"Can we please not—"
"Let me start," Lavender said, wrapping her hand around the shaft. Or trying to—her fingers couldn't quite close around the girth. "Oh. Oh. That's..."
Lavender put a hand on the Professor's dick and grabbed her waist.
Without delay, she started working on the magnificent piece of flesh.
"Good?" Lavender asked.
"Yes," McGonagall managed. "Don't stop."
Ignoring her, Lavender adjusted her grip, both hands now working McGonagall's cock.
She set a steady rhythm, her hands sliding up and down, spreading the precum that was leaking copiously from the tip. McGonagall's head fell back against Luna's shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed.
"Hermione," Lavender said after a few minutes, her arms clearly tiring. "Want to take over?"
Hermione rose from her chair on slightly unsteady legs. This was different from what she and Lavender had done in private—this was the group, this was their professor, this was—
This is Professor McGonagall. This is Professor McGonagall.
She knelt beside Lavender and took over, her own hands wrapping around the impressive shaft. The skin was hot, silky, and she could feel the pulse of blood beneath.
"Your hands so soft," McGonagall observed, her voice strained.
Was that a compliment? Was she doing well?
"Is that good?"
"Very."
Hermione stroked, finding her rhythm, watching McGonagall's face for signs of what worked. The professor's usual stern composure was completely gone, replaced by naked need and pleasure. It was oddly beautiful.
"Let me try," Pansy said, surprising everyone.
Hermione yielded her position, albeit somewhat reluctantly, and Pansy took her place.
She was different from the two before—firmer, faster, more aggressive.
"Oh," McGonagall gasped. "That's—yes, like that—"
"You like it rougher," Pansy observed with a slurp. "Good to know."
"Miss Parkinson—"
"Mhm—Pansy. I think—mhm—we're past formalities."
Luna took her turn next, varying pressure and speed in ways that made McGonagall writhe. Then Lavender again, then Hermione, a rotation of hands that kept McGonagall on the edge without pushing her over.
"Please," McGonagall finally gasped. "Please, I need—"
"I know what you need," Hermione said softly.
Before she could second-guess herself, she leaned forward and took the head of McGonagall's cock into her mouth.
The sound McGonagall made was obscene.
It was too big to take more than a few inches, but Hermione did what she could, her tongue swirling around the head, her hands working the shaft. The taste was familiar now—salt and musk and something indefinably McGonagall.
"Miss Granger—Hermione—I'm going to—"
Hermione didn't pull away.
McGonagall came with a strangled cry, her hips bucking, her cock pulsing as she spilt into Hermione's mouth. There was so much of it—more than Lavender, more than herself—and Hermione struggled to swallow it all, some escaping to drip down her chin.
When it finally ended, she pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
McGonagall was slumped in her chair, boneless, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Professor?" Lavender asked, alarmed. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," McGonagall managed, her voice wrecked. "I'm... that was... I haven't felt relief like that since this started. Thank you. All of you."
"That's what the group is for," Luna said, still holding her from behind. "We take care of each other."
They gave McGonagall a few minutes to compose herself, helping her back into her clothes, conjuring a glass of water. By the time she was settled again, some of her usual dignity had returned—though there was a softness in her eyes that hadn't been there before.
"Now," Pansy said, once everyone was seated again, "I believe I mentioned having news."
"Right." Hermione turned to her, grateful for the change of subject. "What happened? You've been looking smug all evening."
Pansy's smile turned positively feline. "I found my own source of relief. Outside the group."
"What?" Lavender leaned forward. "Who?"
"Blaise Zabini."
Stunned silence.
"Blaise," Hermione repeated slowly. "As in, your Slytherin housemate Blaise. As in, a boy Blaise."
"The very same."
"How did he—"
"He noticed something. Confronted me about it." Pansy examined her nails with affected casualness. "Turns out he's gay. Has been since the fourth year. And apparently, a girl with a cock is exactly his type."
"He knew?" McGonagall asked sharply. "He knows about our condition?"
"He knows about mine. Not the rest of you. And he's sworn to secrecy." Pansy's smile widened. "He was very motivated to keep my secret. Considering what I did to him."
"What did you do to him?" Lavender asked breathlessly.
"I fucked him. Properly. On a conjured sofa in an abandoned corridor."
The silence was deafening.
"You penetrated him," Hermione said carefully. "Anally."
Maybe she was a bit too… clinical?
"Yes."
"And it was... good?"
"It was incredible." Pansy's smugness reached new heights. "Better than anything I've done with my hands. Better than anything I could have imagined. He knew these preparation spells—cleaning and loosening charms—and once he cast those, it was just..." She shivered visibly. "We're meeting again tomorrow. He's going to teach me the spells."
"Preparation spells," Hermione said, her mind already racing. "For anal intercourse. That would solve the hygiene concerns, and if there are loosening charms—"
"Granger, please don't turn my sex life into a research project."
Oops.
"I'm just saying, if there are established spells for this, the applications for our situation could be—"
"Does Blaise know any other gay men?" Luna interrupted.
Everyone turned to look at her.
"What?" She blinked at them with her usual serene expression. "Well, that or… I'm curious whether he'd mind if I joined next time. Gerald has been very interested in the concept of fucking. If Blaise wants to—"
"You want to have a threesome with Blaise and me?" Pansy asked incredulously.
"Is that a problem?"
"I—no, I suppose not. I'd have to ask him."
"Please do. Gerald would be very grateful."
Hermione noticed Lavender shifting in her seat, a flush creeping up her neck. Across the circle, McGonagall was very carefully not meeting anyone's eyes.
"You're all jealous," Pansy observed with obvious delight. "Oh, this is perfect. Pansy Parkinson, most sought-after dickgirl at Hogwarts."
"We're not jealous," Lavender protested. "It's just—a real person who wants to help, who finds us attractive—"
"Blaise finds me attractive specifically because of the cock. He said the combination works for him." Pansy preened.
"I'll ask Susan if she knows anyone," Luna mused. "She's very well-connected in Hufflepuff. Perhaps there are other open-minded individuals who might be interested in our unique situation, if not Susan herself."
"We are NOT recruiting," McGonagall said firmly. "The more people who know, the greater the risk of exposure."
"But Professor, if there are people who could help—"
"We help each other. That was the agreement. No outsiders."
"Blaise is an outsider," Pansy pointed out.
"Blaise is a special case. And I expect you to ensure his continued discretion."
"Trust me, he's very motivated to be discreet."
The meeting wound down shortly after, everyone processing Pansy's revelation in their own way. As they filed out of the bathroom, Hermione caught Lavender's hand.
"You okay?"
"Fine. Just..." Lavender sighed. "It would be nice, wouldn't it? To have someone who actually wanted this. Who found it attractive instead of just... tolerating it."
"Lavender, I don't tolerate you—"
"I know. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant..." She shook her head. "Never mind. Walk me back to the tower?"
"Of course."
As they made their way through the darkened corridors, Hermione's mind churned with possibilities. Preparation spells. Willing partners. The implications for their ongoing situation.
And underneath it all, a small, treacherous thought: I wonder if Harry would ever look at me like that. If he knew.
She pushed it away. Some fantasies were too dangerous to entertain.