frustrated older boy and one frustrated older girl... and your friend, Hermione. She's enjoying herself right now, thinking of you and Ron.

Harry grinned at the idea, but didn't let himself focus on it too much. He had things to do, like sleep. "A- Alright, Nev, it's me," he whispered from the stairs, "My friend's right in front of you. She is invisible, but you'll be able to feel her if you reach out- try not to smack her in the face. Enjoy."

Harry turned quickly after he finished speaking, but still caught just a glimpse of Neville's shocked face as Lilith started freeing his erection from his trousers before he quietly shut the door and returned to his bed.

It took him a few minutes to free his mind of the image of Neville getting a blow-job from his pet Succubus, but in the end, he didn't really find it any more unpleasant than Ron getting the same. He knew who she was really here for, who her Master truly was.

She called him that almost exclusively, after all. He drifted off within ten minutes total, relaxed and ready for a good night's sleep.

Hermione groaned in frustration as she threw the blankets off of herself and sat up. She'd always been someone who had difficulty falling asleep when she was stressed, and stress was something she felt a lot of these days. The O.W.L.s might have been most of it, true, but she was also conflicted about a few other major events.

Dumbledore no longer being in the school (he had still not been allowed to return, despite Umbridge's sacking, at least not yet) was the least of her current worries. She, like all of Harry's real friends, knew that Voldemort was out there, that he was back to full strength and gathering followers and wealth for the coming war, while the Ministry hid its head in the sand and actively worked to prevent people from believing that very thing.

The method of Umbridge's removal, foul a woman as she was, gave Hermione pause, too, but she could not fault the reasoning Lilith had given her. The wicked woman had needed to go, and while fabricating the method of her departure made Hermione wonder just how far the Succubus would be willing to go to keep her Contract, the part of the witch that was still proud, even a year later, of how she'd 'dealt with' Rita Skeeter found a perverse sort of joy in Umbridge's removal and the damage to her reputation (if nothing else) that would surely follow.

Snape... well, he may have been an expert potioneer, but Hermione knew full well that his teaching style was abysmal, and that even if he was trustworthy, which she still maintained due to her own faith in Dumbledore, the student body was likely far better off with Healer Tonks as their teacher going forward.

Which left her worries down to just a few things: Ron, Harry, and herself.

Despite both boys apparently being willing to 'share' (so long as they shared the other-planar creature, too, she knew), they could change their minds at any time if jealousy reared its head. And if she were honest with herself, Hermione just didn't know what she would do if it did. I really do love them both. I don't want to choose between them, not ever. But if I stay with both, doesn't that make Skeeter's article about me last year true, in a way? Going after Quidditch players, sure, but also leading Harry or Ron along for the other? Or that I'm a slag if I'm putting out for both?

... Which, to be fair, I am.

Shit, how did I let myself get pulled into this?

And what should I do about it? I wish one of them was here. Or both of them... I need a hug.

The last thought was a few seconds later after Hermione realized that she'd sat up in her bed fully with her legs crossed and a hand between them already moving in small circles, Or a dick.

Fuck. I really have turned into a slag... but it's awfully late to sneak over there and shag one of them. I guess it's back to the old hand...

For a moment, she debated using her wand as a dildo, now that her virginity was gone, but decided against it. Rumors of a seventh-year trying that and severely hurting herself with a mis-cast spell still echoed through her mind from the 'talk' they'd been given by prefects in their third year.

Familiar fingers, long-since used to pleasuring herself like she knew most people were at her age, melted into equally familiar folds as she leaned back on one finger and pressed two fingers of the front hand into her hole, imagining them as one of her boy's cocks. Shit, I wish one would just show up, right now... Hell, I'd even take Lilith eating me out again, I want to cum so bad just so I can sleep...

She climaxed with a soft cry a few seconds later, blissfully unaware of the soft, invisible dust that the Succubus she'd just been thinking of had been seeding her bed with for more than a week. She had always been prone to over-analysis, stress, and anxiety over her studies. But thanks to the Dust, and her manual relaxation techniques, Hermione got quite a good night's sleep for once.

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

Glossary:

Dust: Short form of saying Fog of Lust. Nothing really to it, it's just another word for the same effect.