#hermione granger chapter

[serpentineego]

Venenatum Chapter 21 " The Unravelling of It All" now live.

Read it now on AO3

[doodleholic]

Too Far and Snakey

[plscallmeeren]

D O M I N A N T D R U N K

Hermione Jean Granger x Reader

Request: yes

Summary: Hermione discovers a new side of herself when drunk (she and fem reader have been dating for a while now)

Warnings: Swearing; fingering, oral (f receiving), alcohol, drunk sex

Word Count: 1.7K+

Harry and Ron watched their best friend tip yet another fire whiskey down her throat. The sixth, to be exact. They nodded pitifully when she stumbled toward the cupboard to find another drink, exchanging worried glances.

"You realise she's a total lightweight," Ron whispered to Harry, brows furrowing as she tipped the golden liquid into her glass. "You reckon this is because of her potions exam?"

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know how to stop her." Hermione had spent the entire evening rambling on about how badly her potions final had been and that she would probably fail. (Harry and Ron highly doubted this, considering her worst marks were some of their best, but that wasn't a very favoured argument.)

"Hey, 'Mione," Ron called timidly, catching her attention after the second attempt. "You think that should be your last glass, maybe? Yeah? It's just a bit much for someone your size-"

"Shut up, Ronald," she interrupted, throwing her head back so that brown curls cascaded down her back. "It's not even midnight!"

"That's true," Harry joined in for the sake of solidarity, "but that doesn't have much to do with how sloshed you are-"

"Really, Harry. If you were drunk, too, you wouldn't care."

"Maybe we should go find (y/n), she could probably-"

"(Y/n)?" Hermione perked up. "Is she here?"

"No, but we could bring her-"

"She's so hot," Hermione drawled. Harry and Ron looked at each other in horror. "The way we shag... you have no idea. She can be really rough or really sweet..."

"What's protocol is situations like these?"

"I'm just hoping this situation will never happen again. It's a miracle Seamus and Dean haven't walked in yet-"

"Bloody hell!"

Hermione was struggling with the buttons of her shirt, but judging by murmurs of 'far too warm in here' the objective was to remove it.

"Okay, that's it. Keep your shirt on for a second and we'll take you to your girlfriend," Harry said firmly, but before he or Ron could stand up, she had rushed out the door and was giggling all the way down the stairs, almost crashing into the armchair near the archway.

"Bloody hell," Ron repeated.

"Oh, shut up."

You were sitting peacefully in the common room on the big couch by the fire, studying for herbology, when Hermione burst past Fred and George - mercifully, the only other two there - to sit down on your lap, careful notes be damned.

"Hello, love. What..." She pressed her lips to yours and you could have tasted the alcohol from her lips alone. "Since when do you drink more than one glass?"

"Since I'm stupid," she moaned, collapsing into you as her friends (and the twins) watched from afar. "I'm stupid and I'll fail and..."

"I don't know what draught you've been fed, but that's not true. I'll give you evidence of it in the morning - even if it takes a visit to every professor. Okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled, and you noticed she was doing kitten licks against the side of your neck. "I need you to fuck me."

You hesitated only a second, catching Harry's eye and nodding for them to leave. They scurried away gratefully. "I can't to that, love. You're drunk."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"So... you don't think I'm hot?" She undid another button or two teasingly until you nodded, laughing.

"Very."

"Then take me to your room."

"I have roommates."

"Then let's go to the prefects' bathroom."

You stared at her for a moment before giving in. Maybe if you gave her such a hard time asking exactly what she wanted, she would give up. You closed her shirt again with nimble fingers, making Hermione groan while Fred and George smirked from the opposite end of the room.

She dragged you by the hand, which led to you half-holding her upright when the lull of her steps overwhelmed her enthusiasm, until you finally reached the bathroom. Fortunately, Hermione could still remember the password in her drunken state. She locked the door behind you.

"What now?" you asked softly, resting your hands on her love handles. She crooned, humming as she considered.

It was strange seeing her this way - even when she was entirely distracted from reality, even when you were fucking her raw, she always had some form of composure. Not like now, where she mumbled every thought that came to her and slumped against your body for support.

"Fuck me. Please."

"I don't know. Too vague. Tell me exactly what to do."

She pondered this for a moment. "So... I'm in control?"

"Yes, I suppose. I'll do every little thing you ask. How does that sound?"

Hermione grinned. "Take off my shirt."

"Whatever you desire," you smiled, working the buttons in quick succession before pulling off the white clothing. She leaned into you, pressing the lace of her bra against your own t-shirt.

"Undress."

You pulled off the band tee and old sweats nonchalantly, followed by your boxers. Hermione ran her hands over your skin in wonder, as if it were the first time she could touch the planes of your body.

"My skirt. And stockings."

"What about them?"

"Get rid of them. And my bra. Take it all away."

"Yes, ma'am."

You unzipped her skirt, sliding it down her legs with the adjacent stockings and pulling them away from her feet one by one. The clasp behind her bra was easy, and you tried not to stare at her breasts like a child at a toy. Her nipples were perked, though, and some stretch lines reached from under each one, showing you that she had grown larger.

"You forgot my panties."

"You didn't ask."

In her impatience, she pulled them off herself, but from then on she didn't forget any details. "Kneel in front of me," she ordered, backing against a wall.

"Yes, ma'am," you smirked. Morally, you should have stopped there - earlier, even - but it was impossible. Not when you were now at eye level with her pussy, thighs sticky with juices.

"Put your tongue on my clit and move it in vertical ellipses." You obeyed, laughing against her at the absurd smarts in her language. She moaned loudly, bucking her hips into your face as her fingers scraped the walls for hold.

"Faster," she commanded, though she was getting dizzy from the stimulation. "Faster, faster, more."

You couldn't help yourself, digging your fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, just like she had told you to in the past. She was so soft - unbearably so - and your hands slipped down to her thighs, gripping them to keep her steady.

She mewled as her hips rolled over your face harshly. "Go on," she groaned when you pulled away a moment for air. You lay your tongue flat on her pussy before resuming, teasing her.

Hermione whined, spasming. It took you a moment to realise that she had already come, and that she couldn't stand during the sensation.

You fell back against the cold tile, letting her slide along your body until she sat almost on your chest. "Have you ever come that fast? I didn't know people could come that fast."

"Neither did I," Hermione admitted shyly. You were about to suggest sitting up, but to your amazement she was moving back and forth over your torso, legs spread. She was humping you.

"Hermione," you managed, watching in near fascination as she continued, head thrown back as moans and whines fell from her lips, a symphony of pornographic sounds. "Your cunt is still swollen from..."

"I know. Be quiet." You didn't find it in you to deny her, so you just watched. She was getting louder and louder. If you hadn't known better, you would have guessed she was in pain.

"Fuck, 'Mione," you groaned, back arching intuitively to get further inside her. "You're doing things to me."

But she didn't answer, lost in her own world. You were tempted to... "Can I touch myself?"

She nodded - or so you hoped - because the second you reached for yourself, both of you were making enough noise to drain out the slick squelching of her against your skin.

"Fingers," Hermione panted, placing a hand over your mouth, "put three inside of me."

"Three?" you asked, crazed. "You've got the tightest cunt-"

"Just do it," she said certainly, hand securing itself around your throat. "I command it."

Lightheaded from lack of air, you pulled your hand from yourself to her pussy, offering. She reluctantly rolled off you, splayed out on the white floor, waiting.

You took a deep breath, then plunged three fingers into her folds.

She screamed - or something like it - but before you could pull out she grabbed your wrist, pushing you inside again, as far as it would go.

"Again, again, again."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chanted, forcing your digits into her even though her vagina rejected them and she wailed.

"Faster."

You could feel the sweat tumbling down your back from the effort, but you sped in and out of her cunt with brute force. You spared a glance at her and almost came; she was spread across the tile floor, thighs completely wet, body shaking, convulsing in attempts to get you further in.

"Come. Come with me," she squealed, so narrow around your fingers you couldn't enter. Your thumb took over; rushed circles clumsily drawn over her clit. Her hands groped you until they found your shoulders, fingernails digging into your back painfully. Her eyes rolled backc head lifting.

"Fuck!"

She came, and a moment later so did you. You collapsed next to her, chest rising and falling quickly.

"One more round," she panted. Had you misheard? You suddenly remembered she was still intoxicated.

"You're a dominant drunk," you mused. "Who would have thought."

"Now," she ordered.

"'Mione, I don't know if-"

"Do as I say," she insisted, sounding almost bratty but definitely enjoying the control.

"Yes, ma'am," you panted, sitting up.

"Do you know that spell for your wand? You know the one."

"Yeah, I do."

[ginnyruin]

A Special Witch by Nurchie

X: @hi_im_nurchie and DeviantArt

for Altered State Chapter 3: Collision by ginnyruin

He couldn’t place it, why she held his attention. It was not his habit to linger on such details. But linger he did. He found himself measuring each breath against the silence of the corridor.

Ao3

[swottydoodler]

Malfoy in Red🌹🌹

FF:

[kmd0107]

Update: Chapter 16 - If We Make It Through December

Moodboard by the amazing @the-og-mkt

Chapter 16 - If We Make It Through December

Winter had settled over the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The only color visible as far as Draco could see were shades of grey and the saturated tone of evergreens. Just below, his mother's rose garden sat quiet and dormant. The gentle, though still trembling, touch of his mother's hand on his shoulder followed her familiar magic. "You know, my dragon, some of the old families use stasis charms and weather wards to keep their gardens in bloom year-round. But that is not nature's way." She held her other hand out flat. A pink carnation bloomed in her palm and then wilted and faded. "Life cycles. We cannot have spring without winter."

Read Resilience on: AO3 || FFN

Resilience by @kmd0107 & @the-og-mkt

Source: archiveofourown.org

[grangerxdangerr]

Author: “it gets worse before it gets better”

Me going through the worse

[underratedalpaca]

The main message that the Harry Potter's books send is hope, not the "power of love".

While for Harry as a character and for his arc love is important [see his friendship with Ron and Hermione, his relationship with (the memory of) his mother], for the rest of the Wizards' world it's only the reason why Harry has basically superpowers. He survives Voldemort as a newborn, his wand does random golden magic, he beats with an "expelliarmus" the Dark Lord's "Avada Kedavra" due to this "power of love", but nobody [except maybe Dumbledore? (the things I could say about Dumbledore... but this is for another post)] cares. Never. Like, if all his magic abilities came from the power of leftover pasta, basically nothing would change for the majority of both the wizards and the plot.

But you know what wizards care about, what saves and keeps intact the magic world even during Voldemort's government (like in book 7)?

Hope.

The Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore's army, Potterwatch, everybody who fought against the Death Eaters in the Battle of Hogwarts, they were all moved by hope.

The Order hoped to defeat Voldemord in the first magic war. With Harry, they thought they won. Many brave wizard died during that war, but when the Dark Lord came back, the rest of the order keept fighting until he was defeated. The last thing Dumbledore told Lupin and the rest of the Order was that Harry was their best hope.

Dumbledore's Army was born to fight against Dolores Umbridge's reign as High Inquisitor. They knew the world they were living in was dangerous, and they wanted to be able to defend themselves, hoping to survive. They then rebelled against the Death Eaters who were teaching at Hogwarts, hoping that Harry, Ron and Hermione could destroy all the Horcruxes.

Potterwatch was created to tell people who rebelled against Voldemort that Harry was still alive and fighting, to keep hoping. Trought Potterwatch we hear stories of wizards and witches who risk their life and safety to protect muggles. It exist, to quote the broadcast's final sentences, to "Keep each other safe. Keep faith." To keep hoping things will be better.

In the battle of Hogwarts fought and died many people, hoping to defeat Voldemort and achieve a better world.

James and Lily Potter died to protect their son from Voldemort, after fighting in the Order hoping in the wizard's world's freedom.

Remus Lupin and Tonks died in the Hogwarts battle, after joining it with an 11 days old son. They left the world hoping that their death would have helped creating a better world for their son to live in.

The Minister of Magic tried to convince people that Harry supported and agreed with them, because the Boy who Lived is a simbol of hope for the whole magic world, and wiches and wizards were losing faith inthe government, and it's hope what helps win the war, not only powers.

Without Hope, nobody would have fought against Voldemort, and Harry would have been useless.

[casablancas21]

Chapters: 22/22 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Lavender Brown, Luna Lovegood, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Susan Bones, Ginny Weasley, George Weasley, Angelina Johnson, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy, James Sirius Potter, Albus Severus Potter, Lily Luna Potter, Andromeda Black Tonks, Gregory Goyle, Original Characters, Daphne Greengrass Additional Tags: POV Third Person, POV Hermione Granger, Not Epilogue Compliant, Auror Hermione Granger, Auror Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), DMLE | Department of Magical Law Enforcement (Harry Potter), BAMF Hermione Granger, Good Parent Draco Malfoy, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley Bashing, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Angst with a Happy Ending, Action & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Widowed Draco Malfoy, Single Parent Draco Malfoy Summary:

When the unthinkable happens, Hermione Granger suddenly finds herself needing to start over. Unfortunately, that appears to involve one Draco Malfoy and his school-reminiscent insufferable attitude. Partnered against their will, Hermione and Draco will have to figure their shit out in order to do their job, and survive one another.

[bitterspoons]

"Happy Birthdays at Privet Drive"

CHAPTER ONE

Edith Dursley Series by Bitterspoons

slowburn fred weasley x Fem!oc

SERIES MASTERLIST✨

in which: a half-giant bursts into a quaint hut with a cake after the Dursley's ran away from the post and owls.

word count: 4.4k

next chapter coming soon

“Here, let me help.” Quickly flipping the pancakes and bacon while the dark harried boy rushed to deliver coffee to her dad. 

It was a special day for the Dursley’s—it was Dudley’s birthday but more than that—it'd be the day our story begins (Dudley should feel honored.)

While Edith hated the way her parents acted on his birthday (and occasionally Dudley) she still cared for her brother—even if her cousin, Harry, was more of a brother to her than Dudley would ever be. 

Still, it was a small chance to bond with her brother since the relationship between the two Dursley siblings was…strained to say the least. 

In their defense, it was mostly their parent’s fault for how the two had become competitive. 

It started out when Edith’s reading comprehension passed Dudley’s, despite him being a year older than Harry and Edith. She was showered in attention and praise.

That sparked into a new challenge for the two, trying to surpass each other in every way possible. 

Two specific competitions drove the two apart. 

Kindness, Compassion and Emotional Intelligence. 

Dudley had never been one for empathy, having become a “bully” in their school. While the two siblings were both popular, Edith was the kind spirit—helping younger kids find their way to classes and solving playground disputes. 

This was especially impactful to Harry Potter—their orphaned cousin who had been living with them since he was a year old. 

Maybe it was because Edith was closer in age to him, being only 2 months older while Dudley had been 14 months older. Or because Harry looked more like Edith. Or because Harry came up with Edith’s nickname, Eddie. 

One thing was clear. Edith and Harry had a strong bond while Dudley did not. 

Edith had a keen eye for sadness. At first it was small things when they were children like giving Harry some of her toys or holding his hand when they tried to walk so he wouldn’t be left behind. 

As they got older, her support increased. Giving Harry snacks, pillows, blankets, stuffed animals. Soon it was money she earned from her lemonade stand, notes for homework (albeit they weren’t great unless they were for English) but she tried. She cut his hair so that it stayed long and fluffy but didn’t get too tangled or past his eyes unlike her mother who tried unevenly buzzing it off, just for it to grow back in a matter of days. 

And if Dudley couldn’t be the best, he would be the worst. 

Edith would spend money to fix the glasses that Dudley broke. Or cleaning up food that Dudley spilled so that Harry wouldn’t have to. 

Dudley hated English, despised it. Words weren’t meant for anything more than speaking. Journaling, plays and books were all futile.

Edith loved words, writings of all sorts. Poetry was her favorite, playing with words in a way that perfectly encompassed how you felt and conveyed meaning with small detail. It was a delicate craft. 

But there was one other thing that caused quite the rift between them. 

Petunia’s Love

Their mother was quite the character. Edith only heard bits and pieces about her sister, Harry’s mom but it seemed enough. 

She cried over her, she yelled over her, she swooned over her and sometimes she’d lull herself to sleep, pretending to say goodnight to her. 

And she’d call Edith by her name. 

I’d like to say that Petunia’s jealousy towards Edith started after some argument between them. But that would be a lie. Instead, it started before Edith was even born. 

Lily Potter—or rather Lily Evans was apparently the poster-perfect child. Her parents raved about the school she went to and it seemed like Petunia was left in the dust, just to be bitter. 

So when Edith was born, Petunia was overjoyed to see that Edith had her own big blue eyes and dark hair like her father, Vernon. 

But then Edith turned 9 months old, and what used to be brown hair had a shade of copper to it. And as Edith grew older, her hair solidified into a dark auburn—Petunia’s ginger genes shining through ever so slightly. 

Unfortunately, Edith was blessed with the Evans look—having only inherited dark hair from her father instead of the blonde hair that Dudley and Petunia had. Otherwise, she was a spitfire between Petunia and Lily—as if her grandparents had another child. 

This was a horrible thing, as while Edith was very pretty—Petunia could not escape her sister, even if she had died. 

Dudley, who was constantly showered in affection and attention because looked like his father with Petunia’s hair and eyes—a man she loved and a woman she had grown to love too. 

But Edith looked like Lily and Petunia. A woman Petunia hated, loved, envied and missed and the inferior sister. 

Petunia’s attitude towards Edith differed drastically. Either Lily was the reason Petunia looked in the mirror and sighed, or she was a sister she never got to apologize to. 

In rebuttal to her unresolved issues with her sister, she treated her daughter similarly. 

Either Edith was brushed off, cursed, or simply ignored like Harry or she was love bombed with flowers, money, gifts and apologies. 

The push and pull of it all was exhausting, especially since Dudley seemed to get all her affection without a weird grieving ultimatum or any effort on his part at all. 

And when Vernon had sexist prejudice—his son was always the more important one in the family, being the eldest child in their care and a boy—it seemed as though Dudley had everyone while Edith had Harry. 

But in dear time, that would be all she needed. 

“I want everything to be perfect for my Dudley’s special day!!” Petunia cooed, leading him to the living room where piles of presents lie. “Aren’t they wonderful darling?” 

“How many are there?” Dudley asked, looking over at the colorfully wrapped presents, his nasally voice projecting through the room. 

“Thirty-six.” Vernon bragged. “Counted them myself.” 

“Thirty-six?” Dudley clarified, outraged. “But last year—last year I had thirty-seven!” 

Edith handed him a plate of bacon and pancakes. “If you don’t want them, I’ll take ‘em.” She sassed, turning back around to flip the eggs. 

Their mother doted on the boy, smoothing this hair out. “Oh now, now, now,  this is what we’re going to do. When we go to the zoo, you can buy two new presents!” 

They finished breakfast quickly, wanting to get to the zoo before the traffic started. 

Edith went down the stairs, carrying a small brightly colored box. “Dudley!” She called softly, handing him the gift with a tightlipped smile. “Gift number thirty-seven.” She labeled as he took it. 

Taking the present with grubby hands he returned the awkward smile, the two siblings stiffly hugged before getting in the car. “Thanks…”

She mumbled a “Happy Birthday” before buckling her seatbelt, waiting for her dad to stop gripping Harry by the hair outside the car. 

She leaned over from the middle seat, opening the door from the inside and cut Vernon’s warning to Harry short—saying something about Dudley’s impatience so he’d stop tugging Harry’s roots. 

Her dad shoved Harry into the car, and Edith pulled in him before Vernon could shut the car door on him and the family went on their way to the zoo. 

Their zoo day wasn’t half bad—even Harry agreed. Edith and Harry walked around together, admiring the animals and even got their own ice creams (even though Harry’s was Dudley’s rejected ice cream, it was still a win.) 

But little did they know as they walked into the Reptile House—this was the beginning of the rest of their lives—and it’s quite the story with bits I wrote tediously, so do try and keep up. 

Edith looked at the snakes with awe, they were very pretty creatures that deserved to be admired—although the ethics of this specific zoo were a bit questionable. 

One snake in particular caught their attention. 

It laid in its enclosure with a particular tiredness. Edith could practically feel the sadness radiating off of the poor thing, the will to be free only to be trapped in a glass cage. 

Rapping his hand against the glass, Vernon commanded the snake. “Move!” As Dudley complained of the snake's lack of curiosity to see him. 

Dudley learned from example, banging his fist with more vigor than Vernon. “Move!” He yelled louder, causing some people to look their way. 

“Will you stop it? He’s sleeping!” Edith pulled his hand away from the glass. 

“He’s boring.” Dudley mumbled distastefully, waddling off to a different enclosure.   

Harry looked back at the snake and began hissing at it. 

The snake perked its head up, slithering closer to Harry. Harry continued to hiss at the snake who nodded and shook its head in response. 

“Good god, my family is weird.” Edith said aloud before getting trampled to the side by her idiotic brother. 

Groaning as she ate a faceful of floor, Edith propped herself back up seeing that Harry was also shoved aside by Dudley. 

And that’s when Harry sent a particularly spiteful glare at Dudley and the walls of the glass snake enclosure simply disappeared. 

Dudley fell in with a splash as the snake quickly took the opportunity to slither away, nodding at Harry before booking it for the exit.

“From his behavior, you’d think he’s trapped in there.” Edith mumbled, annoyingly flicking her wrists to get dirt and pebbles off them. “Just get out you big oaf—” Her words fell flat when the glass reappeared before her eyes. 

Her parents ran to the cage, banging their fists against the glass and screaming as their son stood stuck in the glass enclosure. 

With that they were ushered home, Dudley in a wrap of blankets and jackets as he sobbed. Harry was shoved into his “room.” 

Petunia rushed Edith into her room, closing the door. “Lily, you always mess things up!” 

“I didn’t do anything!” Edith protested despite actively being called the wrong name. 

Harry was similarly getting framed by Vernon, being locked in the cupboard. “I swear, one minute the glass was there and the next it was gone! It was like magic!” 

But of course— “There’s no such thing as magic.” He barked gruffly, quickly waddling over to his darling boy to comfort him during these traumatic times. 

And that’s when the letters started. 

Edith watched the first owl arrive in Privet Drive, having been sat on the roof of her house. 

She liked talking to the stars before she slept and after the day had taken an exciting yet exhausting turn—she hadn’t the energy to go back down to her bed. 

But you can imagine her curiosity when she awoke and saw an owl staring straight at her. An envelope with a red wax seal was in its mouth. She gently took it before going back into her room, ready to tell Harry about the weird interaction she just had. 

She walked downstairs to Dudley’s photoshoot for his new school, a foul smell laced the kitchen as Petunia boiled down Dudley’s old uniform as she explained how Harry had to wear those next school year. 

“But they’ll fit me like elephant skin!” Harry protested, pouring Vernon coffee. 

“They’ll fit you just fine.” Petunia sneered before commanding him to go get the mail for the day. 

Edith followed him to the hall. “Don’t worry, Harry—You can wear some of my black clothes. They’ll fit you better than those, that's for sure.”

Giving a tight lipped smile, Harry picked up the letters for today. “Thanks, Eddie.”

Harry sorted through the mail, as Edith remembered the letter. 

“Oh! I got the most peculiar letter today from an owl, it’s addressed to both of us.” Edith took the letter from her pocket, showing him the front of it. 

“An owl?” Harry clarified, walking back into the kitchen and handing people their mail. 

Dudley shoved some eggs in his mouth. “What owl?” He asked, mouth full of chewed food. 

Edith looked at him with disgust. “Just a dream I had.” She brushed off, sitting down on the couch with Harry, handing him the letter. 

To: Mr. H Potter and Ms. E Dursley—Cupboard Under the Stairs and Rooftop of 4. Privet Drive Little Whinging, SURREY. 

Harry and Edith glanced at each other, curious as to if all posts had to be that specific with addressing. Harry began gently peeling the letter open when it was snatched out of his hands. 

“Dad! Harry’s got a letter!” Dudley shrieked, handing it to their dad laughing. 

“Shove off, it’s ours!” Edith argued, trying to reach over Dudley to take it back. 

“Oh please, who’d be writing to you two.” Petunia scoffed, leaning over Vernon’s shoulder. 

Harry and Edith seethed together when Petunia and Vernon’s faces went pale, staring at the stamp on the back of the envelope. 

The next couple of days Edith and Harry spent together, either waiting on the roof together for the owls to fly by or in Harry’s cupboard, watching the letterbox like hawks. 

Everytime, the letters ended up ripped or burned or destroyed and soon, Vernon nailed the letter box shut entirely. 

“What happens when bills come in!” Edith protested, trying to pry the nails off with her fingers. “Didn’t you say Aunt Marge is ill? What if her death notification comes in the mail!” 

But the letters were still kept from the two kids. Owls littered Privet Drive to the point where newspapers were reporting an unusual amount of owl sightings and little kids were making feather keychains to sell to their friends. 

Vernon and Petunia even tried changing the two’s locations in the house—giving Harry Dudley’s old second bedroom and giving Edith the entire basement and still all the changed was the address on the letters. 

Petunia spent her days clawing at her hair in frustration and blending up letters and Vernon spent his nights burning letters in the fireplace. 

And it changed on sunday. 

“Fine day, Sunday.” Vernon smiled, happy with himself as the family sat in the living room. Harry walked around with a tray of biscuits and Edith was making Harry and her hot chocolate. “Favorite day of the week. Why is that, Dudley?” 

Dudley shrugged so Harry answered for him. “No post on sundays?” 

“Right you are Harry! No post on sundays!” Vernon cackled to himself. “No post on sundays!” He repeated gleefully, picking up a cookie. “Not one, bloody letter! Not one!” 

But as it seems, that was quite the ironic thing to say when a letter came flying out of the fireplace and knocked the biscuit right out of his hand. 

The house rumbled and Edith was quite sure an earthquake was happening when letters began flying out of the fireplace like confetti. 

The two cousins looked at the scene unfolding in awe before jumping into action.

The letterbox broke open, letters fell from the sky as Harry darted to catch them. 

Edith darted for the floor, trying to grab some herself before her mom picked her up and forced her to stand, pinning her arms to her sides. “Don’t you dare, Lily.”

“You’re the one who named me woman! How can you never remember it!” Edith cried out with annoyance. 

Harry tried to catch letters while he could only to get tackled by Vernon. 

"We're going away!" Vernon announced, holding Harry down. "Far away! Where they can't find us!" 

Harry squirmed from under Vernon, annoyed as he was limited from grabbing the letters due to his stance on the floor being practically maimed by his uncle. 

"Dad has gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked, horrified at the scene. 

Petunia just shook her head, pushing Edith to the wall so she couldn't grab any of the letters either. 

Harry and Edith's protests were heard from the whole neighborhood as they were shoved into the car. The Dursley family threw some essentials into the car and drove off—leaving the letter filled house in the distance. 

They traveled from hotel to hotel, making small stops at gas stations but no matter where they went—which hotel chain or motel chain—the front desk always informed them of an influx of letters to an Edith Dursely and a Harry Potter

So it was time for more drastic measures. The family of Durseleys and Potters rented a boat, rowing their way to a distant run down hut on a rock. . 

The pouring rain made their journey treacherous and when they finally got inside, they all panted and wrapped themselves in blankets. 

Petunia and Vernon took the bed, Dudley took the couch which left Harry and Edith to lay on the floor with a blanket and jackets. 

Edith rummaged in her pockets, grabbing a small tissue and wrapping up some coins into a little package. She tied a little ribbon on the package and drew little stars on it with an old marker that was left behind by the past renters of the hut. 

Harry drew out a little birthday cake on the dirtied floor, writing a small birthday note to himself and checking Dudleys watch for the time. 

Pinching some sand, Edith sprinkled it onto the 'candles' of the cake and placed her gift in front of Harry before quietly singing Happy Birthday to him. 

Harry opened his small gift, appreciating the effort she made to get a gift despite being on a hut on a rock in the middle of nowhere. 

It was a small little hut. Wind rattled the filthy windows and you couldn’t escape the smell of seaweed. Edith wondered how much one had to pay to stay in an estate like this. 

Dudley’s watch beeped and Harry blew out the dust candles they had made. Edith clapped a little but was quickly interrupted by a loud bang. 

Edith ushered Harry into a corner as the bangs got louder, louder than the lighting crashing down near them. 

The door shook vigorously, waking up Dudley and her parents as the hinges of the door rattled for their lives. And soon, the door fell down. 

Petunia quickly switched a light on, her husband pointing a gun at the door when an extremely tall man stood in the doorway. 

Shaggy bushy hair almost covered his whole face, and he had hands as big as trash can lids—which he promptly used to pick the door back up and try to prop it against the doorway. “Sorry about that!” He said casually. 

 “I demand you leave at once sir!” Vernon squawked, pointing his gun. “You are breaking and entering!” 

The giant of a man walked up to him and grabbed his gun—twisting the metal up with his bare hands so it would shoot up at the ceiling. “Dry up, Dursley, you great prune.” He snorted. 

And that’s when Edith let her shoulders relax, deciding she liked whoever this intruder was and figured they were probably less dangerous than her dad with a gun. 

The man turned to Dudley with a surprised look. “Mind, I haven’t seen you since you was a baby, Harry but you’re a bit more along than I would have expected.” His voice was very friendly and joking. “Particularly ‘round the middle” He laughed. 

Edith walked a bit closer to the man, Harry trailing after her. 

Dudley stumbled over his words. “I-I’m not Harry!” He explained quickly, voice shaking. 

Harry peeked his head from behind Edith. “I am.” He spoke up. 

Turning around, the man’s smile got bigger. “Why of course you are! And you must be the ‘ittle Edith! You look strikingly similar to your aunt, Lily!” He admired the two children. 

“So I’ve heard.” Edith replied, still quite confused by the situation. 

He turned around, rummaging through his jacket. “Got something for you!” He said, taking out a box. “‘Afraid I might’ve sat on it on my way over but I imagine it’ll taste just the same.” 

Harry took the box gingerly, opening it up to see a cake—messily coated in pink frosting with the words “HAPPEE BIRTHDAE HARRY” scrawled on top in green. 

“Baked it myself, words and all.” Bragging, the man sat down on the moth-eaten sofa. 

“Thank you,” Harry looked up at the man with genuine gratitude, the stranger having celebrated his birthday more than his aunt and uncle combined. 

“Isn’t everyday that you turn 11 now is it?” He smiled, taking out an umbrella and pointing it at the old fireplace. A ball of fire shot out from the tip, landing in the kindle and bringing warmth into the rundown hut. 

Harry and Edith looked at the now-lit fireplace in awe. “You are so awesome.” Edith said, mesmerized by the flame. 

The man chuckled as Harry put down the cake, gingerly sitting down next to him. “Excuse me, but who are you?” 

“Rubeus Hagrid!” He introduced himself, eyes like black beetles peeking from the bushy hair. “Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.” 

Edith furrowed her eyebrows. “Hogwarts?” In her mind, she questioned whether it was circus a  or a farm. 

“Of course, you two already know all about Hogwarts.” Hagrid brushed himself off, ready to move onto the next topic. 

Harry and Edith glanced at each other, a mutual confusion. “Sorry—no.” Harry blinked at the man. 

“No?” Hagrid repeated, confused. “Blimey, Harry. Didn’t you ever wonder where your mum and dad learned it all?” 

“All of what?” Harry said, a bit oblivious. 

“Yer a Wizard, Harry.” He said, eyes glimmering with mischief. 

Harry’s eyes widened with pure confusion. “I’m a what?”

“A wizard!” He repeated. “And a thumping good one, I’d wager—once you’ve trained up a little. And if Edith is as similar to Lily as she looks, I’d say you’re on the same path.” 

Edith pointed at herself, bewildered. “I’m a wizard?”

“A witch.” Petunia interrupted, correcting her daughter. “You’re a witch.”

Twirling around, Edith looked at her mother, pointing at her and then back at Hagrid, mouth gaped open before turning back to Hagrid—processing. “Am I going crazy?” She asked herself. 

Harry was going through a weird state of denial as well. “I mean, no—I can’t be a…a wizard—I’m Harry! Just Harry.” 

Hagrid chuckled at the two once more. “Well, just Harry. Have you ever made anything happen?” He asked. “Anything you couldn’t explain when you were angry or scared?” 

The two kids had their share of unexplainable things.

 Harry’s magical growing hair or the snake exhibit, the time where Edith’s clothes all turned blue after her mother told her it was a boy-ish color and when Harry ended up on the roof after escaping Dudley’s taunts and bullies. 

There was also a time where Edith woke up one day with a black eye, having wished that Vernon had punched her instead of Harry and Harry’s wound was gone. 

Hagrid saw the realization in their eyes and pulled out an envelope. A letter Harry and Edith had been trying to get ahold of for weeks. 

Edith leaned over Harry’s shoulder, reading aloud the contents. “Dear Mr. Potter and Ms. Dursley—we are pleased to inform you that….you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” 

Vernon quickly waddled over to the two kids. “They will not be going!” He announced in a hush voice, having found his audacity again after his initial shock. “We swore when we took him in, we’d put a stop to all this rubbish!” 

“You knew?” Harry exclaimed, betrayed. “You knew this whole time and never told me?” 

Petunia scoffed, crossing her arms. “Of course we know. How could you not be?” She said bitterly. My perfect sister being who she was…with that Potter.” She paced around. “My mother and father were so proud the day she got her letter. I was the only one who ever saw her for who she was—a freak.”

Edith flinched. “And me? Did you know I was a witch?” 

Petunia practically rolled her eyes. “We were hoping you weren’t. But when you started floating instead of crawling, we were pretty confident you had taken after her. And then she got herself blown up and then we ended up with you and Harry. The two abnormal children.”

“Blown up?!” Harry yelled. “You told me my parents died in a car crash!” 

“A car crash?” Hagrid repeated incredulously. “A car crash killing James and Lily Potter?” 

“We had to say something.” They excused themselves. 

“It’s an outrage! A scandal!” Hagrid shouted at them, waving his umbrella. 

“They will not be going.” Vernon stuck up his nose. 

Hagrid mocked them. “Oh and I suppose a great muggle like yourself is going to stop them, are you?”

A quick beat of silence as the argument fizzled out for a moment. “A muggle?” Edith questioned. 

“Non-magic folk.” Hagrid defined before quickly jumping back into the argument. “This boy has had his name down ever since he were born! He’s going to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world and she’s going with him! They will be under the finest headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen, Albus Dumbledore!” 

The two children beamed up at Hagrid, having someone defend them for once in their lives other than each other. 

Face turning red, Vernon raised his voice. “I will not pay to have some crackpot old fool teach him magic tricks!” 

Hagrid stuck the flame-thrower-umbrella in Vernon’s face. “Never insult Albus Dumbledore in front of me.” He warned, tone harsh and dry. 

The room went silent, the only noise heard was Dudley, snacking on Harry’s birthday cake in the corner. 

Hagrid stuck his umbrella towards him, a beam of mist shooting out and at Dudley. A pig tail emerged from Dudleys behind, swirling around as Dudley shrieked and squawked. 

Panicking, Vernon and Petunia started screaming as well—chasing after Dudley as he ran around the room in circles. 

Harry laughed as Edith smiled, covering her mouth. 

Leaning down a little, Hagrid lowered his voice into a whisper. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone at Hogwarts about that. I’m not supposed to be using magic.”

They nodded feverishly, as Hagrid thanked them—taking out a little pocket watch. “Ooh, we’re a bit behind schedule. Best be off!” 

He headed towards the exit, looking back at the cousins who hadn’t moved yet. “Unless of course you’d want to stay?” 

With that, Edith slipped on her shoes and walked out the door, Harry stumbling after. 

END OF CHAPTER ONE

[moessiah]

Hermione sorting

[draqo-pctter]

it started with a one night stand // a dramione multi chapter, complete

“Hm.”

Draco was watching a particularly colorful section of one of the diagnostic charms. His brows furrowed, and he scooted a bit closer, casting another.

“What?” Hermione asked, shifting uncomfortably. Draco was practically in between her legs then, his nose nearly pressed to the little blue swirl beside an unreadable jumble of letters and numbers.

“I, um.” Draco’s voice dropped off as Hermione watched him mumble wordlessly to himself. Then, he counted to three on his fingers. “Are you on the potion?”

Or: During the worst date of her life, Hermione Granger might have given herself a mild allergic reaction in order to leave early. When she goes to the Emergency Room to confirm she isn’t going to die, she runs into Healer Draco Malfoy. They hooked up three months ago.

And he's about to tell her she's three months pregnant.

chapters: 6/6

tags: unplanned pregnancy, healer draco malfoy, explicit sexual content, mild pregnancy kink, falling in love, soft

click here to read on ao3 / click here to read on twitter

[plscallmeeren]

G I R L  O N

G I R L ?

Hermione J. Granger x Reader

Request: indeed

Summary: upon accidentally witnessing Cho and Ginny making out, you and your friend Hermione grow curious as to the concept of doing something with other girls and decide to experiment ;)

Warnings: swearing; scissoring; top!reader; bottom!Hermione; fingering (her receiving); loss of virginity ig

Word Count: 2.9K+

"Have you written your essay on bezoars yet?" you asked suddenly, disturbing the quiet library air.

"Yes. Now, don't tell me you want me to write one for you-"

"I'm not Ron," you interjected, slightly insulted. "I was just wondering which points you covered in order to write three feet on it."

"Oh. Sorry. I just- Ron's really getting to me, y'know. I mean, he always has, but couldn't he just- just- oh, I don't know."

You posture softened at the desperation in her voice. "Do you still like him?"

"No, no, none of that... if I'm being completely honest- Can I be completely honest? If there's anyone I can tell, it's you." You nodded. "He... I used to find him attractive, you know. Like, I thought about it and about- well, you know what, but now it just... he has no appeal and he's still a blithering idiot, so really, there's nothing left to like. Oh, does that make me awful?"

"No, love," you consoled immediately, "not at all. If it weren't for Harry, I'd say maybe you've just grown too far apart. C'mon, let's talk about this some more in the privacy of our room. I think I've still got some sweets from Honeydukes?" You smiled warmly and she gladly agreed.

•••

The two of you laughed at the unfortunate victim of one of the twins' pranks who was sitting rather unhappily in the hallway, Hermione albeit a little ruefully.

"Oh! I forgot my textbook in the Transfiguration classroom, I almost forgot. Can we quickly-"

"Sure. It's just around the corner, anyway."

You lay an arm around her shoulders and she wrapped hers around your waist, the both of you ambling along in comfortable silence.

"Alright, I'll be just a second," she said, letting go of you and heading to the classroom.

"Yeah- 'Mione?" you questioned, a tad concerned. She stood with the door ajar, frozen in place, staring inside.

"What's wrong?" you asked again, but she didn't bother replying. A little on edge, you moved behind her, staring over her head to see what had captivated her.

Inside the classroom, Ginny Weasley pushed Cho Chang against a desk, a firm grasp on her ass as they welded their lips together in beautiful sync.

You weren't as shocked, perhaps, as Hermione, but your eyes went wide and you could hardly force your gaze off the two of them. Your lips parted involuntarily and you hardly noticed the way your friend's body was pressing flush against yours.

Ginny began trailing kisses down Cho's jaw, the latter moaning out her name as if god herself was doing this to her. She grasped the hem of the red-head's shirt and just as she was about to pull it over her head-

Hermione closed the door and locked it with a charm simple enough to beat with Alohamora.

She turned and only then did you realise how close you were, foreheads almost touching, hips pressed against each other. You quickly stepped back.

"W-What was that?" she asked shakily, gulping when we heard a carnal groan from the other side of the door and casting a quick silencing charm to their benefit, too.

"I'd say it was pretty clear what that was," you replied, unsure as to what she wanted to hear.

"Yes, but- but they're girls. Both of them." You could see her trembling, wondered why this bothered her so much.

"Well, yeah. I haven't really heard much about it, either, but I don't see why it's a bad thing."

"No- No, I'm not saying that. I think my second aunt Marie was a lesbian, or at least my mother thinks so, but they're so... so close to our age and- and-"

You cupped her face in your palms, looking her in the eye in an attempt to gift her some sort of comfort.

"It's okay. You don't have to feel that way or feel challenged by it or- alternatively, if that's what you're worried about, if you share that sentiment, you don't have to be ashamed of that, either."

"Right," she breathed, calming, but much to your confusion, her legs were still shaking. "Do you... Do you ever think about girls like that?"

The question caught you thoroughly off guard and you noticed with mild surprise that while you never thought of boys sexually, you had never really considered girls.

"I... I haven't, but..."

Before you could stop yourself, you began imagining things, and you almost slapped yourself when an erotic painting of Hermione, a naked mess of moaning limbs in your bed, came to mind.

"But what?" She stared at you inquiringly, and that image of her letting you fuck her only took on more detail.

"Well, I could imagine... some girls are pretty hot, I mean."

"Yes. Yes, that's true... Would you- Let's just go to our dorm."

You nodded hurriedly and you made your way to the Gryffindor common room, although this time keeping your hands to yourself, in a silence that was not so much unpleasant as thick.

Brown waves splayed across your pillows, her back arched and nipples perked-

Stop it.

Her toes curled, fingers grasping the bedsheet as she cries out for you, she needs you, she needs more-

Stop it!

Hermione, so vulnerable before you, core throbbing, clenching around your fingers, so wet the slick runs down her thighs-

No.

You shook your head as if that would help. Hermione wasn't looking in your direction and you considered - just for a split second - whether the same thoughts were plaguing her mind. But surely not. Hermione wasn't like that. She wouldn't.

Eventually you arrived at your shared dorm (together with Lavender and Parvati). Much to your surprise, she whirled around, a look of studious determination on her face you knew all too well.

"...Yes?"

"Okay, I- I've thought about it. I think these things need to be tried out, you know? Just to see if they work."

"Oh, I think they work," you smirked, but she only glared. "Okay, fine. What are you suggesting? That we make out and see if we find it better than our experiences with boys?"

"Well, if you put it that way... Yes. I think it would be a beneficial experiment for both of us. You know - broadening our horizons. I wasn't particularly attracted to Viktor, necessarily, and you said your attempts at - you know what - sort of failed with Dean, so maybe..."

"Maybe we would be better off with another girl?"

"Girl on girl?" she affirmed, and the images of her flooded back.

"Yeah, okay, well- Do you want to prepare or...," you trailed off half-heartedly, fearing this might be awkwarder than necessary considering how you had worked up to it.

To underline one important thing; You couldn’t believe in the least what was happening. You were almost certain you were dreaming. And yet… her hot breath on your skin felt so life-like.

"No, now's probably best, Parvati and Lavender will probably be in Hogsmeade until this evening.

Deciding waiting wouldn't improve the atmosphere at all, you simply dove in.

Your lips crashed against hers and a moment later she reciprocated, her movements a little sloppy but otherwise pleasant. More than pleasant. Electricity seemed to be sparking between you, a force that drove you to push her back against the door to gain more friction.

With half a mind to just risk being caught, you pointed your wand at the door from the inside of your pocket and muttered colloportus and silencio.

Hermione’s hands clasped behind the nape of your neck, the kiss morphing to open-mouthed movements as she whimpered, your hands roaming the curves of her waist and finally grasping her ass.

You noticed as a dull sort of side-note that it all came naturally. Not once had your fingers ventured like this over the curves of a woman’s body, not once had you arched your back in just the right way to press your body flush against another female one, not any of it. But it came like second nature, just like a first kiss, where you formerly wonder if you’ll know how to even move properly.

“More,” Hermione whispered frantically, only urging you further to drag your lips along her jaw, hardly coming up for air.

“More what, sweetheart?”

She expressed a high-pitched moan that told you everything, but you needed to hear it.

“Use your big words for me, love,” you purred, and with a groan she managed ‘you’.

“I thought you only wanted to make out?”

“G-God, I need you. I’ve never felt like this before, I can barely stand- my legs- my legs-“ You sucked on the sweet spot below her collar bone that you could still reach without taking off her shirt.

“Hm… I think these’ll be getting in the way, then,” you nodded at her attire, and she sank along the door in need of rest, sitting on the floor with her legs spread wide before her.

“Do it for me, (y/n). Please,” she whimpered, and you couldn’t help but obey.

You slowly sunk to her height, crouching before her, starting by pulling off the tie loosely hanging around her neck (she only allowed such slack in herself on weekends) and then opening button after button on her shirt.

You continued to undo her slowly, her legs spreading wider and wider as if welcoming you in, raking her fingers over the carpet in an attempt to ground herself.

You finally pulled off her shirt and Hermione gasped as you ripped off her skirt in one swift motion. Her fingers grabbed at your hair instead and you could already feel the slight scratches on your scalp.

Her shoes and leggings were discarded carelessly and finally you could stare at her in nothing but her white lacy panties and a frilly white bra, not to mention the matching socks. If you hadn’t already known she was a virgin, you might have noticed at the sheer innocence of her arms covering her torso half-heartedly and the dark patch - ever-growing - in her white underwear.

“I-I’m not- I know I don’t look perfect, I… I don’t exercise much and I know my breasts are-“

You shushed her with a passionate kiss in which you hoped to share even a magnitude of how beautiful you found her. She moulded her lips against yours with just as much ferocious attraction.

“You wanna see me, too?” you asked quietly and she nodded immediately.

With hardly a second’s thought, hoping Hermione might be too hot and bothered to care how you looked or notice all the things you were insecure about, you pulled off your shirt, pants, shoes, and socks, finally leaving you in your underwear as well, although a tad more simple and certainly more black.

“You- You’re- You’re gorgeous,” she stuttered, eyes widened.

“Thank you, darling, but if I may continue,” you taunted, expertly undoing her bra (which, lucky for you, opened at the front) with your teeth, a skill you were most surprised you possessed, considering you had definitely done no such thing before.

“That’s, uh, that’s hot,” she murmured, panting slightly as you sucked on her left nipple, rolling the other in between your fingers. Your tongue traced a spiral around her nip and eventually you were massaging both of her tits as your mouth wandered further down, placing open-mouthed kisses and hickeys along her sides and abdomen.

“Oh, my God,” she whined, throwing her head back with closed eyes.

“It’s not God who’s doing this to you, love,” you teased, smiling into her as you finally reached her clothed pussy. The wet stain was dark and sweat beaded on every patch of skin, but you wouldn’t assume, you wouldn’t dare.

Stopping, your eyes flicked up to look at Hermione, the brunette needing a moment to realise why you had stopped.

“Please, I need you,” she groaned, and that was confirmation enough.

You ripped her panties clean in half in desperation, taking only two seconds to examine her pretty cunt and press your lips once to each inner thigh, diving two fingers into her without warning.

She moaned loudly, a sound so crazed and pleasurable you were glad only you could hear it. Then again, if Lavender and Parvati walked in on you both, they - and probably the rest of the school - would always know she was yours…

But she wasn’t yours.

This thought angered you more than anything could have in the foreseeable future, encouraging your fingers even more-so to pound into her at an ungodly speed. Her whines matched your pace, a girlish sound escaping her every time her back hit the wooden door.

“Am I fucking you good, ‘Mione? Better than Viktor could’ve?” You weren’t sure where the confidence came from or how you knew what words to choose to almost drive your friend over the edge, but the risk of her being put off by them vanished into thin air when her pathetic moans only grew louder.

“Much,” she squeaked between thrusts. You could feel her walls clenching around your fingers, climax ebbing just one more lick of your thumb over her clit away, all so close, so close, trembling, yelling your name, unspeakable sounds-

You pulled out of her and licked your lips. Slowly, taking your time as she stared at you in utter horror. Obviously, she was new to a little something called edging.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” you cooed, swiping up the last of her juices with your tongue. She was so wet it was pooling on the floor.

“You- You- How could you!? I’ve never came before and you just took-“

“C’m’ere,” you offered, standing and sitting down with open legs open on your bed. “I wanted to try something. This is supposed to be an experiment, right?”

She flushed so deeply red you considered calling it something else.

“If there’s one thing I did learn from Dean, it’s that an orgasm is always better if you’ve been denied one several times. Don’t worry, I won’t make it several times,” you promised, seeing the look on her face. “But, because we’re two females, which was the point of this whole exercise, I thought we should try doing something you can’t do with a dick.”

You took a moment to stare at her, let your hungry eyes roam as you licked your lips. There she lay, leaning against the door for support, legs spread incredibly wide, liquid spilling out of her, coating her inner thighs, cunt tensing around nothing, nipples perked, trembling, panting, hair a mess, a slight smudge of her mascara.

Almost how you had imagined it. Only better.

“What’s that?” she asked, with the same kind of intrigue she had when examining a bowtruckle.

“Well, we both have cunts-“

“(Y/n)! Don’t use that word!”

“Why not? It describes something so pretty,” you countered, nodding at her pussy, and she blushed anew.

“We could try… I don’t know, rubbing them together or something. It’s not like it can go wrong. If it doesn’t work, I’ll fuck you like that again and you can cum, I’m getting the hang of it, I think. Please. For the love of science?”

“We’re going to a magic school,” she teased, standing up shakily and making her way towards your bed.

“Well, that certainly felt like magic, hon’.”

She smiled shyly, letting herself down with one leg over yours on the red covers, watching closely as your sexes edged closer.

“Okay, just…”

The effect was immediate, and you weren’t prepared for feeling so good yourself.

Your gaze flicked back and forth between the squirming mess where your bodies connected, soaked to the brim, and this beautiful woman as naked as anything, jaw dropped in concentration and pleasure.

“F-Fuck,” she cried out, tensing yet again. On any other occasion you would have teased her for using a ‘bad word’, but now wasn’t the time.

Your stomach was doing somersaults. Your lungs burned with the effort of humping against her. Your legs had about as much idea of where they were as a bear in the Sahara desert.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, ‘Mione,” you groaned, a guttural noise that had her throw her head back. No answer met your comment but high-pitched ‘ah’s strung an unstoppable melody from her mouth.

You were so close, she was tensing, so close, so close, so close-

You both came simultaneously, a mess of limbs as she climbed over you to slump on your body, flush against you. After what you had just seen the other do, there was no more shame. Yet, perhaps.

“Oh, God, that was so good,” she whined, almost bumping your abdomen at the mere thought.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to answer, simply pulling the blanket over the two of you to keep warm. Not that the hot flush would die down any time soon.

“So, uh,” she started unsurely, at once glad she was hidden under the covers, even if her knee was at your groin and your breasts were practically entangled. “Would you say we’re attracted to other girls?”

“Fuck, ‘Mione,” you cursed, feeling the need to fuck her all over again. “Yeah. I think it’s pretty clear we’re both very capable of being attracted to other girls.”

“I thought so.”

You pulled her even closer, relished in the smell of sweat and sex and her vanilla perfume.

——————

I hope this is something like what you wanted :)

[ginnyruin]

“Forming a Diamond” by Nurchie

for Altered State by ginnyruin Chapter 8: Sodden

I wanted to see you, stripped of your artifice.

Ao3 link

X@hi_im_nurchie and DeviantArt

[greenhousethree]

Chasing chapter four - Feint

She stood there in her towel a little longer, pressed up over the sink the way she remembered watching the older girls do. Longer, curvier bodies than she’d ever imagined herself fitting into, impossibly grown up. Women. Searching for imperfections, she’d assumed— anything they could magic or pluck away before slipping on higher skirts and fuller bras. But maybe instead they’d been doing what she was now, studying themselves to figure out whether this was it— a glimpse beyond the fleetingness of adolescence— if the person staring back was the one she had grown into, not one she would grow out of.

Reflections, rain, and revelry.

Many, many thanks for all of your check-ins/questions during this unexpected hiatus; they've truly meant the world! This one's long and a little heavy— prepare for teenage riffraff and two parties for the price of one— and if you're craving more scenes with a certain green-eyed someone, stay tuned for chapter five!

Listen below for Hermione's party soundtrack and Ginny's character theme!

Playlist can be found here. 💫

Songs for chapter four (real bangers here): Maybe Sprout Wings - The Mountain Goats Begging for Rain - Maggie Rogers Flying Sails (Ginny's Theme!) - The Gothard Sisters Bones - Radiohead I Hope I Didn't Just Give Away the Ending - New Radicals

P.S. - Quick update on the progress of this fic:

Life and work have been a runaway train these past months, but I'm finding more time for ~balance~ (read: writing) and am hoping to keep that going. That said, I won't continue promising quick updates because I'm terrible at delivering those, but rest assured this fic isn't going anywhere, and I'm looking forward to posting more regularly. Thanks a million to all of you following along; answers to asks are forthcoming 💕

[whinlatter]

She stares at her own drawn face in the dormitory mirror, grips the sides of the sink. And still, she can’t bring herself to pick up the quill and tell him. It’s so lonely up here. I’m so scared about this inquiry. I’m so scared I’ll let everyone down. I’m so scared you’re going to change your mind. [ scarecrow, n., an object made to resemble a human figure, set up to scare birds away from a field where crops are growing; (archaic) an object of baseless fear ]

🪶 read the author’s note for this chapter (coming soon!)

🐾 listen to the playlist

🪺 watch the trailer 

🦉 thoughts & questions? ask me anything!