The weekend stretched before Hermione like an endless desert.
Lavender had left on the morning train with Ron, off to visit her parents, and Hermione had smiled and waved and pretended she wasn't already dreading the days ahead. Two nights without Lavender's help. Two days of managing this condition entirely on her own.
She'd survived before, of course. Before the support group, before she and Lavender had started... helping each other. But that was different. That was before she knew how much better it could be with someone else.
Now her hand just felt inadequate.
By Saturday afternoon, she was crawling out of her skin. She'd tried the library, but couldn't concentrate. Tried revising, but the words blurred together. Tried taking a cold shower, but her cock had remained stubbornly, persistently hard.
She needed a distraction.
"Harry!"
She found him in the Gryffindor common room, sprawled on one of the sofas with a Quidditch magazine. He looked up at her approach, green eyes brightening.
"Hermione! Thought you'd be holed up in the library all weekend."
"I needed a break." She settled into the armchair across from him, crossing her legs carefully. "What are you reading?"
"New broom reviews. The Firebolt Supreme is coming out next month." He turned the magazine to show her, and Hermione made appropriately interested noises despite understanding approximately nothing about broom specifications.
They chatted for a while—about classes, about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, about Ron's increasingly obvious attempts to avoid studying. It was nice. Normal. Almost enough to make Hermione forget about the insistent pressure between her legs.
Almost.
"You look tired," Harry observed, setting aside his magazine. "Everything okay?"
"Fine. Just... not sleeping well lately."
"Nightmares?"
"Something like that." More like wet dreams about Lavender that leave me aching for hours afterwards.
Harry nodded sympathetically. "I get those too. If you ever want to talk about it..."
"I know. Thank you, Harry." Hermione smiled at him—really smiled, feeling a rush of affection for her oldest friend. "You're very sweet, you know that? Handsome and sweet. Whoever ends up with you is going to be very lucky."
Harry's face went scarlet.
It was adorable—the way the blush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, the way he ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Hermione had always thought Harry was attractive, objectively speaking, but seeing him flustered like this...
Her cock twitched.
No. No no no.
She shifted in her chair, trying to will it away, but her body had other ideas. The combination of days without proper relief and Harry looking all embarrassed and cute was apparently too much. She could feel herself hardening rapidly, her cock pressing against her jeans with increasing insistence.
Think unsexy thoughts. Snape in a dress. Hagrid's cooking. Umbridge—
Nothing worked.
Harry was saying something—probably deflecting her compliment—but Hermione couldn't focus. All her attention was on the growing bulge in her lap, on keeping her legs crossed, on not drawing attention to—
"Hermione?" Harry's voice cut through her panic. "What's that?"
She followed his gaze down to her lap and felt her blood run cold.
The bulge was obvious. Unmistakable. Tenting her jeans in a way that could not possibly be explained by anything other than what it was.
"That's—I—"
"It's a dick, of course."
Both of them whipped around.
Luna stood in the portrait hole, her wand tucked behind her ear, her expression serene. She drifted toward them with her usual ethereal grace, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room.
Hermione's heart stopped.
She didn't. She wouldn't. Luna, why would you—
"A dick?" Harry blushed, and his voice cracked. "But that's—Hermione's a—"
Luna laughed, the sound light and musical. "Harry, what's wrong with you? Girls don't have dicks. Honestly."
She shook her head, still smiling, as if Harry had said something wonderfully absurd.
"I—but I saw—" Harry, still red, gestured vaguely at Hermione's lap.
"You saw the outline of her wand, probably. Hermione keeps it in strange places." Luna turned to Hermione, her pale eyes conveying a very different message than her casual tone. "Speaking of which, Hermione, I need to borrow you. It's about that book... we were researching together."
"The book," Hermione repeated numbly. "Yes. The book. Very important research."
"Can't it wait?" Harry asked, still embarrassed but also slightly suspicious.
"I'm afraid not. Wrackspurt infestation in the library. Very time-sensitive." Luna took Hermione's arm and pulled her toward the portrait hole. "We'll be back soon!"
Hermione let herself be dragged away, not daring to look back at Harry.
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They made it around two corners before Luna stopped, her dreamy expression sharpening into something more focused.
"That was close."
"Luna, what were you thinking?" Hermione hissed. "You just told Harry I have a—"
"I told him girls don't have dicks. Which is what he needed to hear to dismiss what he saw." Luna tilted her head. "Reverse psychology. If I'd denied it seriously, he would have been more suspicious. By joking about it, I made the whole thing seem absurd."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. That was... actually quite clever.
Since when was Luna that sly?
"Oh."
"You're welcome." Luna glanced down at Hermione's lap, where the bulge was still painfully obvious. "You have a boner-problem."
"I'm aware."
"Do you need help? Gerald has been very calm today, but I wouldn't mind some mutual relief."
The offer was so matter-of-fact, so Luna, that Hermione almost laughed. "I—yes. Actually. That would be... yes."
"Lovely. I know a room."
龴ↀ◡ↀ龴
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Chapter 25: Inexhaustible
Chapter 26: Deja vu
Chapter 27: Not exactly help
(and so on)