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Hermione on her bed
🕑 Added 2023-03-29 17:12:56 +0000 UTCHi everyone. A light scene (and image) with Hermione, to tide your week over. It was nice to write a fun light-hearted scene with her and Harry! Hope you enjoy.
Next chapter on Friday, of course.
P.S. No spoilers for the most recent chapter in the comments please, as this image is available to other tiers.
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“I quite like this game.” Hermione smiled with glee as she watched Harry's humiliation, as he removed yet another item of clothing, leaving him down to just his boxers. Meanwhile, Hermione was stretched on her bed languidly, fully clothed in her Gryffindor uniform. She'd only lost her socks.
“I may have made a mistake.” Harry admitted.
“You read Hogwarts: A History one time and you thought you could remember it better than me?” Hermione said in mock affront. “I have my own annotated copy. I have three other copies of it. I could write the next version of it, even.”
“We'll see.” Harry pointed at her threateningly, though the effect was somewhat lost now he was in his underwear. “My question, now.”
“Hit me, Captain Underpants.”
“That’s a better nickname than Seamus just gave me.”
Hermione wrinkled his nose. “What did he say?”
“I told him I was gonna hang out with you tonight so he said I was the Pussy-Destroyer.”
“That boy is so crass. Did you tell him—”
“I said we were just doing our homework!”
“Ugh, whatever. Boys. Ok, next question, gimme.” She was bouncing on the bed — he knew the way to her heart. Quizzes and books. He'd had the genius idea of combining both with components of a strip poker game box that he'd found and stolen from under Seamus' bed. An untouched box - it seemed Seamus was, as ever, too optimistic about his charm with the ladies.
Harry pondered the next question. He needed something she’d get wrong. “What year did a cockatrice get loose during one of the Triwizard Tasks?”
“1796!”
“1792.” Harry tutted.
“What?! Let me see that.” Hermione snatched the book from him and then sighed, falling back onto her pillow. “I can't believe it. I told you that in the first place.”
“I want that skirt!”
“The spinner says the item of clothing, not you!” Hermione span it, biting her fingernails. “No!” She cried when the arrow landed on the skirt segment of the pie chart.
“Ah-ha! Take it off, missy. Let me see those panties.”
“Harrrry!” She moaned. She bit her lip as she swished her wand and her skirt zoomed off to land on their joint pile of clothes.
“Ooh, pretty pink panties. Did I buy those?”
She blushed. “No.”
“Hermione Granger, buying some sheer pink panties, ruffles and all.”
“Shut up.” She glared. “It’s my question now and I’m getting you naked.” She declared.
“Alright, hit me.” Harry scratched his neck nervously. “I really don’t want to be naked with that cat of yours.” He cast a glance over at Crookshanks, who was purring away on his windowsill, studying the birds outside.
“Crookshanks isn’t going to hurt you.” She dismissed. “Now, tell me, how many staircase does Hogwarts have?”
“Ugh, come on. Okay, Percy was always banging on about it. And you were too—”
“I do not bang on—”
“152?” Harry winced as he said it.
Hermione’s smile was triumphant. “142!”
“No!”
“Take them off, mister. I want full nakedness…” Hermione trailed off as Harry stripped, revealing his large erect member, swaying from side to side. She swallowed.
“Happy?” Harry shivered as Crookshanks glared at him threateningly. “Back off, pussycat.” He muttered.
“Why are you hard?” Hermione sniffed. “We’re playing a family quiz, not a sexy quiz.”
Despite her words, she hadn’t taken her gaze off his shaft.
“Pretty girl in pretty panties.” Harry shrugged. “And honestly, it’s a testament to your beauty that I’m hard even with that beast licking its claws. And why in the name of Merlin’s saggy beard do you have a painting of young McGonagall on your wall? Younger, I should say.”
“Professor,” She stressed. “McGonagall is a role model to all witches. She was a Prefect, a Head Girl, she worked at the Ministry, she spied on Death Eaters with her Animagus form during the First War—”
“Okay, okay. I get it.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re right, this is the least sexy quiz.”
“Maybe it would be sexier if you asked a decent question.” Hermione argued.
“Alright, you’re never getting this next question right and then I’m taking those panties off.” He declared.
“The spinner decides—”
“Here’s your question—”
She huffed.
“Dilys Derwent was of course headmaster between 1741 to 1768.”
“Of course.” Hermione crossed her arms.
“But who was Headmaster before her?”
“It was—” Hermione’s smile faded. “It was…it was…no!”
“I need an answer.”
“Viridian! Vindictus Viridian!”
Harry shook his head slowly. “Amrose Swott.”
Hermione gasped, hands covering her mouth. “I knew that.”
“I’ll need to see those panties off, I’m afraid.” Harry said heavily.
“The spinner decides!”
Harry spun the spinner on the board, sneakily using a little wandless magic to ensure it stopped when he wanted to.
“I can’t believe this!” Hermione complained. “I knew the answer.”
“Less talking, more panty-removal, please. And make it sexy.”
“You’re the worst.” She glared. But she tucked her fingers under her panties and shimmied them down her legs as she lay on the bed. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“I have all the ideas.” He taunted as she kicked them off her ankles. “Look at that gorgeous pussy.”
Harry knelt on the end of the bed, wanting to get a closer view of her perfect pink slit. Crookshanks snarled and he backed off immediately.
Hermione giggled. “Big bad Harry Potter defeated by a cat.”
“Stupid pussy stopping me from getting at sexy pussy.” Harry grumbled.
“Aww, you’re not stupid, are you, Crookshanks.” Hermione cooed as the cat jumped into her arms. She scratched at his neck. “You are my cuddly pussy protector, aren’t you?”
“There’s something wrong with that thing. It might be an Animagus like Peter Pettigrew. I should cast a few spells on it, just to make sure.” Harry said darkly.
Crookshanks turned his head and spat at him.
Hermione just held her cat closer. “All this time and now I know. Crookshanks,” She declared. “Is the only thing I need to protect me from you and your big…thing.”
Harry smirked. “Sorry, Mione. Nothing will prevent me going to stop me from getting at you. You’re too irresistible.”
She blushed. “Harry…”
“Having fun tonight? Better than doing our Transfiguration homework, right?”
“Yes, okay, it is.” She conceded. “I…it’s really nice to just hang out with you.” She swallowed. “Even if I always do end up half-naked, somehow.”
“Same time tomorrow?”
“Oh, Harry.” She said fondly. “You don’t read nearly enough books to do this quiz every night.”
“I’ll think of something else. Maybe a different game. How many different times can we skin Crookshanks alive?”
“Harry!”
“What?” Harry posed like he was on the cover of a magazine. “Don’t you know? I’m not just the Boy-Who-Lived, I’m also the Pussy-Destroyer.”
