Chapter 13

Me Versus My Peachy Brain

Things at Hogwarts proceeded forward from there. I buried myself in classwork. Harry continued his occlumency classes. Ron remained clueless. Our secret meetings went well. All of us were learning and perfecting our defensive spells. Almost everyone had a patronus, although some were non-corporeal. Ron had a hyper, little dog, Ginny had a horse, Cho had a swan, and Luna had a really cool hare.

I could see the attraction between Harry and Cho growing. Typically, Harry was too shy, or should I say awkward to act on it. At the same time, I could see it bothering Ginny.

Umbridge was getting more relentless at tracking us down. It was getting harder and harder to dodge Filch and her squadron of minions in order to make our meeting.

One afternoon, I was walking around the grounds taking a break from classwork. It was a pleasant day for February. As I walked around the corner of the greenhouses, I stumbled into Seamus and his crew taking a smoke break. I had not touched his pipe since the day I flashed everyone on the beach. After that, I had promised myself to avoid his pipe. However, the pressures of the world weakened my resolve. It did not take much encouragement to bring it back into my hand.

Before long, that special feeling came over me and I was laughing and acting silly. All was well and I was stoned to the max and a fearless girl. If Voldemort, himself, were to appear in front of us, I would have probably offered him up the pipe.

Before long, we had worked ourselves into a tumultuous uproar. Nice as it was, it was still cold, too cold for a dip in the lake, but we still ended up on the lakeshore. Seamus, MacGuffin, Fledge, and Woody mooned a group of merpeople who stuck their heads up out of the water to see what all of the commotion was about. The next thing I knew, Krystyl and Rosemary were flashing their bristols at them. I started laughing like a hyena. Then, all of the eyes turned to me. I could feel their stares like Imperius Curses hitting me. The next thing I knew, I had my robe off, and my jumper, blouse, and bra pulled up to my chin. I was shaking my little boobies for all I was worth and laughing hysterically.

Once we redressed, we went back up to the greenhouses and smoked another bowl. Before long, I felt an irresistible wave of sleepiness. The next thing I knew, Rosemary and Krystyl were shaking me back to consciousness. I had no idea how long I had been asleep.

We all went back inside in time for dinner. My buzz had mellowed out and I was fine but ravenous. I ate dinner with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Gryffindors. Once I was finished eating enough to make Ron of all people comment on it, we headed upstairs.

We started to settle into the common room when I decided to go to the Prefects' Bath for a soak. I tried to entice Ron to come along but he said he was going to play Exploding Snap with some of the others—when will he ever get a clue? I went up to my room and gathered my stuff. I did not even bother changing into my suit. I made my way back downstairs and gave Ron a frown as I passed him. He gave me a clueless "What's up with that" look. Errrr!

I walked to the entrance to the bath and said "Daisy Fresh". The place was silent as I entered the changing area. Apparently, I was alone. I pulled off my clothes and turned to grab my suit. As I did, I saw my reflection in the mirrored wall. "HOLY SHIT!" my mind screamed. "WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?" My entire front was painted from my neck down with a face resembling Dumbledore's. My nipples were his eyes, my belly button was his mouth. The tip of his beard was the hair starting to cover my peach.

I did not know what to think. I had heard of things like this happening to people who fell asleep at parties. I always thought it was kind of funny. However, this was different. This was me. I felt totally violated. It was going to take time for me to sort things out in my mind.

An hour later, I had removed my decorations with the assistance of Myrtle. She told me to turn off all of the faucets except for the ones with the pink water. I stood under them as I scrubbed myself. I was having visions of bats flying out of people's noses the entire time—that is how Ginny would have responded. Once I was finished, I thanked Myrtle as I got out of the bath. I promised to come chat with her on occasion if she kept this quiet.

The next day, as everyone was leaving the dining hall after lunch, I caught up with Krystyl and Rosemary. "What the hell, guys?" I said in an angry whisper.

"Take it easy," replied Krystyl. "They painted me up like a jack-o-lantern last Halloween. I couldn't undress around my roomies for three days."

"Fledge and Woody got painted like twin, pink fairies one time. I got painted up like a house elf, " added Rosemary. "Seamus, well he hasn't fallen asleep, yet. But when he does, he is going to regret it."

"Did the guys—uh—did they touch—" I started to say before Krystyl cut me off.

"—No. No. We have an unwritten rule about that," she said. "I put the eyebrows and lashes on your nips. Rosemary did your beard."

"Oh—uh—well—uh—okay," I sputtered.

Harry finally mustered up the courage to ask Cho out on a date. They met at Madam Puddifoots on Valentine's Day. I had good feelings about it. However, something happened during their date that Harry would not discuss. He was quite depressed when he came into The Three Broomsticks to meet with Luna and me. "Boys! If it was for our need for them to hunt and gather, and to lift heavy objects, I think we would be better off without them much of the time. How humanity survived this long is often mystifying"

We had convinced Rita Skeeter to interview Harry for The Quibbler instead of The Daily Prophet. The Prophet was wholly in the pocket of the Ministry. I think she agreed mostly to stay on my good side. It took some time, but Harry finally agreed to do the interview. He met with her later that day.

On 21 February, Gryffindor played Hufflepuff in Quidditch. It was a painful match lasting only 22 minutes. Even though Ginny caught the snitch, we lost by 10 points due to Ron failing to stop far too many goals. It was very disappointing.

The Quibbler published the interview in its March issue on 23 February. Umbridge was enraged by the article. She tried to ban possession of The Quibbler with Educational Decree #27. It backfired magnificently. Whereas The Quibbler was only sparsely read before at the school, now everyone was reading it.

At the same time as Umbridge was trying to eliminate The Quibbler, she was pressing forward with her attempts to control, manipulate, and intimidate the professors. While most of them grumbled and did not put up much resistance, Professor McGonagall was struggling to withhold her tongue. I think she was doing it out of respect for Professor Dumbledore.

Of all of the professors, Umbridge seemed to dislike Professor Trelawney the most. Her spacey personality seemed to get under Umbridge's pink facade more than the others. It all came to a head in early March. The sounds of shouting students drew me out of the library. Umbridge was trying to throw and sobbing Professor Trewlawney out of the school. Even though I do not like Divination—I think of it as a particularly wooly subject. I was outraged. Fortunately, Professor Dumbledore appeared in the nick of time. He could not prevent Umbridge from sacking her, but he used his authority as headmaster to the professor to stay in the castle.

The following day, Professor Dumbledore further infuriated Umbridge. He appointed the centaur Firenze as the next Divination professor.

Classroom 11 on the main floor was converted to the new Divination Classroom to accommodate Firenze's difficulty with all of the stairs necessary to get to and from the classroom in the North Tower. It was decorated to resemble the forest where he lived complete with a starry sky.

Our first class was on 10 March. The night before, Harry had a nightmare about Azkaban escapee Augustus Rookwood. Rookwood had told Voldemort that the prophecy could not be retrieved by anyone except by the subject of the prophecy.

Firenze introduced us to the astronomy-based Divination of the Centaurs. I am not certain as to how much faith I am going to put in it. I know the centaurs seem to possess some kind of mystical knowledge. I am going to wait and see. At least, it was an interesting, new approach to the subject.

Spring was coming, and I was studying hard. Umbridge felt closer than ever to our meetings. Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, a group entirely made up of Slytherin students, was ratting out the slightest violations by students. However, their main focus was trying to catch us.

On the first of April, Dobby appeared to Harry and warned him that the Army had been compromised and found out. It turned out that Marietta Edgecombe, Cho Chang's best friend, had told Umbridge our secret location. This was confirmed the next time I saw her. The word SNEAK was painted across her face in large, permanent boils. She claimed she did it because she thought her mother would lose her job at the Ministry if her membership was discovered. Fortunately, Kingsley Schacklebolt was able to modify her memory before Umbridge was about to learn more from her.

Harry was hauled into Dumbledore's office before the Minister, Umbridge, and several other security people. In order to protect Harry, Dumbledore took the blame for everything. Before they could arrest him, he disappeared in a flash of smoke and fire.

This was a frightening situation. Even though he had been remote for much of the year, now we were defenseless. Umbridge was made the headmistress by the Minister the next day.

Now that Umbridge was in charge, her repressive behavior was turned on high. Her efforts to support the increasingly paranoid Fudge were making life intolerable. And, to make things worse, we were without Dumbledore's wisdom to guide us. Our little army was reduced to little more than a few angry students fighting to find a place to hide from her constant harangue.

All of this was causing my mind to work at twice its normal, manic pace. It was getting increasingly difficult to enjoy a good night of sleep. One night, I found myself locked in a discussion with myself over my sexuality. Try as I did, I could not shut up my brain and stop thinking about it.

Brain: Why is it so hard for you to just admit you are a lesbian?

Me: I am not a lesbian. I have told Pansy, Samantha, and Daphne that more than once.

Brain: Who are you trying to convince—you or them?

Me: I am not trying to convince anyone. I am not a lesbian.

Brain: Funny. You certainly are acting like one. All of your sexual experiences are with other girls—and you seem to be getting a lot of enjoyment out of them.

Me: That is beside the point. I am under a lot of stress.

Brain: So, this is just an outlet to reduce it.

Me: No—uh—yes—uh—uh—maybe. I don't—and—and—Ron is not helping things—and—and—none of the other boys are, either.

Brain: So the boys are forcing you to become a lesbian.

Me: No. But they are not helping things. Why won't they pay attention to me? I am not a troll. I am better-looking and nicer than that toad Millicent Bulstrode.

Brain: What does she have to do with you being a lesbian?

Me: DAMN IT. I AM NOT A LESBIAN. It's because she has a boyfriend. So does Eloise Midgen—and—and even Luna has Harry part of the time. Now shuttit brain.

Brain: Okay. But if you are not a lesbian, then you have to be something. What are you?

Me: I SAID SHUTTIT.

Brain: Maybe you are bisexual.

Me: What? I do not think I am that, either.

Brain: At least bi-curious then. You must be something like that. You say you like boys but at the same time, you get a lot of pleasure from burying your face in Pansy's fanny—almost as much as you do from having her face between your legs. And you are always quick to put on that strap-on and fuck her. You love to listen to her while you are pumping away.

Me: I am certainly not bi-curious. I do not lust after other girls when I am walking around the school. I do not get all wet when looking at another girl's arse or bristol in the showers. I do not imagine them naked with my face in their fanny.

Brain: But you admit you look at other girls. You have to admit there are some pretty hot ones here—girls that make you jealous of their bodies.

Me: I do have to admit Angelina and Hannah and some of those Beauxbatons girls from last year were—DAMN IT BRAIN! SHUTIT! I—AM—NOT—A—LESBIAN! I am not infatuated with looking at other girl's butts and boobs. I wish there was an on-and-off switch for you. Sometimes I wish I was a dullard like Crabbe or Goyle—only worrying about finding something to stuff in my face.

Brain: Oh. That is interesting. Maybe you are non-binary or trans?

Me: Merlin's Marbles! Why do I read so much? I am a girl. I do not think I am a boy. I do not dream about dressing like one. I do not want to be one—or—something in between.

Brain: So you are convinced you are a girl. You are not a lesbian or bisexual person, or trans or non-binary. What is your vision for the future?

Me: I see myself happily married sitting on a porch swing in front of my home. It is a stone cottage with moss on the roof like I saw on vacation with my parents in Norway. It will have ivy on the walls. I have a cat sleeping on my lap and a good book to read. Sometimes it is in the mountains. Other times, it is at the seashore. My kids are playing in the garden. Sometimes there are two—a boy and a girl. Other times there are three. They are chasing a ball with their dog. He is a big dog that can keep the foxes away from our chickens. We have sheep for wool and goats for milk. It is very bucolic.

Brain: My. That is a wonderful vision. Where is your husband? Do you have a husband?

Me: I can always see him working outside or in the other room.

Brain: Who is he? Is it Ron?

Me: That is what bothers me about the scene. It is like that dream about my wedding. I can never see the face. But I want it to be Ron. Now, it's 3:00 am. Shuttup and let me sleep.

Brain: But I have so many more questions. What about the next time you get a note from—

Me: —Shuttit.

Then I got up and walked to the loo. When I got back, I finally managed to go to sleep.

In the morning, I got up and dressed. As we were all walking down to breakfast, Samantha asked me if everything was alright.

"I'm fine," I said. "Why?"

"You were tossing and turning a lot last night. You woke me up a couple of times."

"Me, too," said Parvati.

"I'm sorry. I could not get my brain to shut up."

"Oh," said Parvati. "At least it was not a nightmare."

"I hate it when that happens," replied Samantha. "I have learned not to snack before bed."

Later that morning, the rebellion against Umbridge began. Our most radical members were Fred and George. I think it is ingrained in their very make-up to be rebellious. The next day, they set off an entire crate of their newest, finest fireworks in the halls of the school. Dragon's, Catherine Wheels, and other creations were paralyzing the ability of students to poke their heads out of classrooms. Unlike normal fireworks, they seem to be gaining strength as time passed.

The fireworks lasted until dinner time. We were all famished by the time we found our places at the tables. The house elves seemed to sense the hunger in the hall. They filled the tables with a meal just short of a banquet—or maybe they were celebrating a little bit, too.

As dinner was finally winding down, a note landed on my dessert plate. I had a suspicion about its content. After my extended argument with myself last night, I was conflicted about opening it. Pansy was giving me furtive glances as I hesitated. Finally, I opened it.

It said, "How about an hour from now upstairs? It was signed with her little drawing of a flower.

Well, I am ashamed to admit that after a few seconds, my bane, the itch in my little peach became insistent. I smiled at Pansy and gave her a wink and a nod.

I got up and excused myself. I am not certain anyone noticed. They were all engrossed in Fred and George telling them all about their latest creations.

I hurried upstairs and changed into my bathing suit. My entire argument with my brain was out the window. Maybe my brain had been right all along. My little peach was running the show. I felt embarrassed, almost ashamed of myself, but I could not help it. I was in need of some relief.

When I got to the Prefects' Bath, I could hear the delightful bubbling water as I entered the dressing room. I stripped off my clothes and grabbed a robe and towel. I was tempted to take off my suit, as well. I had never been that bold in the past. I was sure Pansy would like it. Fortunately, I chickened out.

I walked into the pool room and almost fainted. Pansy was in her regular spot. However, she was not alone. The other side of the pool was lined up with five Ravenclaw and four Hufflepuff prefects. The excitement of the day must have drawn them to an evening soak.

I stepped in the waters and took a place a respectful distance from Pansy. The others invited us to join them. Pansy and I decided to talk, instead.

"Sorry," said Pansy in a sad voice. "I thought we'd be alone."

"It's alright," I replied, trying to mask my disappointment. "A nice soak will be nice. I've been having trouble sleeping lately."

"Stress?"

"Yeah. Umbridge does that to you, and—and my brain. Sometimes it will not let me sleep," I moaned. "I had one of those long, 3 am discussions—uh—arguments with it last night."

"What was it about?" Pansy asked as she leaned back.

"I cannot seem to shake the idea that I might be a lesbian or something like that."

"I don't think you are a lesbian any more than I am."

"Why do you say that? I mean you have Draco, so I know you are not. But I have never even made out with a boy," I replied. "What makes you so certain?"

"But you want to. You have said that before. And I know how you feel about Weasley. I can see it when you look at him. But there is more than that."

"More? What kind of more?" asked Hermione.

"We used to sit in the back of Defense class and laugh at the way you and Susan Bones would be drooling over Lockhart," responded Pansy. "Most of us, including all of the Slytherins, thought he might be gay, what with him primping and preening, and his love of lilac that put him right up there with Umbridge and pink—"

"—Oh—" gasped Hermione as her cheeks turned pink.

"—And then," she continued, "You, and to be honest, almost every girl in the school was lusting after Cedric Diggory and Viktor Krum. You tried to hide it but we all could see your true feelings. No lesbian would have been acting that way."

"I never realized I was so transparent. I guess the only person I was fooling was myself."

"Do you remember me watching you when Krum asked you to go to the ball?"

"Yes. I think half of the reason I said yes was because of the way you were scowling at me. You were making me angry. Otherwise, I might not have gathered up the courage to accept his offer. I was really frightened."

"Well, I was livid after you said yes. I got in a fight with Daphne. I said you played him like Paganini with a violin. He was married to my great-great-something-grandmother. She used charms to make him that good. Anyway, Daphne disagreed. I guess she was right after all.

"If I am not a lesbian, then do you think I might be bisexual? Are you bisexual?"

"No. I do not think either of us is bisexual, either. I don't walk around lusting after other girls—and—and—I have never seen you doing that, either. If it was not for the way you threw yourself at me in the pub after our discussion, I would probably never have crossed the line we did—why did you throw yourself at me like that?"

"Oh—uh—uh—," sputtered Hermione, her face as red as her suit. "I—uh—uh—I am not sure I should talk about that."

"I thought we were beyond not being able to talk about things. I fought with Draco. I came into the pub looking for him. We talked, and then you practically raped me on a table. I think I deserve an explanation."

"Well—okay," relented Hermione. "It is just a little embarrassing."

"More embarrassing than trying to rape me on a table in public?"

"You know I am pretty naive, or at least I was. Anyway, two of my friends invited me down to the pub for a few butterbeers and some chips. They said I needed a little—uh—'stimulation' in my life I believe is the word they used. One of them took me upstairs while the other headed for the pub. When we got to our dorms, she fished a pair of knickers out of her trunk and insisted I put them on. I resisted for a while but finally gave in. They had a plastic thing in them that poked me in my little peach. I said something but she just said to ignore it. It was there for fun and not to worry about it."

"That sounds suspicious, said Pansy.

"I know. But she was my friend. I trusted her. Anyway, by the time the three of us made it to the pub, the plastic thing had heated me up a bit. But, I was still in control. As we sat down, my other friend pulled something out of her bag. She pushed a button and turned a dial. The little plastic thing in the knickers buzzed to life. It was a remote control vibrator."

"Holy crap! You're kidding," exclaimed Pansy.

"No. I am not. They started taking turns winding me up to the edge, then stopping. I tried to escape, but when I did, they gave it to me in full force. I thought I was going to explode. It went on for at least half an hour. Then, just when I thought they were finally going to have mercy on me and let me cum, you walked in."

"Yeah. I was looking for Draco. We fought. I had to find him. I thought he was paying too much attention to Astoria Greengrass. I needed to find him to try to explain my concerns. Then, I saw you. I was wanting to talk to you about, well, you know, being more civil to each other. I think we were making progress, even though you seemed distracted. Now, I know why," chuckled Pansy causing Hermione to blush again. As we were wrapping up our talk, I moved to give you a little hug. And that's when you—uh—"

"—Yeah. That's when I tried to rape you. My friends had turned off the vibrator and hid the control when you started over. I think they were afraid of getting in trouble. But, after we talked a bit, they turned it back on and started poking me. That is why I seemed distracted. Then, when you tried to hug me, they turned it on maximum. I was cumming my brains out when we started hugging. If they had not turned it off. I might have raped you right there."

"Bloody hell," gushed Pansy. "Maybe we should join the others before they start to talk about us."

"Yes," agreed Hermione. "I think that is a good idea.

I was pleased to learn the others were talking about their dislike for Umbridge and her repressive practices. All of the Hufflepuff prefects opposed Umbridge, Her only supporters were Slytherin, Percy Weasley, and Penelope Clearwater. This explained why she was not here with her fellow Ravenclaws. As for Pansy, I think her support was weak but hostage of Draco.

We learned that the professors of the school were quietly behind us from this event. None of them, not McGonagall, Snape, not even Flitwick who could surely have stopped the chaos, did anything to intervene. Umbridge was furious.

Harry finally finished his occlumency lessons. He said he had decided to become an auror. McGonagall backed his decision. Umbridge tried to discourage him. Fred and George were becoming increasingly agitated by life at the school. I had shut down their use of fellow students as beta testers for their newest creations. It all blew up on 22 April—the day after their seventeenth birthdays.

During dinner, they had told everyone to come up to the fifth floor if they had an interest in owning a portable swamp. They also said people looking to purchase their wares could come to their new shop, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes located at 93 Diagon Alley. They had, so I learned later, been given the 1000 galleons Harry won from winning the Triwizard Tournament and used it to open a store.

A few hours after dinner, Mr. Filtch caught them turning a corridor into a swamp. He informed Umbridge who quickly appeared to confront them. She told them they were going to find out what happens to wrongdoers at Hogwarts. They say, "No. I don't think we will." as they swished their wands and summoned the brooms. As they swept away, They told Peeves to give her hell. Peeves removed his hat and saluted them as they disappeared.