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The Room of Requirement had transformed itself into something that looked more like a war zone than a classroom. Hermione surveyed the multi-level battlefield as she entered, noting the way platforms jutted out at irregular heights, the walls that appeared and disappeared at random intervals, and the ceiling that currently displayed a stormy twilight sky with flashes of spell-light on the horizon.
Two weeks of regular training had changed the room's atmosphere entirely.
"Alright, everyone gather round!" Harry's voice cut through the chatter as students filtered in.
Hermione counted heads automatically. Twenty-seven tonight. Theodore Nott looked marginally less haunted than he had two weeks ago. Daphne Greengrass stood with Tracey Davis near the entrance, both of them more relaxed than during their first session.
The students formed a loose circle around Harry in the center of the main platform. House divisions were less obvious than before, though Hermione noticed the Gryffindors still tended to cluster together, and the three Slytherins maintained their own small group.
"We've covered the bone-breaking hex and the summoning shield over the past two sessions," Harry began, pacing slowly. "Tonight, I'm going to show you something different. Something I've been working on."
Ron leaned toward Hermione. "He's been practicing this one until three in the morning," he muttered. "Keeps muttering about shadows and perception."
"The spell I'm about to demonstrate is extremely advanced," Harry continued. "I don't expect any of you to master it anytime soon. I'm showing you this so you understand what's possible, and so you know what you might face."
He raised his wand. "It's called Dark Ink."
One moment Harry stood before them, solid and real. The next, he appeared to be drowning in shadows. Dark, ink-like substance seemed to pour over him, flowing across his skin and robes. But it wasn't the darkness itself that made Hermione's breath catch. It was the way her eyes couldn't quite focus on him properly.
Harry stood directly in front of her, but her mind insisted he was three feet to the left.
"Merlin's beard," Ernie Macmillan breathed.
"I need volunteers," Harry said, his voice coming from where Hermione saw him, but somehow that felt wrong. "Try to hit me with a stunner."
Susan Bones stepped forward first, her wand already raised. "Stupefy!"
The red bolt shot toward Harry, or rather, toward where Harry appeared to be. It passed through empty air and hit the far wall.
"What the hell?" Susan stared at her wand as if it had betrayed her.
"I'll try." Neville moved forward, his face set in concentration. "Stupefy!"
His spell flew wide, missing by several feet.
"Me next." Ron fired off a stunner that went left of Harry by a good margin.
Hermione studied the effect carefully, trying to understand the magic at work. The dark ink-like substance wasn't just visual, it was affecting their perception. Every instinct told her Harry stood in one spot, but clearly he was somewhere else entirely.
"Let me," she said, raising her wand. She aimed not at where she saw Harry, but at where the voice was coming from. "Stupefy!"
The spell missed, though not by as much as the others.
"Good thinking, Hermione," Harry said approvingly. "But the spell affects auditory perception too. What you're hearing isn't quite accurate either."
Ernie tried next, then Seamus, then Dean. Every spell missed. Some by inches, some by feet, but all of them passed through empty space while Harry stood untouched.
After the seventh failed attempt, the dark ink dissolved like smoke, and Harry stood exactly where Hermione's eyes had insisted he wasn't, three feet to the right of where she'd been seeing him.
"How?" Parvati demanded. "That's not possible."
"It's not invisibility," Hermione said slowly, her mind working through the theory. "It's perceptual displacement. You're bending light around yourself, or rather, bending how we perceive where the light is coming from."
Harry nodded. "Exactly. The spell creates a kind of... illusion, but one that affects how your brain processes what your eyes are seeing. It's incredibly draining." He lowered his wand, and Hermione could see the slight tremor in his hand. "I can only maintain it for maybe thirty or forty seconds before I'm completely exhausted."
"Where did you learn that?" Theodore Nott asked quietly.
"Old books." Harry's expression darkened briefly. "Sirius left me his personal library. There were some interesting things in there."
"Can you teach us?" Dean asked eagerly.
Harry shook his head. "It took me months to even get the basics down, and I'm still not perfect at it. We don't have that kind of time, and honestly, there are more practical spells you need to learn first." He surveyed the group. "I'm showing you this so you know it exists. If you ever face a Death Eater using something like this, don't trust your eyes. Trust your instincts, your other senses."
"What we can learn," Harry continued, pulling out his wand again, "is something much more immediately useful. The Iron-Grip Charm."
Ron stepped forward, clearly having rehearsed this. "Ready?"
"Ready," Harry confirmed, holding his wand loosely.
"Expelliarmus!"
The disarming spell shot toward Harry. His wand jerked in his hand, pulled by the spell's force, but it didn't fly free. Instead, it remained locked in his grip as if glued there.
"Death Eaters love to disarm you," Harry said, his voice taking on a harder edge. "It's their favorite opening move. Disarm, then kill while you're defenseless. Your wand is your life. Lose it, you're dead."
The blunt words sent a chill through the room. No one laughed or made light of it.
"The Iron-Grip Charm creates a temporary magical adhesion between your wand and your hand," Harry explained, demonstrating the wand movement: a sharp downward slash followed by a twist. "The incantation is 'Ferreus Manus.' It lasts about four hours, then you need to recast it. There is a drawback, your casting speed will be slightly slower, maybe a fraction of a second. But that trade-off is worth it when the alternative is losing your wand entirely."
He released the charm and demonstrated the casting. "Ferreus Manus." A brief shimmer of bronze light wrapped around his hand and wand.
"Pair off and practice," Harry ordered. "I want everyone able to cast this by the end of the session."
Students began moving, seeking partners. Hermione saw Harry glance toward Daphne, his mouth opening as if to suggest pairing up, when Ginny's voice cut across the room.
"Greengrass." Ginny's tone was clipped. "Partner with me."
Harry blinked, surprised. Daphne's expression remained blank.
"Of course," Daphne said evenly.
Harry closed his mouth and turned to help organize the other pairs. Ron partnered with Neville, Luna drifted over to Tracey Davis with a dreamy smile, Theodore paired with Dean, Susan with Parvati.
Hermione partnered with Michael Corner, but found her attention drawn repeatedly to where Ginny and Daphne faced each other across a clear space.
The hostility was immediate and obvious. Ginny's stance was aggressive, her wand held like a weapon rather than a tool. Daphne stood with perfect dueling posture, back straight, composed, but her guard was clearly up.
"Shall we begin?" Daphne asked politely.
"Sure." Ginny's voice could have frozen fire. "Cast your charm first."
Daphne's wand moved through the pattern smoothly. "Ferreus Manus." Bronze light flickered around her hand.
"Expelliarmus!"
Ginny's disarming spell was unnecessarily forceful. Daphne's wand flew from her hand despite the charm, clattering across the floor.
"Charm didn't hold," Ginny observed with satisfaction.
"No," Daphne agreed calmly, retrieving her wand. "I'll try again."
Her second attempt was more focused, the bronze light brighter and more stable. "Your turn."
Ginny went through the wand movement, but Hermione could see the way her hand shook slightly, temper interfering with precision. "Ferreus Manus."
The light that wrapped her wand was thin, barely visible.
"Expelliarmus," Daphne said softly.
Ginny's wand jerked and flew free immediately.
"Damn it." Ginny snatched her wand from the floor, her face flushed.
"You're rushing the twist at the end," Daphne offered. "Try making it more deliberate."
"I don't need help from a snake," Ginny snapped.
Daphne's composure cracked, just slightly. "I'm trying to learn the same as you."
"Are you?" Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Trying to learn, or trying to get close to Harry?"
"That's none of your business." Daphne's voice remained level but had gained an edge. "And last time I checked, you were snogging Dean Thomas in the common room last week, so it's hardly your place to ask about Harry."
Ginny's face went scarlet. "You—"
"Let's just practice," Daphne interrupted, turning away.
Around them, other pairs worked steadily. Hermione saw Ron struggle through several attempts before finally producing a stable charm, Neville coaching him patiently. Luna appeared to master it on her first try while humming something that sounded like a funeral dirge. Theodore Nott practiced with fierce concentration as if each spell learned was armor against whatever waited for him at home.
But Hermione's attention kept returning to Ginny and Daphne.
They'd devolved into a silent competition, neither speaking except to cast spells. Ginny attacked each attempt like a battle, her frustration growing with each failure. Daphne remained cool and controlled, and that very composure seemed to infuriate Ginny further.
When Daphne's charm finally held through three consecutive disarming attempts, her wand staying locked in her hand despite the force of the spells, triumph flickered briefly across her face.
"Good," she said quietly, releasing the charm.
Ginny's next attempt was powered by pure fury. The bronze light that wrapped her wand was unstable, flickering. When Daphne tested it, the wand flew free again.
"Concentrate on the visualization," Daphne suggested. "Imagine the wand as an extension of your hand, inseparable."
"Stop. Helping. Me."
"I'm just—"
"I know what you're doing." Ginny's voice was low and venomous. "Acting all helpful and cooperative. Making yourself look good in front of Harry."
"This isn't about Harry," Daphne said, though color had risen in her cheeks.
"Isn't it?" Ginny laughed bitterly. "Everything's about Harry with you people. Another Slytherin trying to use him."
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know enough."
They faced each other in furious silence until Daphne turned her back and began practicing the charm again on her own.
Ginny watched her for a moment, jaw tight, then threw herself into her own attempts with renewed determination.
Forty-five minutes later, the room had filled with the sounds of success. Most students had managed at least a basic version of the charm. Hermione had mastered it within ten minutes, as expected. Ron had finally gotten it to hold after Neville suggested he think about keeping hold of his favorite broom. Luna had perfected hers while apparently contemplating the mating habits of Nargles.
"Excellent work, everyone," Harry called, moving through the room to observe. "Keep practicing. This needs to be instinctive."
He approached Ginny and Daphne's area just as Daphne successfully held her wand through three more disarming attempts in a row. Ginny had managed it twice before losing her grip.
"Brilliant, Daphne," Harry said with genuine enthusiasm. "Your control is excellent. Can you help demonstrate for everyone?"
Ginny's expression could have curdled milk. Hermione watched the younger girl's hands clench into fists as Harry led Daphne to the center platform, asking her to show her technique to the group.
Daphne explained her visualization method clearly and concisely, demonstrating the precise wand movement. Harry stood beside her, adding commentary, and Hermione didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on Daphne's face when she spoke, or the small smile that crossed his features when she successfully deflected his test spell.
"Now, just because Daphne is using the spell, that does not mean she has mastered it." Harry showed this by using Expelliarmus on Daphne, and her wand flew from her hand, and Harry grabbed it easily, before handing it back to Daphne.
"Practice this daily," Harry instructed as students began gathering their things. "I want it second nature by next week. When you wake up, cast it. Before bed, cast it. Make it as automatic as breathing."
Students filed toward the exit in small groups, talking among themselves. The atmosphere was tired but satisfied. Even the Slytherins seemed more integrated into the group, Theodore accepting a clap on the shoulder from Dean, Tracey laughing at something Luna said.
"Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, stay behind for a minute," Harry called as the crowd thinned.
He hesitated, then added, "Daphne, you too, please."
Ginny's jaw tightened, but she didn't protest. Hermione moved to join the small group forming near Harry while the last of the other students departed.
As the door sealed behind them, Hermione caught Ginny shooting another venomous look at Daphne, who stood slightly apart from the others, clearly uncertain whether she should be there at all.
The Room of Requirement shifted around them. Platforms sank into the floor, walls dissolved, and within moments they stood in a simple circular space with six comfortable chairs arranged in a loose circle.
Daphne remained near the door, her posture uncertain. She glanced at the chairs, then back at Harry, clearly unsure whether the invitation to stay extended to actually joining the discussion.
"Sit, please," Harry said, gesturing to an empty chair.
Ginny immediately took a seat on the opposite side of the circle, as far from both Harry and Daphne as the arrangement allowed. Her arms crossed over her chest.
Hermione settled between Ron and Neville, watching as Daphne slowly moved to take the remaining chair. The Slytherin girl sat on the edge of her seat, back straight, hands folded in her lap.
Harry remained standing for a moment, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. Whatever he was about to say clearly weighed on him.
"I think Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater," he said finally.
Ron's laughter burst out before he could stop it. "Malfoy? You're joking. He's a coward! Remember third year when he thought Buckbeak was going to kill him? Cried like a baby."
"He talks big," Ginny added, her skepticism evident. "But when it's real, when there's actual danger, he runs. Every time."
"I know how it sounds," Harry said. "But I've been watching him for the past two weeks. He's different."
"Different how?" Neville asked quietly.
"He's missing meals, for one thing. Looks exhausted, like he's not sleeping. I've seen him sneaking off during free periods, and when Crabbe or Goyle try to follow, he tells them to bugger off." Harry began pacing. "His whole demeanor has changed. That arrogant swagger is gone. He looks haunted. Desperate."
"His dad's in Azkaban," Ron pointed out. "The family's disgraced. He's probably just sulking about it."
"Malfoy's useless," Ginny said flatly. "What could he possibly accomplish for Voldemort? He can barely pass his N.E.W.T.s."
Hermione's thoughts drifted back to that encounter in Diagon Alley, replaying Narcissa's words, her expression. The woman had been worried about something, genuinely afraid. At the time, Hermione had been too distracted by her own inappropriate attraction to fully consider what it meant.
Was she afraid for Draco?
"I believe Harry," Neville said quietly.
Everyone turned to look at him, surprised. Neville met their gazes steadily.
"Think about it," Neville continued. "Lucius Malfoy was caught at the Department of Mysteries. He failed completely. Ended up in Azkaban, and worse, he failed You-Know-Who. The Malfoy family's position with the Dark Lord must be precarious right now."
"So?" Ron asked.
"So Voldemort might demand proof of loyalty from the remaining family. A way for them to earn back favor, restore their standing." Neville's voice was calm, logical. "Blood status won't protect them if Voldemort thinks the Malfoys are failures. They need to prove themselves useful again."
Hermione felt something click into place.
"Bloody hell," Ron breathed. "You might actually be right."
"But what could Draco even do?" Ginny insisted. "He's barely sixteen, still in school."
"That's what worries me." Harry said. "He's here at Hogwarts, right in Dumbledore's stronghold, right where Voldemort's greatest enemy is. Whatever task Voldemort gave him, it involves the school. It has to."
Hermione's mind raced. If Draco had been given a task by Voldemort, if Narcissa knew about it, that would explain everything. The fear, the worry. A mother terrified for her son.
"There's been talk in the Slytherin common room," Daphne said hesitantly.
All eyes turned to her. She straightened slightly under the scrutiny, meeting each gaze in turn.
"Draco's been different since term started," she continued. "He snaps at Crabbe and Goyle constantly. Pansy Parkinson is worried about him, keeps trying to get him to talk, but he pushes her away. Some of the seventh-years have been speculating that he's been given something important to do."
"And you're just mentioning this now?" Ginny's voice could have cut glass.
Daphne's eyes flashed. "I'm mentioning it when it's relevant. Should I have announced every piece of Slytherin gossip to the entire DA?"
"Maybe the important pieces, yeah."
"Girls," Harry interrupted, his tone sharp. "Not now."
Ginny subsided, but the look she shot Daphne was poisonous. Daphne turned deliberately back to Harry, pointedly ignoring the younger girl.
"This is important, Daphne," Harry said. "Can you find out more? Listen carefully, maybe approach Pansy?"
"I can try." Daphne's expression was serious. "But if Draco really is a Death Eater, he'll be watching for spies. I'll have to be careful."
"Be very careful," Harry emphasized. "Don't take any risks."
"I won't."
Hermione watched Harry's face, the way his eyes lingered on Daphne's.
Oh, Harry.
"I believe Harry," Hermione said abruptly, breaking the moment.
Ron turned to her, surprised. "Really? You think Malfoy's actually capable of following through on something this serious?"
"I think we can't afford to assume he isn't." Hermione chose her words carefully, keeping her thoughts about Narcissa buried deep. "If there's even a chance Harry's right, we need to know. We need to watch Draco carefully and track his movements."
"How?" Neville asked.
"The Marauder's Map," Hermione said. "We can set up a rotating surveillance schedule. Monitor where he goes, who he talks to, any patterns in his behavior."
"I'll do it," Ron volunteered immediately. "Mondays and Wednesdays work for me."
"I can take Tuesdays and Thursdays," Neville added.
Ginny was quiet for a moment. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. I'll help monitor when needed. But I still think we're making too much of Malfoy sulking about his dad."
"Noted," Harry said. "Hermione, can you take Fridays and Saturdays?"
"Of course."
"I'll cover Sundays and backup when needed." Harry looked around the circle. "Daphne, you focus on gathering intelligence from Slytherin. Anything unusual, any conversations about Draco or his family, let me know immediately."
"I will," Daphne promised.
Neville stood first, followed by Ron. "This is mad," Ron muttered, but he looked determined rather than dismissive. "Malfoy, a Death Eater. Never thought I'd see the day."
"Let's hope we're wrong," Hermione said quietly, though she had a sinking feeling they weren't.
Ginny rose without a word, heading for the door. She paused at the threshold, glancing back. Her eyes found Harry, then slid to Daphne, something painful flickering across her face before she schooled her expression to neutrality and left.
Ron and Neville followed, Ron clapping Harry on the shoulder as he passed. "We'll figure it out, mate. We always do."
Then it was just the three of them: Harry, Hermione, and Daphne.
Daphne stood but didn't move toward the door. Harry seemed to find something fascinating about his shoes suddenly.
Hermione recognized a cue when she saw one.
"I should go," she said, gathering her bag. "Need to get some reading done before bed."
"Hermione," Harry started, but she waved him off.
"It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow." She moved toward the door, then paused. "Be careful, both of you. If Draco is involved with Death Eaters, everything just got more dangerous."
She left, closing the door behind her, but couldn't resist glancing back through the small gap before it sealed completely.
Harry had moved closer to Daphne, saying something too quiet to hear. Daphne's hand came up to touch his arm, her expression soft in a way Hermione had never seen during DA meetings.
The door sealed fully, leaving Hermione in the seventh-floor corridor.
.
.
The abandoned classroom on the fourth floor had become their sanctuary, a space where propriety dissolved and hunger took precedence.
Luna was already on her knees when Hermione settled into the rickety wooden chair, her silver-blonde hair catching the wandlight like spun moonbeams. Those enormous grey eyes looked up at Hermione with that peculiar mix of dreamy innocence and carnal knowledge that made Hermione's cock throb against her trousers.
"You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you?" Hermione asked, her voice already rough with arousal as she spread her legs wider. "Thinking about getting on your knees for me like a good little slut."
"Mmhmm," Luna hummed, her small hands already working at Hermione's belt. "Ever since Transfiguration. You were explaining Gamp's Law and I could only think about tasting you."
Hermione's cock sprang free the moment Luna unfastened her trousers, already half-hard and thickening rapidly. Eight inches of rigid flesh that Luna eyed with hunger, her pink tongue darting out to wet her lips.
"Then don't make me wait," Hermione commanded, threading her fingers through Luna's hair—not quite the right shade of blonde, not quite the aristocratic platinum she craved, but close enough to fuel her fantasies. "Show me what that pretty mouth is good for."
Luna didn't need further encouragement. She wrapped one delicate hand around Hermione's shaft, her fingers barely meeting around the girth, and stroked slowly from base to tip. Her tongue followed the path of her hand, tracing the prominent vein along the underside before swirling around the swollen head.
"Fuck," Hermione hissed, her hips jerking involuntarily. "That's it. Get it nice and wet for me."
Luna took her time, lapping at Hermione's cock like it was her favorite sweet, her tongue lavishing attention on every ridge and curve. She traced the sensitive rim of the head, dipped into the slit to taste the precum already beading there, then dragged her tongue down to lap at Hermione's balls.
"Such a dirty girl," Hermione groaned, tightening her grip on Luna's hair. "You love this, don't you? Love being on your knees with my cock in your mouth."
"Yes," Luna breathed against heated flesh, sending shivers through Hermione's body. "Love making you feel good."
Then she took Hermione into her mouth, and coherent thought became difficult.
Luna's lips stretched obscenely around Hermione's girth as she sank down, taking inch after inch until the head nudged the back of her throat. She held there for a moment, throat convulsing around the intrusion, before pulling back with a wet pop that echoed in the empty classroom.
"Mmph... glck... slurp..."
The sounds Luna made were filthy—wet and desperate and absolutely perfect. She bobbed her head, taking Hermione deeper with each pass, her hand working what didn't fit in her mouth. Saliva dripped down Hermione's shaft, making everything slick and messy.
"Look at you," Hermione panted, watching Luna's lips glide along her length. "Look at what a perfect little cocksucker you are. Taking it so well."
Luna's eyes fluttered up to meet hers, and the sight of those grey eyes glazed with lust while her mouth was stuffed full nearly undid Hermione right there. Luna moaned around her cock—"Mmmmmm"—and the vibration made Hermione's toes curl.
"Deeper," Hermione commanded, both hands now fisting Luna's hair. "I want to feel the back of your throat."
Luna relaxed her jaw and let Hermione guide her down, taking the cock until her nose pressed against Hermione's pelvis. She gagged—"Gghkk"—but didn't pull away, her throat spasming around Hermione's length as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
"That's my good girl," Hermione praised, holding Luna in place for several heartbeats before allowing her to pull back and gasp for air. "Such a good fucking whore for me."
Luna gasped, spit connecting her lips to Hermione's cock in glistening strands. "Again," she begged, her voice wrecked. "Use me."
And Hermione did.
She began to thrust, using her grip on Luna's hair to control the pace, fucking her mouth with increasing intensity. Luna's hands braced against Hermione's thighs as she surrendered completely, letting herself be used, her throat opening to accept fucking.
"Glck glck glck"—the sound of Hermione's cock hitting the back of Luna's throat over and over filled the room. Spit ran down Luna's chin, dripped onto her uniform blouse, but she didn't care. She just took it, moaning around the thick shaft stretching her throat.
"You look so pretty like this," Hermione groaned, her hips snapping faster. "Choking on my cock like the desperate slut you are. Merlin, Luna, your mouth feels so fucking good."
Luna's hand slipped between her own thighs, rubbing frantically through her soaked knickers as Hermione fucked her face. The sight of Luna touching herself while being throat-fucked sent Hermione's arousal spiraling higher.
"I'm going to cum," Hermione warned, her rhythm becoming erratic. "Going to fill that pretty mouth. You're going to swallow every drop, aren't you?"
Luna nodded as much as she could with a cock down her throat, her eyes pleading.
Hermione thrust deep one final time and exploded, her cock pulsing as she emptied herself into Luna's mouth. Thick ropes of cum flooded Luna's throat—more than she could swallow. It leaked from the corners of her mouth, dripped down her chin as she struggled to take it all.
"Fuck, yes," Hermione groaned, grinding against Luna's face as her orgasm crashed through her. "Take it all, slut. Every fucking drop."
Luna swallowed convulsively, throat working to accept the massive load, but there was just too much. When Hermione finally pulled out, cum and spit painted Luna's face, dripped onto her uniform. She looked absolutely debauched—and beautiful.
"You did so well," Hermione praised, pulling Luna up for a filthy kiss that tasted of salt and sex. "Such a perfect little whore."
But Hermione wasn't finished. Her cock hadn't softened—if anything, watching Luna's cum-covered face had made her harder.
"Strip," Hermione commanded. "And get against the door."
Luna obeyed, shedding her clothes until she stood gloriously naked. Hermione followed, her cock jutting proudly from her hips as she stalked toward Luna like a predator.
"Turn around," Hermione ordered. "Hands on the door."
Luna pressed her palms against the wood, arching her back to present herself. Her pussy was already glistening, slick with arousal that dripped down her inner thighs.
Hermione gripped Luna's hips and lined herself up, rubbing her cock through Luna's soaked folds. "So wet for me. You really are a greedy little slut, aren't you?"
"Yes," Luna whimpered, pushing back desperately. "Please, Hermione. Need you inside me."
Hermione thrust forward, burying herself to the hilt in one smooth stroke.
"Aaaahhhh!" Luna cried out, her back arching as she was filled completely. "Yes!"
"Fuck, you're tight," Hermione groaned, holding still for a moment to let Luna adjust. The wet heat surrounding her cock was exquisite, Luna's inner walls clenching rhythmically. "You feel so fucking good."
Then she began to move.
Hermione fucked Luna against the door with deep, powerful strokes that made Luna's whole body shake. Each thrust drove Luna forward, her breasts pressing against the wood, her moans echoing despite the silencing charms.
"Ah! Ah! Ah!"—rhythmic cries timed to Hermione's thrusts. The wet slap slap slap of flesh meeting flesh filled the classroom.
"That's it," Hermione panted, her fingers digging into Luna's hips hard enough to bruise. "Take my cock like the good little whore you are."
"Hermione," Luna moaned, one hand sliding down to rub her clit. "So deep... so good..."
Mid-thrust, Luna's dreamy voice cut through the haze of pleasure. "There's going to be... mmm... a new arrival tomorrow."
Hermione faltered slightly, her rhythm stuttering. "What?"
"New... oh gods... new professor," Luna gasped as Hermione's cock hit something deep inside her. "Someone you'll want to... fuck!... want to fuck."
Hermione's curiosity flared, but her body had other priorities. She resumed her brutal pace, fucking Luna harder. "What are you talking about?"
Luna looked back over her shoulder, her expression blissful even as she was being pounded. "Someone who resembles... aaahhh... someone you fantasize about."
"Narcissa?" Hermione demanded, her thrusts becoming more aggressive. "Is it—"
"I want to cum first," Luna interrupted, her voice taking on an edge of desperation. "Make me cum, Hermione. Please."
She wrapped one arm around Luna's waist, pulling her back onto her cock while her other hand found Luna's throat.
"Then cum for me," Hermione growled in her ear. "Cum all over my cock like the desperate slut you are."
Hermione fucked Luna with abandon, each thrust driving deeper, harder. Her cock stretched Luna's pussy, filled her completely, the angle hitting Luna's g-spot with every stroke. Luna's fingers worked frantically at her clit, her whole body trembling.
"Yes yes yes yes yes!" Luna chanted, her voice climbing higher. "Don't stop, please don't stop, I'm so close—"
"Cum," Hermione commanded, biting down on Luna's shoulder. "Cum for me now."
Luna shattered.
"HERMIONE!" she screamed, her pussy clamping down like a vice around Hermione's cock. Her whole body convulsed, legs shaking so violently that only Hermione's grip kept her upright. Her inner walls rippled and pulsed, milking Hermione's length as she came apart.
The sensation of Luna coming around her cock pushed Hermione over the edge. She slammed deep one final time and erupted, flooding Luna's pussy with thick spurts of cum. It was even more intense than her first orgasm, wave after wave of pleasure that seemed endless.
"Fuck!" Hermione groaned against Luna's neck, her hips jerking with each pulse. "Take it all, Luna. Every. Fucking. Drop."
Luna whimpered—"Nnnnhhh"—as Hermione filled her, so much cum that it began to leak out around Hermione's cock, dripping down their thighs.
They stayed locked together for long moments, both gasping for breath. When Hermione finally pulled out, more cum gushed from Luna's well-used pussy, running down her legs in thick rivulets.
"Merlin," Hermione breathed, staring at the mess she'd made of Luna with dark satisfaction. "You really are perfect."
Luna turned, her legs unsteady, and kissed Hermione sweetly. "You make me feel wonderful," she said simply.
They cleaned up with wandwork, dressing in comfortable silence. But Hermione's curiosity hadn't been satisfied by orgasm.
"Alright," Hermione said as she buttoned her shirt. "Tell me about this new arrival. Someone who resembles Narcissa?"
Luna's smile was enigmatic as she fastened her skirt. "Silver-blonde hair runs in families, you know."
Hermione's heart stuttered. "What does that mean? Is it—is it her?"
"No," Luna said, tilting her head in that birdlike way. "But close. Very close. You'll see tomorrow at the feast. Dumbledore's making an announcement."
"Luna," Hermione groaned in frustration. "Just tell me."
"Where's the fun in that?" Luna's eyes sparkled with mischief. "But I will say this—you're going to want to fuck her. Very, very much."
"How do you even know this?"
Luna shrugged, slipping her wand into her hair. "The castle whispers. And I listen." She patted Hermione's cheek affectionately. "Don't worry. You'll understand tomorrow. Though I suspect it will only make your Narcissa obsession more... complicated."
With that cryptic statement, Luna drifted toward the door, leaving Hermione standing in the middle of the abandoned classroom, sexually satisfied but mentally spinning with questions.
Silver-blonde hair. Resembles Narcissa. A new professor.
What fresh torture had the universe prepared for her now?
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