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SD: CH149 - At Hogwarts
🕑 Added 2025-02-01 14:58:18 +0000 UTCGULP. GULP. SLURPPPPP!!!
Hermione pulled her head back, her eyes fixed on me as she placed the head on my throbbing cock on her tongue, letting my warm cum spew out onto it, coating her tongue and filling her mouth with my seed. Her whole body shook as I emptied every single drop from my balls into her mouth. Midway, she pulled her face just far enough to let my cum splatter against her cheeks and all over her face, her hair and her soft, rosy lips.
“Damn,” I said. “You look so delectable.”
She pulled her wand and a magical camera soared out of her trunk into my hand. Laughing, I took a picture.
“Should we send one to Ron?” she asked, giving my cock another lick.
I arched an eyebrow. “What are you playing at, Hermione?”
“He shook me off when I got slashed by Professor Lupin. When my world was collapsing, when I needed support, when he should’ve been there for me, he wasn’t. He ran away. Just like he ran away when you and I were searching for … stuff that kept Voldemort alive, that you are too squeamish to name.”
I took careful note of her words.
“It’s for your own—”
“Protection, I know,” she said. “And Emmeline told me I’ll be welcome to join in your mind arts sessions. Though, she’s not taught a werewolf before, and certainly not a twisted variant like me. Says it’d be an intriguing experience nonetheless.”
I didn’t know about that bit.
“I’m not blind, Harry,” she said. “You might have forgiven him back in your fourth year, and then again, when he deserted us to run back to his family, but I’m not that forgiving. Not after… all this.”
Hermione pushed herself up, removed her panties, and revealed her pussy, practically dripping by at this point. She straddled my waist, her pussy touching my cockhead, grabbed my hands and placed them at her waist. Without a preamble, I pulled her down, impaling her upon my hard dick.
“Ooooh, Fuck!” She shouted, her eyes wide and teary. “If he — If he wants out of your shadow so badly—”
She raised herself up.
“—if he thinks he can get inside my pants because he thinks I can’t have you, then I need to correct his ignorance.”
She dropped herself down again.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
And on and on and on, her hands flat against my chest as she leveraged her weight to bounce on my cock.
“Fill me! Fill me up with your seed, Harry! Fuck me!” She moaned, dropping her head to meet mine, her mouth hanging open as each wave of ecstasy took over her with every thrust.
I laughed.
“What would Ron say if he heard that?”
“Cum in his pants, I reckon,” she sneered. “I’ve had enough talking about him. Now fuck me with this fucking thick dick of yours.”
Quite naturally, I acquiesced.
With a sudden burst of motion, I flipped her over onto her back, the magically expanded train seat creaking loudly as I laid on top of her, my entire length sliding into her.
“OH! SHIT!”
Hermione looked up at me with a face of absolute lust and pure pleasure as I began pumping with new vigour, bent on destroying her pussy relentlessly. She spread her legs even further, now bouncing up and down against my body as I pummeled into her.
“Fuck! Oh, yes!” She shouted. “You’re.. Fucking! Me! So good! Ugh! Fuck! Fuck ME!”
And fuck her I did. In many angles, in many positions, over and over. I fucked her cowboy and reverse, and then held her against the wall and fucked her until her legs were all wobbly. I pulled her up into my arms and threw her down on the bed, and fucked her tits, before sitting on top of her and driving my cock into her mouth like it was little more than an equipment to pleasure me. And in the meanwhile, Hermione kept offering so many ideas.
“We should — ugh! Bind Ron and bring him here! Petrify him! And then you can fuck me in front of him! Yes! Or against him! Let him see that I am — ugh! Yours!”
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I had heard of it. My little future tale was actually turning that into a living parable.
At least it was for Hermione.
I could only wonder what sort of effect it had on Narcissa, or even Anastasia, who had already defied her husband and chosen me. Granted, both of them had become my Lilims shortly after, but it was debatable if it had been my tale or my incubus lord powers that had done the deed. Anastasia I could understand, but Narcissa had been a surprise. Then again, the woman had always been roused by the oddest of things, so her anchorage shooting up at seeing me pop out wings and turning into a mythological demon before pulling her into a mass orgy was right up there in her idiom.
And speaking of that, I briefly reflected on the dream where I had fucked Tonks and defiled her, amidst a jam-packed crowd in a Wierd Sisters Concert. The real ‘Tonks’ had yet to respond after leaving my premises, but since she was well and functional, I imagined my secret was still safe.
By the time the train was approaching Hogsmeade, both of us got up, cleansed ourselves and got into our Hogwarts robes. Mine was already too small, so I had to get a couple of new ones, and Hermione needed a size adjustment, thanks to her bosom and rear growing slightly larger than before. She had also gotten a couple of inches taller, again, because of her werewolf mutation.
“So,” said Hermione casually. A bit too casual. “Will you sideline me and fuck Susan now that you’ve become a Lord?”
I sighed. “‘Still thinking about Ron’s words, are you?”
“What are you talking about?” asked Hermione innocently.
I just looked at her.
She sighed. “I haven’t forgotten you’re an incubus, Harry. And that you’ve got to fuck your way to power. I get all of that. But… I can’t help but wonder if I’ll remain important in your life anymore. Like, after this? You already have people like Hestia and Emmeline and Madam Bones that obviously know way more stuff about magic than I do. I mean, I guess being a fuck-buddy for the rest of my life isn’t a bad thing, but still… I guess it’s the self-doubt creeping in. That and knowing that you didn’t see me as anything more than a friend in your time.”
“It was a different timeline, maybe even a different world, Hermione. I’m pretty sure I’ve changed things way too much for the events to happen the same way again. Best to bury the hatchet and go on.”
That and having such doubts was equivalent to giving fodder to Voldemort the next time he slithered in her mind.
“I’m a werewolf, Harry. I don’t bury hatchets. I sharpen them.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled. When she opened them, they were smouldering orbs of darkness. “But the one thing I cannot accept is Ron’s jealousy. He claims to be your best mate, and yet just look at him! He’s insecure about you. Always has been! If your name came out of the Triwizard then Ron would be the first to believe that you intentionally put your name in for more glory and fame. Not because he had a legit chance at it, but because he’s afraid your shadow would grow larger and he’d forever stay inside it. So, this was me giving him a way out.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled it into her bosom. “So if he wants fame and glory so bad, if he wants to prove himself as worthy and get out of Harry Potter’s shadow, this is his ticket. The Triwizard tournament.”
“Which is going to be held for sixth and seventh-years.”
“Didn’t stop Barty Crouch Junior from putting your name in it. Speaking of, do you ever plan on waking him up from that locked room in the dungeon?”
I gawked at her.
Hermione snorted and tapped her nose. “Excelsior’s my den, Harry. I know exactly which place smells what.”
Right then, the door rattled. Frowning, I twisted my wrist slightly, and the locking charm faded. Instantly, it slid open violently, as Draco stood framed on the doorway, his face pale and twisted, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white. His grey eyes gleamed with something feral, barely restrained.
Instantly Hermione went for her wand.
“Yes?” I said, arching an eyebrow. “Can I help you with something, Mal— Draco?”
When the pale boy spoke, it was in a low, trembling voice. “Potter… you think this is funny, don’t you?”
I glanced up lazily, noting the absence of Crabbe and Goyle behind the ferret. Feigning confusion, I asked.
"Funny? Did I miss the punchline? Sorry, Draco, but you're going to have to spell it out for me. Preferably with smaller words."
The boy stepped closer, his breath sharp and uneven. I noted the way Hermione’s eyes turned silver, and an undercurrent of power rushed through her veins. Maybe it was because of the necromancy permeating through her, but I could almost always feel what she was experiencing.
Or perhaps it was her raging emotions I was feeling, courtesy of the Shrine.
"Don’t toy with me. You know what you’ve done. You’ve ruined everything—my family, my future. Everything I was meant to have. And you... you just sit there, smug as ever, like none of it matters!"
This time I sat up a little straighter, still confused but curious at the same time.
"Ruined? Me? Now, that doesn’t sound right. I mean, I didn’t make your father commit genocide, did I? Or band together werewolves and Death-Eaters in the name of his long-lost Dark Lord. Hmmm… are you sure someone didn’t just imperius him or something? He does have a history of being weak-minded and all that.”
“Shut up!”
“I mean, I did hear about him being a fugitive and all that,’ I went on. “Maybe he wasn’t sure he could buy his way out of this one and lost his spine or…. I mean, it’s really on him, you see. Unless, you’d want to blame me for his bad decisions too?”
“Shut up!” Draco growled, his voice rising, almost guttural.His hand twitched and he took another step forward, his body trembling with barely suppressed violence.
"You think you’re untouchable. You think you’ve won! But mark my words, Potter, I’ll take it all back. I’ll tear it from your hands if I have to!"
“That’s assuming you even have any hands left before they get to Harry, Malfoy.”’ growled Hermione. Her eyes had already turned into moulds of silver.
I touched Hermione’s arm, pacifying her. Leaning back, I replied, almost dismissively. “Ah, there’s the Draco I know. All bark and no bite. How’s that working for you? All this seething hatred—does it help you sleep at night? Or is it just making your hair frizzier? A free advice, maybe you should really take Parkinson up and shag her. Really does wonders for temperament.”
Hermione, the little sadist, snorted. “Assuming she’s even with him now.”
I have to admit. Hermione’s grown a lot meaner. Or maybe she always was this way, and the necro-beast thing was just bringing it up to the surface.
The former Malfoy’s face twisted, his voice barely more than a growl. "You think this is a game? That you can keep mocking me and walk away unscathed?"
His breathing was ragged now, his whole body coiled like a spring ready to snap.
"Walk away? Malfoy, you’re the one who stormed in here. What exactly did you expect to happen? You were going to glare at me until I handed over... what? My name? My title—" my eyes glinted with amusement. “My good looks perhaps? Or maybe my attention? Sorry, you’re too pale and wiry and ferretly for that.”
Narcissa might say whatever she wants, but Draco had walked into my compartment and instigated it all. I might have sworn not to instigate him, but nothing stopped me from responding with equal agitation. Violence for self-defence is a thing, you know.And if you looked up ‘excessive violence for self-defence’ in the dictionary, you’d probably find my name, my address, and my Hogwarts annual deathmatch performances listed right there.
Draco looked like he was barely a second away from lunging, and I wondered if he’d survive if Hermione caught him mid-stride and thrashed him against the door.
"You don’t understand, do you?” snarled the ferret. “You’ve taken everything. And I’ll make you pay. Even if it kills me, I’ll make you regret ever crossing me."
I narrowed my eyes, and for the first time, gave him a serious answer.
“Let me tell you something, Draco No-Name. I hate fighting. But if there is a fight, I’ll end it. And I’ll win.”
I waved my hand dismissively. ‘So unless you can truly back up your words, stop wasting my time.”
Hermione coughed.
“And hers.”
The former Malfoy stared at me for a long second, before flicking his gaze at Hermione. "You don’t get it, do you? You’ve already lost, Potter. You just don’t know it yet."
“Did I, now? In what, barking perhaps?”’
Draco’s hand shot up towards his wand, but at the last second, he froze, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. And then he turned around and stormed out, slamming the door behind.
Silence fell.
“Well… that was dramatic.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Malfoy’s as dangerous as a cornish pixie. Though he looked ready to curse you.”
I watched the door thoughtfully, my smirk fading, replaced by a slight frown. Something about the ferret was odd. Then again, he had never truly experienced loss like this in the original books. Even after Voldemort was killed in the seventh year, the Malfoys were still alive. Suffered face-loss and political power perhaps, but that was all there was.
Ignoring the entire Cursed Child nonsense, that is. I swear, that crap is enough to give me nightmares.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
Maybe Tracey would find some use in Slytherin House after all.
We waited for the train to stop at Hogsmeade and let the crowd pour out first before getting ourselves out. I could hear Hagrid’s voice calling for the first-years, to take them down to the lake for the crossing. The sky looked thunderous with lightning streaking through the dark canvas. Maybe I was being dramatic, but I was getting this eerie feel that the story was about to take a dark turn.
Trouble is, I’m not afraid of the dark. I revel in it.
Thankfully for us, there was still a carriage left. But before we could climb on the seats, a sight struck us and left us frozen on our toes.
It was the stagecoach.
Or rather, what was pulling them.
Thestrals.
Yes, yes, I’m aware you know all about them. But trust me, reading about it, and facing it in the eye are completely different things. Quadruped with reptilian features, it just felt wrong to look at them. Completely fleshless, their black hide clinging to their skeletons, with every single bone outline visible. Easily the size of a Clydesdale, they looked less like horses and more like someone had hastily pulled a couple of bat-skins and worn them over a horse skeleton. Large, black, leathery wings sprouted out from either side of their body, and their smooth, draconic heads and the blank spots for eyes stared at me, as if peering into my soul.
A shudder ran down my spine.
“So… these are thestrals,” said Hermione after a while. “I didn’t believe it earlier. They can only be seen by those that have seen death.”
I knew that. But something about those eerie stares told me there was more to it. Not just this thestral, but all of them, were staring at me, their eyeless sockets judging me.
Talk about creepy.
“Harry?”
“...Nothing,” I said. “Let’s — Let’s go.”
Hermione didn’t seem convinced, and the stutter in my tone didn’t help matters either. Nevertheless, she didn’t press it any further.
The last time I was at Hogwarts, I had gone out of my way to avoid being in public, and instead focussed on actively casting the spells I knew and could cast. I was a stranger in another stranger’s body in an alien world.
Now? I was a lethal prowler stalking it.
Upon entering through the great doors, we found Professor McGonagall standing at the edge of the corridor, waiting for the first-years to arrive at the docks. I slowed down to let Hermione steel herself, before calling out “Professor?” and quickly stepped a few paces ahead.
“Ah, Miss Granger and… Potter,” Minerva McGonagall paused for a moment and gave both of us a thorough look. “Miss Granger, I understand. But you seem to have grown like a shoot, Potter. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Of course she didn’t. Gone were the glasses, and between the height and the sharpened jaw and James Potter’s facial features, my face had gained a mix of ruggedness and cunning smoothness, with my green eyes standing out even more. And all that was ignoring the effects of being an Incubus on top of it all.
“Didn’t want Hermione to feel all grown-up on me.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. As did McGonagall. “I didn’t believe it at first. I was so certain you took after your mother. But from what I hear about your summer feels like your father’s side is showing itself.”
“About time,” I grinned. “Snape kept saying I was just like my father from day one.”
“Professor Snape,” said both women together.
I rolled my eyes.
“Either way,” said McGonagall, dismissing me. “I got your letter, Miss Granger. And the healers from St. Mungo’s assure me that physiologically, the werewolf traits lie recessive in you, so there is no chance for an accidental infection through physical contact or even an accidental scratch. You are free to join the girl’s dorm in Gryffindor tower.”
“Actually,” said Hermione in a small voice. “I was hoping that I could use the room I was using before the end of the term. At least for sleeping, I mean.”
The transfiguration professor arched an eyebrow. “Miss Granger, you have lived at Mr. Potter’s place for an entire summer. You have never transformed, not even in your sleep, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Huh. Dumbledore hadn’t told her about Hermione’s transformation in the forest.
Interesting.
“She wants to gauge how our classmates and the rest of the students treat her first,” I said.
McGonagall pursed her lips and regarded me thoughtfully. “While I’d say that Hogwarts is open to lycanthropes like any other student, I am not blind to the inherent bigotry in the general populace. Alright, Miss Granger. Both of you can go join the feast. I’ll instruct an elf to transport your luggage to the room you were using earlier. If that’s all? I have the first-years to meet, I believe.”
The two of us walked towards the ante-chamber, and I found a tiny boy with mousy hair — a Creevey brother, I think — drenched utterly from head to toe. I waved my wand and cast a quick drying charm, and he gave me a beaming smile.
I half-snorted. If anyone had attempted to raise their wand at me without prior intimation, they’d probably be instantly bound, stunned and thrown against the wall before they had the chance to ask ‘why’.
The entrance hall; was ablaze with torches and echoing with the relentless chatter of the student body across the four long House tables. I felt Hermione stiffen next to me. No doubt she was worried about others reacting to a werewolf at Hogwarts. Werewolves were already subject to extreme bias, some of it arising from their lethality, and the others, because sooner or later, they would turn into human-eating cannibals. The prospect of sitting next to someone who would be feasting on your sinew and bones wasn’t enthralling and the role the beasts played at the World Cup did little to diffuse that.
Worst-case scenario, I was going to have to let Hermione take a transfer to another school. Preferably Ilvermorny.
Ginny saw me coming, and I instantly noted the change that came over her and the Gryffindor chasers. I pulled Hermione with me, and attempted to sit next to Ginny, but Katie and Angelina moved further to the other end, leaving a blank space in the middle. Hermione sat between me and Ginny, while I sat next to Katie. My gaze flickered at the Hufflepuff Table and found Hannah blushing in my direction — and conveniently, at Neville sitting opposite me. Susan had a hungry gleam in her eyes. Further along, Tracey looked like she was trying too hard to ignore my existence — exactly like I had asked her to, while Daphne just winked at me and looked elsewhere.
I sighed.
This…
This was why I had almost considered dropping out of Hogwarts. I’ll be honest with you. If not for the fact that Hogwarts was where all the action, the mystery and the plots would unfold, I would have preferred to stay out of it and be homeschooled. Between Amelia, Emmeline, Narcissa and the Potter and Black grimoires, I was certain I could get NEWTs in all core subjects and then some. Being in the presence of all these young, impressionable and most importantly unoccluded minds around me meant restraining my allure at all times. As much as twisting the females into joining me would be useful for my anchorages, I could easily attract the wrong kind of attention if I wasn’t careful.
Was this how Fleur Delacour felt at all times?
Thank Merlin I had the Spindle constantly leeching my Incubus Allure to charge itself. I swear with all this buffet around me, I’d turn Hogwarts into permanent orgy-mode.
Ron meanwhile, was sitting between Seamus and Dean. Apparently the announcing of the Champions was no longer needed for our friendship to break apart.
As the first-years were sorted into Houses, I glanced at the Great Hall, keeping my gaze placid as I swept it across the High Table. Hagrid was still there, holding his position as the Care of Magical Creatures professor, Flitwick talking excitedly with Professor Sinistra about something. Thoughts about Sinistra reminded me that she was a lithe black beauty, and it was time I attempted some diversity in my little harem. Before I could go further right, I felt a strange interest arising from Dumbledore, a focus so sharp that it practically drew my gaze at him. I wasn’t stupid enough to meet his eyes, so I centred my gaze at the tip of his nose, before nodding.
Dumbledore nodded back.
Let the games begin.
Comments
Critical_Hit
Let...the...games....begin. Hell yeah
Alatoic
Hermione needs reassurance, make a public declaration. maybe its the werewolf curse, but she is more territorial, more loyal to her pack, less prone to be pushed around, I like it. Even if Harry cant married her (for political reasons) he can make her great, make House Granger, vassal of House Potter and in time give her children and whatever enterprise she want to do he can back her up. Cant wait to see were the story will go now that we are at Hogwarts, will be quite entertained I am sure.
Soleii
the chapter drought is over! (here we go again) thank you~! nomnomnom
