"Thank you for letting us borrow it, sir. I appreciate it," Harry said, placing the pensieve in the Headmaster's hands.
Dumbledore beamed at him. "You're quite welcome. I should have thought of it earlier. I'm glad Sirius had so many happy memories to share with you."
It had been three days since the ritual, and the mood at Grimmauld Place was buoyant. The three men had returned from Switzerland shocked and pleased that their visit had turned out so well. Though Harry's scar was tender and scabbed over, there was no trace of lingering dark magic.
He was free of Voldemort's taint on his soul.
He even entertained the hope that the ritual had fulfilled the prophecy. The part of Voldemort transferred to the goat had been killed by his hand, after all. But Dumbledore emphasized caution, believing that Fate could not be circumvented so easily. Harry considered it a victory nonetheless. If he had to face Voldemort again, he would at least be able to do so without blinding pain.
The good news seemed to come in waves. They had discovered upon their return that Sirius' trial date had been set. He would testify before the Wizengamot on August 26th, just before Harry's return to Hogwarts, and everyone was hopeful that the outcome would be good. Madam Bones was confident that he was innocent, Dumbledore would be defending him personally, and so far, Fudge seemed to be abiding by their agreement.
Harry was willing to tell the Prophet that the man shat solid gold bullion if it would guarantee his godfather's freedom.
Sirius had celebrated the news by getting drunk and regaling them all with stories of his misspent youth, most of which they'd heard before. He had bragged so loudly to Remus about his recent veela 'conquest' that Draco and Narcissa probably heard every word on the fifth floor. Harry kept his mouth shut about his conquest of a poodle, though he longed to tell everyone present.
The celebration had doubled as his belated birthday party. None of his school friends had been present, but a few gifts had arrived, including a pair of button-down silk shirts from Hermione. Harry was just happy to be alive. To turn 16 at the very moment your soul was cleansed was a gift you couldn't put a price on.
Upon their return, the Headmaster had loaned his pensieve to them so that he could see with his own eyes the tales that Sirius told. For the past two days, they had pored over every significant event Sirius could remember, and others that only Remus could.
Harry had seen his parents' wedding. He had seen them return from an early date in Hogsmeade, still holding hands while Sirius mocked them for being in love; had seen his father dead drunk and telling an entire bar that his wife was pregnant; had seen his mother cradling her belly mere days before his birth.
He had also witnessed more than a handful of pranks. Snape's personality was even more caustic as a teenager than as an adult, and he could scarcely believe that Hogwarts' most-hated Professor had once been friends with his mother.
His favorite memory was the ride he had taken on a big black dog at his first birthday party. It was bizarre to see himself as an infant, but the memory was so much fun for the other participants that he had watched it a dozen times.
He'd never felt more connected to his parents. It was a bittersweet connection, but a precious one nonetheless. He now knew what their voices sounded like. How they moved. How they smiled. He knew that his mannerisms were almost identical to his father's. No wonder Sirius had accidentally called him James the other day.
Harry was reluctant to give the pensieve back now, and resolved to acquire one of his own in the future.
"I would leave it with you longer," the Headmaster said, "but I have need of it. Once our trials are over, there will be time for seeing all the memories you wish."
"Thank you. Is there any news of Voldemort?"
"Not as such. It's unlikely that he remains at Malfoy Manor after Narcissa's departure, and we've heard no whispers among his former followers. But there is still much to be done. I promise that I will share everything with you in due time. After what you've been through, I want you to relax and enjoy the rest of your summer."
"I'll try. I'm so relieved I don't have a piece of him inside me anymore. I still don't understand how it got there."
"I will explain soon. But I promise you, Harry, that your trip to Switzerland has changed everything. Everything. We owe Madame Delacour a great debt."
"Madame Vautour as well."
He smiled at the grimace that crossed Dumbledore's face. "Yes, we do. Perhaps I misjudged her. But I do not approve of the magic she practices, and neither should you. Dark magic changes a person. Permanently."
Harry nodded. He had no desire to know whatever Vautour did. Or to look like her.
"Well, I shall leave you to your godfather. Miss Granger will be arriving in two days, I believe, and I have arranged for you both to spend some time at the Burrow. Enjoy the rest of your summer, Harry. And remember—say nothing of the ritual to anyone save Hermione."
"I won't."
The Headmaster beamed at him again and departed through the floo. Harry still had many questions for the man—including how he knew that his scar had been 'a death sentence,' and what he had planned to do about it—but he was willing to be patient. No one had wanted to tarnish the joy of the past few days.
He returned to his room, deciding a nap was in order. Sirius was already taking one. The aftermath of the ritual had been exciting but exhausting for both of them. After Dumbledore had examined him, the old man had almost cried with joy. He had hugged everyone present, including a nude Madame Vautour. The shocked expression on her face had been priceless, as had Dumbledore's immediate mortification.
The parting with Apolline had been bittersweet. He'd thanked her profusely, a little worried that he would never see her or Fleur again since their debt to him had been paid. But she had assuaged his fears, inviting both him and Sirius to visit her family's villa in the south of France. It was an invitation he intended to accept next summer, if not sooner.
Truthfully, he would miss Apolline more than Fleur, and wouldn't hesitate to sleep with her again if given the opportunity. She was warmer than her daughter and more desirable in every way. Her allure was simply astonishing, and she was pleased that he could handle it. Well, most of it.
Harry collapsed on the bed and closed his eyes, hopeful that the most anxious days of the summer were behind him. Hermione would be arriving soon, bringing with her a welcome return to normalcy.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"How much longer?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the kitchen table.
Sirius lowered his newspaper. "About five minutes less than the last time you asked me. Antsy to see someone?"
Harry flipped him off. "I haven't seen her in over a month. We've got a lot to talk about."
"Are you two dating?"
"No. Well—no."
"Is she a member of any secret clubs?"
"Yes," he responded absentmindedly, then frowned. "Wait. Why was I able to say that? And keep that to yourself."
Sirius smirked. "I didn't ask if she was a member of a specific club, or what happens there. I asked if she was a member of a secret club. The contracts aren't that restrictive. You've still got to be careful what you say."
"Damn. I guess they really do have big loopholes."
"They have to be that way. It would create a mess otherwise. At least I know why you're so excited now."
"Oh, please. She's my best friend. I'm not that desperate for sex."
"Poor boy, you've had a long dry spell. Don't worry. Your beloved godfather won't stand in your way. She can sleep in your room."
"I seem to recall someone having a twelve-year dry spell."
"Now that's a low blow. But I also shagged a veela recently. It's a fair exchange," Sirius said smugly.
Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione would probably know about Cosette within five minutes of her arrival. He had kept his tryst with Apolline Delacour secret for a variety of reasons, but right now he wished he could reveal it. His godfather would die of envy.
"You shagged a poodle too, you know."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Bestiality doesn't cause memory loss, Sirius. Don't you remember how she made you howl? You should send her some doggie treats at the very least."
"Are you speaking Latin or something? I don't understand a word you're saying."
Harry grinned at the man's attempt to maintain innocence. "Who was more satisfying? Antoinette or Cosette? I bet Antoinette made more noise."
"Still got nothing. I just remember a gorgeous veela wrapped around my irresistible body."
"Then you turned into a dog and humped her leg. You might be the only person in history to visit a veela enclave and decide you'd rather shag the local wildlife."
Sirius finally laughed, and his face flushed. "Hey now, she was tame. And did you see her? She was in heat. It would have been cruel to deny her."
"Oh, Merlin, you are something else."
The rapport between them was turning into something more brotherly than parental. But that suited Harry just fine. He didn't need someone to replace his parents, especially when that person was scarcely more mature than he was. He just needed someone in his corner who loved him. If that came with a fair amount of lewd innuendo, so be it.
"If you breathe a word to Moony, I'll cut off your allowance. And maybe something else."
"My lips are sealed. For now. I'll hold onto this one until I really need a favor from you."
"Blackmail doesn't suit you, Harry. You're just jealous you haven't bagged a veela."
"Hmmm."
Sirius examined him suspiciously. "Wait—seriously? No! Did you—you nailed Apolline's daughter, didn't you?"
"Her name is Fleur, and no comment. Don't even speculate to anyone else, and I didn't nail anyone, you perv."
Sirius laughed. "Oh, wow, it's a good thing her mother doesn't know, or she'd have told female Voldemort to slaughter you."
"Again, no comment. But as soon as your name is cleared, you are going to a mind healer. The very instant it's cleared. Cosette made a fucking mess of you."
He smiled in remembrance. "Yes, she did. Merlin, I shagged a veela, Harry! A veela!"
"Yes, I'm aware. So is everyone else in London. How old are you, again?"
"Your dad would be so proud of us."
"And my mum?"
"Eh, she'd pretend to disapprove, but she'd probably give James a high-five in secret."
Harry snorted and decided to change the subject. He still wasn't comfortable talking about sex as it related to his parents. He lifted the fringes of his hair. "How's my scar look?"
"Still scabbed, but it should be fine in a few days. The bloody thing burst open."
They heard voices coming from the entrance hall and Harry shot out of the room.
"That's probably them," Sirius said to his empty chair.
He flew down the hallway to discover Hermione and Remus entering the house. She was looking around curiously while their former Professor explained where they were.
"Hermione!"
"Harry!"
He pulled her into a tight embrace, lifting her off the ground.
Sirius entered the room at a more reasonable pace. "Hello, Hermione. Welcome to what remains of the Ancient and Most Inbred House of Black!"
"Er, thank you for having me."
"Make yourself at home. The place is mostly safe now. Harry can show you around, but don't go near the fifth floor."
"Thank you," she said, staring uneasily at a painting that seemed to be shouting at her in rage, but producing no sound.
"Don't worry. That's just my dear mum. She's under a permanent silencing charm now, thank Merlin."
Sirius waved and smiled cheekily at his mother, who shook with helpless fury and screamed obscenities that no one could hear.
Harry snickered. "This place is a little crazy, but you'll get used to it. Come on, I've got so much to tell you."
He grabbed her by the hand and led her upstairs.
Sirius smirked at Remus. "Ten galleons says he shows her his bedroom first. For about two hours."
"Padfoot!"
"Just sayin.' That was one hell of a hug."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
His prediction proved accurate. An hour later, Hermione had yet to explore anything but the dimensions of Harry's bed. They had coupled in a frenzy at first, neither needing words to communicate. Though they had been apart for only five weeks, it felt much longer to both.
Harry's long-ago assertion that they were partners had been prophetic. He didn't know what to call the intimacy he shared with Hermione. He only knew he'd felt its absence acutely when they were apart. They weren't dating, and both enjoyed indulging themselves in everything the Pride had to offer. But he had come to depend on her presence in ways that went beyond friendship. He knew without asking that she felt the same.
One day they would have to figure out what that meant, but neither was in a hurry. For the moment, there were Dark Lords to kill and libidos to indulge.
They had already cycled through three different positions. Now he was on top of her, pinning her to the bed with his weight as he slid inside her with exquisite slowness. His body covered hers so thoroughly that she was barely able to move. She liked to be overpowered sometimes, and he was happy to oblige.
"Oh, God, that feels good," Hermione moaned as he buried himself to the hilt. "I've missed you."
"Me too."
Harry withdrew and slid himself home again, delighting in the wet warmth of her grip. In this position, with her legs barely spread, she was so tight that the pressure squeezing his cock from every direction was almost unbearable. Only the lubrication of his former release and the dripping wetness of her arousal allowed him to slide through her impossibly soft flesh.
Hermione's mouth was open and her eyes were closed. Her breathing was shallow, her chest barely able to push against the weight crushing her into the bed. Every little pant squeezed her breasts against him. Her soft mounds and hard nipples slid wonderfully along his chest. Harry alternated between kissing her and withdrawing to watch her face as they gently fucked. He never grew tired of the noises she made when he filled her.
"Right there," she murmured, lost in the sensations of her body.
He stopped his long, slow thrusts and teased one spot on her walls with the tip of his cock. He slid back and forth across it, hardly moving, until she was grimacing in ecstasy.
"Okay," she gasped.
Now an expert on her body, he knew that was his cue to resume thrusting. Several more and she trembled beneath him. He ground his pelvis into her clit as she panted and came undone. She wrapped her arms around his back and whimpered through her fourth orgasm, squeezing him tightly as she writhed her hips.
When she was finished, she relaxed and spread her legs wide open, giving him permission to fuck her as roughly as he needed to achieve his own release. His thrusts turned harder and faster as he buried himself deep within her. Her body was limp and submissive, and he loved the way she seemed to present it as a gift. Ecstasy overcame him all at once, and both groaned as he burst deep inside her, filling her with his cum yet again. She smiled and rode the wave of bliss long after he was finished.
Hermione took a satisfied breath and opened heavy-lidded eyes. Harry was smirking at her from inches away.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hermione stared across the kitchen table at Harry, resisting the urge to hug him again. She had been capturing him in unexpected hugs for two days now, much to his embarrassment.
Their lovemaking session had been followed by a long conversation. She'd been stunned by the details of both the prophecy and the ritual he'd undergone. She couldn't quite wrap her mind around the idea that Harry and Voldemort were destined to clash until one of them was dead. Or that his scar had contained a piece of the Dark Lord's soul. Or that Draco Malfoy was currently living on the fifth floor.
From her perspective, the world had been turned upside down in the last month.
She'd understood why he had kept the prophecy from her. He'd only learned of it at the end of term. But the revelation that he had just undergone a dangerous ritual without her knowledge had earned him the bollocking of a lifetime. Plenty of tears had been shed before she'd grasped how quickly everything had happened, and that he hadn't wanted her to go mad with worry.
His confessions prompted her own, and Harry soon knew every detail of her summer vacation, including her letter from Beatriz Azevedo and her 'experiment' with two muggle boys. He had already known that she lost her head with multiple partners, but hadn't fully grasped the potency of the waves of pleasure that overwhelmed her. He regretted not being able to tell her about Apolline Delacour, but that was a confidence he didn't intend to break.
"How can you be so calm?" Hermione asked, his hands held in hers across the table. "You're really okay with all this?"
"No, I'm not okay with it. But there's nothing I can do about it. I've accepted it."
She shook her head, still amazed at the most recent revelations. "I'll be right there beside you, no matter what."
He squeezed her hands in return. "I know. Just remember you can't tell anyone else."
"I won't. I'm just glad you're alive. Do you feel different?"
Harry carefully rubbed his forehead. "Not really. A little bit lighter, maybe, and my scar doesn't ache anymore."
"Does your magic feel different? If that thing was a parasite—"
"I asked the Headmaster the same thing. He doesn't think it will automatically make me more powerful. I've practiced a few spells in my room, and everything feels normal."
Of course, that wouldn't stop him from experimenting when they arrived at Hogwarts. But even if his magic hadn't changed, he would be satisfied with the lack of random pain from his scar.
"I suppose that was too much to hope for," she mused. "I've got a lot of questions for Professor Dumbledore."
"I do too. So, have you missed everyone else in the Pride?"
She smiled, fully aware of his attempt to change the subject. "You have no idea. We got spoiled there."
"I could tell you were desperate when you showed up. You jumped me the moment the door closed."
"Hush."
He laughed. "Don't be embarrassed. I was in the same state earlier. Your drawing saved me."
"How many times did you use it?"
"Dunno, I lost count."
"Good. If I couldn't have sex with you, at least I know you were wanking to me."
"I'll just pretend I didn't hear that," said a female voice, and both teens jumped as Tonks turned the corner and entered the room.
"Er—" Harry said eloquently.
She smirked at their reddening faces. "Muffling charms. Use them. You never know who's about to walk into a room."
"It was just a joke!" Hermione said. "We're not—"
Tonks laughed. "I won't tell anyone. Relax."
Harry was just relieved that it was her, rather than Remus or Dumbledore or some random member of the Order. "Hermione, this is Tonks. She's Sirius' cousin. She's an Auror too, despite the hair."
"The hair helps me do my job! Nice to meet you, Hermione." Her hair shifted from purple to pink to green, and finally back to purple.
Hermione frowned at her, all embarrassment forgotten. "How did you do that?"
Tonks went to the sideboard to look for something to eat. Harry was starting to think she showed up at Grimmauld just for free food. She was always in the kitchen when he encountered her.
"I'm a metamorph," she said with a shrug. "I can change my body however I want."
She shifted, and a moment later a perfect copy of Hermione was standing in her place.
"Oh, my God."
"Just Tonks is fine," she said in Hermione's voice. "I do undercover work, but I'm a regular Auror too. Or I will be soon. Just finished my training a few months ago."
Harry could tell Hermione had a million questions running through her brain, but he cut her off before she could start assaulting Tonks with them.
"Were you visiting the Malfoys?"
She reverted to her preferred form and made a face as she layered cold cuts on a slice of bread. "Yes, and they're still wankers."
"What did they do?"
"I was being nice, trying to set up a tutor for Draco for this year. I've never met such a whiny little bitch. Narcissa isn't much better, but at least she's civil. She and my mum are still circling each other like angry cats."
"I can't believe he won't be at Hogwarts," Hermione said. "He's been a nuisance our whole time there."
"No kidding. I look forward to a more peaceful year."
Tonks snorted. "I don't blame you. That kid is insufferable."
"Are you going to be his tutor?"
"Nah, I don't have time. I think Remus is going to do some of it, but little lord Fauntleroy doesn't want to be in the same room as a werewolf. I might sign up to teach him defense just so I can knock him on his arse."
"I would pay to see that," he said. "I can't attack him anymore because of their vows. Well, I suppose I could, but he couldn't fight back. Hmmm…"
"Harry," Hermione chided him.
"It's just a fantasy. But he would make an excellent target dummy, don't you think?"
Tonks finished making her sandwich and wrapped it in some paper. "I'm off. Later, you two. Maybe keep your dirty talk in the bedroom next time," she said with a wink.
Hermione huffed as they watched her leave the kitchen. "She seems nice. It's incredible she can do that with her body."
"She turned into Draco the day I met her. Freaked me out."
"She won't tell everyone what I said?"
"I doubt it. She's a lot like Sirius. She'll just tease us. We'll have to be careful at the Burrow though. Can you imagine if Mrs. Weasley heard us talking like that?"
Hermione shivered, remembering the howler she had received when Molly believed Skeeter's article. "She'd probably try to put me in a magical chastity belt."
He laughed. "We can't talk about the Pride in front of Ron anyway. It will be a week full of quidditch and garden gnomes."
"And no sex," she murmured.
"We better get our fill tonight. The morning comes early."
"Let's go to your room. And don't forget the silencing charm this time. I want to be loud."
"You'll be plenty loud if you let me put it in your bum."
She sighed. "I suppose we could call that a late birthday present."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
They had only been at the Burrow for two days, and already Hermione was sick of food, chores, and quidditch. Daily life there revolved around those three things. She didn't mind the chores at first. It was only polite to be helpful when one was a guest in someone's home. But now that she was older—turning 17 in two months—she knew enough about magic to realize that Molly could have done every chore herself in less than an hour.
She forced her children to do everything manually to keep them busy. It was easy to understand why. Seven magical children each doing their own thing would be impossible to control. Even so, the constant chiding about the proper way to weed the garden, slice a potato, or hang up a dress was irritating. She and Ginny in particular were saddled with the most boring tasks.
They joined the boys on the pitch when everyone was free. Molly had finally conceded the fact that her little girl was a quidditch player, and allowed Ginny to fly freely. But Hermione had no desire to be on a broom. At all. Even after Harry and Sirius had gifted her with a new one.
She understood their reasoning, and agreed that flying was a useful skill. But it had taken only one pick-up game with the Weasleys for her to decide to remain safely on the ground. After she'd accidentally scored on her own goal, no one objected.
Instead, she sat and read while everyone laughed and chased their little balls around. Mrs. Weasley would come out and join her every 30 minutes or so, just to ensure no one was dead.
After dinner every evening, they would listen to the wireless while Arthur talked about his day or Molly gossiped about the neighbors. Only in the late evening was she briefly able to be alone with Harry. Given her freedom at Hogwarts and Grimmauld, the constant oversight was infuriating. No wonder the oldest brothers had fled as soon as they could.
Harry, at least, seemed to be enjoying himself. He loved being on his broom, and she could tell that he was happier than he had been in a long time. She shuddered just thinking about the parasite he had been carrying around. So many things had happened since the third task. A deadly fight with Voldemort. An awful prophecy. Malfoys turning traitor. A soul in his scar. A ritual with a necromancer. It was enough to make her head spin, but he seemed to be handling it well.
She vowed that the prophecy would not come down to a duel between Harry and Voldemort. They had outmaneuvered him so far, and she would do everything in her power to ensure his survival.
They'd both discussed telling Ron about the prophecy, but decided against it. There was little he could do to help, and he hadn't even seemed all that interested in the details of the graveyard fight. He'd chalked up the whole affair to being 'a Harry thing' and offered his emotional support, which amounted to keeping his best mate distracted with quidditch.
The twins were more perceptive, but didn't pester either of them with questions. They were certainly aware of her growing boredom. One night after dinner, they made a show of inviting her to their room to get advice about a particular potion. Molly rolled her eyes and told them to leave the door open in case something exploded.
Hermione had never seen inside their room before. It was a surprise to discover that it was a typical bedroom: two beds, two dressers, a mirror, quidditch posters, and a variety of odd gadgets lying around. She had expected a laboratory of some sort, given how much experimenting they seemed to do.
"We can tell you're going stir crazy," Fred said with a grin. "You and Harry want to slip away for some fun tonight?"
"How? I'm rooming with Ginny, and he's with Ron."
"I think she doubts our resourcefulness, brother."
"I think you're right. Some girls never learn."
She smiled. "Educate me, please, oh exalted Weasley geniuses."
"Well, since you asked so nicely, come right this way, Miss."
One of them opened their closet and slipped inside, disappearing completely. The other pulled her inside by the hand, pushed aside some hanging clothes, and then knocked in an intricate pattern on the wall. It slid open to reveal a hidden room. Her eyes widened as she stepped inside.
This is what she had expected. A little room full of discarded cauldrons, boxes full of ingredients, and a lingering smell of sulfur in the air.
"Welcome to our lab. We managed to create a wizard space after third year. Mum doesn't know about it."
"You did this in your third year?" she said skeptically.
"Well, Bill might have helped. A little."
"Right. After you blackmailed him over something, no doubt."
"Moving on," said George, "we have all the privacy we want in here, and more importantly, we have these."
He handed her a pair of tiny candles, no more than an inch high. "What are they?"
"Just a little something to help one sleep. They release an odorless incense that puts a sleeping person into an even deeper sleep. They won't wake for anything short of a shouting match or an earthquake. It lasts about two hours."
"And you invented this by yourselves?"
"Yes, indeed."
"I'm impressed."
"Thank you, your ladyship. If you and Harry wait until your annoying roommates are asleep, and then light your candle, you'll be free to join us in here. I imagine we could find all sorts of things to do."
"What about your parents?"
"We'll take care of them. We've been running circles around mum for years. The only question is how desperate you are to relieve your boredom," George said with a wink.
"I went well past desperate last night. We'll be here."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Much later, as the clock crept past 1 AM, Harry and Hermione stood in the twins' lab and looked around appreciatively. They both knew it was unwise to touch anything, but they hadn't come to experiment with potions.
Hermione could hardly contain her anticipation. She and Harry had been sleeping together regularly—and vigorously—since her arrival at Grimmauld, but the twins seemed intent on recreating some magic from the Pride. She was all in favor of it.
"Well, here we are, boys," she said. "Shall we play some exploding snap?"
Fred laughed. "George, I'm afraid the lovely Hermione has been shagged so many times she's developed a sense of humor. I fear we're to blame."
"I'm afraid so, brother. If we keep it up, she might even start pranking people."
"I could just leave the three of you alone to wank each other off. That would be a funny prank."
George groaned. "It's too late. She's already gone to the dark side."
Harry laughed and stepped up behind her. He ran his hands along her clothed body and squeezed her breasts. "I've been doing my best, but I don't think she's been thoroughly satisfied since the end of term. With three of us, we might stand a chance of meeting her needs."
The boys began pulling off their clothes. "We Weasleys are known for our hospitality," said Fred. "It would be shameful not to meet our guest's most basic needs."
Harry pulled down Hermione's panties as she pulled off her t-shirt. He caressed her breasts from behind and nibbled on her neck. "We're going to make you cum so hard tonight," he whispered in her ear. "Over and over, until you lose your mind."
She shivered at his words. "I hope so."
He looked up at Fred and George. "How about a rotation? One of us is always pleasing her while the others are recovering."
"As long as I have a cock in me at all times, and no one cums anywhere except my cunt," Hermione added shamelessly.
The twins laughed. "We're in."
Harry smirked at her. He'd never heard her use that word. Apparently, she was taking ownership of it.
She looked down. "Are there cushioning charms on the floor?"
"No, but there will be in a moment."
"Excellent."
An hour later, she was on her hands and knees, her body quivering as George fucked her from behind. Harry and Fred were on their knees in front of her, holding their cocks to her face. She had been slurping on them lasciviously until George's thrusts became too forceful. Now her eyes were closed and her mouth hanging open. The boys in front were trading places, putting their crowns on her tongue, and the undulations of her body drove them into her mouth.
Hermione groaned and wrapped her lips around Harry's cock as George filled her. She raised her hips so he could reach the deepest parts of her. Merlin, she had missed this. She loved the feel of the twins' cocks. They didn't stretch her as deliciously as Harry did, but they were still wonderful. She whimpered as George slid along a particularly sensitive spot.
She had masturbated to this fantasy before—with exactly these participants—and it was strange to her that they had never brought it to life. The twins had spitroasted her a couple times in the Pride, joyfully filling both ends of her, but for some reason she had never sought out this particular arrangement.
"Almost there," George panted behind her.
A moment later, his cock erupted inside her, and she groaned in bliss. Hermione felt every warm load he deposited, and that familiar rush overpowered her. Her head fell to the floor and she panted for breath, her pussy squeezing every last drop out of him. George smacked her ass as he pulled away, leaving her trembling.
"My turn," Harry said, almost ready to burst from the caresses of her tongue. "On your back this time."
She happily obeyed, collapsing to the floor as he moved between her legs and both twins knelt next to her face. George was softening and Fred was only half-hard, but she brought them both together in her mouth, rubbing their slick crowns together and slurping on them, still riding a wave of pleasure.
Harry lifted her hips, and she moaned in approval as he slipped inside, stretching her until he filled her with his perfect girth. The boys had brought her to orgasm half a dozen times already, and another was slowly approaching. His thumb went to her clit and teased it back and forth as he penetrated her with long, slow thrusts. Her walls gripped him hard every time he filled her, needing more of such brilliant friction.
"Faster," she murmured around the cocks in her mouth.
"No, no, my horny little bookworm," Harry said. "I'm going to fuck you slow and easy until you're desperate. Then you'll get your reward."
Hermione groaned as he slid along her walls with agonizing slowness. He rubbed up and down the swollen length of her clit, then teased it back and forth until she was squirming. His other hand took command of her hips, pulling her toward him with every thrust. She had soon soaked his cock, and every caress of her clit produced a whimper.
She pulled Fred's crown into her mouth and suckled it while squeezing his long ball sack. Her other hand tugged on George's cock, slowly bringing him back to arousal. When he was half-hard, she swapped, her mouth enveloping George while her fingers teased Fred without mercy. She was careful not to make anyone cum, as tonight was about riding the constant wave of pleasure between her legs. The boys were willing to worship her, and who was she to deny them?
"Bloody hell, your tongue is so soft," George whispered, running his fingers through her hair as he raised her head and slid half his length down her throat.
Hermione opened her mouth wider and let him go as far as he could. When she was gasping for breath, she released him. Then she opened wide again and let Fred pull her face toward his hard cock. He thrust gently into her throat until she was swallowing most of it, saliva running down her chin.
Harry's thumb, meanwhile, was making short work of her. He pressed down harder, never ceasing his deep, sensual thrusts. Only he fucked her so intimately, intent on overwhelming her with pleasure, and it worked every time. Her breathing became erratic, and she released Fred's cock as her head fell back to the floor.
"Together," Harry said, knowing how close she was.
He thrust into her harder and faster, the friction so glorious she couldn't stop herself from moaning. The deep ache behind her mound grew and grew until she thought she might explode.
"Please!" she cried out.
Harry pulled back on the hood of her clit and pressed his finger against it, and she could take no more. She thrust her hips into his, intent on drawing from him the release she craved. They came together. He coated her with thick bursts of cum while she writhed her hips and panted desperately.
That familiar wave returned with a roar, and a haze of bliss overwhelmed her. She dropped the twins' cocks, unable to focus on pleasing them when her body was flooded with such a sensation.
When Hermione could think again, Fred was already filling her soaked cunt with his long cock and George was rubbing his lovingly across her cheek. Harry's cum dripped into her asshole with each penetration, and she couldn't wait to feel Fred's release too. That deep ache was still there, already building again. She smiled deliriously and opened her mouth. It was soon full of Harry's soft cock, and she suckled and kissed it worshipfully, cleaning him of her juices while she stroked George.
It was after 3 AM when they stopped. The boys were exhausted but happy. Hermione had lost count of how many times they'd swapped places. She was in a state of nirvana that would persist even while she slept. The soreness tomorrow would be worth it. It made her feel like the world's most shameless slut, and Merlin help her, but she loved it.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Two days later, Hermione was yet again frustrated. Not at the absence of sex, but at how Mrs. Weasley made use of her time. Ron and Ginny hadn't finished their summer homework, so they spent the day in their rooms, not allowed to exit until it was done. She had already finished hers, so she spent an entire day talking about home decorating and pies. When even Molly grew tired of that conversation, she and Harry had been assigned to toss more garden gnomes.
She watched the little buggers stumble around in a daze for ten minutes, then toddle right back to the garden they had just been evicted from. She was sure of it now—Mrs. Weasley was just making them do busy work to keep them out of trouble. It made her feel like she was six years old.
Mercifully, they had to endure the Burrow for only two more days. She and Harry could return to Grimmauld and go back to shagging each other at every available opportunity. Plus, there was a library calling out to her that she had barely had time to set foot in.
At the end of another long day, she yawned and crawled into bed next to Ginny.
If only she were crawling into bed with Harry right now. Or able to sneak away to the twins' lab. The thought of what they had done together sent a tingle through her body. She grew wet, but stubbornly ignored it. Even masturbation would be impossible tonight.
She felt a little guilty about using the incense on Ginny, and didn't want to do it again. The twins didn't want to use it very often either. But all four had wanted just a taste of the Pride, and it had been worth it.
Ginny's bed was a tight fit for them, smaller than their four-posters at Hogwarts, but not too uncomfortable. She slid under the covers just as the younger girl commanded the candles on the walls to dim. The room turned dark.
"Night, Ginny."
"Can I ask you something before we go to sleep?"
Hermione rolled over. Despite the darkness, they could easily make out each other's faces. "Sure."
"Are you and Harry dating?"
She blinked at the unexpected question. "Er, no. Why would you think that?"
"Just wondering. You two have changed."
"How so?"
"You're both a lot more confident. You look at each other differently. He touches you more often too."
"Oh. Well, we went through a lot together last year. I helped him train for the tournament."
"You're both that way with other people too, though. You're friends with my brothers now, aren't you?"
"The twins? We've always been friends."
"Yes, but now you're real friends. It's the same with Dean. And Harry looks at Katie like—like he wants to rip her clothes off."
Hermione's heart beat faster at her words. "What are you saying, Ginny?"
Ginny stared straight into her eyes. Their faces were a mere foot away, and even in the darkness she could feel the intensity of her gaze.
"Is there a secret club in Hogwarts?"
"What? I—I'm not sure what you mean."
Ginny examined her face for a moment, and then seemed to relax. "I've heard rumors," she said casually. "I'm sure you have too. About places where people go to, er, do things. I always thought they were just ridiculous stories. But after the Hufflepuff match last year, when I got to play chaser…"
"Yes?"
"The girls were talking in the shower afterwards. Angelina was pissed off about losing, and Katie said she'd be fine after a good shag. She made a joke about a club, and Alicia shushed her."
Hermione tried to stay calm, but mentally she was panicking. This wasn't a conversation she was prepared to have yet. "And?"
"Is it true? Is there a secret club?"
"Why would you think I'd know about something like that?"
"Because I watch you and Harry, and if there's something going on, you're always in the thick of it. Plus…" She paused, and a little smirk appeared on her lips. "I can tell you're uncomfortable with the question."
Hermione digested that in silence, trying to think of something to say. She couldn't tell her the truth. That was impossible. A dozen questions assaulted her at once. Was Ginny a potential new member for the Pride? Or would she be shocked and disgusted? Would it hurt their friendship if she knew? What would the twins think? Would she even be allowed to join? Should she tell her an outright lie? Maybe if—
She looked into Ginny's eyes and suddenly realized the girl had set a trap for her. Damn.
"Merlin," Ginny breathed. "It's true, isn't it? You're trying to figure out a way to lie to me."
"It's not like that."
"Then tell me the truth."
Hermione tried to ignore her intimidating gaze. She needed a moment to think, and Ginny wasn't giving her one. The girl had clearly been giving these questions some thought. "I can't. Not precisely."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"If any sort of secret club exists, I can't talk about it. I'm sorry."
"Can't or won't?"
"Er, both."
"So that means—you made a vow? Or signed a contract to keep quiet."
"Whatever you suspect, Ginny, you can't talk about this with anyone, okay? It's important."
"I won't. I just want to know the truth. What can you tell me?"
Hermione thought desperately. She was boxed in by the contract, and had no idea how Ginny would react to anything she said. Though they had always liked each other, they seemed to have little in common except Ron and Harry, and complicated issues like this one had just never arisen.
"You're trying to lie again."
"I am not!"
"I grew up with the twins. I know when people are lying. You're not very good at it."
She huffed. "Is that why you're interrogating me out of the blue?"
"That, and I thought you'd be honest with me. I know we don't hang out much at Hogwarts, but you've always talked to me before."
Hermione examined her earnest, pleading expression and came to a decision.
"Listen. If I answer your question, I want your word that you won't talk about this with anyone else. I mean it."
"I promise."
She took a breath. "Okay, then, yes. There is a secret club in Gryffindor. I can't tell you who's a part of it or what the club is about. I don't want to lie to you, but I can't tell you much more."
"Merlin," she whispered. "I was right. I can't believe it."
"Don't make assumptions. I haven't really said anything."
She pondered that answer thoughtfully. "Do you think I'd be interested in joining it?"
"I—don't know. It might be awkward. And I don't know how you feel about certain things."
Ginny drew closer and looked into her eyes from inches away. "Are you shagging Harry?"
"Ginny!"
She pulled back with a grin on her face. "Don't even try to deny it. I can tell just by the way you reacted."
Hermione couldn't stop a blush. Ginny was obviously clever. She had grown up with six older brothers, and knew how to read and manipulate them. Having grown up as an only child, she felt outmatched.
"Do you still have a crush on him?" she asked hesitantly.
"On Harry? Not really. Well—only a little. I like him, but I know he's not the storybook hero I thought he was. He gets all tetchy sometimes, doesn't he?"
"Only sometimes. The rest of the time he's—"
"Pretty damn awesome."
Hermione smiled. "Yes."
Ginny stared at her in the darkness. Hermione took it as a good sign that she wasn't freaking out about her and Harry. Two years ago, the girl might have tried to pull her hair out in jealousy.
"So, you don't know if I'd be interested, and you can't tell me anything more."
"I can tell you that if you wanted to, er, date Harry, then it wouldn't be a good fit for you."
"And if I weren't interested in dating Harry?"
"Then maybe I could arrange for you to meet someone. You'd have to sign a contract. It wouldn't obligate you to do anything, but I could talk to you about it."
"Would I know this person?"
"Yes."
"Okay. I want to know about it at least."
"Are you sure, Ginny? It's—you might disapprove. I don't want you to look at anyone differently, or judge them."
"Merlin, this is going to blow my mind, isn't it?"
"It might."
There was a long silence. Ginny leaned in close again. "Have you slept with other people besides Harry?"
Hermione didn't answer, but her eyes gave the answer away.
"How many?"
She closed her eyes in exasperation, and Ginny couldn't stifle a laugh.
"Bloody hell, Hermione!"
"Shhhh! You can't talk about this with anyone else. No gossiping."
She couldn't stop giggling. "I already promised, but Merlin. I never would have guessed."
"Things have changed in the last year. I've changed. For the better."
She met Ginny's eyes with confidence this time, showing the younger girl that she wasn't ashamed or embarrassed, just caught off-guard.
"Wow."
"If you keep my secrets, I'll keep yours, okay?" Hermione said. "Do you have any experience?"
It was Ginny's turn to feel intimidated by a question. "Er, I've had a few. Not the big one, but I'm not a prude. I almost slept with Michael Corner at the end of last year, but I chickened out. He broke up with me over it."
"He sounds like an asshole."
She shrugged. "I liked him, but he didn't break my heart."
"Good. What about Neville?"
"We're just friends. I think he's a little scared of me. Or maybe the twins."
Hermione snorted. She wouldn't want to risk pissing off Fred and George either.
"So, this club—my brothers are a part of it?"
"I really couldn't say."
Ginny examined her eyes. "So that's a yes to the twins. The quidditch girls I'm certain of. Probably your roommates too. Lavender Brown seems like the type. Ron's not, though, is he? Is that why you ditched him?"
Hermione huffed at her cleverness. Ginny was handling this much better than she had, even if she didn't understand the full truth. "We didn't ditch him. He ditched us. Things are getting better now though."
"They're not the same though, are they?"
"No."
She leaned in conspiratorially. "Did you know he has a girlfriend?"
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked with a grin.
"I think so. A Hufflepuff named Tamsin. She's been over a few times this summer, supposedly to use our pitch to practice. He claims he's coaching her. He's being all secretive about it. The strange thing is the twins aren't even teasing him."
She almost pumped her arm in triumph. "He hasn't said anything about her?"
"No, I asked once and he told me to mind my own business. I'm pretty sure he's writing her. Errol is always gone."
Their eyes met, and neither girl could contain their giggles.
"Oh, Merlin," Ginny wheezed, "can you imagine what they're like together? I desperately want to steal one of his letters, but he'd kill me."
"Let them be, please. We might have helped them along a little bit."
"What?! What did you do?"
"Shhhh! I can't really explain everything, but maybe, you know, in the future, I can."
Ginny smiled. "Who do I need to meet? I want to know what's been going on."