Chapter 4: Sex Education for Muggleborns
Chapter Text
Hermione lay flat on her back in the Gryffindor girls' dormitory, staring into the dark red velvet canopy just inches above her face. The curtains trapped the warmth inside her four-poster, making the air heavy. Sweat clung to her temples; the pillow was already damp. She rolled onto her side, then her stomach, then back again, the sheets twisting around her slim legs. Her curls stuck to her damp neck and cheeks, frizzing at the roots. A fine sheen of sweat coated her upper lip, the heat building no matter how often she kicked the blanket off.
Every witch around her slept in slow, steady breaths. Small rustles came from under distant covers, but Hermione felt wired under her own. Her heart beat too fast. Her chest lifted with every shallow breath. The cotton of her nightshirt clung to her skin, damp and tight across her small, growing curves.
She kept remembering the unforgettable obscene scene.
She saw a naked Harry on top of a naked Professor Black, thrusting with raw, hungry force. She could not be mistaken. She knew the wild tangle of his dark hair anywhere. Bellatrix's long pale legs had been spread wide, toes curling into the sheets each time he drove deeper.
Hermione pressed her thighs together, but the pressure only sharpened the memory.
Then she saw the second woman. Her idol. The idol of nearly every Muggleborn witch. Lily Potter, the mother of the Boy Who Lived. She had been there beside them. Naked. Her red hair loose and wild over her shoulders. Her hand moving fast between her legs as she watched the pair on the bed. Her breath came quick, her chest rising sharply. Hermione still saw the moment Lily climaxed in silence, her whole body shaking, thighs quivering as she watched her own son fill Bellatrix again and again.
Hermione's curls clung to her cheeks and neck, damp with sweat. The air inside the drawn curtains was thick, stale, too warm. Her skin felt tacky. She shifted, and the pillow stuck to her shoulder. Her nightshirt clung beneath her breasts and lower back, soaked through.
The bed sheets were damp beneath her, the heat between her thighs unbearable now. A throb rose up through her belly, sharp and pulsing. Her hips lifted before she could stop them, searching for pressure.
Her panties were soaked. The fabric clung like a second skin, warm and tight between her thighs. She pressed her legs together, trying to hold the feeling back, but the friction only sent a jolt up her spine and dragged a sharp breath through her teeth.
She pushed the blanket up to her ribs. Her hand hovered, then rested on her stomach. Her skin burned under her palm. She hesitated. Her fingers drifted lower, instinct guiding her.
Her fingertips brushed the damp cotton, and her breath caught. The heat beneath was worse than she'd imagined. Her whole body felt like it was waiting for something she didn't fully understand.
Her mother had given her the talk last year, as she was going to live in a hostel away from home. She had said it was normal to touch herself, but only when she felt ready. Hermione had nodded, too embarrassed to ask questions. She had always thought of herself as a good, innocent girl who loved to study.
Then Harry had saved her from the troll that Halloween night, just like in those Boy Who Lived books. After that, things changed.
She had started having dreams about him, strange and warm and frighteningly vivid. A few nights, she touched herself through her knickers, whispering his name, imagining he was holding her or brushing her hair aside. Since then, she had touched herself while thinking about him more than once. But the guilt afterward made it impossible to meet his eyes for a week.
But now Harry was having sex. Real sex. With a professor. Under his mother's watch. In his mother's bed.
Instead of feeling scandalised, Hermione felt jealous. Not because Harry was having sex. Because Harry was having sex with someone else.
A quiet huff escaped her throat.
She hooked one finger under the waistband and eased the fabric aside until warm air touched her bare, wet skin. The change in temperature made her hips twitch. She covered her mouth with one hand, afraid of even the smallest sound.
Her other hand eagerly dipped down.
The first touch found the source of wetness immediately. Not a light sheen but a full, slick coating that spread across her fingertips at once. She almost whimpered. Her thighs tightened, then opened again as she tried to keep her breathing steady.
She guided the slick upward. Her clit pulsed beneath her touch. When she brushed it, her whole body jerked in a small, sharp tremor that made the mattress creak. She froze and listened. Thankfully, no one stirred.
She let her fingers rub her slit, teasing the swollen walls just beneath her clit. Each pass coaxes more slick out of it. The motion was small and controlled, the kind she used when she had to stay silent.
The wet sound of her fingers moving filled the quiet space around her bed. She swallowed and pressed her palm harder against her mouth.
Her hips lifted into her own hand. Her thighs loosened under the blanket, opening without thought. Her toes curled against the sheets. Her fingertip slid up through her folds, gliding easily now. Each stroke spread more warm and slippery slick across her folds, wetting her fingers to the knuckle.
She circled higher now, tracing the top of her slit until her fingertip brushed her clit. The contact made her stomach jolt.
She moved her fingers lower, parting herself gently. Her entrance clung to the touch, soft and wet. She dipped her middle finger just inside, enough to feel the tight pull of heat around it. Her breath caught. She withdrew and pushed her slick back up over her clit, spreading it in smooth, steady circles.
Her hips rocked in small, careful rolls. Her body knew exactly where she wanted pressure, and her hand followed, patient and deliberate. Every stroke landed cleanly. Every pass made her clit throb harder.
She imagined Harry. His mouth on her throat. His hands are pinning her hips. His breath against her ear. The thought made her clench around nothing.
Her back arched. Her curls spilled across the pillow. She rubbed her clit faster now, a hint of desperation in every motion. Each tiny circle sent a sharp, bright jolt through her core, feeding the pressure that had been building since the moment the fantasy took shape.
She bit the edge of the blanket, desperate to stay quiet.
Her free hand slid up her stomach and cupped her breast through the nightshirt. She pinched gently. Her nipple was already hard, sensitive to the slightest touch. The feeling dragged a sound from her, "Oh...Harry~"
Her fingers sped up. Her hips rolled against her hand. Slick dripped onto the sheets from her knuckles. She buried her face deeper into the blanket.
"I… I'm gonna..." she breathed, voice barely audible, desperate to hold it in.
Her climax hit her all at once. Her legs clamped around her wrist. Her back lifted from the bed. A sharp, muffled cry spilled into the blanket as she came, trembling violently, thighs shaking with every pulse.
Still, she kept rubbing through it, small, frantic circles that pushed her higher before dropping her down again. Her pussy clenched hard, then fluttered in softer waves that made her gasp against the pillow.
When the tremors faded, she collapsed into the mattress. Her curls stuck to her cheeks. Her panties clung to her body in a soaked patch she could feel even without touching.
Her fingers glistened in the dim light. Slick covered her palm, sticky and warm.
"I cannot believe this. I did that while thinking about them," she whispered, voice barely audible.
Her face burned with orgasmic shame. She wiped her hand low on the sheet, streaking slick into the cotton. Her fingers were still sticky. She didn't look at them. She just dragged her panties back into place, the fabric damp and clinging. Her thighs still trembled from aftershocks of pleasure. The blanket peeled off her skin with a faint sound, and she sat up slowly, careful not to let the bed creak beneath her weight.
Her breath shook as she pulled it in through her nose, held it, let it go to calm down. Her curls clung to her neck and cheeks. The air inside the curtains was thick with the scent of sweat and sex.
She reached toward the nightstand. Her fingers hadn't stopped trembling. They closed around her wand.
Tempus.
The numbers flared in soft blue light above the tip.
4:03 AM.
It was early morning; the sky outside was still dark. Most of the castle lay in a deep, enchanted sleep.
She sat motionless for a moment, spine straight, curls sticking to her neck. Her chest rose and fell in shallow waves. Her nipples pressed sharply against the inside of her nightshirt. Her slit throbbed faintly from all the rubbing, the raw edge of pleasure still pulsing under her clothes. Her panties clung to her in a soaked patch that stuck and shifted with every small movement.
She didn't move until her heartbeat slowed enough for her to hear her own thoughts again.
And when it did, everything came back at once.
The memory of what she had seen and what she had been doing.
She had watched Harry, her Harry, fucking Professor Black with animalistic hunger. She had seen Bellatrix writhing beneath him. And Professor Potter's fingers were working furiously between her legs as she came while watching her son breed another witch.
She had lain in her bed for hours, trying to sleep, pretending it had not happened. She desperately hoped everything was just a bad dream, that Harry, her friend, wasn't fucking their professor in his mother's room.
And worst of all, the way it made Hermione aroused. The way it lodged in her so deeply, she hadn't even realized she was touching herself until she was already too far to stop. That wasn't normal. That wasn't her. And it wasn't right.
She needed answers. At least one reason that could make this bizarre night make sense.
And she needed to warn Professor Lily about Pansy. About the look she gave when she left. That knowing smile and unspoken threat made her uneasy. Plus, she was in Slytherin.
Hermione pushed the blanket fully aside. Cold air hit the inside of her thighs and made her gasp. Her skin prickled with chill. The wet patch between her legs felt colder now. She reached for her robe and pulled it tight around her, the fabric soft but doing little to warm her flushed skin. Her feet slipped into her worn slippers with a quiet shuffle.
None of the girls stirred. The dorm stayed silent as she crept past the others' beds and pulled the curtain open. Parvati's arm was flung loosely over the side of her bed, her bangles glinting faintly in the low light. Lavender slept on her back, mouth parted, snoring softly.
Hermione crept forward as she exited her dorms, careful not to wake anyone. The common room lay empty. A few low embers glowed in the fireplace, casting dim orange patterns across the stone floor. The air was cool and smelled faintly of ash and parchment.
Her steps were quick, sharp. Her hair brushed her neck as she moved. Her mind outran her feet. Every second that passed added more urgency to the coil tightening in her chest.
Down the stairs, through the long seventh-floor corridor, arches rising overhead like ancient ribs. Her shadow flickered across the worn smooth by a thousand years of footsteps. Her focus didn't waver. The torches hissed faintly against the walls, enchanted blue flames flickering behind iron sconces.
She didn't pause. Not even when she passed the hallway that would lead toward the library several floors below. Her heart beat harder the closer she got to the second floor.
She turned the last corner. The corridor was dim and still.
Only the soft hiss of a nearby torch guttering in its bracket. Professor Potter's door stood at the far end. Hermione slowed and stopped two feet from the door.
Her pulse thundered in her ears now. Her breath caught. She stared at the wooden door, suddenly unsure.
What if he was in there?
What if she walked in and saw naked Harry inside Professor Black, or worse, inside....
She shook her head sharply. Her curls brushed her cheek.
She didn't need to see anything. She didn't want to.
She just needed answers. She had to warn Professor Lily of what Pansy had seen. Someone had to tell her that there was a perfectly reasonable magical explanation for everything she'd witnessed.
Hermione swallowed and gathered her courage like armor, drawing in a breath so tight it made her ribs ache. Her fingers clenched the robe at her waist.
She reminded herself that she was a Gryffindor. Her hand hovered a moment, then curled into a fist.
She knocked.
The knock rang out, louder than she intended in the dead of night. Thank Merlin, the corridor was empty. If someone like Peeves had shown up, it would've been chaos. Cold from the flagstones crept through her slippers, settling in her toes as she waited.
Nothing.
No shift. No creak. No sound of anyone waking up behind the door.
She almost turned away. But she lifted her hand again and knocked a second time, a bit softer this time.
A pause.
Then the faintest stir of sound. A rustle of blankets. The drag of fabric. Bare feet touching stone. Slow, sleepy steps moving toward her. A thin spill of lamplight slipped under the door, warming the floor at her feet.
It opened wider.
Lily Potter stood barefoot in the doorway, the lamplight behind her casting a warm amber glow around her figure. Her nightgown clung to her curves, deep green and thin‑strapped, falling loose at the shoulders. One strap had slipped down her arm, resting against the pale skin there. The fabric cinched softly at her waist, dipped at her chest, then dropped in a straight line to her knees.
Her red hair was unbrushed, falling in loose waves over one side of her face. A few strands clung to her collarbone. Her skin carried the faint flush of sleep, her eyelids heavy as she blinked into the corridor light. She tilted her head slightly, eyes adjusting, and found Hermione standing there in the dim corridor.
She didn't speak at first.
"Miss Granger?" she asked, her voice low, scratchy with sleep. "What are you doing here?"
She glanced toward the wall-mounted clock inside the room, then back at the girl standing on her threshold. "It's four in the morning."
"I'm sorry for the hour," Hermione said meekly. "But I need to speak with you. It really can't wait."
Lily looked at her for a moment longer, then opened the door wider.
"Come in."
Hermione stepped inside. The quarters were warm and dimly lit, and a weird scent still lingered. Books were stacked neatly on the desk, a closed file beside a half-full teacup. The couch cushions were untouched. Behind a half-pulled curtain, the bed was rumpled, the sheets drawn back and still creased with the shape of a body.
Her eyes swept the space quickly.
Harry wasn't here. She exhaled without meaning to, some tight part of her chest releasing. But it came with a smaller, sharper ache. She didn't know if it was relief or disappointment.
"Sit, if you like," Lily said.
But she didn't sit. She stayed standing, just inside the doorway, fingers tightening on her robe sash.
Lily crossed the room and sat down in one of the cushioned chairs by the hearth, legs crossed at the ankle, hands folded in her lap. When she looked up, her expression was alert and composed now just like a professor now.
"Tell me what's going on."
Hermione's mouth felt dry. She took a step forward, then stopped.
"I... saw you," she said, her voice catching. "Last night. With Harry. And Professor Black."
Lily didn't flinch. Her tone didn't shift.
"That was a private matter."
"I wasn't alone," Hermione added quickly. "Pansy saw it too."
Lily's brows lifted as she asked, "How?"
Hermione hesitated, then glanced away. "We... looked through the keyhole."
The pause that followed stretched long.
Lily's jaw tensed. She looked toward the fire, then back again. Her tone came cool, edged with something harder. "You spied on a professor's quarters?"
"I didn't mean to... really," Hermione said, the words tumbling out too fast. "Professor Black had kept Harry after dueling class. I was looking for him for ages. I just—" she faltered. "I got curious. I thought I heard something, and Pansy... she sneaked up behind me. I didn't even know she was there."
Lily tilted her head, voice flatter now, "So she caught you watching."
Hermione's shoulders folded in. She stared at the carpet. Her hands were shaking.
"Miss Granger," Lily said. "That's a serious breach of trust."
"I know," Hermione whispered. Her voice cracked on the last word.
Lily's gaze lingered on her a moment longer, then she sighed and leaned back.
"You saw something you weren't meant to. But you're here. So ask what you came to ask."
Hermione's voice was small. "Why didn't you stop her?"
Lily looked at her without blinking. "Because there was nothing to stop."
"She was touching him," Hermione said. "And he didn't even try to pull away from her. You just... lay there and watched."
Lily's voice wavered a bit, "First of all, it was Harry doing the touching. Quite a lot of it."
Hermione shook her head. "He's changed. He looks at her like… like he's under a spell. And she is a professor plus you're…" her throat tightened, "…his mother."
Lily's expression shifted, just slightly. Something behind her eyes tensed.
"She was."
"Then why—"
"Because this isn't the Muggle world, Hermione," Lily said softly. "Harry isn't just a student. He's the heir to an ancient house. That makes him a political figure. He needs allies in the Wizengamot."
"And Bellatrix?" Hermione asked.
"Professor Black is part of the house of Black," Lily said. "She is bound to it, and she has to do everything she has to save it. Her family magiks compels her to do it."
Hermione's mouth opened, then closed again. She knew she needed a good reason to ignore the taboo around it but…
Lily continued, her tone gentler now.
"I know what you're feeling. I was the same when I found out. But you need to understand that sex, in the magical world, isn't always about romance. It can be for rituals, inheritance, and contract. Sometimes all at once."
Hermione looked away.
"And Pansy?"
"You don't have to worry about her," Lily said. "She's clever, but careless. She saw something she doesn't understand and thinks it gives her leverage. She'll try to use it. But she's playing a game she isn't equipped to win."
Hermione's throat felt tight. "I just didn't…" she said.
Lily folded her hands in her lap and looked up from the armchair as Hermione hesitated just inside the threshold. "Why were you looking for Harry in the first place?"
Hermione blinked. "I just… I thought he might be here."
Lily's brows lifted slightly. She was still seated, legs crossed at the ankle. "You thought he might be here?" she repeated, her voice warm but edged with quiet curiosity. "And what made you think to check my quarters?"
Hermione hesitated, then exhaled softly. "I used Point Me."
Lily tilted her head. "A tracking charm?"
"I just wanted to talk to him," Hermione said quickly. "He didn't return to the Slytherin common room. I was waiting for him in the dungeons."
"So you cast a spell to find him." Lily's voice stayed soft, but her eyes sharpened. "Were you stalking my son, Miss Granger?"
Hermione flushed. "No… I mean… I was just worried about him."
Lily regarded her in silence for a long moment. "And the charm led you here."
Hermione nodded, then looked down. "I didn't expect… this."
Lily's tone shifted slightly lighter, but no less direct. "No. I imagine you didn't."
Lily rose from the armchair, silk nightgown brushing her ankles as she crossed the room. Her bare feet made no sound on the polished stone. She stopped in front of Hermione, close enough for Hermione to feel the warmth radiating off her.
"You're not very good at hiding affection, Hermione."
Hermione's eyes dropped to the floor.
Lily's voice softened. "You like him."
Hermione opened her mouth, closed it again, then nodded slightly, eyes shimmering.
Lily gave a faint smile. "That isn't a crime. It's very… sweet, actually."
Hermione swallowed. "He's different," she said quietly. "Since he saved... But he's still… Harry. And I don't think he sees me that way."
"Maybe not yet," Lily murmured, brushing a lock of hair back from Hermione's cheek. "But he could."
Hermione shivered at the touch. "Would you like me to teach you how to make him notice?"
Hermione's breath caught. She met Lily's gaze, uncertain and overwhelmed, but she didn't pull away.
"Harry is a young man now," Lily continued softly. "And you've stopped being an innocent little girl, haven't you? You've been thinking about him in ways you don't dare say aloud, haven't you?"
Hermione's cheeks darkened. She nodded once.
Lily's gaze dropped briefly, then lifted again. "You've been touching yourself, thinking of him before coming here."
Hermione flinched, but Lily leaned closer, voice low and steady. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. But next time, change your knickers before leaving your room. That little scent trail you're dripping? The castle has many with strong noses. Even your Head of House. I imagine Professor McGonagall would be very disappointed."
Hermione's hands flew instinctively to her sides. "I didn't— I didn't know—"
"Now you do," Lily said calmly. "Come here."
She stepped behind Hermione and eased her forward, guiding her two steps deeper into the room, away from the open doorway. With one foot, she kicked the door shut behind them. Lily's arms wrapped around her waist, her cheek resting lightly against Hermione's shoulder. The fabric between them was thin. Lily's hands slid up in a slow, measured glide, fingers brushing the sides of Hermione's breasts.
"You've never read Witch Weekly, have you?" Lily murmured. "They sell potions brewed from mandrake root and lunar extract. They coax growth, make your rack soft, full, and very responsive. You'll feel the difference. I'll give you a vial... but the massage matters more."
Hermione trembled. "W-why are you… undressing me?"
"Because," Lily whispered, her mouth brushing Hermione's ear, "I'm teaching you the massage technique."
She eased Hermione's robe off her shoulders, guiding it down her arms until it dropped to the floor. Her breath warmed the spot behind Hermione's ear as she reached for the hem of the nightshirt next. Her fingers moved with practiced gentleness, sliding the loose fabric up Hermione's thighs and over her hips, peeling it slowly upward.
Hermione stood frozen, arms at her sides, lips parted in uncertainty. A flush rose across her chest and neck, the soft swell of her breasts fully exposed now.
"Relax," Lily whispered, fingers brushing the underside of one breast. "This part matters more than you'd think."
The nightshirt slipped over her head and joined the robe on the floor.
Lily's hands didn't stop. She rested them on Hermione's waist, then slowly moved upward, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. Hermione tensed. Her back arched slightly. Her nipples stiffened, brushing against Lily's palms.
"You're sensitive," Lily noted softly, approvingly. "That's good. Harry will like that."
Hermione gasped.
"You want him to touch you here, don't you?" Lily asked, hands smoothing upward, cupping her fully now.
"You really think he…"
Lily's thumbs circled her nipples slowly. "Your panties already answered your doubts."
Hermione shuddered. "What?"
Lily stepped in closer, her own breasts pressing softly against Hermione's bare back.
"You're soaked," she whispered. "Much more than when you came in."
Her hand slid down the girl's front, over the slight tremble of her belly, until it settled between her legs. A single finger traced the damp cotton stretched across Hermione's cunt.
The fabric was damp, warm, and sticky.
Hermione whimpered as her thighs squeezed shut.
She eased Hermione's panties down slowly, exposing the glossy wetness smeared across her inner thighs. The cotton clung for a moment, sticking between the lips of her pussy, then peeled away with a quiet wet sound.
Lily brought the fabric up, inspected the wet patch, then dropped it atop the robe and nightshirt.
"We'll start with breast massage," she said, pressing forward again, her hips aligning flush to Hermione's backside.
One hand reached around, cradling Hermione's left breast. The other hand rose, fingers tilting lazily. A small glass vial slipped free from the cabinet and glided into her palm, summoned without a sound. Inside, the potion swirled slowly and gold, thick as honey, catching the low firelight.
Lily uncorked it with her teeth.
"This will help them grow," she said softly. "It works best when someone you love applies it to your breasts. Often. Gently. Here… let me show you."
She poured a few warm drops into her palm and rubbed both hands together.
Then she began.
Her hands moved in slow circles with soft pressure. She lifted, kneaded, and smoothed the potion across Hermione's bare chest, working the oil into her skin with the steady rhythm of someone who had done this many times before. Each motion tugged and stretched, drawing heat to the surface, coaxing blood flow and sensation until the soft flesh responded. Hermione's breathing grew shallow. Her nipples swelled, flushed, and slick beneath Lily's touch.
From behind, Lily watched the pink bloom rise along the girl's throat.
"Didn't you ever wonder why Lavender Brown and Susan Bones have been getting so much attention lately?" she murmured.
Hermione whimpered. "Why does it feel so...?"
"So good?" Lily finished for her, leaning in to press a kiss just below her ear. "Because your body's never been touched by someone who actually knows what it needs."
Lily's hand stayed firm on Hermione's boob, thumb grazing one stiff nipple while her fingers pinched the other. Each twist earned a flinch, a breathless gasp, then a shudder. Hermione had leaned back against her completely, hips tilted, legs parted. Nothing was covering her right now. Her bare cunt pressed warm and wet into Lily's palm as the older woman stroked lower, unhurried.
"Were you disappointed Harry wasn't here?" Lily murmured near her ear. "Were you hoping Harry would do this instead of me?"
Hermione whimpered, voice shaking. "I didn't think…"
"But you hoped he'd still be here." Lily's tone didn't soften. "That's why you came straight from your bed, still wet from touching yourself. Hoping he'd finish what you started."
Her fingers slipped through slick warmth, stroking once along the parted lips. She gathered it, slow and firm, then slid her middle finger inside. Hermione gasped, her back twitching against Lily's chest.
"Harry likes girls who moan," Lily said, voice lower now. "Tight, needy girls who soak the sheets and forget how to speak. Just moan and enjoy it."
Hermione trembled. "Nnh… I…"
Lily smiled and pressed deeper. Her other hand pinched again, rolling Hermione's nipple until her voice cracked. "You don't even know how to grip yet."
She stilled her fingers, keeping them buried inside. The stretch was shallow, teasing.
"Now, clench your cunt around my fingers. Tighten it and show me."
Hermione gave a choked moan. "Like this~"
Lily felt the flutter. She gave a small hum of approval.
"Again. Hold it this time."
Hermione's thighs trembled. "Oh fuck—it's—so much—"
"Keep squeezing. Grip and let go. Don't think. Just let it happen."
Her fingers began to move again, curling up and dragging slick on every retreat. Hermione's moans rose louder, drawn straight from her chest.
"Harry would bugger me just like this… ahh… deeper—"
"Yes. And he'd want this pussy to grip him tight the whole time. You don't come here soaked like that unless you're ready to crawl into his bed."
Hermione's moans broke into gasps. "I want to… please—"
"You'll get your release soon."
Lily twisted her nipple again and pressed her thumb to Hermione's clit, her middle finger still lodged inside the slick warmth of her cunt. Hermione almost screamed, head falling back, thighs quivering.
"That's better," Lily murmured. "You're ready."
Hermione turned her head, flushed and panting. "Ready for what?"
"To earn your reward." Lily's voice was calm now, assured. "You're an accomplice now. That means knowing what to say and what not to."
She kissed the edge of Hermione's jaw, then stepped away, guiding her gently with a firm touch at the hip. Her hand lingered on Hermione's arse, then landed with a sharp smack. The sound cracked through the room.
Hermione gasped. "Ah~~"
Lily smiled. "That's better."
"Get on the bed. Lie back."
Hermione moved without speaking, her breath unsteady. She lowered herself to the mattress, legs still parted. Lily followed, coaxing them wider with her palms. The inner thighs opened slowly, skin flushed and glistening, the folds wet and pink.
"Wider," Lily said softly. "You'd let anyone look between your legs if they promised to pleasure you right."
Hermione flushed. "That's not true…"
But her thighs parted anyway. Her hands gripped the sheets, and the room filled with the thick, fishy scent of arousal.
Lily knelt between her legs and leaned in. Her breath warmed Hermione's cunt before her mouth touched. The first lick was warm and slow. The second was firmer, a steady drag from opening to clit that left Hermione gasping.
Lily didn't stop. She licked again, savoring the taste, the heat, the twitch of muscle when her tongue found the right spot.
Hermione's voice shook. "Please… don't stop… It feels so good."
"You couldn't stop me if you tried," Lily said. "And you won't want to."
She flattened her tongue and circled the clit, then pulled back and sucked gently, drawing the bud into her mouth. Hermione's hips jerked. Her breath caught with a sharp cry, thighs tightening around Lily's head.
"Oh no… I'm cumming."
Lily moaned into her cunny, the vibration setting off the final break. Hermione's back arched off the bed. Her cunt clenched and pulsed around nothing, wet heat gushing against Lily's tongue. She shook violently, one heel dragging across the sheets, her voice dissolving into broken gasps.
Lily stayed there. She swallowed her love juices with fervor. Her tongue teased the swollen folds, cleaned what was still leaking. Hermione twitched with each lick.
"It's so sensitive," Hermione gasped.
Lily kissed her inner thigh and pressed one last lick to the still-throbbing clit.
"You asked for this," she whispered. "And I don't waste a drop."
Hermione lay still, chest heaving, flushed from throat to cheekbone.
Lily rose, lips wet and glistening. She licked them clean with a slow swipe of her tongue, eyes never leaving Hermione.
"You'll do what I say now," she said, brushing damp curls from her face. "In return, I'll arrange something nice. A night alone with Harry."
Hermione blinked, dazed. "Anything…"
Lily smiled, pleased. "Good. Then you're my student from now on. And we're going to have so much fun."
The sound of clapping hit both of them at once.
Lily's eyes narrowed as she turned toward it.
As she realized that she hadn't locked the door. For a heartbeat, she hoped that it was Bellatrix. But she was disappointed.
The last clap echoed against the stone as a figure leaned into view.
Hermione tensed on the bed, legs still parted on the bed, slick and flushed and bare. She flinched as the final clap landed. Her thighs twitched. She scrambled to pull her legs together, face going pale.
Pansy Parkinson leaned against the doorframe, one brow lifted, arms folded. She wore an old green jumper and tight black shorts, one leg hitched high on the thigh. Her hair was half tied, the rest falling loose around her face in soft curls. Her grin was sharp and full of teeth.
"Well, well," Pansy drawled. "And here I thought I was the only one who couldn't sleep when Potter came back to the dorms, too tired to speak. Turns out goody-two-shoes Granger needed a midnight lesson in obedience."
Hermione tried to speak. Nothing came out. Her hands clutched at the sheets, too late to cover anything.
Lily didn't look startled. Her gaze was steady, mouth calm, eyes measuring.
Pansy took one slow step into the room, letting the silence stretch.
"You know," she said, her tone almost idle, "I always suspected the mudblood would squirm for approval, but I didn't think she'd be this desperate. Teacher's pet… in every sense."
Hermione's mouth parted. "I am not!"
Pansy cut her off with a smirk. "Oh, save it. I was hoping you'd be here. Lady Potter always did have a soft spot for filthy blood. Makes sense, she'd want a little pet for her son. Not the first time a Gryffindor witch bent the knee for Potter, is it?"
Lily summoned her wand from her wand holster. Her robes whispered as she stepped between them.
"You're out of line, Miss Parkinson," Lily said.
Pansy shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm not wrong."
Lily's gaze narrowed. "I expected you to be sneaking into Harry's bed by now."
Pansy's smirk deepened. "Please. I find men far too much trouble. Messy, loud, always expecting praise. Women know how to keep quiet… and finish the job."
She stepped farther into the room, eyes drifting toward the bed. Hermione was still on her back, legs drawn together now, face flushed, trying not to meet Pansy's gaze.
Pansy tilted her head. "Since Granger's already been rewarded…" Her voice turned lazy. "I trust mine won't take long."
Chapter 5: Dawn of Degradation
Notes:
Warning: This chapter contains dubcon/coercion and house-elf content. Skip if it's not your thing. You won't lose major plot points, as this will be retconned in the next chapter.
Chapter Text
Pansy stepped to the door and flicked the bolt shut. The click echoed too loudly in the quiet room.
She turned back with unhurried precision, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of the oversized green jumper. The knit rose slowly, baring her navel first, then the soft curve of her waist, until she pulled it over her head and dropped it to the floor.
Her bra was sheer black lace, thin and unlined, the pattern delicate but leaving nothing to the imagination. The swell of her breasts pressed against the fabric, nipples visible and already stiff. She didn't cover herself. Her skin was pale, smooth across her stomach, with a faint vertical line drawing the eye from the dip beneath her ribs down to the low waistband of her shorts.
"Now," she said lightly, eyes on Lily. "Let's see how far your Gryffindor courage really goes, Lady Potter."
Lily stood beside the bed, posture taut, her wand resting loose against her thigh. She didn't answer. Her expression was unreadable, though a flicker of regret showed in her emerald eyes.
Pansy didn't wait. She slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and pushed them down her long legs. They dragged over the soft skin of her thighs and calves before pooling at her ankles. She stepped free, barefoot now, leaving herself in only her bra and a narrow black thong.
The thin fabric disappeared between her hips and clung visibly damp between her legs. The folds beneath were puffy and parted slightly, the lace glossy with slick. Her confidence wasn't affected. She stood tall, shoulders back, her bare skin flushed at the chest and under her ribs, the light sheen of arousal catching the firelight.
Hermione sat behind Lily on the mattress, half upright against the pillows, the sheet dragged high across her chest. Her hands clutched the edges with knuckles tight. But her eyes betrayed her, drawn helplessly to the shape of Pansy's hips, the gleam of her thighs, and the way the black lace dug into soft, flushed skin. Her lips parted slightly, though no sound came out.
"I should warn you," Pansy said, stepping deeper into the room with slow, deliberate weight, "I'm in a generous mood tonight. But generosity fades quickly when people start playing fools. I do hope my reward is more exciting than this mudblood's."
Hermione's breath caught. She gave a small, broken sound and tried to speak. "You can't—"
Lily raised her wand without turning. "Silencio."
Hermione's voice cut off. Her lips kept moving, pleading, maybe even begging, but no sound came. Her eyes widened. She clutched the sheet tighter and drew back, shoulders curling as she shrank behind Lily's back.
Pansy laughed under her breath. She raised her left hand, palm forward, and flexed her fingers. A heavy ring gleamed dark on her middle finger, the Parkinson crest engraved into its face in old.
"I wouldn't try Obliviating me, if that crossed your mind," she said, calm now, almost bored. "The heir's ring is bound by family magiks to protect me. The moment you cast a memory charm on me, half my family's spell monitors will activate. You'd have the Wizengamot at your door before sunrise."
Lily's hand twitched. She didn't lower the wand, but she didn't threaten her either.
Pansy stepped closer, hips rolling with lazy grace, bare thighs gliding in silence across the stone floor. "And before you get clever," she said, "last night's little adventure with Bellatrix and your son? Already documented. I used a Gemino Charm to create exact copies, split them into pieces, hid them in separate places, and even sent one straight to my personal vault at Gringotts."
Hermione froze on the bed. Her eyes filled with panic.
"If I vanish," Pansy went on, "forget, or turn up dead? One copy goes straight to my father. Another's with my house-elves, to hand over to a few Slytherins who collect blackmail like Chocolate Frogs. I don't even need to be alive for it to ruin your good deeds."
"You little snake," Lily said under her breath. Her voice was cold now, flat. "You think this gives you control over me?"
Pansy's expression didn't flicker. "Oh, it does. And it's not just you, either. There's your son's little child-bride-in-training, tucked up behind you, pretending she's not part of it. You've both been playing dangerous games, Professor. You're just not the only one anymore."
The air in the room grew still.
Pansy looked Lily over, gaze steady and expectant. Her voice lowered, smooth with something close to pleasure. "Shouldn't you be stripping by now?"
Lily's jaw tightened. "No."
Pansy's smile didn't waver. "Then I'll just tell the entire Tower how you gave your brightest little witch the most shameless cunt-licking I've ever seen. How she was drowning in ecstasy when you called her your good girl. I wonder what Potter would think of that. Or what Granger's parents would do when they hear their daughter's been getting off on her professor's tongue."
Hermione gave a muffled whimper, her fingers curling tighter in the sheet as her thighs inched together. The motion was instinctive, the kind of retreat the body made when the shame had nowhere left to hide.
Lily stared at Pansy for a long moment. Her shoulders rose and fell with a restrained breath. "You have no idea what you're stepping into."
Pansy's mouth curled. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
"You think you have some good leverage over me," Lily said. "You're wrong. This ends with you regretting ever walking in that door."
"Maybe," Pansy replied smoothly. "But tonight I will get what I want."
She stepped closer, stopping directly in front of Lily. The heat from her nearly naked body carried with her, the scent of arousal sharp and unmistakable. Her bra strained faintly with each breath. The thong was still pulled tight between her hips, soaked and shining.
"You think this is just blackmail?" Pansy murmured. "It's not. I'm joining a coven you already started. Don't pretend this wasn't in motion long before I walked in."
She tilted her head slightly, eyes dark with satisfaction.
"You've no idea what it means to be a pure-blood witch. You're trained to submit. Expected to yield. But this? The most celebrated witch of the century, down on her knees just for me?" She smiled. "That would be the highlight of my life."
Her fingers lifted, slow and deliberate, hovering just shy of Lily's cheek lovingly.
"And if this little arrangement helps loosen Malfoy's grip on Black's seat," she added, voice dipping lower, "all the better. Maybe you'll even return the favor… help get me out of that cursed marriage contract."
Lily stood rigid, shoulders drawn tight. Then, slowly, she reached for the clasp at her collar and unhooked it. Her night robes slipped down her arms and crumpled at her feet. The underlayer followed, drawn off with practiced efficiency. She wore nothing beneath.
Her breasts spilled free, the pale skin flushed faintly from chest to throat. Each nipple was stiff from exposure, and the areolae were warm pink. Her hips were wide, her thighs toned and lightly freckled on the inside, just above the crease. The red curls between her legs were trimmed close.
Pansy's gaze dragged down every inch with deliberate hunger. Her lips parted, her voice a murmur.
"Beautiful… No wonder he's still obsessed with you. Even decades later…"
Lily sat at the edge of the bed, back straight, thighs clenched, jaw locked. She didn't look at Hermione.
Pansy stepped forward and placed a hand on Lily's bare shoulder. Her palm was warm. Her thumb pressed into the muscle with calculated pressure.
"You could've stopped this if you wanted to," she murmured. "But you didn't. Not when your son bent you over. So why pretend you're restrained now?"
Her hand drifted down, brushing Lily's arm, grazing the outer curve of her breast, then trailing across her ribs toward the soft skin between her thighs.
"It's been over a decade since anyone touched you," Pansy went on, voice quieter. "Your dead husband didn't keep you faithful. Those wedding vows must have bound you to the Potter family. And the old purebloods left loopholes for that exact reason."
Her fingers slipped higher.
"Your cunt was always meant to stay in the family."
Lily's jaw tensed. "I never meant for anyone to see that," she said, eyes downcast. "You weren't supposed to know."
Hermione shifted behind them, her face pale, mouth parted, but no sound escaped. The Silencio still held.
Pansy chuckled, fingers brushing the crease where Lily's thigh met the heat of her sex.
"But we did see. I should thank Hermione for that. So I assume Bellatrix caught you, too. That's why Harry buried himself in her like she was made for him. And you just lay there and watched."
She pressed closer, hips brushing Lily's back. Her left hand slid up, cupped the weight of Lily's breast, and rolled the nipple beneath her thumb until it stiffened. Then she pinched it hard.
Lily gasped, her body jolting under the pressure. But she didn't pull away.
Pansy released her slowly, watching the color return to the tender peak. Her expression twisted.
"I thought I was the filthiest bitch in this castle." She gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Merlin. I feel like I should apologise for existing in the same room as you."
Her hand dropped. Lily swayed slightly, arms wrapping around her ribs as if to hold herself together now that the last secret had broken loose.
Pansy stepped back. Her eyes glittered with judgment, possibly awe, and fear.
Lily hesitated. Her breath caught in her throat.
Then Pansy cupped her cunt fully. Her hand pressed into the soft heat.
"You make me feel innocent."
Lily didn't breathe. Her spine stiffened. Shoulders squared.
"You're disgusting."
Pansy smiled.
"And yet," she said softly, "you're wet."
Her hand slid upward. Two fingers pushed inside Lily's pussy with one smooth, practiced thrust. Lily gasped, hips jerking, but Pansy already had her.
She withdrew slowly. Her fingers glistened in the firelight, wet and warm.
"Look at this."
She lifted her hand to Lily's mouth.
"Lick it."
Lily stared. Her jaw tightened.
Pansy's smile sharpened. "Lick it, or I send a howler to Granger's parents. Let them hear what their perfect daughter has been doing in the dark. And your son gets a copy too. A full report with every filthy little detail."
Lily opened her mouth. Pansy slid her fingers in.
"Good girl."
Lily's tongue curled around them. She sucked slowly, cheeks burning as the taste of her own arousal coated her tongue. Humiliation flushed her skin.
Pansy pulled her hand free, turned, and climbed onto the bed. She lay back, one knee drawn up, thong tugged aside. Her folds were swollen and slick in the glow of the firelight.
She spread herself wider, two fingers parting the glistening lips of her pussy.
Her voice was calm, laced with triumph. "On your knees, Lady Potter. Come lick your mistress like the mudblood whore you are."
Lily's breath caught. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor. She crawled forward, the movement sharp with anger, rigid with humiliation. Her eyes burned as she looked up, face pale.
"If you do not," Pansy added casually, "I will let Hermione take your place. And I am sure she would pay any price for my silence."
That landed like a curse.
Pansy sighed softly. "There. That is the reward I wanted."
She slid her fingers into Lily's fiery red hair and guided her closer with deliberate force, pressing Lily's face between her thighs.
Hermione watched, paralyzed, unable to look away. Her sheet had slipped. One hand trembled near her chest, the other clenched in her lap. Her legs pressed together tightly beneath the covers.
Pansy turned her head toward her. "Do you have any idea what the Prophet would pay for a photograph of this? Gryffindor's precious pride on her knees, licking a Slytherin cunt."
"Undo the charm," she commanded the redhead.
Lily hesitated, then lifted her wand with a shaking hand. "Finite Incantatem."
Hermione gasped. "Pansy, please! This isn't right."
"No," Pansy replied, her gaze fixed on Lily. "It's exactly what should've happened. You mudbloods just needed the right push."
She held her thong aside, exposing herself fully. "You made this mess, Lady Potter," she murmured. "And now you're going to clean it up with your mouth."
Lily's face twisted in fury and shame, but she obeyed.
At first, her touch was reluctant, lips brushing resentfully against Pansy's slick folds, tongue barely grazing the sensitive skin. Pansy's breath hitched, but she tightened her grip in Lily's hair, pulling her closer.
"Properly," Pansy ordered, voice low and dangerous. "Use your tongue like you mean it."
Lily's resistance cracked. Her mouth pressed fully against Pansy's pussy, lips parting to take in the swollen folds. Her tongue slid out, slow at first, then deeper. She lapped deliberately along the wet slit, tasting the arousal she had unwillingly caused.
Pansy let out a soft, genuine moan, her hips shifting to meet the contact. "Yes… just like that."
Lily's tongue grew bolder under the coercion, circling Pansy's clit with reluctant precision before plunging inside her. She thrust it in and out, penetrating deeply, fucking Pansy with her mouth as commanded. Her nose brushed against the slick heat with every motion, cheeks flushed with humiliation.
Pansy moaned again, louder this time, the sound raw and unrestrained. "Good… deeper. Pleasure me properly."
Her thighs trembled as Lily's tongue delved inside her once more, curling and thrusting rhythmically. Pansy rocked against her face, chasing the building pleasure, fingers tangled tightly in red hair.
Hermione's breath came faster. Her face flushed crimson, tears trembling in her lashes. She wasn't just watching a power play. She was being aroused too, held hostage by implication. Unable to leave this situation at all.
Pansy's moans grew sharper, more desperate. "Fuck… yes, just like that. Maybe next time, I'll let your precious student do it while you watch."
She bucked once, thighs clamping briefly around Lily's head, a shuddering moan escaping her lips. Then, with effort, she pulled away suddenly, releasing Lily's hair and leaving her breathless and glistening, eyes still locked on her conquered professor.
She savored her flushed skin in the firelight, shadows flickering softly across it. She wasn't done, not by a long shot. A wicked smile curved her lips as she looked down at the woman kneeling before her, tongue still extended mid-lick, face glistening with Pansy's arousal.
"Oh, Lady Potter," Pansy purred, voice honeyed with false sweetness. "You're adequate, I suppose. But if this is truly the best the great Potion mistress can offer, I might just decide to keep you. Chain you to my bed in the Slytherin dormitories, a secret pet for whenever the mood strikes."
She leaned closer, fingers threading possessively through damp red hair. "And if you don't learn to please me properly? I know dozens of old blood purists, real pieces of work who would pay handsomely to have the famous Mudblood witch delivered to them. They'd use you until there was nothing left of that famous defiance. So do try harder, won't you?"
Lily's eyes darkened at her, emerald depths hazy with unwilling heat even through the slick mess on her cheeks. Her chin lifted a fraction, spine arching faintly despite the humiliating position, thighs pressing together as a fresh flush crept down her throat. "Keep dreaming," she said, voice low and breathy with a reluctant edge.
Pansy's smile sharpened to a blade. "Oh, but look at you, getting wet from my threats? You're soaking just thinking about it, aren't you? Adorable."
She straightened with deliberate grace, gaze sweeping the room. Her gaze dropped deliberately to the faint tremor in Lily's legs, to the stiff peaks of her nipples catching the firelight. Her smile turned slow and knowing.
"Kippy! Tolly! Come make this even more pleasurable for our aroused little Mudbloods."
Two soft pops echoed in the quiet chamber. The house-elves materialised and remained, bowing low but not disappearing. Kippy was tall and wiry, ears like bat wings. Tolly was broader, scowling faintly beneath his pillowcase tunic embroidered with the Parkinson crest.
"Mistress Pansy called us," Kippy said eagerly, his high-pitched voice almost trembling with excitement.
Pansy inclined her head. "Indeed. Tonight you will be rewarded." Her eyes slid to Hermione, still huddled on the bed, knuckles white around the sheet.
"Granger," Pansy drawled, her voice low and laced with cruel amusement, "when you accepted this redhead as your magical mentor, your magical guardianship was quietly reassigned. Just as these elves are bound unquestioningly to the Parkinson line, you are now bound to her. And since I hold her leash…"
She let the implication hang in the warm, firelit air, savouring the way Hermione's brown eyes widened in dawning horror.
"Resist me," Pansy continued softly, "and I will tell your sweet, trusting Harry that you've been spying on him while he rutting himself in Professor Black. I'll make sure he believes you enjoyed every filthy second of watching. Obey, and you'll discover exactly how good a proper cock in your tight little arse can feel."
Hermione's breath hitched, tears brimming, but the threat was ironclad. With shaking hands, she let the sheet slip away, revealing her flushed, trembling body, small breasts rising and falling rapidly, nipples already peaked from the humiliating arousal she couldn't suppress.
She moved slowly, reluctantly, shifting onto her hands and knees beside Lily on the thick rug in front of the bed, mirroring the older woman's submissive posture. Her dark curls fell forward, partially hiding her burning face.
Pansy's smile widened, sharp and predatory, as she took in the sight of both proud Gryffindor witches now on all fours before her.
Pansy turned back to the elves. "Pleasure their arseholes properly," she said simply.
Kippy and Tolly exchanged a quick glance, Kippy's eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement while Tolly's remained wary and grudging. Then, in perfect unison, they lifted their small, knobby hands.
Two soft cracks of house-elf magic echoed through the room, light and crisp like snapping fingers. Their worn pillowcases vanished in a brief swirl of pale sparks, leaving the elves completely bare. Almost instantly, their cocks began to swell and harden under their mistress's command.
Hermione felt the thick, blunt head of Tolly's cock press against her back door. A terrified whimper escaped her lips as the pressure built. She had never been touched like this there before. She never imagined this violation. The elf dick head stretched her impossibly, burning as it forced its way past the tight ring of muscle.
"No... please... Pansy..." she gasped, voice breaking into a high, desperate sob as Tolly pushed in steadily, inch by inch. The fullness was overwhelming, a deep, aching invasion that made her whole body shake. Tears spilled down her cheeks while forbidden heat sparked from aching cunny despite the pain.
Tolly grunted softly and kept going until he was buried to the hilt. Hermione's moan came out strangled and raw, half pain, half shock at how completely he filled her. Her fingers clawed at the rug as her hips jerked involuntarily.
Beside her, Lily twisted her head to glare over her shoulder as Kippy stepped behind her. "You think this frightens me?" she hissed through clenched teeth. "You're pathetic, hiding behind these pitiful creatures to do your dirty—"
Pansy's eyes flashed with irritation. "Oh, look at the proud mudblood whore pretending she still has dignity," she sneered. "Kippy, she still doesn't realize her position. Make it larger. Show this filthy blood-traitor bitch what real submission feels like."
Kippy nodded at once. Another snap of his fingers echoed. His cock twitched and expanded further, thickening and lengthening into something impossibly massive. The flared head now looked broad enough to split her. Lily's breath caught despite her bravado, a flicker of genuine apprehension crossing her face before she bit her lip and braced herself.
Kippy gripped her hips and drove forward in one relentless thrust. A sharp, guttural cry tore from Lily's throat, raw and animal as the colossal girth stretched her beyond reason. The burn was intense, but her body knew invasion better than Hermione's.
Dark pleasure coiled beneath the pain almost immediately. "Fuck," she gasped, voice trembling as her arms shook and her elbows locked to hold her up. Her moan deepened into something low and unwilling as Kippy began to move, each stroke dragging against sensitive walls and forcing sparks of heat through her cunt.
Pansy laughed softly, cruel and delighted. "Hear that, Granger? Even your precious professor moans like a common Knockturn slut when she's properly fucked in the ass. You'll both learn to love it."
Pansy settled back against the pillows on the bed, spreading her thighs wide. She reached down, tangled her fingers in Lily's damp red hair, and pulled the older woman's head forward.
With a firm tug, she hooked her legs around Lily's shoulders, thighs clamping like iron to force that defiant mouth hard against her soaked folds. "Lick, you disgusting mudblood cunt," she commanded, grinding forward slowly. "Show me how eager you are to keep your taboo family secrets safe."
The chamber filled with the wet, rhythmic sounds of flesh meeting flesh, muffled gasps, and Pansy's low, triumphant moans. Hermione's cries grew higher and more broken with every deep thrust from Tolly.
The initial burning stretch gave way to a confusing, building pressure that made her thighs tremble. "It... it hurts... oh..." she whimpered, but her hips began to rock back against him of their own accord, chasing the dark pleasure blooming inside her despite the humiliation. Soft, involuntary moans spilled from her lips, rising in pitch each time Tolly bottomed out.
Lily's tongue worked with furious precision now, resentful yet skilled, delving deep into Pansy's slit and circling her clit with angry expertise.
Each brutal thrust from Kippy drove her face harder against Pansy, smearing arousal across her cheeks and chin. Her own moans vibrated against Pansy's folds, low and throaty, betraying how the pounding in her ass was unraveling her control.
"Pathetic," Pansy taunted breathlessly, watching Hermione's tear-streaked face. "Look at the brilliant little know-it-all reduced to a sobbing anal whore on her first try."
"Fucking disgusting," she hissed, fingers tightening in red hair. "Two proud Gryffindor cunts on their knees, stuffed full and loving it."
The words fractured into a sharp, triumphant cry as her climax hit hard and sudden, triggered by the sheer power of their submission beneath her taunts.
"Yes, there, don't you dare stop, you filthy bitch." She bucked violently against Lily's mouth, thighs clamping down until the redhead could barely breathe, and came with a long, shuddering moan. Hot release pulsed across Lily's face in forceful jets, coating flushed skin and dripping down her throat and over her heaving breasts in thick, glistening trails.
Pansy held her there a moment longer, riding the aftershocks with lazy rolls of her hips, then ordered breathlessly, "Fill them. Both of you, now. Pump these mudblood sluts full."
Kippy and Tolly thrust deep and stilled in perfect unison. Thick, hot seed flooded teacher-student asses in heavy pulses. The sudden heat shattered what remained of the witches' resistance.
Hermione broke first. The rush of warmth deep inside pushed her over the edge. Her body convulsed violently, a shocked, keening wail escaping as clear fluid squirted from her untouched cunt in forceful arcs, soaking the rug beneath her. Wave after blinding wave overwhelmed her senses until her eyes rolled back and she collapsed forward, unconscious, chest rising in shallow, erratic breaths.
Lily followed seconds later. The flood of seed triggered a fierce, unwilling orgasm that ripped through her. Her arsehole clenched greedily around the elf's magical cock, and a strangled scream muffled against Pansy's thigh as dark, humiliating pleasure tore her apart. Her body shook with aftershocks, low moans still vibrating in her throat even as she slumped.
Pansy released Lily's head at last with a lazy nudge of her foot. Lily fell sideways onto the rug, gasping raggedly, seed seeping slowly from her abused entrance, face shining with Pansy's juices. Yet even now, spent and trembling, a spark of defiance lingered in her eyes, muted but not extinguished.
The elves remained where they were, buried deep inside the witches, silent and awaiting further command.
Pansy sat up slowly, smoothing her dishevelled hair with deliberate composure. She surveyed the wrecked forms before her and smiled with quiet satisfaction.
Hermione lay utterly spent on her stomach across the thick rug, thighs splayed, body limp and gleaming with sweat. A slow trickle of elf seed leaked from her stretched entrance, leaving glistening trails down her inner thighs.
Lily knelt beside her on the rug, face still slick with Pansy's earlier release, red hair tangled, chest heaving. Her emerald eyes held that same stubborn spark, but her body betrayed her. Nipples stood peaked, skin flushed deep rose from throat to breasts, and a faint tremor ran through her thighs from the orgasm she had not sought yet had taken all the same.
Kippy and Tolly remained exactly where they had finished, their grotesquely enlarged cocks still slick. Heavy beads of remaining seed dripped from the flared heads onto the stone floor.
Pansy's gaze lingered on Hermione. The flawless pale skin, the elegant back, the dark cascade of bushy hair now tangled and damp. The brightest witch of her age, reduced to a trembling, elf-fucked mess. A slow, predatory smile curved Pansy's lips.
"Kippy, Tolly," she purred, voice velvet and smug. "Pull out."
The elves obeyed instantly. With wet, obscene sounds,s they pulled free. Both women exhaled sharp, involuntary gasps at the sudden emptiness. Thick streams of house-elf seed followed at once, far more copious than any human load, oozing from swollen entrances and sliding in slow rivulets over arse and thighs.
Pansy shifted forward on the bed, thighs still parted. One hand drifted lazily between her legs to tease her swollen clit. "Stroke yourselves again," she ordered, tone velvet over steel. "Cover the little mudblood this time. Back, arse, thighs, every inch. And her hair. I want her drenched. Paint this slutty know-it-all until she looks like the depraved beast she truly is."
Kippy's bat-like ears twitched with eager delight. Tolly's scowl softened. Their small, gnarled hands closed around those grotesquely enlarged shafts without a moment's pause. They began to pump, quick and rhythmic, the wet sounds of flesh on flesh echoing obscenely in the hushed chamber.
Within seconds, the thick ropes of hot, viscous semen erupted. The elves aimed right at Hermione's unconscious body. Each heavy arc landed with wet, obscene slaps across her skin.
The first jet struck between her shoulders, pooling and sliding down the graceful curve of her spine. More followed in rapid succession. Long, pearly strands coated the full swell of her arse, gathering in the cleft and dripping over the cheeks.
Heavy ropes streaked down the backs of her thighs until smooth skin shone obscenely. Kippy angled higher and released thick spurts into the brown mass of her hair. The curls clung wet and matted to her neck, shoulders, and the rug beneath.
Tolly added his load with grim precision, marking the sensitive undersides of her thighs, the tender hollows behind her knees, and her small ass until every visible expanse of skin glistened under a thick, filthy white glaze.
Hermione stirred faintly beneath the warm deluge. A soft, unconscious whimper escaped her lips as the scent and weight registered somewhere in her overwhelmed mind. But she did not wake. She lay there, utterly debased. The proud, brilliant Gryffindor genius reduced to a sticky, seed-painted doll.
Pansy's breath hitched sharply at the sight. Her fingers circled faster, then slipped inside her soaked heat.
"Merlin, look at her," she whispered, voice thick with cruel arousal. "Your perfect little protégé, Lady Potter. Drenched in house-elf semen because you couldn't protect her. Because you couldn't keep your legs closed for that young stud of a son of yours."
Lily's head lifted slowly. The motion cost her what little strength remained after the elves had wrung that unwilling climax from her body. Shame flooded her cheeks in a fierce crimson wave. But when her emerald eyes met Pansy's across the firelit chamber,r they held something more complicated than simple defeat.
Fury, yes. Humiliation, undeniably. Yet beneath it glimmered a dark, unwilling depravity. Her own thighs were slick, her cunt visibly swollen and wet despite, or perhaps because of, the degradation she had endured. The sight of Hermione marked and claimed like this twisted something deep and forbidden inside her.
It should have horrified her. It did horrify her. And yet the horror coiled together with a sick secret thrill she could not name. One that made her nipples tighten further, er, and her cunt clench around nothing.
Pansy saw it all. Every flicker of conflict. Every shameful spark of desire was written across that famous freckled face. Her own lips curved in a slow, predatory smile. She knew she had them both now.
"Crawl to her," she commanded softly. "Clean every drop. Start at her shoulders. Work your way down. Thighs. Hair. And when the outside is spotless, spread those cheeks and tongue her arse until it's clean inside too. Show me how far you'll go to keep this night buried."
Lily hesitated only a moment. Defiance flickered once more across her face. Then she moved. She crawled forward on shaking knees until she hovered over Hermione's prone body. Hands braced gently on either side of the younger witch's hips, she lowered her mouth to the first thick pool between Hermione's shoulder blades.
Her tongue extended, broad and deliberate, gathering the warm, salty fluid in a slow, dragging lick. She swallowed audibly, throat working, cheeks flaming deeper crimson. Again and again, methodical and thorough.
She lapped across shoulders, down the elegant spine, sucking gently at the gathered strands in the small of Hermione's back. She traced every streak across the swell of each arse cheek, drawing the viscous seed into her mouth with soft, wet sounds that echoed in the quiet room.
Pansy's fingers plunged deeper, curling inside herself as she watched. Her free hand rolled a stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger. Her breath came faster.
Lily moved lower. Her tongue glided over the backs of Hermione's thighs, lapping at the tender inner skin until it shone only with saliva. Then the hair. She gathered the heavy, matted curls carefully, almost tenderly, sucking the seed from the m strand by strand, combing through with lips and tongue until the bushy mass was merely damp rather than dripping.
Finally, she reached Hermione's arse. Delicate hands spread the cheeks, revealing the still-gaping entrance, pink and glistening, leaking the last slow traces of Tolly's spend. Lily leaned in without pause. Her tongue circled the rim once, twice, then pushed inside. She delved deep, scooping out every remnant with slow, thorough strokes. Hermione moaned faintly in her unconsciousness, hips shifting instinctively against the intimate cleaning.
Pansy's eyes stayed riveted to the scene. Lily Potter, war heroine, the witch whose son defeated Voldemort, on her knees, rimming her own student like an obedient whore, swallowing house-elf seed to spare them both further exposure.
The sight unravelled her completely.
Her back arched off the pillows. "Morganna's tits." The word tore from her throat as her fingers thrust hard and fast, palm grinding against her clit. The orgasm crashed through her like an unrelenting hex, far more intense than the one before. Clear release pulsed hot over her hand and soaked the sheets beneath her in forceful, shameful jets.
Thighs clamped tight, body trembling, she rode it out with broken gasps, eyes never leaving Lily's bowed head.
When the tremors finally subsided, Pansy withdrew her glistening fingers and beckoned lazily. "Here," she ordered, voice husky and sated. "Finish with these."
Lily crawled forward at once. Her mouth opened obediently. She took Pansy's fingers inside and sucked them clean with the same slow, devoted thoroughness she had shown Hermione's body. Her tongue swirled, cheeks hollowed, and she swallowed every trace of Pansy's release.
Pansy threaded her clean hand through Lily's hair, stroking almost gently as she gazed down at the wrecked pair before her.
"Good," she whispered, satisfaction thrumming deep in her chest. "Such lovely, filthy progress."
Pansy lifted a languid hand toward the waiting elves. "Kippy. Tolly. You've served splendidly. Return to your duties now. The castle will wake up soon."
The two house-elves bowed low, ears flapping. With twin soft po, ps they vanished, leaving only the heavy scent of sweat and cum hanging thick in the air.
Silence settled, broken only by the distant hoot of an early owl and the quiet rustle of Lily shifting on her knees.
Pansy slipped from the bed, bare feet silent on the cold stone. She retrieved her wand, twirled it once between her fingers, and turned to the kneeling witch.
"I'll leave Granger's to you, Professor," she said, voice soft but edged with finality. "But my advice is to Obliviate her before the sun is fully up. Wipe my visit clean from her memory."
She stepped closer, tilting her head as she studied Lily's flushed, defiant face.
"Because I truly don't think the poor girl could keep a secret this size. One trembling confession about her sore arse, and the whole castle would know exactly where and how her precious pupil got buggered tonight."
Lily's jaw tightened. When she spoke, her voice came out low and hoarse, scraped raw from hours of use. "You think wiping her mind makes any of this disappear?"
Pansy's smile was small and sharp. "No. It simply ensures she never has to live with it. You, however… you'll remember every detail."
Lily looked away, toward the window where dawn was strengthening. Her fingers curled against her thighs. "I'll do what needs to be done," she said at last.
"Wise," Pansy murmured.
She paused, wand still in hand, then added almost conversationally, "One last piece of advice before I leave. Next time you crave something taboo, be more careful. These castle walls have never kept a single juicy secret."
Lily's eyes flashed, exhaustion dulling the edge but not extinguishing it. "I'll manage my own risks, Parkinson."
Pansy leaned in, voice dropping to a silken murmur. "And for Merlin's sake, get yourself properly fucked and bred before this hunger of yours eats you alive."
Lily lifted her chin, green eyes blazing even through weariness. "Mind your own depravity. When I want advice on my appetites, I'll ask someone who isn't still dripping with my saliva."
Pansy laughed softly, genuinely amused. "Touché."
She stepped back, already gathering her clothes with lazy elegance.
"Take care of your little mudblood, Professor," she said over her shoulder as she dressed. "And remember, we are good allies."
By the time the sun fully crested the horizon, Pansy had vanished from the chamber as mysteriously as she had appeared.