You turned to look at your professor, only to be struck by just how fidgety she seemed.
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Only to find Professor Snape, panting, looking completely out of sorts. Her chest was still visible, much to your embarrassed pleasure, but she seemed in total more… flushed. She stood stock still, staring you down.
Occasionally, she would rub her thighs together. When you met her slightly clouded eyes, she licked her lips.
You approached the potions professor, vaguely concerned about how suddenly different your soon-to-be teacher is acting. Flushed face, shifting suddenly, looking somewhat dazed.
These were all signs of sickness! Obviously.
"Professor, are you feeling alright? You asked gently. Reaching out and taking hold of her arm.
At the contact, Snape's eyes seemed to clear somewhat, and a smile came over her face. It then seemed to melt off as the potions professor tripped something, waving her arms somewhat dramatically, before falling into you.
Unfortunately, you weren't quite steady enough to catch the other, and it sent you both tumbling to the ground, amongst the tall cauldrons.
From where you lay, you couldn't see any of the other people in the store, and you suspected, thanks to the sheer size of the cauldrons around you, you didn't figure they could see you either.
That was, actually, at the back of your mind, though. More pressing was the exact position that the two of you had landed in.
You had ended up on your back. Fortunately, though, your professor had not gotten hurt on the way to the ground. Unfortunately, you both had landed in such a way that Snape was, at the present, straddling you.
And, much to your mortification, the rather attractive, if unkept, woman was sitting directly on your crotch. Her warm, soft leather-clad ass pressing, for the second time that day, against your erection through your pants.
Not that your professor seemed to notice, or at least, she didn't care, from the look on her face. Thankfully, she quickly lifted herself ever so slightly, but that brought about its own set of difficulties.
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Her hand, which you assume had come down for the purposes of stabilizing herself, had landed, you were sure, by complete coincidence, on your crotch, coming to grip the growing bulge tightly.
"P-Professor!" You stuttered, your face burning as you stared up at her.
"Mhh', yes, Granger?" She muttered, even as her hand gripping your dick began moving. Not letting go, but… rubbing, you instead.
"I'm so sorry, but could you please get off?" You asked, voice weakening near the end as Snape lifted herself slightly once more, before lowering her body.
Something warm and soft made contact through your pants.
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You looked down, in horror, as your professor's movements put her mons in direct contact with your bulge, the tip of your cloth-covered dick pressing directly into the other. Snape only had an odd smile on her face as she stared down at the point of contact.
Then she began shifting herself back and forth, up and down, and you had to bite your tongue and hold back a groan at the sudden stimulation.
You raised your hands, to do something, but froze, unsure of where you could put that that didn't make this situation worse.
Obviously, you had done something wrong with the spell; that was the only explanation.
Unlike you, your professor didn't seem to have any qualms about letting out her voice, moaning quietly and frequently as she ground herself against you. Soon enough, you began to feel liquid seep through your jeans, and Snape began shuddering from atop you.
At one point, Snape had actually raised herself for a third time, and you thought that she was going to finally get off you, but instead, the woman lifted her body up slightly, so that she was on her knees, before dropping herself back down, letting your crotches slam together, and for your covered erection to dig even deeper than before.
Snape let out a moan so loud you thought someone was going to come check, and she seemed to lose as strength, coming dangerously close to banging her head on one of the cauldrons beside you.
She only didn't because you had finally grabbed ahold of her by the thighs, holding the woman steady as she rode out an orgasm.
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Afterwards, she finally seemed to come back to herself, smile fading into a familiar frown, before she pushed up and off you.
Snape didn't bother to offer you a hand as you stood. Instead, she eyed you, trying to gauge how you would react.
You stood there, crotch wet from her juices and cock aching from within its confines as Snape stared you down.
Your face felt warm, and you weren't quite sure what you were supposed to say in this scenario.
None of the professors that you'd had had done anything like this before. The closest you'd ever gotten was kissing Ms. Perkins on the lips.
This felt… much more dramatic in comparison.
You opened your mouth to try to speak.
"I-you-what?!"
Words, evidently, failed you.
The reaction seemed to please Snape at least, whose neutral expression changed to a pleased smirk, if with a little bit of color on her cheeks.
Taking a few deep breaths, you did your best to center yourself before trying again.
"P-professor Snape, are you alright?" You asked, for lack of anything better coming to mind.
The other's expression warped into something more neutral, surprised, before smiling again, this time pleased. She put her hands on her hips, looking oddly proud of herself.
"Just fine, Granger. Good spell work there. This Cauldron," she nodded towards the one you had lifted, "is far too reactive to brew quality potions. Let's keep searching."
Your professor then turned and walked away, hips swaying triumphantly, acting as if nothing had happened. You could still see some of her juices running down her leather-wrapped thighs, and with each step she squeaked obscenely.
Left standing there alone, you looked down at your pants, where your hard-on still pressed against your now soaked jeans.
You couldn't help but feel vaguely cheated, and then, after making a somewhat futile attempt to dry the stain, you followed.
Snape had already picked out a cauldron by the time you got there, and the two of you were out of the store quickly. You didn't think anybody had heard Snape's moans, but the shopkeeper did give you both a suspicious look as you checked out.
-x-X-x-
After your "encounter" with Snape, the amount of conversation was relatively low, with Snape walking ahead with a decidedly smug look on her face the entire time. The last item on your list, although it was really more of a want than a need, was a pet.
Your mother and father had never allowed you to get a pet, a variety of reasons being presented whenever you did ask them about it.
You were too young, you weren't responsible enough, you didn't have the time, your father was scared of quadrupeds, and many more. You weren't sure why, but this reluctance had ensured you had never gotten the pet you'd wanted.
Now, though, you had a perfectly valid excuse.
A wizard needed an animal companion after all! Your mother said that there were some faults in your logic, but to be completely honest, you didn't care.
You just wanted a cat.
So when the Hogwarts letter had specified exactly what sort of pets you could bring to the school, you'd taken advantage of the opportunity and finally convinced them that a cat wasn't a bad option, especially since it would be at Hogwarts for most of the year.
When you told Snape about your wish, the professor simply snorted before stalking off down the alley until she came to a stop in front of a shop titled The Magical Menagerie. There was a distinct scent coming from inside that reminded you of pet stores.
"I will wait out here, don't take long, Granger." Snape drawled softly, evidently still in a good mood from earlier.
You nodded before entering.
The store was dimly lit, likely because, you reflected, the various animals inside probably did not favor bright lights. And there were many, many animals.
Wall to wall, there were numerous cages, containers, and glass aquariums holding an array of creatures. Everything from toads and cats, to some beings that looked as if they belonged more on Mars than in a pet store. It was relatively quiet, as far as customers went, and when you entered, you were immediately approached by someone you assumed was the proprietor.
The gleam in his eyes spoke of some recognition, alongside, contrasting his friendly smile, a sense of disdain, in the way his eyes glinted.
"First year, I'd guess?" He asked, voice sounding artificially deep, like a child trying to do an impression of an adult.
You nodded.
The man smiled.
"Fantastic, I am Archibald Archie." As he said his name, he puffed out his chest, sending his pot belly, which hung unattractively below his white shirt, wiggling.
"Herman." You responded simply, feeling as if you needed to cover your pockets for some reason.
The man nodded profusely.
"A good name. I suppose you're here for your Owl, Cat, or Toad then, lad?"
Before you could even respond, he continued.
"You came to the right place then. Please, take a look around and let me know if you need any advice."
The offer would have been nice if not for the slightly condescending tone in his voice. You nodded gratefully anyway, before entering further into the store, heading towards the section where you spotted various cats milling about, some in cages, some not.
You, embarrassingly enough, spent a good amount of time just petting the cats, all of which seemed quite happy with the attention.
After a bit, you began moving through, inspecting each cat with a more keen eye, when something caught your attention.
A large cage.
Thicker than the rest, with bars more fit for something you'd see in the back of a constable's vehicle, and a sturdy-looking padlock hanging as well.
At least, it would have looked sturdy, if not for the fact that the bars and the padlock seemed to be in shambles, with multiple gashes and deep cuts along every inch of it. The door itself hung wide open, with the padlock barely holding on.
You inspected it further, curious what such a container could have held, when a purr caught your attention. Straightening up, you saw that, on the shelf above the broken cage, sat one of the largest cats you'd seen yet.
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Also one of the unhappiest, from the way it glared at your leisurely, it's fur a brilliant orange, and eyes an odd off yellow.
"Why hello there…" You muttered, reaching a hand up to stroke the lounging cat's fur.
Its unhappy expression didn't change, but it did give a long, slow blink before beginning to purr once more.
You were, in a word, smitten.
This was the one.
Reaching out carefully, you slowly lifted it, waiting for a negative reaction, and receiving none.
"Hello there, friend, who are you?" You asked the cat now resting in your arms, its position not having changed in the slightest.
It didn't respond, outside of another long purr.
This would work.
Carefully making your way back to the counter, not noticing how the other animals were giving you a wide berth, despite having been exceptionally affectionate before.
Approaching the counter, you found the gentleman from before reading some sort of magazine. He looked up as you approached, but choked on his own spit when he saw what was in your arms.
An odd reaction, but…
"How much for this one?" You asked, lifting your arms slightly.
Archibald recovered fast, although now he leant away from the counter, as if he were afraid you'd leap over and attack him.
"Th-that one? Are you sure, young man?"
He seemed nervous. Odd.
"Yes, I think so. What gender are they, out of curiosity?"
The shopkeeper gaped, as if your very existence, with the purring cat in your arms, was impossible. The question seemed to knock him out of his stupor, though, but as he went to answer, the creature you were holding twitched, head turning towards the wizard, and he froze.
"It…" He trailed off, eye locked on the cat. You couldn't see the fluffy animal's face, but you assumed it was the same classic grumpy look as before.
He gulped.
"We don't quite know, young man. They were a… recent, addition. Yes, we just got that one recently."
That was understandable then. You could figure it out later.
"So, how much?" You asked, smiling brightly.
You would exit the shop later with a bag full of pet supplies in one hand and a living scarf wrapped around your neck.
Snape didn't seem phased by your new addition. Merely glancing over, noting it, and nodding.
"I believe that concludes our time here today, Mr. Granger. I expect to see you in detention later." The potions professor smirked as she spoke, a look unusual on her typically stoic face.
You gulped; you had forgotten about that. Snape seemed to delight in your nerves, leaning in slightly, putting your face level with her breasts.
What you were expecting, you didn't know, but the woman slapping a hand down on your shoulder, the portkey between the two, was not it.
You looked up at her in surprise, even as she spoke the activation phrase.
Within seconds, you were standing back home, the pile of items at your side, and Snape was already walking away.
She looked back over your shoulder.
"I'll see you later, Granger." She licked her lips before disappearing in what you figured was some sort of spell.
The heavy trunk, which was still floating, dropped down beside you, and you stared at the heavy, item-filled chest, lacking wheels or handles.
That you would have to haul back to your house, a bit more than a mile.
Dammit.
-x-X-x-
In the last few weeks, between that trip to Diagon Alley with Professor Snape, and the start date of Hogwarts, you were busy.
You had to meet up with friends, all of whom were quite interested in where you were going to school, to which you had to give a non-committal answer about a place in Scotland.
You also had to take care of Crookshanks, which, wow, that was a fun thing to explain to your parents. They had been expecting you to, perhaps, get a small cat, something that would work as a lap animal and easy to care for.
Crookshanks, that was their name, you'd gotten it from one of the textbooks, was not a small cat. They weren't even a medium-sized one. No, Crookshanks was large. When the cat lay across your couch, the animal took up the entire piece of furniture, only moving to the side when you came along, glaring at your parents when they tried.
The brushing was also intense, as you found on the first day, after your mother removed an entire small animals worth of orange hair from the dryer, staring at you with a deadpan look as she did.
So you spent much of your remaining summer grooming the cat, which, when done while you were reading, was fairly relaxing. Crookshanks was pretty easy going, honestly.
(Your father still swore they were a beast from hell, but you thought he was over exaggerating.)
Speaking of reading, it was the third thing that you spent your time doing.
More specifically, you studied.
You had already managed to finish the first chapter in each of your textbooks, when your mind came back to that detention that Snape had given you, and an ugly feeling entered your chest.
You weren't used to disappointing teachers, and you worried, for a moment, whether your professor may hold a grudge.
Then your mind would grind to a halt at the memory of the Apothecary.
You blushed, pausing in your brushing of Crookshanks. The orange cat looked up at you, meowing in question, which prompted you to continue.
With the first chapters finished, notes taken, and flashcards filled out and ready for studying, you realized you still had a week or so left, so you decided to take a deeper dive into one of the subjects.
Specifically, potions.
You hoped that if you impressed Snape enough, she might forget about your earlier crimes.
So you had studied the first part of your potions textbook inside in and out, until you had gotten to the point where you were able to recite it by heart, and had succeeded in making a basic color change potion in you mother's crockpot before school had even started.
You did get in trouble for that, they still hadn't been able to scrub the neon green out of the countertop.
But finally, the day had come, and as you sat on the couch, waiting for your parents to wake up, you wondered if you were ready.
-
Your mother and father would end up waking an hour later, at 4:00 AM, and stumbling into the kitchen, both looking bleary-eyed and groggy.
You beamed at them, Crookshanks once again wrapped around your shoulders.
"Good morning! Would you like some coffee?" You asked loudly, prompting both to glare at you, before stumbling over to the full coffee pot.
A few cups of coffee later, and you all were in the car on the way to the station.
It was still early, so traffic was quiet, and King's Cross station, while not being empty, was definitely in the process of waking up itself. Your parents and you slowly, apprehensively, made your way to platform ten, stopping just before, at the pillar the orientation letter had noted in the map.
"I think this is the place." You mother uttered, a little bit sober. She clapped a hand onto your shoulder, a smile sliding into place.
"You feeling alright, sweetheart?" She asked.
Nodding back, you went to respond, but was interrupted by your father nearly cracking your spine as he picked you up in a hug.
"I'm gonna miss you, sport." He said, still trapping you in what you were sure was some type of wrestling move. You tapped his arm a few time, but rather than releasing you, he turned so your mother could join in.
The touching hug, marred only by your gasps for air, ended, and you gave your pops a playful glare.
"I'm going to have Crookshanks pee on your pillow." You threatened, before, unwillingly, you smiled back.
"Do you have everything?" Your mother asked, fussing over your hair for a moment. You pulled your list out of your pocket, quickly going through the items.
"I think so. I guess… this is it."
You stepped towards the pillar, before turning back.
"I'll write."
Your parents smiled.
"You better." Your dad playfully threatened.
Stepping through the pillar, your last sight was them waving.
On the other side, you were struck by a blast of air. It smelt… different, almost as if you had traveled to a completely different area. It was also quieter, although it hadn't been very loud before. The ambient noises of the many trains in the station, and what little people there were, were lessened.
When your vision cleared, you found yourself in a train station once more, but smaller. Looking to your right, you could see a train, already waiting in the station, alongside a few people milling around.
You couldn't help but let out a breath. There was, you would admit, some worry that you were about to run into a wall rather than phase through it.
The few people that were there, all were dress in such a way that you assumed they were wizard families. It was all pointy hats and robes as far as you could see.
You felt a little out of place, actually, looking down at your standard jeans and white shirt combo. A few of the families waiting gave you a side glance and a sneer, which didn't help your worry.
Pulling your trunk, now on a small cart, because hauling this thing without wheels was exhausting, out of the way of the entrance, you approached another nearby pillar, resting up against it as you took note of the time.
8:43 AM
You had a bit more than two hours to burn.
Wondering if you should pull out your books once more, you were interrupted when, through the portal, came a large clatter, before a small, but eye-catching group emerged. What really struck you was just how beautiful each individual was.
First, a rather tall, stern-looking man with straight blonde hair and a cane.
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After him, a blonde women, who had a rather pronounced frown. She seemed somewhat familiar…
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You realized why when, finally, bringing up the back of the group, came the last.
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The girl from Madame's, you realized. She came out of the gateway, but unlike her parents, who seemed quite stern, she practically waltzed out, a smirk on her face as she took in the platform, before following.
The three didn't spare you a glance, instead walking, as a single unit, towards an empty area, before stopping. There was a quiet conversation, mostly between the mother and the younger girl. Everyone in the room seemed to eye them for a moment, not out of distrust, or anything like that, but rather, some level of fear or reverence.
You were deadly curious.
Now first, you wanted to say, it wasn't eavesdropping.
…
It wasn't!
You were just reading in a convenient location. If someone spoke to loudly, it was honestly their fault. In fact, they should apologize to you! For interrupting.
Take now, for instance. The spot where the group of blonde family was standing was right next to a brilliantly sunny bench. The perfect reading spot.
So if you moved your items over and took a seat, cracking open the copy of Breaking with a Banshee to read a few chapters, then who could blame you?
You were only a few pages in when, by complete happenstance, you overheard their conversation.
"-and don't forget. The Potter boy will be here this year. It's the first time he's been seen out in public ever. Keep up your Occlumency shield as you don't know-"
"What Dumbledore has been teaching him, I know, Daddy. You've only told me about, I don't know, twenty times."
The girl, whose name you still didn't know, sounded just a tad bit exasperated as she spoke. Her father, on the other hand, was unmoved.
"It is important you take this seriously, Selena."
The girl scoffed, but when her mother spoke, she seemed to listen a bit more respectfully.
"You know what you must do?"
The girl rolled her eyes, but responded promptly.
"Find the brat, case him, and if I think it'd work, get him on our side."
Her mother bit her lip, and the girl, Selena, sighed, before doing her best to console her.
"I got this, Mother, it's just another drooling idiot of a teenage boy. A wink and he'll be eating out of my palm."
The mother hugged the other, seemingly having some kind of moment, before the father spoke up.
"It may be best, you two, if you do not discuss such matters in public; you never know who might overhear."
At that, the two began looking around, and you hastily tried to look engaged in your book as their eyes turned to you.
Their voices grew quiet as the group moved away, but you could still make out one last sentence.
"I think that's the boy Snape was dragging around. I don't recognize him."
A hum from the father.
"I do not recognize him, likely a half-blood or worse."
"That's what I figured, gross, right?"
Eventually, the voices became too quiet to hear, and you were left to, truly this time, read your book.
Break with a Banshee would prove to be quite engaging, as was the full body image of the author on the back cover.
You would finish nearly the entire book by the time the train started letting people board.
You were pulled from your book when the station finally started filling up. You could tell this, mainly by the fact that, when more and more Muggle-born families came through the gate, the wizarding families, mostly, cleared out quickly.
The blonde family was one of the first to go. Selene and her mother shared a quick hug, while her father patted her on the shoulder, before both departed with surprising haste.
Selene quickly vanished onto the train after, and soon, the platform was stuffed to the brim with families, both wizard and muggle, sending off their children.
Rather than rushing, you took your time packing away your book before standing. The crowd made navigating towards the train, especially with a large trunk and bags in tow, a slow but steady endeavor. The longest part was waiting for a large, red-headed family to file past, as they kept stopping and chatting for various reasons.
You felt a little bad for what looked like the youngest boy, as he seemed to be enduring quite a lot of teasing from his siblings as they moved on by.
Eventually, you made it to the train, and with a little tugging, you managed to pull the trunk onto the train, the cart's wheels getting stuck briefly, before a helpful individual waiting lifted it from the other side.
Once on the train, you wandered down the hall, trying to decide where to sit. The first few carts you opened were full to the brim, although a few of them, mostly the ones filled with girls, invited you in anyway, offering very kindly to squeeze to the side so you could fit.
You rejected them, though, not wanting to cause them trouble, and moved on.
Eventually, after a minute of looking, your search yielded something both surprising and familiar.
Pulling open a door, you were met with a squeak as your eyes met a pair of brilliant green ones.
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Harry sat in the cabin, alone. There was a small pile of clothing on the seat next to her, as she had apparently just finished changing into her school uniform.
"H-Herman!?" She yelped.
You smiled as you wanted in for a hug.
"Harry!"
The girl groaned as you picked her up and spun her around in a tight hug.
You and Harry had settled in quite comfortably, with you sitting across from each other, chatting happily about the train, their books, and everything.
Harry also seemed quite taken with Crookshanks, who you had finally let out of their cage once the train had gotten moving, with the long feline curling into a ball beside you and, graciously, if with a slight hiss, allowing Harry to pet her.
The two of you discussed your summers, although it was more you describing your own, while Harry listened with rapt attention and a wide smile. She seemed rather reticent to say anything of her own time at home, deflecting with a question about you instead of answering. That was fine, though, you were sure she'd open up eventually.
You were around halfway through describing the first chapter of Break with a Banshee to your friend when there came a knock at the compartment door.
Both of you shared a look, and without prompting from either of you, it slid open.
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Selena, smirk that you saw earlier still firmly in place, stepped in.
"I heard that Harry Potter was in this cart?" She said, expecting an answer.
You and Harry looked at each other before Harry looked back, nodding.
"I-I am?"
Selena squinted her eyes at the other, seemingly focusing on something on her forehead. Evidently, she found something satisfactory, as she stepped further into the cabin.
The blonde spared a glance at you, smile already falling as she looked you over, still dressed in your jeans.
"And you are?"
Raising a single hand, you waved, the other busy petting Crookshanks, who had sat up at the intrusion.
"Herman Granger, it's nice to meet you."
The other didn't respond, seemingly taking a bit to think.
"Any relation to the Dagworth-Grangers?" She asked at last.
"I don't believe so."
And that, it seemed, was the last straw for the girl to ignore you entirely, a vaguely grossed out look on her face as she stepped further in, stopping directly in front of you, facing away, but seemingly doing her best to ignore your existence.
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You didn't think she meant to give you such a view, though. The way the blonde girl cocked her hips raised her skirt just enough to give a glimpse of the panties underneath.
Unaware of your staring, a conversation started.
"I'm Malfoy, Selena Malfoy." She said, sticking a hand out in front of her.
"You'll find out soon that some witches and wizards are much better than others. Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." She gestured back at you. "I can help you there."
Before Harry could respond, Selena continued, this time leaning in conspiratorially, even as she reached up and did something you couldn't see with her top. Whatever it was, it caused Harry to turn bright red.
"Besides, how about we go to another compartment to get to know one another?"
As you pet Crookshanks, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the other girl. Was this really how people acted in the wizarding world? If you had done this to anyone when you were younger, let alone someone you just met, your mother would have spanked you.
You were half convinced she would still do so even today, if you did what this girl was doing.
It was tempting, honestly, to take the role yourself. The way the girl was waving her ass around made for a tempting target.
But your parents had raised you better than that, and instead, you put on your best disappointed face as you spoke.
"Ma'am, I think it would be best if you minded your manners." It was best to be polite with these types.
Selena gave a quick glance, sneering as she did.
"Was I talking to you, Mudblood?" She asked, before turning away again.
Mudblood…
For some reason, that term irked you. It sounded foul, like a curse word of some sort, and the way the girl spat it out at you made it feel targeted.
Putting it together, it was relatively easy to do so with the context clues. Dirty blood, she was insulting you for being a muggle-born, you'd bet.
You felt your frown deepen, and it seemed Crookshanks sensed your mood, as the cat hissed towards the blonde.
Taking a deep breath, you considered the best way to respond. You were angry, yeah, but not particularly; this girl's opinions didn't matter to you.
Besides, your parents had always taught you to use your words.
So that was what you would do.
"I didn't know color coordination was so important." You said out loud, theatrically.
The girl and Harry looked at you with a confused expression, Selena's with a tinge of frustration.
"What do you mean, Mudblood?"
That word again…
"I mean, it's quite impressive, just the extent you've gone to match the outfit. Green tie, green eyes, I saw the cloak earlier was green as well. Plus," and at this you leaned forward, a smile growing, "You've also shown quite clearly the green underwear as well. Lace, cute. I'm impressed by the commitment. How long did the whole outfit take?"
It didn't look like either, but evidently it flustered the other. Selena whipped around, holding her skirt down as she glared at you.
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"Why, you little pervert!" She growled, and her hand came up suddenly, as if to slap you.
You braced yourself, but before she could do anything, another hand grabbed hers.
Harry, who had stood up, had Malfoy's wrist firmly in her grip.
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"I think I can decide who the wrong sort is myself, Malfoy. It's time for you to go."
Selena stared for a moment, stunned, before she flushed an even brighter red and yanked her hand away.
"My daddy will hear about this!" she growled, before stomping out, slamming the door behind her.
The cabin was quiet for a moment. Harry was still standing, staring at the door with that serious look.
"So… Interesting person?" You offered.
Harry paused, thinking, confidence seemingly draining away.
"I-I'd say so."
She collapsed in a chair.
You took in the other girl for a moment; she was evidently a bit faster and stronger than she looked.
"Hey, Harry." She looked up.
"Thanks."
A moment passed before a smile came over her face.
"No problem, what are friends for?"
After the blonde-haired exhibitionist (you knew that she hadn't intended to flash you, but to be honest, you weren't feeling particularly generous at the moment, after she tried to smack you) had left the car, you and Harry sat in silence for a moment, staring at the door, then each other.
You decided it would be your duty to break the silence.
"So… Thanks." You offered, giving the other a smile.
Harry, in a show counter to her previous bravado, blushed and looked away, rubbing her arm self-consciously.
"D-don't mention it. I just… acted." She muttered.
"Well, your action saved me from having to explain a handprint on my cheek." You said cheerfully. Oddly enough, the shyness showing on her face dissipated quickly at your words, and the green-eyed girl gave you a look bordering on scolding at she glared.
"You would have deserved it too. You can't just look up another girl's skirt like that. I just stopped her because of the mean things she was saying."
The unhappiness was unexpected, but you could feel a sense of mischief dart through your mind at her words.
"So you have experience then? In the right way to look up a girl's skirt?" You asked, a smile stretching from ear to ear. A bookworm you may be, but that didn't mean you didn't get into your share of schoolyard shenanigans and tomfoolery with the lads.
Leaning forward, you adopted a serious look, with a bit of curiosity.
Harry squeaked at your words, going wide-eyed as you leaned into her personal space.
"Is our resident Harry Potter a Peeping Tom?" You asked in a singsong voice. The other's blush intensified, and she opened her mouth several times, several aborted words exiting her mouth, before she seemed to pop like a tea kettle, a loud squeal emitting, as she whomped you on the head with the pile of clothing on the bench beside her.
You presumed it was the clothing she had changed out of before you had gotten there, and you decided that it would be prudent not to mention the fact that you got a flash of white panties in the ensuing violence.
After your just beating had finished, Harry grabbed Crookshanks from where the humongous feline was lounging, and hugged it to her body, hiding her face in the voluminous fluff.
It would take a few moments for her to feel comfortable enough to begin talking again, but quickly, the two of you found yourselves in a fierce debate over which subject would be the most interesting to learn about, and in that moment, you could honestly say that you made the right choice in school.
Of course, the pleasant conversation was interrupted by the commotion outside the door.
"I got it." You offered, standing up from the seat in order to approach the door. Harry nodded, even as she eyes the door. The commotion grew louder, as if someone coming down the hall was coming closer to their compartment.
You'd liken the sound to a bull in a China shop, if you actually had any idea what that sounded like. Every so often, the cacophony was punctuated by a call of "I'm sorry!" and "Coming through!" followed by numerous shouts of anger or surprise.
Perhaps someone was having trouble with their footing; it wasn't intense, but the train had hit some turbulence (if that was even what you would call it) for the last stretch, rumbling slightly as it moved.
A particularly clumsy student could absolutely fall in this; in all honesty, it probably wasn't even worth looking.
But as the sound grew closer, you had to admit, you were curious about who exactly was causing such a ruckus.
Reaching for the latch, you flicked the compartment to open, before, with one last glance back at Harry, you pulled the door wide. This action was simultaneous with the noise reaching its peak, as the source passed right in front of your door.
It also coincided with a rather large bump the train hit, the entire car jolting suddenly, causing Harry to squeak, and Crookshanks, who had since freed themselves from her arms, to his in displeasure.
It would also throw you off balance, arms wheeling to try and find your footing once more.
But it was not to be. Fate, it seemed, had other plans, as the sudden bump sent not only you off balance, but also sent the source of the noise even further into their inevitable tumble.
Which just happened, it seemed, to be in your direction.
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.
The girl, you reflected, as she tumbled towards you, was quite pretty. And evidently quite fine with her current predicament, if the wide smile on her face was true. Time felt like it slowed, the world suddenly coming to a crawl as you examined the situation. If you were quick, you might be able to dodge.
Your eye couldn't help but be drawn, instead, to the generous cleavage the other was showing, and the way it swung with her movement, evidently proving a lack of a bra. This moment of distraction evidently used up your bullet time, and time quickly returned to its normal speed, and you found yourself quickly and promptly tackled back into your compartment by the other girl.
You grunted, eye closing, as the back of your head hit the side of the seat, which quickly resulted in a throbbing headache. You instinctively attempted to move the girl off you, but found her surprisingly heavy and squishy.
Your attempts didn't yield any results, and as your vision cleared, you opened your eyes again.
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.
Only to blink them a few more times, to try and clear out whatever hallucinations you were seeing. The girl shifted, and you found your nose shoved into her freckled breasts, the soft flesh molding around your face like a soft pillow as the other apologized profusely.
"Ah! Sorry mate, I'm in a rush ,you know. Here, let me just-" The girl shifted again, in an attempt to get up, which would result in her leaning even further forward, and you considered whether she was trying to remove evidence of a crime via suffocation, before air blissfully returned to you, and you found a pale, freckled hand reaching down and pulling you up quite promptly.
It took a few moments to get your bearings, as you processed the recent events.
"You alright, mate?" The accented voice asked. You looked over, only to have a brief flashback of your recent trauma at the sight presented to you.
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.
"Really sorry about that." The girl laughed, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. The movement sent her evidently very unrestrained breasts jiggling once more, and you were mesmerized by how long the movement went on.
The law of Conservation of Force shouldn't allow that to be possible…
You shook yourself out of it, taking in the girl's appearance, rather than her breasts.
"Don't worry about it." You said slowly. "What were you even running after in such a rush, its breast- I mean best to walk in trains, you know."
Thankfully, the other didn't notice your slip-up. Instead, the girl showed visible embarrassment for the first time, looking to the side and blushing. A moment later, her stomach answered the question for her with a loud grumble.
She brought a hand across her tummy shyly.
"I was, ah, trying to get to the trolley early."
You blinked.
"This train has a trolley?" You couldn't help but ask.
The other brightened.
"Muggle-born then? Yeah, and it's got some-"
"Bu**on u* yo*r shi*t." A quiet voice sounded.
You looked around, trying to find the source, and the other did the same.
"Your shirt!" That same mumbling.
"You hear that?" She asked.
"Yeah, I wonder what it-"
"BUTTON UP YOUR SHIRT, YOU BIMBO!" Cried Harry, who stood from her seat, face a odd crimson color, not unreminiscent of boiled lobster. The girl surged forward, and in an act of boldness that you did not expect from the other girl, she practically shoved both hands into the redhead's cleavage, causing a confused look from the girl in question.
In record time, she has the redhead's shirt buttoned up to her neck, although from the way the buttons strained, you wondered how long it would stay that way.
Harry backed off, leaving the two of you stunned as she took deep breaths.
The redhead looked down at her top before looking over at Harry, and smiling at her.
"Hey, thanks, I've been trying to get those buttoned for a while." She said cheerfully.
Harry just stared at the other, before flopping back down into her seat, looking at the ground with an unhappy look that was frankly adorable, cheeks puffed out and brow furrowed.
The girl smiled a bit more before turning her attention to you.
"Sorry again, uh, eh. What's your name again?" She asked, a puzzled look on her face.
This… witch was evidently using some magic to hypnotize you. You had read about bloodline magics in your history textbook. This…. Boob hypnosis must be one of them.
Thankfully, Harry had swiftly sought to remove her greatest weapon from view, allowing you to assess the situation with a clear mind.
…
Oh, who were you kidding?
You got distracted staring at her massive tits, might as well be honest with yourself, at the very least.
You considered your option for the introduction. Should you comment on the crash, be unhappy after she had knocked you over, or maybe even try the silent treatment, and see what happens?
You looked a bit further into her eyes, trying to find some hidden emotion, an agenda of some sort, behind those ice-blue eyes.
…
You were distracted when the girl stretched, bringing her arms into the air and putting monumental strain on the already struggling buttons of her shirt.
There wasn't anything there, was there?
A normal approach would suffice here, although you were still a bit irritated.
Perhaps it was time to break out.
The Look.
Years ago, your father had taken you aside and taught you what he referred to as an ancient Granger technique, one that hadn't had to be used in centuries.
You had nodded solemnly and learnt what he had to teach. You had learnt it well, and perhaps, you could put it to work today.
Stepping forward, you took the red head's outstretched hand, with your best smile.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Herman Granger. May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of whom I address?"
And you then shot her The Look.
Evidently, you had learnt well, as a blush blossomed over her face, and she looked to the side slightly.
"Ah, no need to be so formal, mate. I'm Ron." She mumbled, shaking your hand gingerly.
Ron? That was an-
"Interesting name." Harry had finished your thought out loud, but with a decidedly more snarky undertone.
The standing girl turned to look at Harry.
"Ah, it's short for Veronica, but I hate my full name. What's your name, Ms…?"
Ron had evidently picked up on Harry's gender immediately, just as you had. It honestly made you wonder who exactly the girl was trying to fool.
Harry stammered, thrown off her guard by the other girl's question.
"Ah, I'm not a girl. My name is Harry Potter. Get it right." There was still some bite to her words, but from the way she had suddenly gotten quieter, you figured the seemingly casual way the other saw through her disguise had thrown her off.
The redhead's eyes widened in realization of something.
"As in the Harry Potter? The same one that defeated You-Know-Who?"
Harry gave the other a nod, appearing to try to look regal as she did.
Ron considered this for a moment before a look of confusion came over her face.
She leaned forward, letting her breasts hang from her torso like pendulums as she approached the black haired girl.
Harry was nearly getting the same treatment you had when Ron straightened up.
"Are you sure? You look like a girl to me."
Harry squeaked before adopting an offended look, narrowly covering panic.
"W-well, I'm not! Are you always this rude? It's not nice to call a boy a girl, you, you cow!" Harry crossed her arms, glaring at the other. Her nerves were betrayed by the way her fingers tapped on her arm.
The insult of Cow seemed to irritate the redhead, at least more than Bimbo had, and she narrowed her eyes.
"You might be right, after all, no real woman could have a chest as flat as that." And Ron poked a finger forward, directly into Harry's chest. The black haired girl was practically a tomato now, and you worried that she might burst a vessel from the way she looked.
It might be a good time to intervene.
"You know now might be a good time to-"
"Stay out of it!" The two girls shot towards you in unison. Instead of acknowledging your perfectly polite and thought-out interjection for the purpose of peace, the two continued snipping back and forth, with Harry making use of a surprisingly dirty vocabulary, and Ron puffing out her chest, constantly making innuendos about the other's "size".
You would have thought that the two weren't getting along, if not for the way that by the time the trolley, you presumed the one Ron was chasing, got to your car, the two girls were sitting next to each other, still sniping, but no longer exclusively arguing.
Instead, Ron, who would speak through a mouthful of chocolate that Harry would offer her, was able to speak at length on chess theory, and a version of Chess she referred to as "Wizards' Chess".
You weren't sure when Ron had left to get her stuff, packing the large trunk and a cage containing a rather ugly-looking rat, into the overhead, before taking a seat in the compartment, but she would stay with you and Harry for the rest of the trip.
By the time the train ride ended, you felt like you had a pretty solid understanding of your two peers.
Harry, you had already met, seemed to be relatively private about her home life, but evidently had some strong feelings about the current coursework.
Specifically, she seemed adamant that Hagrid was the best staff member by far, despite only knowing the large woman for about a day. She refused to hear any argument about Professor Snape.
The girl also had a deep knowledge of, of all things, gardening, and was quite passionate about the growing process of Azaleas.
Ron, on the other hand, being from a wizarding family ("Weasley, born and bred," The girl had said proudly, planting her fists on her hips, resulting in one of her buttons popping off the shirt and landing in your lap.) knew quite a bit about the wizarding world. And was quite happy to share with a bit of prompting.
The redheaded girl would speak about her life growing up, her exasperation with her sisters, and how shy and cute her younger brother was. She would also shoot back questions about various household items, telling them that it was "for her father," as Harry and you did your best to explain the telephone to what was essentially a medieval noble.
Near the end, when Ron would lose another button, nearly exposing her entire cleavage to both of you, Harry stood abruptly, grabbing the red head by the arm before practically dragging the much larger girl out, after withdrawing what looked like a sewing kit from her trunk.
The two would return, and Ron's top, to your faint disappointment, seemed a better fit, if not still strained.
The train pulled into the station, and the three of you, moving as one cohesive group, towards the exit. You had gone to pull down your trunk, but were stopped by an older student with pink hair.
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"You won't need to do that luv'." The taller student chirped, striking a pose as she wagged a finger at you.
You paused in your movements, as did Harry and Ron, and as one, you turned to face her.
"Ah, what do you mean?" You asked, marveling at the bright shade of pink the other was sporting. You wondered what dye she used.
The girl smirked.
"Your stuff will be collected during the sorting. For now, you ought to get going, 'else you'll miss the boats."
Odd, but you always had good luck in trusting older students, so you pushed the trunk back in, and settled down.
The older student was midway through turning away when Ron seemed to have a burst of curiosity.
"Hey, could you give us a hint at what the sorting is? My sisters were saying things about trolls and whatnot?"
The pink-haired girl paused before turning back, seemingly studying Ron a bit.
"Weasley, right? The twins' sister?"
Ron didn't seem to be a fan of the description, stance hardening, but the other continued regardless.
"A hint… You know it's against tradition to let you firsties know about the sorting, but you seem like a cute sort. All I'll say is… I hope you're wearing clean underwear."
The girl then waltzed off, hips swaying like she was on a catwalk. You could swear, it seemed as though she changed heights just before she got off the train, though.
Regarding her hint, it felt like an obvious bait, and you chanced a glance at Harry, seeing the same skeptical look on her face.
Ron, on the other hand.
The girl's face was pale.
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Ron's looks terrified.
"What's wrong?" You asked, concerned for your new friend.
She slowly turned to you, trembling slightly.
"Herman." She whispered.
You leaned forward.
"I'm not wearing any underwear."
You paused, looked at Harry to confirm, then back.
"Come again?"
She looked ready to cry.
"The twins took my last fitting set, so I didn't have any today! And she just told us we need to wear clean underwear!"
Harry was giving the redhead the driest look you had ever seen. You sighed before opening your mouth once again, as Harry and you began leading the petrified girl off the train.
It took most of the boat ride to convince her that she would be fine.
The boat ride had been incredible.
The lights, the castle over the lake, it was truly something out of a fairy tale. You wished you had something to save the moment, to send back to your parents.
But as the boats slowly drifted forward, you couldn't help but feel bored.
It felt odd to say, as you stared up at the castle, but if you had wanted fantastic views, there were dozens of options in France to see candlelit castles, and boat rides were a dime a dozen.
Frankly, the most interesting part for you was the way the boats seemed to move without any sort of propulsion device.
After all, you were here to learn magic, not stagecraft.
By the time you made it to the other side of the lake, you had nearly fallen asleep, only Harry grabbing your hand (You hadn't noticed the smaller girl intercepting Ron before she could do the same) and dragging you up and off the boat.
Hagrid, although you could barely see the large woman in the darkness, led you towards the castle, her loud voice directing the crowd of students forward. When you reached the large doors of the castle, they opened on their own, revealing Professor McGonagall, standing looking quite regal, waiting for you all.
"I can take them from here, Hagrid, thank you." The severe-looking witch said, nodding towards the other.
"Not a problem, Professor," The woman gave a wave towards the group, "and good luck to you all!" And with that, the woman stomped off into the darkness, disappearing from sight within seconds.
They left the group of young adults staring towards the Professor. She made a come-along gesture.
"Follow me, I will explain our school as we go."
Without waiting for an answer, she swept away, and the students rushed to follow.
"While you are here at Hogwarts, you will be sorted into one of our four founding houses. Ravenclaw, for the clever, Slytherin, for the ambitious, Hufflepuff, for the diligent, and Gryffindor, for the brave."
She turned another corner, and you took a moment to marvel at the moving paintings you passed by.
"During your tenure here, your house will be like your family, you will share in their triumphs, live together as a unit, and suffer together from any rule-breaking. Positive efforts can lead to house points, and tomfoolery will lead to said points being taken away."
At this point, a few ghosts poked their head through the walls, studying the group of first years. They looked exactly as they had in the book.
"The house with the most points will be awarded the house cup, a great honor, I assure you."
McGonagall stopped in front of a large door, from which you could already hear voices.
"Now, you will be sorted momentarily. I suggest you all take the time to smarten yourselves up."
With that she opened the door a crack, before slipping in. You quickly felt a tug at the arm not trapped by Harry. You turned towards Ron, who still looked faintly nervous.
"You're sure it's not a troll, Herman?" She asked, a queasy tone over her face.
Holding back a sigh, you nodded.
"I'm sure it's not a troll, and I'm sure they won't check your underwear." You preempted her next question, to which Ron nodded, looking comforted, but not confident.
"Hey, it'll be fine." You whispered, smiling at the girl. Ron returned it, a slight blush on her cheeks.
"Thanks, Herman." She grabbed your other hand, and you found yourself trapped between two girls. A look to your right showed Harry staring over at you and Ron's connected hands with a sour look.
There wasn't a chance to ask, though, as the doors swung open, and your group, as one, began filing in.
The hall was packed with students, with four long tables being filled nearly to the brim with individuals of varying shapes and sizes. They seemed to be divided based on the color of their robe, and all clapped as you entered.
At the other end of the hall sat a great table, at which sat who you assumed were the Professors, given that you could make out Snape up there.
You met her eyes briefly and winced at the slight headache that came on suddenly.
McGonagall stood next to a wooden stool, upon which sat a rather old-looking hat.
"I will call your names, you will come up, wear the sorting hat, and be sorted." She called, holding up the ratty old thing with some reverence.
At the silence, McGonagall sighed, before giving it a shake.
"Care to favor us with a song, Alister?" She asked.
Then, to your astonishment, the hats' brims opened up, and it began to sing.
"Come one, come all, and try me on,
I'll peek inside 'til night is gone.
A gentle brush, a tickle, a tease—
I'll find your match with practiced ease.
Some crave the bold and brave and true,
I'll whisper secrets just for you.
Or sly and sleek, with clever mind—
I know the house you're sure to find.
Perhaps you're patient, warm, and kind,
Your heart a drum, your touch refined.
Or maybe bright, with hungry thought,
Who longs to learn what can't be taught.
So slip me on, don't fear the fit,
I promise you, I'm used to it.
I've seen it all—both dark and light—
And I'll sort you well this very night."
…
Well…
You couldn't say you expected that.
Without giving you all the time to process the singing hat, McGonagall quickly began reading off names from her list, starting with Hannah Abbot.
The girl skipped up to the stool, sitting down. The hat was barely on her head for ten seconds before the brim opened again.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" It called, the table in yellow standing and clapping.
This would continue, until finally-
"Herman Granger!"
You stepped up, hands slipping out of those of your friends. Trotting confidently up to the stool, you took a seat and waited.
As the hat was lowered onto your head, you couldn't help but wrinkle your nose at the mustiness of the old fabric.
"Well, I'd like to see how you smell after sitting on a shelf for all but one day a year. Let me tell you, I hold up a lot better than you would."
You flinched, looking around.
"Well, if I'm not to your left or right, where could I be, hmm?"
Your eyes flicked up to where you could see the underside of the brim.
"There we go. You're an interesting one, you know that, Mr. Granger. I can feel that thirst for knowledge in you, but also something… more. What is it you're searching for, young man?"
You considered the ramifications of a hat reading your mind, before worrying, briefly, about whether it could see memories.
"I cannot see your past, Mr. Granger, only who you are in the present. Now, if you could answer the question, what is it, exactly, that you are looking for?"
What was it you were looking for?
Well, that was rather clear, wasn't it?
"Logic"
You felt the hat flinch slightly, as if surprised by your answer.
"Logic, young man, in a world of magic. You've more luck finding an ice cube in hell."
"That's why I want to find it."
Responding to the telepathic hat was a surprisingly natural feeling.
"If I can find logic in the world of magic, then I'll have done something incredible, I'll have figured something out that no one else has ever dreamed."
The hat hummed.
"And how do you know it's even possible. You could be chasing the teumessian fox for all you know."
A smile spread over your face.
"The journey is the fun part anyway."
For a moment, you thought you'd left the hat speechless, until its quiet chuckles grew louder, to the point that McGonagall turned to look at it strangely.
"Entertaining, inspiring, but oh so difficult as well. I wondered, at first, which would suit you better. The Raven or the Snake, but it's clear now. It will have to be RAVENCLAW!" The last part of its words was out loud, and the hat was plucked from your head as the table in blue clapped. There was a shimmer, and your robes flashed into a blue tone similar to theirs.
Standing, you walked over, making eye contact with Ron and Harry. Both seemed nervous but were clapping for you anyway.
The sorting went on for a while longer, with Malfoy being sorted near instantly into Slytherin. Soon, though, it was Harry's turn.
"Harry Potter!" McGonagall called. The Hall grew silent, and whispers echoed as Harry walked to the hat. It was placed on her head and stayed there for a while.
One minute, then two.
Soon enough, five minutes had passed, with the hat still on Harry's head. If you squinted, you thought you could make out Harry's mouth, set in a severe frown, and mouthing the rather inappropriate words you had heard her use earlier.
Was she… arguing with the hat?
You couldn't hear what she was saying, but soon after the seven-minute mark, the hat seemed to growl, before, almost reluctantly, calling out: "RAVENCLAW!"
Harry skipped away, even as the Ravenclaw table burst into raucous applause. She sat down next to you with a smile.
"What happened?" You whispered.
"A spirited discussion." She whispered back.
You wouldn't get more out of her than that, and the sorting continued. At Ron's turn, the red-haired girl walked onto the stage, clutching the hem of her skirt as if to guard it against any underwear checks. The Hat went onto her head, and before it could even fully settle, the hat seemed to have an answer.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Ron looked heartbroken, and she gave you a sad look. You tried to provide her with a comforting smile as the girl trudged over to the maroon-wearing table, to be greeted by a horde of other red-haired students.
The sorting would finish without any more incident, and the feast commenced. The fare was heavier than what you were used to, but good, and seeing Harry hum in delight as she demolished a plate of treacle tart was adorable, almost as much as her blush when she saw you watching.
At the end, Dumbledore, the headmaster, apparently, gave some nonsense speech before sending you off to your dorms. You and Harry walked side by side, following a tall, androgynous looking student as she led them through the winding halls.
Your heart couldn't help but swell.
You were finally here.