ANNOUNCEMENT, PLEASE READ: I create treon last week! You can find it here: p a treon . com (slash) MidgardsOrmen.
It doesn't have any fanfiction content because — I'm sorry people who do this, but — that's illegal. Just… straight up copyright infringement and you can get sued or even sent to prison for it.
Besides, I personally would feel ick about making money using characters and a world that someone else put their heart and soul into creating. Even if I would absolutely make more money if I put a few chapters behind an early access paywall.
What patrons do get, in addition to my eternal gratitude, is some of my own — entirely original — writing at least once a month.
This could be smut, a short story, a chapter to a longer story, hell, even a portion of a screenplay! There's a poll every month where patrons can decide what they want to see.
So, if any of that sounds interesting to you, you want more details, or if you just want to show your support and appreciation for me and my writing, go ahead and check out that link above (after removing the spaces).
To celebrate the launch, I already have TWO pieces posted: a short patron-only smut fic, and the first chapter of a longer eldritch horror fantasy story I've been writing, which is available to everyone.
Apart from that, pretty much all I have to say here is: in case you missed it in chapter one, the characters are aged up a lil bit so they're 18 instead of 15 like in canon, and also this is set in the modern world instead of the 90s.
That out of the way, enjoy the chapter.
The instant the door to the compartment sealed shut behind her, Hermione collapsed against it.
Her normally calm and contemplative expression was replaced with one of abject horror, her hands clamped over her mouth as if to hold back a scream.
What'd I do!?
What'd I do!?
What'd I do!?
What did I just do!? The frantic question bounced around inside her cranium like a coked-up child in a bouncy castle.
Unfortunately, this didn't seem to help with actually figuring out an answer.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! She tried inarticulate screaming instead.
That also didn't help. But, it did make her feel a little better.
Not as good as when Harry had been fucking his huge cock down her helpless throat-
She shook her head violently, dispelling the memory with a growl of frustration that sent the first year who had just popped his head out of the compartment opposite her scurrying back inside to hide behind his friend.
The reminder that she wasn't alone during her impending breakdown, and that Harry himself would likely be exiting the compartment soon, was enough to jolt her brain back into action.
She needed help. She needed it bad and she needed it now.
She hadn't earned the title of 'the brightest witch of her age' without being clever enough to know her own strengths and weaknesses.
Need someone to learn a new spell in under an hour? No problem.
How about reading and retaining an entire book in less than a day, no matter how dense the material? She could do that too.
Figure out what to do about somehow accidentally convincing your best friend to fuck your face like a cheap whore? Dead loss.
So who would be the person to ask for help?
Under any sane circumstances, her first and last answer would've been Harry. That wasn't an option here though for obvious reasons.
Ron? The mere idea made her feel almost ill. Even if she wasn't sure that he would blow up at the mere idea that she and Harry might've done something intimate, he was hardly the person to talk to about anything even approaching a relationship issue.
Ginny? NO. She didn't even want to imagine how that conversation would go.
"Hi, Gin, you know that guy you've had a crush on since you were thirteen and who I've assured you many times I only see as a friend? Yeah… I accidentally sucked his massive cock and I can still taste his cum on my tongue. Oops?" That way lay death and the total destruction of her one close female friendship.
Lavender? Again, no. Her dorm mate certainly acted as if she would have the kind of knowledge the situation would require, but Hermione couldn't think of a time she'd heard of the blonde actually doing anything even close to what she and Harry had. At least, not from her. There had been plenty of boys to make grand claims about how much experience they'd had with her.
Not to mention that anything she told her would be all over the train before she could even finish explaining.
Tonks? She almost dismissed the thought out of hand, confused as to why she would even consider the cheerful auror. However, on further consideration, it actually wasn't a half-bad idea.
Tonks was older, she would obviously be much more experienced, and better able to offer advice, than anyone she might name among her classmates. She was also relaxed, approachable, and fun. She'd definitely be willing to hear her out without biting her head off about impropriety or whatever Mrs Weasley or her mother most certainly would.
And she was used to keeping secrets as both an auror and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She could be trusted not to go blabbing the information about anywhere.
Having a definite plan of action made it feel like she had a solid grip on the world once more, and she was able to slip back into the compartment with Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville as calmly as you pleased. She even managed to explain that she'd had a talk with Harry and convinced him not to be such an idiot without so much as a stutter.
Luckily, everyone was too distracted by Harry's return to notice the way she kneaded her thighs together when he met her gaze. There was still fire in those emerald eyes, and it made her shiver deliciously to feel it searing against her skin.
Rather than tempt fate any further, she busied herself with writing her plea for help to Tonks for the rest of the journey. Studiously refusing to notice the way Harry kept trying to catch her eye.
This proved much easier than she had expected, as, after a few minutes of concerted shifting and staring, Harry huffed and allowed himself to be drawn into a discussion about next year's quidditch team with Ron and Ginny. His distraction allowed her to calm her pounding heart enough to throw away the parchment she had half covered in complete gibberish while pretending to be busy and draw out another to actually write her letter on.
The sixteen further pieces of parchment she subsequently discarded whilst attempting to formulate a coherent request for advice served admirably to while away the time remaining in the journey back to King's Cross.
In fact, the only major moment of concern was when the train arrived and they all got up to leave. In the confusing press of bodies attempting to force their way out into the hall, she and Harry ended up pressed against each other. She felt his opinion on that and was only a little guilty that she managed to slip aside and let Ginny take her place instead.
Although, given the way her face immediately flushed up as red as her hair, it might not have been the best idea.
Still better than her initial plan of grinding her arse back against Harry until he ripped her panties off from under her skirt and buried his throbbing cock inside her needy quim.
Maybe.
"Hermione!" The familiar sound of her mum calling her name thankfully served to break her from that dangerous line of thought.
Unfortunately, it also made her jump like a startled cat. Earning her a pair of concerned stares from her parents.
"Is everything alright, sweetie?" Her dad asked, taking his glasses off and cleaning them on his jumper so he could level his piercing parental gaze on her without obstruction.
"Yes!" She said, too fast and too eagerly. "I'm fine, I was just lost in thought and you startled me." That came out better.
Her parents glanced at each other, some silent conversation passing between them as she tried not to seem too concerned with what they might be saying.
"So, Harry's doing better now?" Her mother probed, her expression far too innocent to be genuine.
"What!?" It came out as a squawk, how did they know!?
The knowing look her parents shared made her want to crawl into a hole and snog a dementor.
It was even worse when her mother stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "He's still having trouble with that teacher, huh?"
Teacher!? The relief was so overwhelming her legs almost folded underneath her. They thought she was out of sorts because she was worrying about Harry and Umbridge!
"Oh, no!" She laughed, the relief making her almost giddy. "She got sacked! And quite rightly too! I swear, I've never seen a teacher so fundamentally unwilling and incapable of instructing students! To think that the ministry would allow her to teach so important a subject as Defence Against the Dark Arts! Even during the Wars of Educational Reform in the 15th century-" it was easy to slip back into the comfortable familiarity of historical trivia. Made even more so by the indulgent smiles her mum and dad shared at hearing their daughter begin yet another lecture on obscure historical minutia of the magical world.
It also served nicely to make them forget all about her strange behaviour when they first met.
"Anyway," she smiled, once she had finished her impromptu lecture, "I'm so happy to see you both!" She hugged first her mum, then her dad, squeezing tightly and giving them each her best beaming smile.
"It's lovely to see you too, Hermione." Her mum grinned back, patting her back affectionately.
"But what is it you want?" Her dad finished, ruffling her hair affectionately before bending down to take the handle of her trunk for her.
"I am happy to see you!" She huffed, crossing her arms petulantly.
"We know," her dad laughed, drawing the last word out.
"But normally you're champing at the bit to rush home and start on your homework." Her mother continued.
"Or reciting your exams for us question by question." Her dad rejoined.
"Or talking about how strong and handsome Harry's got this year."
"Mum!" It was no different from their usual teasing, but in light of what had happened on the train, she couldn't help but feel quite a bit more flustered.
"We're only teasing, dear." Her mother soothed. They had reached the car by now, and her mother opened the boot so Hermione and her dad could heave her trunk up into it.
"Well, in return for your baseless slander," she ignored their quiet snickering in favour of maintaining her imperious demeanour. "You can take me to Diagon Alley, I need to post a letter."
"A letter to Har-"
"Daaaad!" Her parents were the worst.
Tonks sighed and stretched like a cat.
Which, being a metamorphmagus, was quite a bit more literal a description than for most witches. Her arms lengthened as she straightened them out above her head, her back arching far more than should've been possible for the human spine.
"You do know," Kingsley's slow, deep voice rumbled next to her, "that it is incredibly unsettling when you do that?"
"Do wot?" She asked innocently, leaning backwards until her neck folded over the top of her chair and the back of her head was resting against the wood. She smiled her best upside-down Cheshire smile at her partner as he simply raised an eyebrow at her antics.
"You know what, Nymphadora." The hated name brought her neck snapping back into place as her hair flushed crimson.
"I hate my stupid mother for calling me that." She grumbled, signing the form she had been filling out with an angry scribble.
"She was doing a public service." It wasn't easy to tell when Kingsley was teasing, and there were quite a few in the auror office who would've sworn he was above such things. But she knew that smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Just like you when you volunteered to handle all this paperwork for us." With vindictive pleasure, she dumped the remaining stack of her paperwork on top of Kingsley's similarly sized stack before skipping off toward the door. "Thanks, Shack!" She sing-songed over her shoulder, letting the heavy wood and glass door to the auror office slam shut behind her just as he started to voice his objections.
She'd make it up to him another time by handling an extra patrol or writing up their next arrest report, but, for now, she simply basked in the glow of victory.
Cackling, she darted off to the apparition point and, with an elegant twirl, vanished from the Ministry. In an instant, she was back in her flat, and she continued her twirl for a moment before collapsing back onto her bed with a contented moan.
"Oh, bed," she sighed, luxuriating in its comforting embrace, "I've missed you." With an ungainly wriggle, she flopped herself further up onto the bed, kicking her shoes off and tangling herself up in her far-too-expensive blankets.
"Did you miss me too?" She cooed, snuggling herself up inside her impromptu cocoon and basking in the small bit of luxury she damn well deserved after a long gruelling shift.
Unfortunately, her domestic bliss was shattered by an insistent tapping at the window. Tap-tap!
She ignored it, whatever it was could wait until she'd had her customary after-work nap.
TAP-TAP-TAP! The tapping came again, louder and more emphatically this time.
"Ugh!" She groaned, flailing her way out of her blanket cocoon and sitting up to glare balefully at whichever foolish mortal dared interrupt her quality time with her bed.
The handsome horned owl sitting on her windowsill looked singularly unimpressed by her attempt to ignite it with her eyes.
Sighing, she pushed herself up onto her feet and crossed the room to open the window and allow the offending avian to hop inside.
It did so, holding out its leg to allow her to untie the letter attached to it.
"I swear, if this is Shack telling me to come back to the Ministry…" She grumbled darkly, quickly pulling the letter free and tossing the owl a treat as she grabbed her wand to cast her customary diagnostic charms on the letter.
She found nothing, and the owl hooted imperiously before departing out the still-open window, which then slid itself shut with a final flick of her wand.
The handwriting on the letter was familiar, but not immediately recognisable. Which honestly narrowed the potential sender down quite a bit, given how few people wrote her letters. Why bother when you could just text? Even more so with how unfailingly neat and precise this handwriting was.
Slitting the envelope open with a specially extended nail, she flopped back down onto her bed to read the letter.
"Dear Tonks,
I apologise for writing to you out of the blue like this, but I was hoping you'd be willing to offer me your advice."
Hermione, she identified the author with an indulgent smile. No one else would be so stuffy.
"Recently, I had an amorous encounter with a close friend. It sort of happened by accident."
Well, there went her bet with Shack. Still, good for Ron! About time he got his head out of his arse.
"I'm worried this will change things between us, and I'm afraid I've messed everything up. Even though I enjoyed it… a lot, I don't know if it happened because I like him in that way or if I was just, well, horny, I suppose you'd say."
Tonks couldn't help but snigger at how much it had obviously pained Hermione to write such a thing. It was adorable, but she could well remember the confusing mess of feelings and hormones she'd been drowning in at her age.
At least Hermione didn't have to worry about her tits growing two cup sizes every time the guy she liked met her eyes.
So many lost bras.
After a moment of respectful silence for those fallen in the line of duty, she continued reading.
"I know he enjoyed it, but I don't know if there were any deeper feelings behind it for him either.
I may have also somewhat hinted that it might be something we do again.
PLEASE HELP!
You're the only person I can talk to about this and I'm really hoping you have some advice for how I can get this all to make sense again.
THANK YOU,
Hermione"
Well, it was no less than her duty to help out the younger generation, and she had more or less adopted the younger witch as a little sister the previous summer.
Flipping the letter over, she wrote a quick reply saying she'd be happy to help and inviting Hermione to meet her at a small muggle coffee shop the coming weekend. This was then dispatched with her owl, and — her civic duty done — she returned to bed for a very well-deserved nap.
It'd be nice to catch up with Hermione, and it was good that she was still able to get so worked up about snogging a boy she liked after what had happened at the Ministry.
Tonks frowned, the reminder of the fiasco in the Department of Mysteries sending a hollow stab of misery lancing into her heart. She hadn't known Sirius for long, but she could already see why her mother had looked so sad and conflicted whenever he was brought up before they found out he was innocent.
He'd been fun, loyal, brave, and kind. Even if those pranks of his could suck an egg out of her arse. She couldn't even imagine how Harry must be feeling about it.
With that in mind, she sighed before rolling out of bed yet again. Damn her bleeding heart and basic sense of human decency.
Sitting herself down at her desk, she penned a brief letter to Harry. She kept the condolences to a minimum, it didn't take more than five minutes with him to realise he loathed anything that could be construed as pity. She asked how he was doing, aimed a few good-natured jabs at his muggle relatives, and suggested he join her for a night out in muggle London sometime soon.
Dumbledore would throw a fit if he knew, of course, but the chances of any of Voldemort's supporters being caught dead in a muggle nightclub were lower than those of that toad Umbridge managing to not be a bitch for five whole minutes.
Besides, he was eighteen now — and if anyone deserved to get drunk and let off a little steam it was him.
She realised that she had no means of actually sending this letter only when she had sealed the envelope and looked around for her owl.
"Bugger."
End AN: No smut this chapter, I'm afraid. I did say it was porn with plot, after all. You know where there is smut, though? On my p a treon. Just saying ;)
Next Friday (15th November) I'll be posting chapter four of Tyrant Rising. The next chapter of Would That Work will be coming out Friday the 13th of December.
If you enjoyed my work and want to read more — or just to support me — please consider checking out my P a treon: p a treon . com (slash) MidgardsOrmen.