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Hermione scoffed and swiftly tossed the parchment into the lavatory trash can. Pussy Master? Volunteer vaginas? It was both ridiculous and scandalous, practically soliciting sex within a school. As a prefect, she should track down those responsible and take house points as punishment.
All week, more notes popped up around Hogwarts in places that older students would see, vanishing when professors and younger students walked by. Hermione kept tearing them down, but she couldn’t do anything to stop the whispers amongst her classmates.
“I’m going to be a volunteer vagina,” Lavender giggled to Hermione over scones at breakfast. “It’s completely anonymous.”
“Then why did you tell me?” Hermione stared back at her, appalled.
Lavender shrugged. “You get to lay back on a platform and a magic wall forms around you. All that the boys can see is below the waist.”
“A wall?” Hermione repeated, the image of it lodging in her brain.
Stuck there, prone and vulnerable to the probing fingers and mouths of mystery boys. What a gross invasion. The room suddenly felt warmer and she had to shift on the bench to suppress the unexpected pulse in her core.
“A wall! I heard you can knock on it if you want to be released though. If there are a lot of girls, then each boy learning gets one, but if there are more boys than girls—” Lavender wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, then laughed at Hermione’s shocked face. “Actually, girls can be on the learning end too. Maybe I’ll do both.”
Lavender chomped a giant bite of her scone and turned back to the person on her other side. Who would volunteer to do such a thing? It was insanity. Hermione pushed her plate away and clasped her hands in her lap. Best not to even think about it.
Hermione could not stop thinking about it. She gazed too long at a group of Ravenclaw boys sloppily licking ice cream cones, then blushed deeply enough that Harry asked her what was wrong. Cormac MacLaggen’s nimble-fingered wand work during class seemed borderline obscene. Even the way Draco Malfoy traced ancient runes on his paper holding his quill so very carefully was getting to her.
It could be anyone on the other side of that wall. Looking at her most private parts, exposed and waiting. She could use an orgasm, couldn’t she? Some stress relief?
No. If anything, she should storm into these so-called lessons and put a stop to this nonsense.
Hermione knocked on the door tucked behind a suit of armor in the basement corridor. The Pussy Master had certainly done a good job with both the obstruction spell and locking spell shielding the room. Hermione had intended to scope things out and report everyone involved to McGonagall, but instead she’d been wandering for nearly an hour trying to find it. Only when she let her mind drift to thoughts of pleasure, did the door appear.
“State your purpose,” a feminine voice growled from the other side of the door.
Hermione rested her forehead against the wood. She could hardly say that she was here to stop this depravity, not if she wanted to actually get inside. There might even be a curse against snitches, if the person running this was smart.
“I would like to volunteer,” she whispered.
The truth of her words caused a swirl of air the second she spoke them, and the lock turned with an invisible key. It was dim inside, but Hermione could make out a handsome boy that she didn’t recognize.
“We’ve already started.” He put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side as he studied her. “Hermione Granger, ha! You’re the last person in the school I would expect to see here.”
“Who—” She stared at the boy and tried to place his familiar and surprisingly high-pitched voice.
“Lie down on this.” He crossed the room to a waist-high platform.
Three girls were already lying on it, with a solid wall cutting them off at the waist. The air around them seemed to be blurred to obscure their identities, filled with wavy lines that Hermione knew would give her a headache if she looked at them too hard.
One of them was making a throaty whining sound and Hermione put a hand to her chest. If she actually did this, she would be lying next to someone as they orgasmed. That was very intimate and something she hadn’t thought about.
“On with it,” the boy snapped his fingers at her. “I have to get back out there and finish the lesson. Don’t be a swot.”
Hermione gasped at the sudden recognition being called a swot had brought on. “Pansy?”
“Of course. You think the Pussy Master wouldn’t be a woman?”
“Polyjuice?” She studied the boy to discover Pansy’s blue eyes glaring at her impatiently.
It was even more reason to report them, but Hermione could hardly judge someone for using polyjuice potion within the school.
“Yes, this is my cousin Basil. Now lie down.” Pansy practically shoved her onto the platform.
It looked like wood, but felt softer than expected under her hands as Hermione climbed on. That was nice. Hermione hugged her knees and stared at the wall in front of her as though it was about to bite her.
“Take off your clothes and push your bottom half through the hole when it appears. Knock if you want to be released. But Granger—” Pansy used her wand to raise the blurry privacy spell around her. “Don’t be a fucking wimp.”
“I’m not,” Hermione said in an admittedly wimpy voice.
She carefully removed her shoes and socks, placing them in a neat pile by her shoulder. This was fine. Next came her skirt and her shirt. She supposed her top half didn’t really need to be naked, but it seemed to be more in the spirit of the thing.
The wall felt solid when she pressed on it with her feet experimentally. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, then took off her bra and knickers. A hole opened in the wall as her body slid forward, pulling her through it. Hermione gave a little shriek, clawing at the platform and kicking her legs.
“Another one!”
There was cheering from the other side of the wall. She could hear the boys now that the hole was open and it sounded like quite a few.
“Easy,” a muffled voice said and large fingers grasped her ankle. “You’re alright.”
She clutched her elbows and tried to calm down. He sounded reassuring, this boy who had come to learn how to pleasure women. Maybe there was a whole cluster of Hufflepuff boys on the other side of the wall ready to bring her to orgasm, eager to please and open to instruction.
“Remember to make sure she’s comfortable first,” Pansy said, her voice pitched a little lower while on the other side of the wall.
Hermione felt the boy grab her other ankle and maneuver her legs to rest on his shoulders. “Right. Now I start gentle.”
He dragged a thick finger along her slit and Hermione arched her back. The wall was tight against her stomach, but she could still wiggle a bit, even roll over if she wanted to.
“Now, observe that she is still dry. You can use your spit or a lubrication spell. Who can tell me the best lubrication spell?”
There was mumbling from several male voices and Hermione felt a cold spray of dampness between her legs.
“No, badly done. Do the spell into your hand then rub it in.”
A hesitant touch grazed her clit very lightly, this time with warm lube. She made an encouraging noise and it seemed to give him confidence, because the boy added another fingertip and dragged around the sides of her sensitive nub.
Oh, it felt good. He quickened the pace slightly and she closed her eyes. Pansy continued to give the boy instructions, but Hermione tuned the sounds out to focus only on sensation. This was an entirely new experience, to just be a body to be used, no need to think about what it meant relationship-wise or what would come next. If he kept this up, she might actually come.
His fingers left her clit and carefully spread her lips apart. There was a pause in the boy’s movement and she knew that he was looking at her. Or rather, they were looking at her, a whole group who she couldn’t see.
“She looks wet enough,” a different voice mumbled. “I’ll go ahead then.”
A thick finger plunged in and Hermione gasped. The new boy moved it up and down a bit roughly, then added another one. Pansy must have gone to advise someone else, because Hermione didn’t hear her anymore.
She tilted her hips up to try to make his motions feel better, but he was pushing too deep and her body wasn’t ready for it.
“Oh yeah, you like that?”
“Don’t forget the magic button,” the first boy said, then pressed on her clit harder than before.
They were both touching her at the same time, thick fingers squeezing inside and a lot of pressure everywhere. She bit her lip and squirmed against the probing. It didn’t hurt exactly, she just felt very full. Maybe it would improve if they got a better rhythm going.
“This button?”
A fingertip pressed against her asshole, and Hermione thrashed and cried out.
“Wrong hole,” Pansy shouted, her voice sounding far away. “Unless you've discussed it with her ahead of time.”
“Oops.” The boy’s voice didn’t sound at all repentant and Hermione kicked until she connected with something solid.
“This one is mine,” a new, low voice commanded. “All of you get away from her.”
“That's not how it works,” asshole boy whined.
There was laughter and the murmur of threatening voices on the other side of the wall. What was happening? She raised her fist to knock and end all of this, but stopped at the sound of shuffling noises, then a grunt of pain.
“I said this one is mine,” low voice said with deadly authority.
Was he pitching his voice deeper on purpose? He almost sounded familiar. But who would other boys be scared of enough to listen to? The other voices moved away, apparently to the other girls.
“Sorry about that,” he said, speaking more softly to her.
Hermione made a strangled noise in reply, not wanting to actually speak and give away her identity. Had he just saved her? Or chased the others away to do something worse? Her legs were just dangling now, and she twitched them uncomfortably.
The boy gently lifted her thighs and she automatically wrapped her legs around him for support. Oh, that was too intimate, she shouldn’t have done that with this stranger.
“I know who you are,” he said quietly, his voice even closer to the wall.
He couldn’t. There was no way that she would be recognizable by only her lower half, was there?
“This little mole right here.” He shifted her leg and pressed a kiss to the spot inside her thigh, just above her knee. “I try to catch a glimpse of it every time you cross your legs in class.”
Her mind raced, trying to remember everyone who sat around her in each of her classes. Then her thoughts stuttered out as he began to kiss higher up her leg. The way he was touching her was so affectionate, like he was worshiping her. Why wouldn’t he approach her in normal life then? Unless he was someone she would reject and this was his only chance.
He ran his teeth over her hip bone, then kissed the hollow between her thigh and pelvis. Savoring her and taking his time, instead of following steps to a lesson. It was causing her to unspool, pleasure fighting to overpower rational thoughts.
“So beautiful. Can I taste you?” He murmured once she was loose and pliant in his hands.
She opened her legs farther in response and felt the air of his breath against her slick folds. Yes. His tongue licked flat all the way up to her clit, like she was a treat. One that he loved, judging by the way he moaned and sent vibrations through her.
“Bloody perfect.” His voice was rougher now, his fingers joining his tongue and pushing inside.
This time she was ready and the invasion was a welcome one. Her empty ache, filled and hitting just the right spot. Hermione rocked against his mouth, rolling her hips in time with the thrusts of his fingers.
There was no way that he needed lessons on how to pleasure a woman, judging by the way his tongue laved against her, devouring. She bit down on her fist, trying to hold in the whimpering sounds that were starting to escape. This boy knew who she was and was on the way to making her fall apart all over him, but he was a complete mystery to her.
“Tell me who you are,” she gasped, her voice breaking a bit as her legs started to tremble.
He didn’t answer, just sucked hard on her clit.
“Please,” she whined, not sure if she was begging for him to make her come or for his identity.
His mouth left her and cold metal replaced it, hard and round against her clit. “This is mine. My name pressed into you.”
It hurt in the best way and she ground against it as he pumped his fingers inside. His name. The boy put his mouth on her again, hot tongue and cold metal. She came hard right as visual memories locked in and she realized what it was; an M -clad signet ring worn on a hand pushing back blond hair with nimble fingers.
The tremors of her orgasm wracked her body, and he pushed her through it until her legs went limp. She threw her head back and struggled to breath. Next time, they should do this somewhere private, somewhere that she could pull his hair and scream his name out loud.
“Good girl,” he said, removing the ring, but still tracing his fingers between her folds gently.
The praise was doing something to her, coiling inside like a spring ready to explode again. He must have felt her body asking for more, because he pushed in deeper and curled a finger against her front wall.
She was so wet, he could turn her over and plunge in something else, something larger. That was crazy, even for this already insane situation, but the thought of him taking her from behind pulled another orgasm from her. Her thighs were trembling as she broke apart, crashing higher and higher the second time. He licked the length of her slit again, savoring, and she wondered if she tasted differently now.
“I wish I could see all of you,” he said roughly.
Hermione nodded, then let out a sigh of pure pleasure and satisfaction. Even if she wouldn’t speak out loud, she could let him know how she was feeling. She tightened her legs around him, pulling him flush against her until his hard bulk was flush with her dripping core.
Fuck, he was huge. Rough wool trousers nearly made her orgasm again as he rubbed against her. He hit the wall with a hand to brace himself, as undone as she was. Maybe she could make him come too like this, no penetration needed.
“Nice work,” Pansy said sternly, interrupting the blissful progression. “The cunnilingus appears to have been successful.”
The boy jerked back a step and Hermione nearly cried.
“Volunteer, there are still a few more boys. Would you like another?”
Hermione found enough strength to knock on the wall emphatically say no. Bloody Pansy. No one else would be able to make her feel as good as this. Her body slid further back on the platform as the hole in the wall grew smaller and pushed her out.
Merlin. She lay there naked for a moment, her body still buzzing with pleasure. If that was who she thought it was—oh shit. She covered her face with her hands to muffle a deranged laugh.
The next day, Hermione arrived early to Ancient Ruins class. She stacked her books and notes in a tidy stack on her desk, then pulled up her skirt a bit to show off her crossed legs as the other students began to file in. Cormac McLaggen leered down at her, but there was no recognition in his eyes. Neville and Seamus walked past without a second glance. She flipped her skirt down when Ron walked by.
Then Draco Malfoy sauntered through the classroom door. She sucked in a breath and tried not to stare at him. It was just a guess, she didn’t know for sure, but part of her hoped. He looked around the room with narrowed eyes like he always did, the lazy judgment of the richest and most popular boy in school.
Of course it wasn’t him. It must have been some other signet ring, or something else entirely. She looked down at her books as Malfoy passed her desk, embarrassed that she’d been fantasizing about him while in the throes of passion.
He bent down and pressed his ring to her thigh directly on top of her mole as he walked by. A quick touch, but the kiss of metal claimed her as surely as it had when he had pressed it against her clit. Draco Malfoy. Across the aisle and two seats back, that meant he’d been staring at her legs all year.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, his slow smirk confirming everything. He knew what she tasted like and he wanted more. Hermione pulled out a sheet of parchment and jotted a note before sending it fluttering back to his desk.
