davesmistress
06-12-2012, 06:02 PM
ADMIN EDIT:- WRITTEN BY – VGSS
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
"The Trial of Fire"
Chapter 1 - Aboard the Sex Express
By Unknown
NC-17
Hermione
- Upon reaching their fourth year at Hogwarts, students are
given a choice to attend a very special class designed to
facilitate their relationship with the opposite sex. The
boys can't beleive their luck, but a certain bushy-haired
Gryffindor isn't sure about the whole thing...
Hermione slid all the way down the row, picking the seat at the
very end for herself. Ron and Harry followed suit, realizing quickly
how odd all the students looked bunched up together in the expansive
classroom. Like their transfigurations hall, this chamber featured
several broad steps which descended from the doors towards the rear in
order to ensure everyone had a clear view of the teacher, although it
looked amazingly larger from the inside then they could have thought
possible. Perched at the very top of one of Hogwarts' dizzying spires,
its size was clearly enhanced by magic.
It was fitting as part of the mystique surrounding this particular
class that even Hermione had no idea where they really were. Gryffindor
Tower was a hike and a half up from the first floor as it was, and this
place soared a few stories above that. As was the case with every new
part of the school that they discovered over the course of their tenure
there, it was amusing how nobody had really noticed the seldom-trod
corridor just a stone's throw away from the Fat Lady. Not that they
would have been able to get very far however -- like the third floor
chamber during their freshman year, this place was guarded. Hermione
supposed that Sir Cadogan posed little challenge to someone determined
enough to sneak in, but the knight did seem to have an odd gleam of
honor about him as he checked to ensure only fourth years were passing.
The young sorceress was positively glowing in anticipation of the
coming lesson. Charms and history of magic were things she could wrap
her brain around and conquer easily, but this was the cryptic "SI" each
had been silently hoping would appear on the schedule. Most (especially
the girls) professed loudly (amongst themselves, of course) to greatly
rue being asked to participate in such an embarrassing, public forum.
In truth, though, they were secretly just as excited as their male
counterparts. It *was* optional, of course, but very few decided to
approach the Headmaster and request to be excused. As it were, none
elected to stay behind that year.
Sexual Instruction was much more than a rite of passage among the
students. Up until their third year, most didn't even have a clue about
Hogwarts' opportunity to guide its pubescent flock in discovering their
adulthood in an open, comfortable environment. In the magical world,
initiations were Serious Business, and even dark wizards didn't mess
around lest their kid always have the specter of not being able to hack
a task that a dozen mudbloods passed every year. Many students were
delighted that they would not only be allowed to taste the forbidden
fruit, but actually encouraged. And those that still had shy misgivings
about doing such things usually found peer pressure to be an adequate
motivator.
Truth be told, Hermione was on the fluttery side. Sure, she would
get to see boys in the buff as much as she wanted, but the other edge
of the sword meant that THEY would get an unlimited view of her boobies
and puss. She'd have to let anyone look too, not just her best friends,
and after that the encounters would become more and more intimate until
they finally got around to the big "F". Part of the open nature of the
program ensured that anyone could discontinue with no questions asked
(by the professor, at least) if it got to be too much for them, but
Hermione was rather sure she wouldn't still be a virgin by year's end.
The only caveat she was really worried about was that everyone was
encouraged mix and match with different partners, especially those from
other Houses with whom they normally wouldn't get more then acquainted
with except under these circumstances. Again, it was the double-sided
blade of SI which tried to coax students out of the shells they'd build
around themselves for three years and bring them more in tune with the
open community they would have to join after graduation. Thankfully,
her first lesson paired Gryffindor with Ravenclaw -- this was a place
where Hermione could really do without Malfoy and his crew.
Though the trio had made sure to arrive early by more than twenty
minutes, it was obvious that everyone else had thought similar. Ere the
clock even hit quarter-to, the sounds of the boys fidgeting in their
seats joined with anxious whispers from the girls, escalating slowly
into a heady din. The crowd knew that this would be a far more serious
setting than anything so far in their wizarding careers, but even that
heavy weight couldn't stop the youngsters from apprehensively chatting.
Only the entrance of their teacher managed to do that, and when the
doors at last opened just shy of the hour, all noise ceased instantly.
***
"Professor McGonagall?" the Corner boy blurted out, echoing the
thoughts of every other student in the room. The boys in particular
expressed looks of utter horror, watching months of frantic, immature
fantasies up and vanish like farts in the wind. Before he could get a
response, however, Michael caught his gaffe with a look of sickening
dread. Rumors abounded about those who'd had the privilege to attend
this class terminated for not taking it seriously, and suddenly it
seemed like he might have blown his chance already.
"Well, whom did you expect?" McGonagall quipped once she reached
her desk, dropping her things and narrowing her eyes at the upstart. He
looked rather silly now, gaping openmouthed as if expecting her blast
him with lightning bolts from her hands. "Relax, Mr. Corner..." she
insisted, breathing deeply and making large circles with her arms to
illustrate. "Though I can't read minds yet, I know exactly what you're
thinking. What can an old woman teach us about fucking?"
Upon hearing the taboo word, all eighteen teenagers bolted upright
in their seats. Those that had been sitting proper already nearly hurt
their backs from jerking up so suddenly, but still kept their gaze
fixed firmly on the professor. She couldn't have just said...
"Yes, that's one term for it, although you'll not hear it from me
again." McGonagall continued, scanning the assembled group of wizards
and witches. "I believe in being frank. By the end of next semester we
will hopefully have covered enough ground that hearing the word 'sex'
won't cause you all to erupt in fits of giggles, but it's still a long
way off."
"HOWEVER..." she enunciated, making it clear the next piece of
information was particularly important. "You will have to study and
work just as hard here as any other subject. Of course this class has
the capability to be the most enjoyable of your seven years, but you
are not here just to fool around. Those that don't take the material
seriously and let themselves get carried away will be asked to leave."
"And above all, a word of caution to the men..." McGonagall paused,
extending one finger out in a menacing gesture. The next sentence came
out so cold and pitiless it made even Minerva herself shiver a bit from
its power. "If any of you dare let your hormones get so out of hand
that you make force yourself on one of the ladies, I assure you that
your remaining adolescence will be spent in Azkaban."
For a few moments, she stood there basking in the satisfaction that
Dumbledore had indeed made the right decision, as usual. Though she
felt Hagrid's recent promotion represented a sobering change of pace in
the curriculum, she couldn't imagine letting someone like him try to
control a room full of horny teenagers. As Moody would have agreed,
constant vigilance was required to ensure the program proceeded at the
same delicate pace that had served since time immemorial. One small
mistake once they got down to the big-league topics, and more than a
few girls would go home with bigger bellies than they arrived with...
The shock wore off quickly under the lingering tension of a Friday
afternoon. Though Professor McGonagall's warning was stern indeed, it
was not in the least bit enough to dissuade any from wishing they were
a year younger when they would have already been back in their Houses
and looking forward to the all-too brief weekend respite. Excitement
for the topic at hand did take a large dive, though, the moment their
instructor reached into her bottomless tartan bag and began pulling out
textbooks by the pair.
"Guess we're not going to jump right into the good stuff, eh?" Ron
scribbled into his notebook, casually pointing his quill at the line so
Harry could read it. Hermione caught it out of the corner of her eye
and nudged him hard, causing her friends to burst out in silent smirks.
Guiltily, Ron blotted it out, but not before Hermione felt a pang of
agreement with him. It would have been relieving in a way to just start
wading in. Wasn't this class supposed to be different?
The books, it was explained, were charmed only to open in the room
they were currently sitting in case one of the younger students got any
bright ideas. Lisa Turpin timidly held up her hand until called on,
almost cringing at the audacity of asking the first question. Luckily,
McGonagall was no opponent of intelligent queries, and kindly explained
that all studying would of course have to be done in this classroom.
Had Lisa been willing to look the professor in the eye, she could have
caught a tiny glimmer there that suggested that Minerva was actually
hiding something from her pupils, but the moment passed without further
incident.
As expected, the title-less works featured none of the hardcore
images that most fourteen-year-olds had already come across by way of
their friends in locker rooms. Hermione glanced over successive pages
detailing the growth of a male (the moving subjects flexing and beaming
innocently to try and get her to blush) without so much as an upturned
eye. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, turned straight away to the back to get
a glimpse of the advanced topics, but were both clearly thwarted by the
nearly medical way intercourse was depicted by books' own lackluster
subjects-- no extraneous movements or expressions to indicate the act
was in any way fun. One woman demonstrating on top of her lover even
covered herself and wagged a disapproving finger at Harry, pointing
towards the beginning of the book where she knew he was supposed to be
reading. Groaning inwardly, he wearily complied just as McGonagall
began her lecture.
For all the students' expectations, their first lesson went at a
mind-numbingly slow pace. First there was a lengthy set of rules to be
committed to memory now that they were becoming adults -- number one
being to retain the privacy of the material even if they felt they had
a duty to warn their siblings. Not a few eyes glanced over to Ron, who
immediately concerned himself with repeatedly erasing and rewriting a
word on his parchment until it very nearly tore. Gone too, they were
told, were the days of innocent pranks to try and spy on each other in
various stages of undress, or using magic to make clothes levitate,
disappear, or become transparent. Of course, there was also a large
section on what "No" meant, accompanied by a picture of a cheeky boy
getting his comeuppance by way of a girlfriend's open palm.
"Almost all these rules are made for us!" Seamus Finnegan mused out
loud, startling when he heard his own voice. Luckily, the professor was
back to the same understanding mood she'd been at the beginning, calmly
placing her book down on the table to answer him.
"That's because boys are the only ones who break them!" she quipped
succinctly, winking at the girls (who were all in perfect agreement).
Perhaps this wasn't going to be as stimulating as they'd hoped, but at
least it wouldn't be as worse as they'd feared.
After the preliminaries were taken care of, McGonagall plowed full
steam ahead into the first chapter concerning the history of sexual
enlightenment among the wizarding world. Unlike most Muggle histories,
which were rife with egregious example of persecution towards woman and
homosexuals (to only name a few), that kind of barbarism had either
never existed among the high folk, or was so far removed from history
that it had indeed passed out of all knowledge.
There were still scattered instances where sex played a large part
in things, however. Even impeccable archmages sometimes succumbed to
dueling over the affection of a beautiful sorceress, although it was
grudgingly pointed out that more than a handful of witches had also
denigrated into combat after being jilted. Shortly following these
instances were usually great crusades called to force righteousness
upon backwards cultures that had finally evolved enough to learn the
ways of magic, most often in Africa or the Middle East where justice
had yet to catch up. Hermione noted with a wry smile that at least some
Ministers of Magic had more than Cornelius Fudge's pitiful degree of
courage.
McGonagall was just about to reach a sidenote about Ketan the Mad,
a black necromancer who began raiding villages for maidens to breed
with giants from the northern wastes. His massive army would eventually
be defeated by the Supreme Mugwump Council, but none in the class would
find that out until next week. The head of Gryffindor House happened to
notice just how low in the sky the sun was hanging and promptly shut
her own aged tome. Harry could scarcely believe his watch, but an
astounding two and a half hours had passed in the airy spire. Noticing
his companions bearing equally surprised looks, he quickly muttered
something about the professor never having lost track of the time like
that. All Ron could respond with was an approving "At least the stuff's
more interesting without Binns..."
***
Hermione held her opinion as long as she could -- which was all the
way until dinner. Glaring annoyedly at the two of them nonchalantly
piling mashed sweet potatoes onto their plates, it was only after the
bushy-haired girl huffed in exasperation that Harry finally inquired
what was the matter.
"Everything!" she hissed, catching the attention of Ginny and her
friends sitting a few feet away. Leaning back and closing her eyes, she
forced herself back into control before lowering her voice to go on.
"Don't you feel a little..." she groaned, struggling to find the right
word.
"Hungry?" Harry answered weakly.
"Famished." Ron added forcefully.
"Betrayed!" Hermione snapped, flashing her eyes at Ginny, who was
clearly eavesdropping. The Weasley girl guiltily turned her attention
back to her own group.
"About what, the class?" Harry asked, going about the buttering of
his biscuits. "Well, you didn't really think all the rumors were true,
did you?" Hermione's face turned bright red.
"Of course not..." she said quickly, trying to save herself and
doing a very poor job of it. "It's just that..."
But Ron would have none of it. He'd seen the look she had, and knew
what a rare jewel it was at once -- Hermione being embarrassed beyond
the capacity for rational thought. Ignoring the tiny voice of reason
within urging him not to tease the girl who featured in so many of his
dreams of late, he went for the jugular.
"No..." he interrupted, a wide grin appearing on his face. "No, you
really believed it! You thought we were all going to get to shag each
other, didn't you!"
"Keep your voice down!" Hermione answered hotly, desperate to slip
out of the noose she'd stumbled into. Could it really be that she'd
fretted and dwelled on a joke for so long and these two numbskulls had
seen right through it?
"So did we..." Harry added wisely, all too keenly noticing how his
friend's crisis alarm was about to go off, and having much better sense
then Ron on what buttons shouldn't be pushed. "I guess it *was* too
good to be true..."
The elephant-in-the-living-room that had been following the fourth
years around all week suddenly seemed to pull up a chair beside the
trio and plop himself down. Acutely aware of having just revealed he'd
hoped to see Hermione naked, Harry offered a weak smile and hastily
attacked his food. The others tended to their meals in silence as well,
only one mind continuing to work furiously as her plate emptied. Even
after the meal, she continued to muse silently in one of the Gryffindor
common room's armchairs as her pals played a game of chess by the fire.
"Why would there be such a big deal, then?" she announced suddenly,
drifting out of her stupor and looking at them plainly as if no time
had transpired. "With keeping it a secret..."
The boys looked around instinctively to see if anyone else could
hear them -- the lesson's grave warning had been well drilled into
their heads. By this hour, though, most students were up to making
mischief or getting started on their homework, depending on how close
they were to the dreaded O.W.L exams. The few second-years on the other
side of the room couldn't possibly make anything out from so far away.
"Beats me..." Ron shrugged helpfully as he casually annihilated one
of Harry's rooks. "Just a big gag, I guess."
"I don't think so..." Harry interjected, remarkably calm given that
he was getting his ass being handed to him in the game, already down
six pieces and both knights. "I'd believe Fred and George were in on
it, but not McGonagall."
"Yeah, it was a mite weird." Ron concurred, rapidly losing interest
in the chessboard as an opportunity arose to discuss sex with a member
of the fairer gender. He'd actually been much more distraught than she
over the realization that they might not actually get a chance to do
everything in that book together under the guise of learning. It would
have taken a death eater to force him to admit it, though.
"You think maybe it gets more... in-depth?" Harry pondered, looking
back and forth between his companions for strength to fight a giggle.
"Oh, why can't we just say it?" Hermione grumbled, apparently back
to her own self now that she had her footing. "I mean, if you can teach
Ron to not cringe at the sound of 'Voldemort', then I can say -- fuck.
We ALL thought they'd let us fuck each other."
A moment of silence passed without any funny faces of noises.
"Hooray, we did it!" she continued sarcastically, pulling her chair
closer to them nonetheless. It was one thing to use vulgar language in
the effort to solve another mystery, but she didn't want to sound like
a slut. "Okay, so Fred and George kept dropping hints that we would get
*some* kind of sex-ed course this year. What made it different than any
of the other nonsense they try and get us to believe?"
"Mum was saying weird things all summer about me getting to be a
man soon..." Ron added thoughtfully. Hermione couldn't help herself and
masked a chortle behind some coughing. Ron didn't notice, and turned
instead to Harry for confirmation. "You, mate?"
"The Dursleys wouldn't even buy me a cup for gym at my old school."
he muttered dryly. "Much less care if Hogwarts is basically going to
flaunt the biggest Muggle taboo."
"And at the pace we're going..." Hermione added lightheartedly.
"What will professor McGonagall say when we finish the book? 'Allright,
then, knock yourselves out?'" This produced a healthy round of laughs
from the group.
"It wouldn't really be all that bad, would it?" Ron said wistfully,
echoing the sentiment for the three of them.
"Oh, Ron..." Hermione sighed, looking at him with an almost pained
face. "It's not that... I mean, of course I want to know what sex is
like, but just... not with you!"
Ron stared back at her as if he'd just been hit full force in the
chest with a bludger.
A split second later, Hermione realized what she'd just said with a
horrifying bolt of grief. "I'm so sorry, Ron..." she sputtered as soon
as humanly possible, stumbling to get the words out. "God, I didn't
mean it like that at all. It's just..." There was a tremendous, weighty
pause as she tried to find the words to express herself, but none came,
and she simply foundered.
"You don't want to risk ruining our being friends." Harry said
flatly, trying to look noble as if he agreed with the statement, but
feeling terribly shallow inside. Though he would eventually grow up to
a wizard worthy of tale and song, for the moment he was only a fourteen
year old kid who would gladly wager camaraderie for a chance to touch
her. It wasn't foolish by any stretch of the imagination -- he couldn't
help feeling any other way at his age.
Hermione lit up upon hearing that, glad to think that Harry was
indeed growing into the wise, controlled person he could need to be in
the future. "To me, Ron..." she hurriedly went on. "It's be like you
and Ginny having to do it. We're just too close!"
"I know..." Ron lied, somehow able to sense the same wave of guilt
coming off Harry. He was just now starting to come to terms with the
fact that he liked Hermione. Not just as a friend, but *really* liked
her. When his bunkmates all came back at the beginning of term with the
same story he'd heart bout this wonderful ice-breaker Hogwarts had to
help pair up its students, the idea seemed too awesome to be possible.
Harry would hold back because his eyes were on Cho Chang, and he would
finally have a place to tell Hermione how he felt without sounding like
he was just trying to use her for free sex -- because they would have
already gotten past that!
He felt only marginally less crappy, but squeezed a smile out of
his lips and blathered a pleasantry. The tension between them was near
straining at this point, and everyone understood that staying would
serve no purpose. After Hermione excused herself to round off a potions
assignment so tomorrow's workload would be completely Snape-less, the
boys floundered through the rest of their chess game. Neither had their
heart in it, and played so sloppily that each queen was in check for
several rounds before the other realized it could be taken. Eventually,
both ambled off to bed with heavy hearts, wondering how a day lined
with such promise could turn out so rotten inside.
Going to bed so early wasn't usual for Hermione, but she couldn't
think of anything else to do that wouldn't involve passing Harry and
Ron downstairs. Her roommates, Parvati and Lavender, had left earlier
to go nick some food from the kitchens with the Weasley twins. Though
she never had allowed the pleasure of rubbing herself between the legs
in her Hogwarts bed due to the danger of being disturbed, that night
the urge would not be denied.
The conversation awoke such conflicted and confused feelings in
her, Hermione was no longer sure which voice was hers any longer. Was
it the inhibited side carefully rationalizing that there were other
things in like besides books and exams? That maybe being a virgin
wasn't such a big deal, and she was missing out on truly enjoying the
best years of her life? If so, why the strong jerk from her unconscious
mind every time she thought about doing it with Harry or Ron? They were
as close as siblings -- who better to help and be helped in learning
about this part of herself? Maybe it was only a Freudian mental block
she was feeding by all this pointless wheel-spinning.
Then again, she could be falling into a trap of blindly conforming
to what her peers were doing. More than anything, Hermione had always
prided herself on being her own person and deciding things based on
careful dissection, not rash judgements. If all else, she could always
choose to liberally explore her sexual side later -- a few years really
wouldn't make much difference. Once she decided to lay down with a boy,
though, there was no turning back.
In the end, the troubled witch realized she was going in circles
and snuck over to Parvati's bunk, sliding a butterbeer out from between
the steel mesh which supported each Hogwarts mattress. They all knew
that while the teachers turned a blind eye to drinking the stuff in
town because it didn't have too much alcohol in it, it would probably
be a good idea not to get caught with it in the castle. A spontaneous
girl-power moment during their inaugural trip to Hogsmeade had led the
ladies to smuggled a dozen or so bottles back hidden in bags of sweets
and souvenirs, not even daring to tell the guys. Contrary to their
counterparts' belief, girls did not simply disapparate upon ascending
the staircase to the female quarters and then reappear come morning
with nothing in-between. Hermione loved the fact that not only did she
have a sort of secret life up here, but that Harry and Ron would never
even question any of it existed.
Tiptoeing in her stocking feet across the cool stone, she glided
over to the door and pulled it open halfway, knowing it was a better
tradeoff to hear every raspy step and amplified conversation than to
muffled them and possibly get surprised with a hand down her pants.
With a giddy smile as she scampered back under the covers, Hermione
twisted the top of her bootlegged suds off and downed a quarter of it
in one gulp. She leaned over and grabbed a book off her shelf in case
either of the girls returned, taking greedy swigs from the bottle every
few seconds. In short order her tummy was full and her brain pleasantly
addled by the booze just enough to loosen her up.
It only took a moment to realize that feeling her womanhood through
loose pajamas was infinitely more satisfying than trying to pet her
slit through the tight fabric of a pair of panties. That first glorious
rush of gratification swept through her whole body, enhanced by both
the alcohol in her system and the ease with which she could pinch the
folds in her clothing and rub them across that tender swath of flesh.
As always, the first few minutes were absolute heaven as her budding
clitoris begged for softer stimulation, her body knowing all-too-well
what was best.
Eventually the blazing warmth died down a bit, but Hermione was
determined to wring every last drop of gratification from her vagina
until soreness forced her to ease back and let it rest. The harsh
method she used to masturbate did indeed feel wonderful at first, but
unfortunately stimulated her loins entirely too much to last until she
could climax. As it were, Hermione had no idea that there was ecstasy
so far beyond this simple happiness.
She even allowed herself to moan softly in appreciation of her own
touch, something that wasn't possible anywhere else but in the female
showers downstairs (and assuming nobody else was around). It felt so
marvelous to keep going and still feel so horny -- even without looking
at a clock Hermione knew that this would be a record-breaking frig
session. Constantly switching hands so she wouldn't tire too soon, it
was only the occasional mini-stroke each time she heard someone blunder
up the stairs that kept her from finally having an orgasm that night.
After the interminable wait before she could be certain that they had
gotten off on a lower floor or continued upwards, the panting girl went
right on chafing her downy privates, dreading the building irritation
that would force her to stop.
Alas, like a thief it came, stealing away the magnificent rush and
leaving only longing and frustration in its place. The minutes after
were always cruel, but it was a small price to pay for those fantastic
minutes of absolute bliss. Rolling onto her belly, Hermione magicked
the lights off with her wand and let it clang sharply on the floor, too
wound up to even consider retrieving it. Her crotch felt like it was on
fire -- already burning through her damp pajama bottoms and leaving the
tell-tale scent she would discover in the morning. That could be taken
care of then, however.
In fact, the only other thing she managed to drag herself to do was
slip the butterbeer bottle under the bedspread with her. True, a house
elves would otherwise have taken it away without saying anything, but
that still felt sloppy. The whole point was to get away with it -- a
naughtily appealing idea that excited her almost as much as playing
with herself. As she drifted off to sleep, the brilliant wizardress was
left with one last thought rolling around in her head.
"What if sex is even better...?"
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
"The Trial of Fire"
Chapter 1 - Aboard the Sex Express
By Unknown
NC-17
Hermione
- Upon reaching their fourth year at Hogwarts, students are
given a choice to attend a very special class designed to
facilitate their relationship with the opposite sex. The
boys can't beleive their luck, but a certain bushy-haired
Gryffindor isn't sure about the whole thing...
Hermione slid all the way down the row, picking the seat at the
very end for herself. Ron and Harry followed suit, realizing quickly
how odd all the students looked bunched up together in the expansive
classroom. Like their transfigurations hall, this chamber featured
several broad steps which descended from the doors towards the rear in
order to ensure everyone had a clear view of the teacher, although it
looked amazingly larger from the inside then they could have thought
possible. Perched at the very top of one of Hogwarts' dizzying spires,
its size was clearly enhanced by magic.
It was fitting as part of the mystique surrounding this particular
class that even Hermione had no idea where they really were. Gryffindor
Tower was a hike and a half up from the first floor as it was, and this
place soared a few stories above that. As was the case with every new
part of the school that they discovered over the course of their tenure
there, it was amusing how nobody had really noticed the seldom-trod
corridor just a stone's throw away from the Fat Lady. Not that they
would have been able to get very far however -- like the third floor
chamber during their freshman year, this place was guarded. Hermione
supposed that Sir Cadogan posed little challenge to someone determined
enough to sneak in, but the knight did seem to have an odd gleam of
honor about him as he checked to ensure only fourth years were passing.
The young sorceress was positively glowing in anticipation of the
coming lesson. Charms and history of magic were things she could wrap
her brain around and conquer easily, but this was the cryptic "SI" each
had been silently hoping would appear on the schedule. Most (especially
the girls) professed loudly (amongst themselves, of course) to greatly
rue being asked to participate in such an embarrassing, public forum.
In truth, though, they were secretly just as excited as their male
counterparts. It *was* optional, of course, but very few decided to
approach the Headmaster and request to be excused. As it were, none
elected to stay behind that year.
Sexual Instruction was much more than a rite of passage among the
students. Up until their third year, most didn't even have a clue about
Hogwarts' opportunity to guide its pubescent flock in discovering their
adulthood in an open, comfortable environment. In the magical world,
initiations were Serious Business, and even dark wizards didn't mess
around lest their kid always have the specter of not being able to hack
a task that a dozen mudbloods passed every year. Many students were
delighted that they would not only be allowed to taste the forbidden
fruit, but actually encouraged. And those that still had shy misgivings
about doing such things usually found peer pressure to be an adequate
motivator.
Truth be told, Hermione was on the fluttery side. Sure, she would
get to see boys in the buff as much as she wanted, but the other edge
of the sword meant that THEY would get an unlimited view of her boobies
and puss. She'd have to let anyone look too, not just her best friends,
and after that the encounters would become more and more intimate until
they finally got around to the big "F". Part of the open nature of the
program ensured that anyone could discontinue with no questions asked
(by the professor, at least) if it got to be too much for them, but
Hermione was rather sure she wouldn't still be a virgin by year's end.
The only caveat she was really worried about was that everyone was
encouraged mix and match with different partners, especially those from
other Houses with whom they normally wouldn't get more then acquainted
with except under these circumstances. Again, it was the double-sided
blade of SI which tried to coax students out of the shells they'd build
around themselves for three years and bring them more in tune with the
open community they would have to join after graduation. Thankfully,
her first lesson paired Gryffindor with Ravenclaw -- this was a place
where Hermione could really do without Malfoy and his crew.
Though the trio had made sure to arrive early by more than twenty
minutes, it was obvious that everyone else had thought similar. Ere the
clock even hit quarter-to, the sounds of the boys fidgeting in their
seats joined with anxious whispers from the girls, escalating slowly
into a heady din. The crowd knew that this would be a far more serious
setting than anything so far in their wizarding careers, but even that
heavy weight couldn't stop the youngsters from apprehensively chatting.
Only the entrance of their teacher managed to do that, and when the
doors at last opened just shy of the hour, all noise ceased instantly.
***
"Professor McGonagall?" the Corner boy blurted out, echoing the
thoughts of every other student in the room. The boys in particular
expressed looks of utter horror, watching months of frantic, immature
fantasies up and vanish like farts in the wind. Before he could get a
response, however, Michael caught his gaffe with a look of sickening
dread. Rumors abounded about those who'd had the privilege to attend
this class terminated for not taking it seriously, and suddenly it
seemed like he might have blown his chance already.
"Well, whom did you expect?" McGonagall quipped once she reached
her desk, dropping her things and narrowing her eyes at the upstart. He
looked rather silly now, gaping openmouthed as if expecting her blast
him with lightning bolts from her hands. "Relax, Mr. Corner..." she
insisted, breathing deeply and making large circles with her arms to
illustrate. "Though I can't read minds yet, I know exactly what you're
thinking. What can an old woman teach us about fucking?"
Upon hearing the taboo word, all eighteen teenagers bolted upright
in their seats. Those that had been sitting proper already nearly hurt
their backs from jerking up so suddenly, but still kept their gaze
fixed firmly on the professor. She couldn't have just said...
"Yes, that's one term for it, although you'll not hear it from me
again." McGonagall continued, scanning the assembled group of wizards
and witches. "I believe in being frank. By the end of next semester we
will hopefully have covered enough ground that hearing the word 'sex'
won't cause you all to erupt in fits of giggles, but it's still a long
way off."
"HOWEVER..." she enunciated, making it clear the next piece of
information was particularly important. "You will have to study and
work just as hard here as any other subject. Of course this class has
the capability to be the most enjoyable of your seven years, but you
are not here just to fool around. Those that don't take the material
seriously and let themselves get carried away will be asked to leave."
"And above all, a word of caution to the men..." McGonagall paused,
extending one finger out in a menacing gesture. The next sentence came
out so cold and pitiless it made even Minerva herself shiver a bit from
its power. "If any of you dare let your hormones get so out of hand
that you make force yourself on one of the ladies, I assure you that
your remaining adolescence will be spent in Azkaban."
For a few moments, she stood there basking in the satisfaction that
Dumbledore had indeed made the right decision, as usual. Though she
felt Hagrid's recent promotion represented a sobering change of pace in
the curriculum, she couldn't imagine letting someone like him try to
control a room full of horny teenagers. As Moody would have agreed,
constant vigilance was required to ensure the program proceeded at the
same delicate pace that had served since time immemorial. One small
mistake once they got down to the big-league topics, and more than a
few girls would go home with bigger bellies than they arrived with...
The shock wore off quickly under the lingering tension of a Friday
afternoon. Though Professor McGonagall's warning was stern indeed, it
was not in the least bit enough to dissuade any from wishing they were
a year younger when they would have already been back in their Houses
and looking forward to the all-too brief weekend respite. Excitement
for the topic at hand did take a large dive, though, the moment their
instructor reached into her bottomless tartan bag and began pulling out
textbooks by the pair.
"Guess we're not going to jump right into the good stuff, eh?" Ron
scribbled into his notebook, casually pointing his quill at the line so
Harry could read it. Hermione caught it out of the corner of her eye
and nudged him hard, causing her friends to burst out in silent smirks.
Guiltily, Ron blotted it out, but not before Hermione felt a pang of
agreement with him. It would have been relieving in a way to just start
wading in. Wasn't this class supposed to be different?
The books, it was explained, were charmed only to open in the room
they were currently sitting in case one of the younger students got any
bright ideas. Lisa Turpin timidly held up her hand until called on,
almost cringing at the audacity of asking the first question. Luckily,
McGonagall was no opponent of intelligent queries, and kindly explained
that all studying would of course have to be done in this classroom.
Had Lisa been willing to look the professor in the eye, she could have
caught a tiny glimmer there that suggested that Minerva was actually
hiding something from her pupils, but the moment passed without further
incident.
As expected, the title-less works featured none of the hardcore
images that most fourteen-year-olds had already come across by way of
their friends in locker rooms. Hermione glanced over successive pages
detailing the growth of a male (the moving subjects flexing and beaming
innocently to try and get her to blush) without so much as an upturned
eye. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, turned straight away to the back to get
a glimpse of the advanced topics, but were both clearly thwarted by the
nearly medical way intercourse was depicted by books' own lackluster
subjects-- no extraneous movements or expressions to indicate the act
was in any way fun. One woman demonstrating on top of her lover even
covered herself and wagged a disapproving finger at Harry, pointing
towards the beginning of the book where she knew he was supposed to be
reading. Groaning inwardly, he wearily complied just as McGonagall
began her lecture.
For all the students' expectations, their first lesson went at a
mind-numbingly slow pace. First there was a lengthy set of rules to be
committed to memory now that they were becoming adults -- number one
being to retain the privacy of the material even if they felt they had
a duty to warn their siblings. Not a few eyes glanced over to Ron, who
immediately concerned himself with repeatedly erasing and rewriting a
word on his parchment until it very nearly tore. Gone too, they were
told, were the days of innocent pranks to try and spy on each other in
various stages of undress, or using magic to make clothes levitate,
disappear, or become transparent. Of course, there was also a large
section on what "No" meant, accompanied by a picture of a cheeky boy
getting his comeuppance by way of a girlfriend's open palm.
"Almost all these rules are made for us!" Seamus Finnegan mused out
loud, startling when he heard his own voice. Luckily, the professor was
back to the same understanding mood she'd been at the beginning, calmly
placing her book down on the table to answer him.
"That's because boys are the only ones who break them!" she quipped
succinctly, winking at the girls (who were all in perfect agreement).
Perhaps this wasn't going to be as stimulating as they'd hoped, but at
least it wouldn't be as worse as they'd feared.
After the preliminaries were taken care of, McGonagall plowed full
steam ahead into the first chapter concerning the history of sexual
enlightenment among the wizarding world. Unlike most Muggle histories,
which were rife with egregious example of persecution towards woman and
homosexuals (to only name a few), that kind of barbarism had either
never existed among the high folk, or was so far removed from history
that it had indeed passed out of all knowledge.
There were still scattered instances where sex played a large part
in things, however. Even impeccable archmages sometimes succumbed to
dueling over the affection of a beautiful sorceress, although it was
grudgingly pointed out that more than a handful of witches had also
denigrated into combat after being jilted. Shortly following these
instances were usually great crusades called to force righteousness
upon backwards cultures that had finally evolved enough to learn the
ways of magic, most often in Africa or the Middle East where justice
had yet to catch up. Hermione noted with a wry smile that at least some
Ministers of Magic had more than Cornelius Fudge's pitiful degree of
courage.
McGonagall was just about to reach a sidenote about Ketan the Mad,
a black necromancer who began raiding villages for maidens to breed
with giants from the northern wastes. His massive army would eventually
be defeated by the Supreme Mugwump Council, but none in the class would
find that out until next week. The head of Gryffindor House happened to
notice just how low in the sky the sun was hanging and promptly shut
her own aged tome. Harry could scarcely believe his watch, but an
astounding two and a half hours had passed in the airy spire. Noticing
his companions bearing equally surprised looks, he quickly muttered
something about the professor never having lost track of the time like
that. All Ron could respond with was an approving "At least the stuff's
more interesting without Binns..."
***
Hermione held her opinion as long as she could -- which was all the
way until dinner. Glaring annoyedly at the two of them nonchalantly
piling mashed sweet potatoes onto their plates, it was only after the
bushy-haired girl huffed in exasperation that Harry finally inquired
what was the matter.
"Everything!" she hissed, catching the attention of Ginny and her
friends sitting a few feet away. Leaning back and closing her eyes, she
forced herself back into control before lowering her voice to go on.
"Don't you feel a little..." she groaned, struggling to find the right
word.
"Hungry?" Harry answered weakly.
"Famished." Ron added forcefully.
"Betrayed!" Hermione snapped, flashing her eyes at Ginny, who was
clearly eavesdropping. The Weasley girl guiltily turned her attention
back to her own group.
"About what, the class?" Harry asked, going about the buttering of
his biscuits. "Well, you didn't really think all the rumors were true,
did you?" Hermione's face turned bright red.
"Of course not..." she said quickly, trying to save herself and
doing a very poor job of it. "It's just that..."
But Ron would have none of it. He'd seen the look she had, and knew
what a rare jewel it was at once -- Hermione being embarrassed beyond
the capacity for rational thought. Ignoring the tiny voice of reason
within urging him not to tease the girl who featured in so many of his
dreams of late, he went for the jugular.
"No..." he interrupted, a wide grin appearing on his face. "No, you
really believed it! You thought we were all going to get to shag each
other, didn't you!"
"Keep your voice down!" Hermione answered hotly, desperate to slip
out of the noose she'd stumbled into. Could it really be that she'd
fretted and dwelled on a joke for so long and these two numbskulls had
seen right through it?
"So did we..." Harry added wisely, all too keenly noticing how his
friend's crisis alarm was about to go off, and having much better sense
then Ron on what buttons shouldn't be pushed. "I guess it *was* too
good to be true..."
The elephant-in-the-living-room that had been following the fourth
years around all week suddenly seemed to pull up a chair beside the
trio and plop himself down. Acutely aware of having just revealed he'd
hoped to see Hermione naked, Harry offered a weak smile and hastily
attacked his food. The others tended to their meals in silence as well,
only one mind continuing to work furiously as her plate emptied. Even
after the meal, she continued to muse silently in one of the Gryffindor
common room's armchairs as her pals played a game of chess by the fire.
"Why would there be such a big deal, then?" she announced suddenly,
drifting out of her stupor and looking at them plainly as if no time
had transpired. "With keeping it a secret..."
The boys looked around instinctively to see if anyone else could
hear them -- the lesson's grave warning had been well drilled into
their heads. By this hour, though, most students were up to making
mischief or getting started on their homework, depending on how close
they were to the dreaded O.W.L exams. The few second-years on the other
side of the room couldn't possibly make anything out from so far away.
"Beats me..." Ron shrugged helpfully as he casually annihilated one
of Harry's rooks. "Just a big gag, I guess."
"I don't think so..." Harry interjected, remarkably calm given that
he was getting his ass being handed to him in the game, already down
six pieces and both knights. "I'd believe Fred and George were in on
it, but not McGonagall."
"Yeah, it was a mite weird." Ron concurred, rapidly losing interest
in the chessboard as an opportunity arose to discuss sex with a member
of the fairer gender. He'd actually been much more distraught than she
over the realization that they might not actually get a chance to do
everything in that book together under the guise of learning. It would
have taken a death eater to force him to admit it, though.
"You think maybe it gets more... in-depth?" Harry pondered, looking
back and forth between his companions for strength to fight a giggle.
"Oh, why can't we just say it?" Hermione grumbled, apparently back
to her own self now that she had her footing. "I mean, if you can teach
Ron to not cringe at the sound of 'Voldemort', then I can say -- fuck.
We ALL thought they'd let us fuck each other."
A moment of silence passed without any funny faces of noises.
"Hooray, we did it!" she continued sarcastically, pulling her chair
closer to them nonetheless. It was one thing to use vulgar language in
the effort to solve another mystery, but she didn't want to sound like
a slut. "Okay, so Fred and George kept dropping hints that we would get
*some* kind of sex-ed course this year. What made it different than any
of the other nonsense they try and get us to believe?"
"Mum was saying weird things all summer about me getting to be a
man soon..." Ron added thoughtfully. Hermione couldn't help herself and
masked a chortle behind some coughing. Ron didn't notice, and turned
instead to Harry for confirmation. "You, mate?"
"The Dursleys wouldn't even buy me a cup for gym at my old school."
he muttered dryly. "Much less care if Hogwarts is basically going to
flaunt the biggest Muggle taboo."
"And at the pace we're going..." Hermione added lightheartedly.
"What will professor McGonagall say when we finish the book? 'Allright,
then, knock yourselves out?'" This produced a healthy round of laughs
from the group.
"It wouldn't really be all that bad, would it?" Ron said wistfully,
echoing the sentiment for the three of them.
"Oh, Ron..." Hermione sighed, looking at him with an almost pained
face. "It's not that... I mean, of course I want to know what sex is
like, but just... not with you!"
Ron stared back at her as if he'd just been hit full force in the
chest with a bludger.
A split second later, Hermione realized what she'd just said with a
horrifying bolt of grief. "I'm so sorry, Ron..." she sputtered as soon
as humanly possible, stumbling to get the words out. "God, I didn't
mean it like that at all. It's just..." There was a tremendous, weighty
pause as she tried to find the words to express herself, but none came,
and she simply foundered.
"You don't want to risk ruining our being friends." Harry said
flatly, trying to look noble as if he agreed with the statement, but
feeling terribly shallow inside. Though he would eventually grow up to
a wizard worthy of tale and song, for the moment he was only a fourteen
year old kid who would gladly wager camaraderie for a chance to touch
her. It wasn't foolish by any stretch of the imagination -- he couldn't
help feeling any other way at his age.
Hermione lit up upon hearing that, glad to think that Harry was
indeed growing into the wise, controlled person he could need to be in
the future. "To me, Ron..." she hurriedly went on. "It's be like you
and Ginny having to do it. We're just too close!"
"I know..." Ron lied, somehow able to sense the same wave of guilt
coming off Harry. He was just now starting to come to terms with the
fact that he liked Hermione. Not just as a friend, but *really* liked
her. When his bunkmates all came back at the beginning of term with the
same story he'd heart bout this wonderful ice-breaker Hogwarts had to
help pair up its students, the idea seemed too awesome to be possible.
Harry would hold back because his eyes were on Cho Chang, and he would
finally have a place to tell Hermione how he felt without sounding like
he was just trying to use her for free sex -- because they would have
already gotten past that!
He felt only marginally less crappy, but squeezed a smile out of
his lips and blathered a pleasantry. The tension between them was near
straining at this point, and everyone understood that staying would
serve no purpose. After Hermione excused herself to round off a potions
assignment so tomorrow's workload would be completely Snape-less, the
boys floundered through the rest of their chess game. Neither had their
heart in it, and played so sloppily that each queen was in check for
several rounds before the other realized it could be taken. Eventually,
both ambled off to bed with heavy hearts, wondering how a day lined
with such promise could turn out so rotten inside.
Going to bed so early wasn't usual for Hermione, but she couldn't
think of anything else to do that wouldn't involve passing Harry and
Ron downstairs. Her roommates, Parvati and Lavender, had left earlier
to go nick some food from the kitchens with the Weasley twins. Though
she never had allowed the pleasure of rubbing herself between the legs
in her Hogwarts bed due to the danger of being disturbed, that night
the urge would not be denied.
The conversation awoke such conflicted and confused feelings in
her, Hermione was no longer sure which voice was hers any longer. Was
it the inhibited side carefully rationalizing that there were other
things in like besides books and exams? That maybe being a virgin
wasn't such a big deal, and she was missing out on truly enjoying the
best years of her life? If so, why the strong jerk from her unconscious
mind every time she thought about doing it with Harry or Ron? They were
as close as siblings -- who better to help and be helped in learning
about this part of herself? Maybe it was only a Freudian mental block
she was feeding by all this pointless wheel-spinning.
Then again, she could be falling into a trap of blindly conforming
to what her peers were doing. More than anything, Hermione had always
prided herself on being her own person and deciding things based on
careful dissection, not rash judgements. If all else, she could always
choose to liberally explore her sexual side later -- a few years really
wouldn't make much difference. Once she decided to lay down with a boy,
though, there was no turning back.
In the end, the troubled witch realized she was going in circles
and snuck over to Parvati's bunk, sliding a butterbeer out from between
the steel mesh which supported each Hogwarts mattress. They all knew
that while the teachers turned a blind eye to drinking the stuff in
town because it didn't have too much alcohol in it, it would probably
be a good idea not to get caught with it in the castle. A spontaneous
girl-power moment during their inaugural trip to Hogsmeade had led the
ladies to smuggled a dozen or so bottles back hidden in bags of sweets
and souvenirs, not even daring to tell the guys. Contrary to their
counterparts' belief, girls did not simply disapparate upon ascending
the staircase to the female quarters and then reappear come morning
with nothing in-between. Hermione loved the fact that not only did she
have a sort of secret life up here, but that Harry and Ron would never
even question any of it existed.
Tiptoeing in her stocking feet across the cool stone, she glided
over to the door and pulled it open halfway, knowing it was a better
tradeoff to hear every raspy step and amplified conversation than to
muffled them and possibly get surprised with a hand down her pants.
With a giddy smile as she scampered back under the covers, Hermione
twisted the top of her bootlegged suds off and downed a quarter of it
in one gulp. She leaned over and grabbed a book off her shelf in case
either of the girls returned, taking greedy swigs from the bottle every
few seconds. In short order her tummy was full and her brain pleasantly
addled by the booze just enough to loosen her up.
It only took a moment to realize that feeling her womanhood through
loose pajamas was infinitely more satisfying than trying to pet her
slit through the tight fabric of a pair of panties. That first glorious
rush of gratification swept through her whole body, enhanced by both
the alcohol in her system and the ease with which she could pinch the
folds in her clothing and rub them across that tender swath of flesh.
As always, the first few minutes were absolute heaven as her budding
clitoris begged for softer stimulation, her body knowing all-too-well
what was best.
Eventually the blazing warmth died down a bit, but Hermione was
determined to wring every last drop of gratification from her vagina
until soreness forced her to ease back and let it rest. The harsh
method she used to masturbate did indeed feel wonderful at first, but
unfortunately stimulated her loins entirely too much to last until she
could climax. As it were, Hermione had no idea that there was ecstasy
so far beyond this simple happiness.
She even allowed herself to moan softly in appreciation of her own
touch, something that wasn't possible anywhere else but in the female
showers downstairs (and assuming nobody else was around). It felt so
marvelous to keep going and still feel so horny -- even without looking
at a clock Hermione knew that this would be a record-breaking frig
session. Constantly switching hands so she wouldn't tire too soon, it
was only the occasional mini-stroke each time she heard someone blunder
up the stairs that kept her from finally having an orgasm that night.
After the interminable wait before she could be certain that they had
gotten off on a lower floor or continued upwards, the panting girl went
right on chafing her downy privates, dreading the building irritation
that would force her to stop.
Alas, like a thief it came, stealing away the magnificent rush and
leaving only longing and frustration in its place. The minutes after
were always cruel, but it was a small price to pay for those fantastic
minutes of absolute bliss. Rolling onto her belly, Hermione magicked
the lights off with her wand and let it clang sharply on the floor, too
wound up to even consider retrieving it. Her crotch felt like it was on
fire -- already burning through her damp pajama bottoms and leaving the
tell-tale scent she would discover in the morning. That could be taken
care of then, however.
In fact, the only other thing she managed to drag herself to do was
slip the butterbeer bottle under the bedspread with her. True, a house
elves would otherwise have taken it away without saying anything, but
that still felt sloppy. The whole point was to get away with it -- a
naughtily appealing idea that excited her almost as much as playing
with herself. As she drifted off to sleep, the brilliant wizardress was
left with one last thought rolling around in her head.
"What if sex is even better...?"