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Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you want us to sneak into a Slytherin party,” Hermione giggled, locking eyes with Ginny’s reflection as they primped and preened in the mirror. 

“I can’t believe you held out until 7th year to finally give it a shot,” Ginny huffed, rolling her eyes. She ran her middle finger under her lip, making sure her lipstick was set correctly. She stepped back and glanced at Hermione’s outfit. 

“This is all wrong,” she grumbled, stepping over to yank Hermione’s top down until her breasts were in grave danger of spilling out of her tight top. 

“Ginny!” Hermione protested, moving to pull it back up. Ginny slapped her hand away. 

“Stop, if we want to sweet talk our way in we need all the help we can get,” Ginny laughed, and then pulled out her wand to raise the hemline of Hermione’s skirt even further. 

Ginny herself was in a halter dress with most of her shoulders and back exposed, her hair styled into loose waves and tied up so that it swayed prettily behind her head. 

Hermione’s own hair could never hope to be so tamed, but Ginny had wrangled it into a plait that it was already trying to escape from. 

Ginny swirled Hermione to face her. 

“Nose,” she said. Hermione tilted her head back and flared her nostrils so that Ginny could check for errant bogies. 

“Breath,” Ginny instructed. Hermione breathed in her face. Ginny did not grimace. 

“Pits,” Ginny commanded. Hermione raised her arms above her head. Ginny checked for hairs and then leaned in to sniff. 

Finally she determined that Hermione was a stylish young woman and not a troll blooded hag, and deemed her worthy enough to be seen with. She linked arms with her and led her out of the dormitory and into the Gryffindor Common Room. 

Ron Weasley, one of Ginny’s many elder brothers, looked up from his game of Wizard’s Chess when they entered the room. 

“Oi! Where are you going looking like that?” he demanded of Ginny. 

“Hermione and I are going to a party,” Ginny said with a dismissive scoff. Ron looked over at Hermione, and offered her a timid smile, the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Oh, well, if Hermione’s going I suppose it’s okay,” he said, offering Hermione what she supposed he thought was a charming smile, but really just made it look like he’d eaten too much Treacle Tart at dinner. 

Hermione offered him an awkward smile. Ron made her uncomfortable. She’d much preferred the company of the twins, Fred and George, when they’d been here. She visited the Burrow - the Weasley family home - every summer and was grateful she could use Bill, Charlie, or even Percy as a buffer to Ron if necessary. At least they didn’t have a secret picture of her under their pillow; she’d checked when she and Ginny had accidentally discovered one under Ron’s. 

Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled Hermione along with her, the girls casting quick silencing charms to prevent their heels from clicking and echoing against the stone floors. The portraits tittered about them being out of bed, Sir Codogan chasing after them to inform them that “young Maidens should never travel unaccompanied through dangerous lands at night!” 

They referenced the Marauder's Map - a wonderfully sneaky invention the twins had gifted Ginny prior to departing Hogwarts, that showed the location of every member of the Castle - and took a secret passageway to circumvent Peeves the Poltergeist and the caretaker, Filch, and his peculiar cat, Mrs. Norris. 

Eventually they arrived at the Dungeons, the air chill and damp, causing Hermione to cross her arms over her chest to hide the way her nipples had peaked. Ginny swotted her arms down, giving her a pointed look and mouthing “sweet talk them into it.” Hermione rolled her eyes, but left her arms down by her sides. 

Ginny pulled a long black tassel that served as both doorbell and decoration as it swayed from the ornately embroidered depiction of the Bloody Baron in his youth - before all that blood and gore. Blaise Zabini greeted them with a smirk, lounging against the doorframe as he studied them. 

“Well well,” he crooned. “I think two little lions have wandered into the wrong den by mistake,” he smirked. 

“Pansy Parkinson invited us,” Ginny said boldly, squaring her shoulders and pushing out her chest simultaneously. 

“Did she?” Blaise drawled with his eyes fixated on Ginny’s chest, exactly as she intended. 

Hermione nodded lamely besides Ginny. 

“Well if Princess Pansy invited you, who am I to deny you entry?” Blaise said, shrugging off the doorframe and waving them in with an exaggerated bow. 

Blaise quickly engaged Ginny in a banter filled conversation while Hermione followed along behind them, her eyes roving over the darkened room and the party before her. For all the puritanical posturing the Slytherins did in public, their private lives were much more…promiscuous. 

Marcus Flint and Cho Chang were openly making out on the dance floor, Marcus’s hands steadily inching up Cho’s shirt where anyone could see. Pansy Parkinson was straddling someone , though Hermione couldn’t tell who from this vantage, and the scene seemed so indecent that Hermione blushed and looked away. The place was a veritable sex den! 

Ginny disappeared on the dance floor with Blaise, her body pressed against his as they danced, their bodies writhing together with the music. Hermione circled the edges of the party, unsure of what to do and not wanting to talk with anyone in particular. Eventually she settled in a large, black leather wingback chair facing the fire and tucked away from the party, and pulled out a book. 

It was there that Theodore Nott and Harry Potter found her, each of them sitting on an armrest and hovering over her. Their presence was ominous, bordering on threatening. Theo plucked the book from her hands and studied it impassively. 

“Reading at a party,” he mused, “how utterly boring of you.” 

“And so predictable,” Harry said with an air of amused disappointment. 

Hermione glowered at them. “Why aren’t you two off grovelling at the foot of your Master?” she asked, her voice only betraying the smallest hint of a tremble. 

Theo grinned at her, sensing it. “Worried about Draco, darling?” He brushed a strand of hair off her neck where it had escaped the plait, his fingers lingering as they moved to trail along her exposed collar bone. She shivered, and not entirely from fear. He leaned down and placed his lips against the shell of her ear as he whispered, “don’t worry, he’ll be here soon.” He placed a warm kiss just under her neck and she shivered again, before remembering she hated him and jerking away. Unfortunately for her Harry was still sitting against the other armrest, and in flinching away from Theo she put herself directly in Harry’s clutches. 

“Don’t play with your food, Theodore, it’s rude,” Harry chuckled, the sound dark and menacing. 

“But she’s so delicious ,” Theo said, winking at her. His piercing blue eyes were framed with thick lashes that curled in a way Hermione could never mimic, not even with muggle tools or cosmetic charms. His hair was equally as curly, the strands styled in an artfully mussed sort of way - as if someone else had run their hands through it and held on while he snogged them senseless. He was beautiful. Beautiful, and deadly, she reminded herself. All three of them were. 

Theodore was the heir to the Nott family name, one of the oldest and well-endowed family in the Wizarding World. He, like Harry and Draco, belonged to the famed Sacred 28, the most elite of the upper echelons of pureblooded society. While Theo might look like the kindest of the three, Hermione knew he was just as dangerous in his own right. His eyes held a cool, calculating quality about them that couldn’t be entirely hidden by thick lashes and well-timed winks. 

Harry’s hand closed around her shoulder - she wasn’t sure if the move was protective or predatory. “She’s forbidden fruit,” he reminded Theo. 

If he’d meant for his hand to calm her, it had the opposite effect. Harry Potter was just as cunning and capable as his Slytherin friends. Orphaned as an infant, his parents had died protecting him. Voldemort, the most renowned Dark wizard of the age, had heard a Prophecy declaring that Harry would be the one to end his regime. Intent on securing his legacy, he had arrived at the Potter’s house with the intent of taking out the whole family. Harry’s parents had died quick, but noble, deaths. Harry, on the other hand, had lived. The only known person to survive the killing curse; famous before he could talk. The Dark Lord had been destroyed; the curse reverberating off of the magical shield his parents had placed on him with their sacrifice, and thus securing nothing but his own downfall. 

Harry had been raised by his Godfather, Sirius Black, another one of those most ancient and noble houses of the Sacred 28. Blessed with his father’s good looks and Quidditch skills, his mother’s brains, and raised with the devil-may-care attitude of his Godfather, Harry fit right in with Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. 

“Nothing is forbidden to us,” Theo reminded Harry, reaching out to rub his thumb across Hermione’s lips. She flinched away again, jerking her head to the side. In doing so she was able to see that Draco had arrived - or perhaps he’d been there the whole time - and was watching them from the shadowed alcove closest to them. 

Of the three, Draco Malfoy was the most dangerous. It did not matter that Theodore Nott’s family had more galleons than his own. It did not matter that Harry Potter was the most famous person in their world. Draco Malfoy was royalty in a way that no one else ever would be. His family controlled most of the Wizarding World; at least, they controlled most of the UK, and that was what really mattered, didn’t it? 

Draco’s reputation was nearly as storied as his father’s. He was best in the year - except for Hermione herself, Captain of the Quidditch team, Head Boy, and he’d already won Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile award ( twice), and had been labelled Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor the moment he’d come of age. He, along with Harry and Theo, were set to attend Falmouth University following their graduation from Hogwarts. One of the most elite Wizarding Universities in the UK, no door would be closed to anyone who graduated from Falmouth. 

Hermione had planned to attend as well, until her stalker had gotten in the way. 

“Hello, Little Lion,” Draco purred, his grey eyes glinting in the harsh light of the fire. Hermione sucked in a startled breath, her skin prickling with apprehension. He couldn’t possibly know about her alias! She’d been careful, so, so careful to keep it hidden. Yet the knowing way in which his eyes slid over her body, as if he knew exactly what she looked like beneath her clothes, made her certain he did know. 

“Gentlemen, did you know that we have one of Wank Weekly’s most provocative models gracing our presence at our party tonight?” Draco asked casually, leaning back against the wall of the alcove with his hands in his pockets, as if he’d just asked about the weather and not about her darkest secret. Theo and Harry exchanged feral grins. 

Hermione wrung her fingers nervously in her lap and glanced around them. No one was looking their way; no one was coming to rescue her. 

“I…I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hermione said in a feeble whisper, entirely unconvincing even to her own ears. 

“Oh, I think you do,” Draco chastised, his voice like velvet. “Tell me, what does Gryffindor’s Golden Girl get from selling scandalous pictures of herself to a porn magazine?” 

Tears threatened to spill over her eyes. “Please, please don’t tell anyone,” she pleaded. 

“Shh,” Theo soothed, brushing a thumb over her cheek where a lone tear had escaped, “why would we tell anyone?” 

“Don’t you know anything about us, Hermione?” Harry asked, gripping her chin so that she was looking into his green eyes, her own face reflected back to her in his glasses. “We don’t like to share…except with each other,” he added as an afterthought. 

“I don’t understand,” Hermione said, her eyes flicking back and forth between the three of them. 

Draco smiled from the shadows, a hungry sort of smile that made her core clench. “Don’t you?” he asked. 

Theo and Harry stood from the armrests, and the dynamic shifted very quickly. Harry pulled her up and against him, sinking back into the seat she’d just vacated, his arms circling around her and holding her against him. Theo stepped between their legs, his fingers undoing his belt buckle quickly. Draco merely cocked his head, as if in search of a better view. 

“We won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” Theo promised, pulling his cock out and stroking it in front of her. 

Hermione had chosen this seat for the seclusion it offered. She knew that unless someone came directly over to them, they wouldn’t notice anything amiss. If anyone happened to glance over, they would likely only see three friends chatting by the fire. If they came closer to investigate…well, they likely still wouldn't find anything amiss with the situation. The party was full of other couples doing far more questionable acts. 

Hermione looked at him tearfully, begging him with her eyes not to do this. He smiled maliciously. 

“Open up, Little Lion,” he whispered authoritatively. 

Hermione deliberated. She needed the money the magazine offered her. It was her one desperate chance at moving away after Hogwarts, of fleeing her stalker. She still needed to graduate Hogwarts with a perfect record; Falmouth University might be out of her reach, but smaller, lesser known schools might not be. She opened her mouth reluctantly. 

“A bit wider, Little Lion,” Theo coached her. “Or haven’t you ever done this before?” 

She blushed. She hadn’t. She hadn’t even kissed a boy yet, actually. 

“Fuck,” Harry hissed from behind her, his hands gripping her thighs as his cock began to stiffen against her bum, “a virgin,” he whispered reverantly. “I didn’t know Hogwarts had any left, at least, not with any of the witches of age,” he amended. 

Draco said nothing, just watched impassively. 

Theo grinned and rubbed the warm tip of his cock along the seam of her lips. It was an odd texture, not at all what she had expected; almost spongey in nature. As soon as the mushroom tip passed through her lips the hard shaft followed, the thin skin moving over the shaft beneath. Theo groaned, and some small part of Hermione that wasn’t horrified over what was going on delighted in the sound. 

Harry’s hands moved up her thigh, sliding under her skirt. She clenched her thighs together, trying to stop him. He chuckled behind her, the sound vibrating through her. 

“Don’t worry, love,” Harry said in a whisper so soft that she didn’t think Theo would be able to hear it. “It can be our little secret,” he promised. “No one else has to know how wet this is making you,” he breathed into her ear, and her stomach fluttered. 

Loathe as she was to admit it, Harry was right. She was turned on by this, even though she knew she shouldn’t be. She felt powerful, even knowing she was mostly powerless in her current situation. Theo groaned as he shoved his cock deeper into her mouth, and her core clenched again. That was power, wasn’t it? To make him lose some sense of his usual decorum as he groaned over the pleasure she gave him? She flicked her tongue over the head of his cock, pressing against the seam and frenulum, and his hips jerked in response. 

“Fuck,” Theo muttered, his hand moving forward to cup the back of her head. He moved himself in and out of her mouth, and drool seeped from the edges of her mouth. Harry took advantage of her distraction and pressed his fingers against her clit roughly, drawing smooth, languid circles. Her arse cheeks clenched in anticipation, and Harry’s cock twitched in response. 

He pulled her more firmly against him, so that he could grind his cock against her backside. He slid his fingers inside her knickers and groaned in her ear when he realised just how wet she really was. 

“Naughty naughty girl,” he teased, slipping a second finger inside of her. She rubbed her thighs together again. Pleasure was building deep in her core, her pelvic muscles clenching in anticipation. Theo was panting as he fucked her mouth. She glanced at Draco and was startled to find he had pulled his own cock out and was stroking it, watching the torrid scene play out in front of him. Harry worked his fingers faster and she was thankful Theo’s cock was lodged so fully in her mouth that it hid her small moan. 

Harry, however, felt the vibration of it, and chuckled. “You’re so good at being bad for us, love,” he praised, and her whole body thrummed with delight over his words. 

“Get ready to swallow my cum like a good Little Lion,” Theo warned, and pistoned himself in and out faster until suddenly he stilled, apart from the tiny involuntary jerks that accompanied his release as he shot thick hot ropes of cum down her throat. She couldn’t swallow fast enough and it began to pouch in her mouth, some of it mixing with her drool and spilling out. 

Harry was grinding his cock against her so hard she wondered how it could possibly feel good to him, with his trousers restraining him like that. 

“If you’re going to cum, love, and do it undetected, do it now,” Harry warned her, his fingers curling deliciously inside of her. Draco made eye contact with her, and she felt a warm tingle flash up her spine and into her brain until the room fell away, and she was picturing the three of them on an elaborate four poster bed. Theo was fucking her face, while she straddled Draco and rode his cock, and Harry hovered over her, his knees caging in hers and Draco’s as Harry pounded his cock into her arse, until the four of them came in unison. 

Hermione shuddered, coming back to herself as her cunt clenched around Harry’s fingers and her release overwhelmed her. Draco smirked and tucked himself back in his trousers, his wand waving away him cum from the floor in an instant. 

“Fuck, love, you’re going to make me spill into my pants like a fucking first year,” Harry groaned behind her, until he too was still. Theo tucked himself back into his pants, and then he and Harry shifted so that she was alone in the chair as they followed Draco out of the room.

Chapter Text

Three years later, Hermione stepped onto the grounds of Falmouth University. She’d avoided it for as long as she could, running as far as she could to escape Otto, the mysterious stalker who’d been haunting her for years. She hadn’t thought much of his letters at first; fan mail appeared common amongst the other girls that contributed to Wank Weekly . They’d told her to toss the letters, unless she wanted a chance at making a bit of extra money by becoming pen pals with the fans. 

Fleur had told her that some wizards would pay her to send them her old knickers! Gabi had bragged that she wrote men personalised fantasy scenes for up to ten galleons a story. Henrietta had said one of her fans just wanted her to send him raging, degrading, Howlers of how he was unworthy to look at her pictures, let alone write to her. 

Hermione had responded to a few of the tamer fan letters; most of them seemed like they just wanted a companion, someone to make them feel seen and appreciated. Otto had been one of the first she wrote to, but his letters had become possessive in a way that frightened her. He began to write to her as if he knew her outside of her anonymous photographs in Wank Weekly, asking after her OWLs scores and if she’d already begun studying for NEWTs. She should waste her time on boys, he told her, but rather she should save herself for someone who could take care of her. Someone who could protect her. Someone that valued her. Someone like him . 

He began sending her photographs of herself, taken from within Hogwarts, at Hogsmead, from the Burrow, even from her parents home in Muggle London. She’d stopped returning his letters, but he kept sending them, sometimes multiple times a day. She’d been accepted at a University in Australia, but transferred after a year when Otto finally found her. 

She’d thought she was safe in America, until she’d come home to find her flatmate murdered. Otto had sent her pictures of the two of them hugging, the word “whore” written across the photo in Kyle’s blood. It didn’t matter that Kyle was in love with a bloke named Connor; Otto had informed her she was his and no one else’s, even platonically. She’d had to Obliviate Connor, and clean up the crime scene, transfiguring Kyle into a ceramic frog and leaving it on the porch stoop before she Obliviated the landlord and left. 

Now, after a summer spent camping out in new towns every night, she decided she was tired of running. Ginny had begged her to join her, Pansy, and Luna at Falmouth - and after explaining that all three girls were applying to become Royals, Hermione had reluctantly agreed. Royal Women were protected by one of the Four Houses - the same four houses from Hogwarts - Slytherins, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws. While the Royals tended to accept applications only from their own alumni within Hogwarts, they occasionally accepted transfers. 

Pansy, for example, had gone to the Ravenclaws, and Luna the Hufflepuffs. Ginny had been accepted by the Gryffindors, and only the Slytherins had yet to choose their Lady. Knowing the more carnal nature of the current Slytherin Lords, Hermione was not surprised. She’d applied under a borrowed name; Milicent Bulstrode, a former Slytherin she’d gone to school with. Draco, Theo, and Harry would be sure to recognize her instantly, but at least she wouldn’t be turned away without an audience, as she feared she might be if she applied as Hermione Granger. 

Each of the Royal Families - the equivalent of a fraternity in the Muggle world - were allotted a large home on campus. Lords were selected each year to reside in the house. Hermione knew there was some point system, some secret initiation system that determined who the Lords would be, but she didn’t know what it was. Each of the Royal houses were placed in one of the four corners of the University, so that none were in danger of encroaching upon one another's territory. The Slytherin house was gothic in design, with several ornate windows and balconies. The dark exterior was to be expected, but Hermione felt nervous as she approached the door nonetheless. 

A small house-elf in a black apron with scalloped edges and an oversized bow led her to the sitting room. Two other girls sat inside, chatting to themselves. They’d dressed to impress, expensive heirloom jewels glittering about their necks and wrists, their shoes impossibly high, their cheeks pinched and tight. 

Hermione looked plain by comparison, dressed in a simple black skirt and emerald green sweater, her hair loosely pulled back with a snake pin securing it in place. She sat down and smiled at them, but they merely rolled their eyes and ignored her. They entered the room one at a time. The first left with mascara streaked cheeks. The second left with red knees and a superior expression. Hermione rose and followed the same elf from earlier, who deposited her inside an ornate conservatory, the night sky blooming behind the frosted glass windows. 

Theo and Harry were laughing about something and didn’t glance her way as she entered the room. Draco was reading a book with his feet kicked up on the desk, and didn’t look at her either as he said “the last girl sucked all of us off, so unless you can top that, you might as well leave now,” in a lazy drawl. 

Hermione shifted nervously on her feet. If anyone could protect her from Otto, it was these three. So she played the only card she had left - maybe freeing herself of this burden would free her of Otto’s attention as well. 

“She might have sucked you off, but was she a virgin?” Hermione asked. 

All three of them looked towards her sharply, and it felt as if the room had suddenly emptied of air. Theo grinned in an indulgent sort of way, leaning forward so that his forearms rested against his knees, looking like the portrait of some Muggle Mogul in his fancy suit. Harry, on the other hand, leaned back, his legs splayed wide as he leaned against the cushion behind him. He was in ripped jeans and a black leather jacket, and he lit a cigarette with his wand tip and blew out a stream of smoke that wound back into his nose and disappeared. His hair, which had always had a windswept, messy look about it, was cut shorter, so that the mess looked intentional rather than a by-product of his pillow. His glasses glinted in the moonlight. Draco was a blend of the two; he wore trousers like Theo, but his white shirtsleeves were rolled back and cuffed, revealing forearms that were covered in swirling black ink. A snake twined around his left forearm, but his right was covered in flowers. She could see the hint of ink across his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned, but couldn’t make out the design. 

His blonde hair was tousled rather than slicked back as he’d worn it in school, and he had the faintest hint of stubble along his jaw. Rings glinted along his fingers, and they clinked against the glass of Firewhisky he picked up and drank. 

“Well well well, if it isn’t our favourite Little Lion,” Draco smirked. “No offence, love, but I heard your last run in with us sent you scampering across the country, and Theo only fucked your face. How far would you run after we each fucked you?” He shook his head. “In order to be our Lady you have to submit yourself to us for a year. I don’t think you have it in you to last an hour, let alone a year.” 

“Why don’t we let her be the judge of that?” Theo interjected, winking at her. 

“Was it true then, love?” Harry asked. “Are you still a virgin?” 

She nodded, blushing. 

Draco snorted. “No way. I don’t buy it. A girl doesn’t sell nude pictures to a bloody porn magazine and stays a virgin. Especially not when she let one guy cum down her throat while his best mate finger banged her, and his other best mate mind fucked her.” 

Hermione froze, recalling that night, and the vision she’d had as she came. She’d thought it had been her own fantasy, something her mind came up with to cope with her conflicted feelings over what was occurring. The way her body had betrayed her as she grew wet for them, and the way she’d enjoyed swallowing Theo’s cum and clenching around Harry’s fingers. It made sense now that Draco had planted it in her mind; she’d heard rumours that he was an accomplished Legilimens. It was for that reason that she’d been studying Occlumency in preparation for coming here. She tucked the memories of Otto and his letters away, and her plans to use the Lords as protection against him. 

“What if she’s telling the truth though?” Harry asked, gripping himself through his jeans. “A bloody virgin , Draco! You know none of the other Houses will have one!” 

“Nah, I’m with Draco,” Theo said. “Even if she is a virgin, there’s no way she has what it takes to be a Lady, especially not our Lady.” 

“I can!” Hermione insisted. “I want to!” 

“Prove it,” Theo said. 

“How?” she asked. 

“Strip,” Theo said, watching her with those intense blue eyes. 

She dropped her skirt and knickers, kicking them away from her when they pooled on the floor at her feet. She pulled her top over her head - she hadn’t worn a bra - and then pulled the snake pin from her hair and tossed it at his feet. She stood before them, naked, save for her black heels. 

“Come here,” Draco commanded, patting the desk in front of him. 

Hermione hesitated, but moved forward at the look of satisfaction in his eyes. She would prove him wrong! She needed this; she needed them. She walked around the desk and stood on her tiptoes until she felt the lip of the desk under her arse cheek, then she slid backwards until she was sitting in front of him as he’d directed. 

“Spread your legs,” he said. 

She did, biting her lip as his eyes slid down her body and landed on her cunt. He trailed his fingers across her thigh as he stood up, so that she had to tilt her head back in order to see his face. He gripped the back of her neck as he slipped two fingers inside of her. She winced at the intrusion but made no move to stop him. 

“She’s not lying,” Draco said, pulling his fingers back and sucking them clean, his tongue poking between them in a way that made her insides feel like jello. He stepped away from her and her breath came out in a woosh. 

“There are spells to confirm that you know,” she informed him. 

“I know,” Draco said smugly. “I wanted to see if you could follow instructions. It would appear you can,” he smirked. 

“So can I be your Lady?” Hermione asked. 

“We’ll consider it,” Draco said, “until then…you’re dismissed.” 

Hermione blushed. She hadn’t expected they might say no. She slid off the desk and tugged her clothes back on in a hurry. 

“Thank you for your time and consideration,” she said demurely before leaving the room in a hurry.

Chapter Text

“Mate, it has to be her,” Theo said as soon as she left the room. 

Draco sighed. He feared that would be Theo’s reaction. Harry’s too, if he had to guess. Fuck, if he was being honest, it was what he wanted too. He’d wanted to fuck Hermione Granger since she’d punched him in the face third year when he’d informed Professor Lupin he didn’t think he could picture a hairbrush large enough to combat his fear of being strangled by her hair. 

He’d watched her ever since - all three of them had - wondering when the china doll shell she’d encased herself would finally break apart and reveal the truth beneath the mask. Hermione Granger might pretend to be sweet and innocent, but Draco knew she wasn’t. Harry had told them about how wet she was when Theo fucked her face. Had described in detail the way she’d clenched around his fingers the moment Draco had put that fantasy in her head. 

He’d had plans for her, but then she’d run off to a different continent, and he hadn’t seen her for three years. He thought his chance with her was over. Even if he did run into her again in the future there was no way she hadn’t let someone else fuck her into oblivion. No way she hadn’t attempted all the other kinky scenarios he’d seen inside her head. 

Yet here she was, still a virgin, offering herself to them on a silver platter. 

“I’ll have Bilby send her the contract. Let’s see if she’s still willing after she reads the stipulations,” Draco sighed. “Anything we need to add?” he asked. 

“Remind us of the contents,” Harry instructed him. 

Draco sat at his desk and pulled out a long scroll of parchment. Bilby, his family’s lawyer, had drawn up the contract at the beginning of the week, when they’d first started the application process, promising they could make changes if needed. The beginning was a long bit of legalese that Draco skipped over. The rewards for being Lady; staying in the House free of charge, her tuition paid, and all needs provided for, were outlined. Finally, he reached the stipulations for the Lady. 

Bilby was nothing if not meticulous, so some of them were rather mundane; the Lady must always be presentable, dressing in a manner reflective of her position and in accordance with the desire of her Lords. The Lady must be readily available to the Lords; their needs come first, always. The Lady may not speak to other males other than the Lords without their permission. Every encounter and exchange with the Lords is to be kept confidential; here Bilby had referenced the Non-Disclosure Agreement at the back of the contract. 

Then he moved on to the more exciting stipulations; pleasuring the Lords at their request or command, submission to punishment for violations of the stipulations, no masturbating or orgasming without permission, so forth and so on. 

“It seems rather obvious, but have Bilby add something saying she can’t have a relationship with any other males, emotionally or physically,” Theo directed. 

“No accepting food or drink from anyone aside from the Lords or our staff,” Harry suggested. 

“No wearing clothes beyond the ones we’ve provided her,” Theo added. 

Draco wrote them down, adding his own stipulation of “no locked doors,” at the end. He was nothing if not pragmatic. 

Bilby was summoned and directed to add the changes. The contract was presented to Hermione via Bilby, and subsequently returned to them with stipulations of her own. 

Draco read them to the boys over breakfast, smirking at her audacity. 

1. The Lady will remain on contraceptive potions throughout her time as Lady.

2. The Lords may not have relationships with women, or men, outside of the Lady, emotionally or physically. 

3. The Lords may not masturbate without permission; punishment for violation of this clause results in a 24 hour ban from physically interacting with the Lady. 

Her message was clear; if she was to be theirs, then they were to be hers.

After agreeing to her stipulations and amending one of their previous stipulations to match her wordage (the Lady may not have relationships with men or women outside of the Lords, emotionally or physically) the contract was signed, and Hermione was instructed to move in immediately following the completion of her final class for the day. 

“I don’t understand why we’re at a pub right now,” Harry grumbled to Draco. Theo nodded his assent. “We have a new Lady waiting at home for us, waiting to be broken in,” he reminded Draco. 

“And a fully stocked bar, with much finer vintage than this swill,” Theo grumbled, eyeing his drink warily. 

“We need to lay out the parameters of our game,” Draco explained, resting his elbow on the table as he ran his fingertips along the edge of the glass. 

Theo rolled his eyes. “We already won the game, remember? That’s how we’re the Lords this year.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes at Theo. “We are Lords because we have always been Lords. We are Lords because the title is ours by birth. I’m talking about a game more sophisticated than what the other Houses will be doing this year.” 

Harry leaned forward. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Hermione’s virginity, of course,” Draco said loftily. 

Now Theo sat up, his interest piqued. 

“We get points based on what we do with her, what she does to us, if she orgasms, if she begs, if she initiates, and so on,” Draco explained. He looked up when the door opened and waved Bilby over. “So, shall we begin drawing up a contract?” 

“Let’s start with the easy stuff then,” Theo suggested. “Oral?” 

“Five points for giving, ten for receiving?” Harry suggested. They all agreed. 

“Five for handjobs and fingering?” Again, they agreed. 

“Exhibition?” Theo asked, grinning mischievously. It was well known that Theo had an exhibition kink. “As a multiplier, perhaps?” 

Draco nodded his agreement. “Multiply by three if it's in a public space, and by two if it’s at home.” 

“And multiply by five if there’s people present, not just being in a vacated public space,” Harry mused. 

“On the topic of multipliers,” Draco remarked, “by three if there’s a spoken request from our Lady,” he suggested. 

“And by five if she begs,” Theo added. 

Harry grinned. “This is going to be good.” 

“What about masturbating?” Draco asked them. 

“Three for asking or granting us permission? Five for doing it in front of one another?” Theo suggested. Harry nodded. 

“When’s the game ending?” Theo asked. 

“Same as always,” Draco said, finishing off his drink, “the end of the year.” 

“The end of the year? No way! Hermione’s gone and banned us from sex with anyone else. You’re telling me we have to wait a year for the chance at a proper cunt fuck?” Theo exclaimed. 

“Oi, we forgot anal! Ten points?” Harry asked. Bilby added it to the contract. 

“Think of it as an advanced specialty in edging,” Draco suggested. 

“I hate you,” Theo grumbled.

Chapter Text

Hermione arrived at an empty house. She had expected them to be waiting for her, ready to strike the moment she walked through the door. She had been dreading it all day. Would they strip her bare and take turns fucking her face? Her cunt? Her arse? Or would it be a slow foray into her degradation? She honestly didn’t know which she would prefer. Would it be best to just get it over with, like ripping off a plaster? Or would she crumble under their onslaught? 

Bilby escorted her to her room, a large suite bigger than the entire Gryffindor Common Room and Dormitories back at Hogwarts. The four poster bed was draped in emerald green curtains. The bedding looked pristine and expensive. The wardrobe was filled with a variety of clothes that all appeared to be her size. It seemed that they had gone through the trouble of outfitting her with all new lingerie; lacy scraps of fabric that somehow qualified as knickers made up the majority of it. There were a few bras, though she found them with the outfits labelled “for public use” rather than the rest of the lingerie. So she was only meant to wear them in public, if she was following their logic. 

There was an assortment of muggle and wizarding clothes alike; dress robes, outer cloaks and the like making up half of her clothing, and a wide variety of muggle clothes making up the other half. There were leather jackets of every colour, likely selected by Harry. Ripped jeans and short skirts were the suggested pairing option with them. There were also sophisticated and finely tailored blazers, paired with trousers and pencil skirts, with designer heels nestled beneath them. Those would be from Theo, then. She supposed that left the sundresses as Draco’s contribution; a surprising choice, really. 

She poked her head into the washroom and delighted in the ornate tub and all the extras arranged next to it; potions, bath flakes, bath crystals, bath bombs, bubbles. It was as if they’d set up a mini Bubbles and Baubles in her bathing room. 

She left the confines of her room to explore the rest of the house. There were several tea rooms, dens, and personal studies set up on the first floor, as well as the kitchen and pantry. The small house-elf from the other day introduced herself as Matilda, and offered Hermione a variety of foods, ranging from simple to elaborate. Hermione accepted a small bowl of fruit and thanked her before continuing to explore the house. 

Her room was on the second floor, so she assumed it was the living quarters. She opened the door to the room across the hall from her. It was meticulously neat and organised, bordering on obsessive. If it weren’t for the full wardrobe she would have assumed it was a guest room. There were no personal artefacts to indicate anyone lived there. She assumed it was Draco’s, only based on the lingering scent of new parchment that she associated with him. 

She moved down the hallway into the next room. Here, the walls were covered in photographs, muggle and wizard alike. A large poster of pin up girls was pasted next to a moving image of Veela’s dancing under stage lights. Motorcycles and racing broom advertisements lined the walls, along with several bookshelves. A cover of Witch Weekly had been enlarged and placed above the bed, depicting a winking Theo on the cover with the words “Most Eligible Bachelor” flashing on the cover. Someone had crossed out “Eligible” and scribbled “Fuckable” in red ink just above it. Hermione rolled her eyes and left the room, the familiar scent of spearmint toothpaste still permeating her senses.  

She found no other occupied rooms on the second floor, but upon entering the attic tower she discovered Harry’s place of residence. Several owls hooted along the rafters, their droppings magically disappearing as they fell through the air. There were a few books stacked on the windowsill, but one large section of the wall had been outfitted with a muggle stereo system. Hundreds of CDs and cassette tapes lined the shelves around the stereo, and Hermione was surprised at his eclectic taste in music. 

Three guitars were hung up on the wall, though Hermione was not knowledgeable enough to pretend she knew what kind they were. A baby grand piano took up most of the floor space - dirty clothes took up the rest - and Hermione trailed her fingers along the keys in wonder. She hadn’t known Harry could play. The window had been left open, and a cool breeze drifted through the window. 

Hermione placed a cassette labelled Nocturnes in a messy scrawl into the sound system and curled up with one of his books on the couch. The room smelled faintly of grass; perhaps one of the house-elves had trimmed it prior to her arrival. It made her think of days spent napping with the window open, falling asleep to the drone of her father’s lawn mower. 

She woke to a creak in the floorboard sometime later, and looked up to find Harry staring down at her with an amused grin. She glanced behind him, but he was unaccompanied by either Draco or Theo. The open door let a small crack of light in, warm and golden. 

She cleared her throat awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she apologised lamely. 

“You don’t need our permission to fall asleep,” Harry teased. 

“No, just what to wear, what to eat, who to talk to, when to masturbate, or orgasm,” Hermione quipped sarcastically. 

Harry studied her, his head cocking to the side. “No one forced you to sign the contract,” he said casually. 

She sighed - if only that were true. “If you don’t like the rules, why did you agree?” 

“I need to be your Lady,” she admitted. 

“Need, or want?” he clarified. 

She looked up at him. “You’re smarter than you let on,” she theorised aloud. 

He chuckled and tapped his temple twice, “secret weapon,” he said with a wry grin. 

She stood up and stretched, blushing when she noticed the way Harry’s eyes roamed over her appreciatively. 

“I’ll just be going then,” she said nervously, inching around him towards the door. 

“Not just yet,” he said, his hand flying out to circle around her wrist. “You still need to be punished.” 

She paled, turning to look at him with a muted sense of horror. “But you said I didn’t need permission to sleep?” 

He stepped closer to her, his fingers gripping her chin so that she was forced to look up at him. 

“You don’t,” he agreed, “but I don’t take kindly to snooping,” he told her. 

“I…what do you want me to do?” she finally asked, resigning herself to the punishment. This was what she had agreed to, after all. 

He walked her backwards until she was caged against the piano. She winced when her elbow knocked painfully against it. He lifted her up until she was sitting on the surface, and he grinned at her. 

“Don’t move,” he warned her, and then sat down at the keys, his fingers flying over them as he dove headfirst into the song. She didn’t recognise the piece, but it flowed and crested beautifully, like waves on a shore. A soft swell of notes building to a crescendo and then receding again as the wave broke against the surf. She was captivated. Utterly and entirely captivated. The music swelled around her, and the vibrations clanged through her as she sat on the surface of the piano. She watched his fingers, sure and steady as they moved over the black and white keys purposefully. She remembered the way they’d moved over her thighs that night. The hard way he’d pressed them against her clit, manipulating her body into a frenzy just as he was doing with the music. Remembered the way they curled inside of her. 

Her core clenched; at the memory, at the sight, and the feeling of the notes vibrating against her. She shifted her hips minutely, trying to relive some of the pressure and ache that had begun to build, and he smirked at her. 

“I told you to be still,” he reminded her, and she froze. 

“Sorry,” she whispered. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he commanded. 

“What?” she asked breathlessly. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he repeated, looking pointedly at the gap between her thighs.

“I -” 

“Unless, of course, you’d prefer a different punishment…” he trailed off. 

“No!” she squeaked, lifting her skirt and placing her hands over her clit through her plain, white-cotton knickers. 

He watched her, his eyes fixating on her fingers as he carried on with the song, never missing a note. Her cheeks felt flushed from embarrassment, but also from anticipation. 

“Is it making you just as wet as my fingers did?” Harry asked huskily. 

She offered a tiny nod, biting her lip. 

“You know, sometimes, when I’m with a girl and I start to lose interest, I just picture you instead,” he admitted. “The way you moaned at the feeling of Theo’s cock in your mouth and my fingers inside of you while Draco watched,” he said slowly. Her fingers jerked and her core clenched. It was wrong to like that he pictured her when he was fucking someone else, wasn’t it? 

“I’ve never cum in my pants before,” he continued with a chuckle. “I think I wanked myself to the memory of your cunt clenching around my fingers at least three times before that night was over,” he told her. 

She was panting by this point, her cheeks flushed scarlett, her desire seeping through her knickers. She had hardly noticed that he had finished the song until he reached up and pulled her forward, so that her arse was barely on the piano. He leaned closer to her and pressed his face between her thighs, breathing in deeply when his nose brushed against her wet knickers. 

“So wet,” he murmured against the fabric. His breath was hot as it seeped through the slick fabric, and she whined softly. She could feel the outline of his lips against her, and his hands were once again digging into her thighs. He moved the fabric over with his thumb, but made no other move to touch her. 

“Tell me it’s okay,” he said, glancing up at her. She nodded, holding her breath. “Say it out loud,” he commanded. 

“Please, Harry,” she moaned, and he smirked before his tongue flicked out and stroked from the base of her cunt all the way up to her clit. 

“Fuck,” she muttered, one of her hands reaching back to support her on the piano, the other gripping his hair tightly. 

He pressed his face more firmly against her, inserting his tongue inside of her, as well as two fingers. She whimpered again, her head falling back in pleasure. 

It did not take long for him to bring her pleasure to a crescendo as well, and then she was falling apart around him, without warning. He hummed against her, his tongue lavishing her as she orgasmed. He sat back when she’d finished, her knickers sliding back into place. She could see the sheen of her arousal on his face, and he wiped it with a lazy hand. 

“Did I grant you permission to orgasm?” he asked, his eyes flashing with amusement. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She had forgotten that rule. 

“No,” she admitted with a sigh. 

He pulled her off the piano and dumped her roughly on the beige leather sofa. “Take off your knickers,” he said forcefully. She winced, but shimmied them down her legs and over her heels and offered them to him. 

“Your punishment will be my reward,” he said, unbuckling his belt with a flourish. “You don’t know how much harder you’ve made this for yourself, with the clause about us not masturbating without your permission,” he warned her. “I think you underestimate how often we do that,” he chuckled. “So, Lady,” he whispered, pulling his cock out as he leaned back on the opposite end of the couch, his legs splayed wide so that she could see him quite clearly, “grant me permission.” 

“I…you have my permission?” she asked, struggling to wrap her mind around what was happening. This was her punishment? Allowing him to masterbate? 

“Thank you, Lady,” he smirked, “and just so you know, you don’t have my permission.” 

“Oh,” she thought, “there’s the punishment.”  

He muttered a lubrication charm and fisted his hand around his cock, holding her knickers up to his face as he pumped his hand in a circular motion up and down his shaft. Occasionally he would rub his hand over the tip of his cock, stimulating the head, but then he would go back to moving it over the shaft. She watched, fascinated, as he masturbated. 

“Do you know Legilimency?” he asked breathlessly. 

“No,” she admitted. 

“What a shame,” he said, “that you can’t see what I’m picturing right now.” 

She blushed and fantasies came to her own mind, unbidden. Of Harry, with his face pressed between her thighs as she laid out on the piano, or the sofa, or the bed. Harry, his face tilted back against the cushions in pleasure as she stroked his cock. Harry, pulling her over to him so that she straddled him and he slid himself between her legs. Her abdomen clenched, and her cunt throbbed. Without her knickers in place, she worried the evidence of her desire would be visible when she stood up from the sofa. 

Harry moved her knickers so that they were wrapped around the head of his cock, and then with a few final short jerks, he came loudly in her knickers. 

“Come here,” he demanded when he’d finished and recovered for a few moments, his body reclining limply against the sofa. 

She rose and walked over to him. He held her knickers out for her, his cum cupped in the centre. “Step in,” he prompted, assisting her to thread her heels back into her knickers. He pulled them up, and she gasped at the feeling of his cum sliding against her cunt and trickling down her thighs. He ran his finger up her thigh, collected the bit that had seeped out, and held it up to her. She opened her mouth automatically, and sucked it off his finger. 

“Good girl,” he praised, standing up and kissing along her neck, “but not good enough that I’ll give you permission to masturbate,” he whispered before biting her earlobe. “Now,” he said slowly, “get out of my room.” 

Hermione scampered out, nearly running into Theo as he came up the stairs. “Sorry!” she shouted, and prayed he wouldn’t call after her as she ran into her room and shut the door.

Chapter Text

Harry grinned to himself as he sat back at the piano, his fingers moving slowly over the keys as he began a new composition. Theo strode into the room, looking confused. 

“Why did Hermione just run out of here like her knickers were on fire?” Theo asked, plopping down on the couch with a huff. 

“Ah, they definitely weren’t on fire,” Harry chuckled. 

Theo narrowed his eyes on him. Harry shrugged, “they might have been filled with my spunk,” he explained nonchalantly. 

Theo’s face morphed into shock and anger. “You didn’t -” 

“No! Of course not!” Harry rushed to explain, “I didn’t cum inside of her ,  just her knickers.” 

“Oh,” Theo said, sinking back into the couch from when he’d started to get up. 

“Hmm, should we add ejaculation locations into the point system?” Theo mused. “Three for her face, five for her mouth, ten for her arse, and two for anywhere else?” 

“What if she spread her legs and let us shoot it on her cunt?” Harry asked with a smirk. 

“Yeah, ten for that as well,” Theo agreed, “and five more if it gets shoved inside by us or her,” he added as an afterthought. 

“Wicked,” Harry said gleefully. “So, that would put me at 32 points then,” Harry said with a grin. 

“32?” Theo cried out, shocked? “What the bloody hell happened in here?”

Draco walked in and sat next to Theo on the sofa. “What are you shouting about?” he asked Theo. 

“This wanker ,” he said, jerking his thumb towards Harry, “says he’s got 32 points already!” 

“No fucking way,” Draco scoffed. 

“I do, and I can prove it,” he said smugly. 

“The pensieve can’t detect fantasy from memory,” Theo reminded him.

Harry rolled his eyes, “right, but the videotapes can,” he said, gesturing to the small cameras hidden around the room. “And you lot said it was a waste of time to learn muggle technology,” he snorted, “I knew Sirius was right to teach me anyway.” 

He pulled up the video feed on his laptop and showed them. They both shifted uncomfortably, readjusting themselves as she moaned and whimpered. 

“ Fuck”   Draco groaned, “he’s mostly right - he got 30 points by my calculations.” 

Theo sighed. “No, he’s right. We added an ejaculation category. He has 32.” 

“Hang on, I haven’t agreed to an ejaculation category,” Draco argued. “So even if I do agree to it, the contract we have now doesn’t account for it. So he’s at 30.” 

“Semantics,” Harry shrugged, “still have 30 more than you blokes, and I don’t have to beg our Lady to let me wank one out over that video, because I got to live it,” he gloated. 

Draco and Theo glared at him. 

“Right, well, we need those cameras installed throughout the house first thing,” Draco told him, “so that we can account for every point.” 

“What about when we’re outside of the house?” Theo asked. 

Harry tossed a small device towards him and said “body cams.” Theo nodded, pursing his lips together as he studied the small bit of technology. 

“And have Bilby amend the contract,” Harry reminded Draco as he rose from the sofa. 

Draco nodded and waved a hand dismissively. 

Theo loped down the stairs, coming to a stop outside of Hermione’s room. He rapped his knuckles twice against the door. She opened it, peeking through the crack. 

“Have you eaten?” Theo asked. 

She opened the door wider, propping her hip against it. “Just some fruit that Matilda prepared for me,” she said. 

“Are you hungry?” 

He could see her considering it for a moment before she finally said “yes.” 

He motioned with his head, “let’s go.” 

“Where?” she asked, following him into the hallway. 

“You said you’re hungry,” Theo chuckled, “let’s remedy that predicament.” 

Hermione glanced down at her clothing. He wondered if she still had on the knickers that Harry had jizzed in. He kind of hoped she did. 

“I know a great pizza place,” Theo offered, and she perked up. 

“I didn’t know there were any pizza places near Falmouth.” 

“If you know where to go,” Theo grinned and offered her a wink. He slipped his hand into hers and led her out of the house, before apparating them to the back alley of a quirky little muggle joint called Pizza 42. 

“Pizza forty-two?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“Pizza for two,” Theo corrected her, “it’s a play on words. They donate half their profits to feed local families in need,” he explained. 

“Oh,” Hermione said softly, “that’s really nice of them.” 

“It is,” Theo agreed, holding the door open for her to walk through. The interior was decorated with thrifted tables, none of the chairs matching. Local artwork hung on the walls, and a large black and white mural had been erected, depicting smiling children waving at the camera with forks and knives clenched in their hands.  

Theo led them to the counter and ordered himself a dairy free pizza and a salad. Hermione requested a pepperoni pizza. After accepting their waters they headed to a table. Hermione placed the little square with the number 36 in the table stand, so the waiter would know where to bring their meals. 

“So,” Theo said, smiling at her, “what are you planning to study?” 

Hermione blushed, surprised by the question. “Oh, um, I would really like to work at the Ministry one day, so I’ve been studying Magical Law. Not all of my credits have transferred over from my other Universities though, so I’ll have to retake some of the pre-requisite courses.” 

“Why didn’t your credits transfer?” 

“I guess because they were from international universities,” Hermione mused, leaning back when the waiter appeared so that he could slide her personal pizza in front of her. She thanked him, and pulled a slice towards herself, enjoying the way the cheese stretched and pulled. 

“I didn’t realise you had been at multiple Universities,” Theo said conversationally, wincing at the long strand of cheese that dangled from her pizza. His own cheese cut easily and showed no signs of stretching. 

“Why are you eating dairy free cheese? Are you lactose intolerant?” 

“I’m consuming-the-milk-from-a-random-creature-intolerant,” Theo said, biting into his own pizza. 

“But you eat meat,” Hermione argued. 

“If it’s locally sourced and I’ve toured the farm,” Theo countered. 

She giggled. “You’re one of those sorts, then?” 

“One of what sorts?” Theo asked sharply. 

“Hippy? Crunchy? There’s lots of names for them.” 

“I’m environmentally and nutritionally health conscious,” Theo growled. 

She laughed again, “all right, all right,” she said airly, “whatever you say.” 

They finished their meal, the conversation only feeling stinted a few times. Theo threw an arm around her shoulders as he walked her back through the quiet little town. He grinned when he spotted a pub. 

“Fancy a drink?” he asked. 

She wrinkled her nose. “Not really, but I’ll sit with you while you drink, if you want one.” 

“What a good Lady you are,” Theo praised, beaming at her. They sat at a table in the back, and Theo sipped at his whiskey while they laughed at the piss poor karaoke. 

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Hermione commented at one point, laughing. 

“Like what?” Theo asked. 

She shrugged, “normal?” she wondered. 

He snorted. “You thought it was going to be us fucking you over every inch of the house and beating you with whips and then fucking you again after we tied you to the bed?” 

She blushed, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard. “Well, not exactly that, but yes,” she admitted. 

He sipped his drink again and placed it back on the table, running his fingers over the rim. “This can be good for you too, you know?” he asked. “We can reward you when you deserve it,” he promised, “you’re the one who decides how often we punish you.” 

She nodded again, a blush creeping up her cheeks. He loved how responsive she was. He wanted to sink his teeth into her innocence and rip it to shreds. 

“Harry rewarded you earlier, didn’t he?” 

The blush spread and deepened. “He told you that?” Hermione asked in a high pitched voice. Theo grinned. 

“He also told me he punished you. Tell me, Little Lion, do you still have his cum soaking through your knickers?” 

She fidgeted, ripping the napkin into long, thin, shreds. “No,” she said finally. He thought that meant she had changed, until she added “the cum is dry now.” 

His face morphed into a grin. What a bold little minx she was! 

“Interesting,” he whispered, and tipped the rest of the drink into his mouth. He stood and grabbed her hand, tugging her along behind him. He ignored her questions about where they were going, and pushed open the bathroom door. He bent over and peered under the stalls to see if they were alone. He didn’t really care either way, but he wanted to know.  

He shoved her against the sink and took her face in his hands, before pulling her mouth to his. She froze, her body going absolutely still against him. He leaned back, confused by the reaction. 

“I…I’ve never kissed anyone,” she admitted, looking panicked, “I don’t know what to…how to…what if I’m bad at it?” she finally asked, looking as if she might cry.  

He bit back a groan. Fuck , she’d never even been kissed before? How had she gone this long and remained so innocent? He shook his head but said nothing, merely pressed his mouth to hers once more. She slowly began to mimic his movements, and she gasped in surprise when he ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth. He grinned despite himself and pressed his tongue into her mouth, flicking it over hers until she opened wider. He licked the roof of her mouth and she groaned. 

He paused, panting as he studied her face. “I brought you in here to punish you, you know,” he said, “for thanking the waiter. You’re not allowed to talk to other males without our permission,” he reminded her. 

She closed her eyes tightly, her forehead wrinkling, and he saw her mouth “ fuck,” to herself. He smirked again. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, opening her eyes to look at him. “I forgot, there’s so many rules, and they’re all so new, and -” 

“Shhh,” he interrupted, stroking his thumb across her cheek. “I know, I know,” he soothed. “The punishments are to help you learn,” he said softly, reaching between them to pull down her knickers. He could feel the dried remnants of Harry’s earlier deposit. 

She glanced anxiously over his shoulder at the door. “Theo, the door, anyone could come in!” she hissed. 

“Then we should be quick,” Theo whispered back, undoing his belt and pulling out his cock. 

She glanced down, alarmed. “You want to…here?” she whisper-shrieked in shock. 

“Oh, love, you haven’t earned that yet,” he crooned, chuckling softly. He slid his fingers under her skirt and inserted two inside of her. She gripped his bicep at the sudden intrusion. “Ah, there you are,” he hummed in satisfaction, feeling the heat of her as she clenched nervously around his fingers. There was no mistaking the wetness that greeted him. 

He nipped at her jaw, and licked at the spot just under her ear. She panted slightly, and he nibbled on her earlobe. He felt her reach out to touch his cock tentatively, her thumb swirling the precum across the tip. He jerked into her hand at the feeling. 

“Allow me,” he said, taking her cock from his hands and guiding it between her thighs, using his feet to push her feet closer together, until his cock was trapped between her thighs. Her arousal would provide enough lubrication in a moment. 

“Now I’m going to fuck your thighs,” he told her, and “I’m going to paint my cum all over your perfect little cunt, and then you’re going to pull your knickers up to keep it there.” She gasped again, and he grinned to himself as he bit down at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and began to buck his hips against her, so that his cock dragged through the slick arousal dripping out of her, her thighs gripping him deliciously. 

She gripped at his shirt, clawing her hands down his back until she could find some purchase and hang on. She squeezed her thighs tighter and he moaned. 

“Fuck, Little Lion, just like that,” he panted. He moved his thumb down and pressed it roughly against her clit. “If this was a reward,” he told her, “I would move my thumb. Instead, it’s a punishment, so you only get to feel the pressure of my thumb and the jerk of my cock against you.” 

She moaned, and then buried her face against his chest to try to stifle the sound. 

“I know you were turned on watching Harry,” he said, “and I know he told you that you couldn’t touch yourself tonight,” she whimpered, her nails digging into his back. 

“Do you want me to give you permission to touch yourself tonight, Little Lion?” 

“Yes,” she panted, “yes, please , Theo,” she whined, grinding herself against him. He gripped the rim of the sink behind her, his knuckles white with concentration as he reminded himself he couldn’t grip her hips and just slide inside of her until he was buried in her like he wanted. 

“Tell me what you want,” he growled.

“I want to touch myself tonight, please,” she moaned. “I want you to cum all over my cunt right now,” she begged. “Please, Theo, please,” she cried. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he grunted, “I’ll cum for you, Lady,” and then he pulled back so that he could aim his cum to splash directly against her cunt. She whimpered and he scooped it up and shoved it inside of her, curling his fingers as he did so to give her some of the internal stimulation she was so desperately craving. 

“Theo,” she panted, gripping at his shoulders, “Theo please, I’m so close,” she moaned. 

“Oh, but Lady, I haven’t given you permission to orgasm,” Theo tutted, withdrawing his fingers but leaving the butt of his palm pressed against her. She bucked against it, and he grinned. “Do you want to orgasm, Lady?” he asked. 

She nodded, biting her lip as she bucked against his hand again. 

“Can you orgasm with my hand?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she nodded, “yes!” 

“Prove it,” he challenged. 

She blushed, “can you…never mind,” she murmured. 

“Can I what?” he asked. 

“Canyoustickyourfingersinsidemeagainplease?” she asked in a rush.

“Come again?” he chuckled. 

“Can you stick your fingers inside me again, please?” she said again, avoiding any eye contact. 

“As you wish, Lady,” he said again, curling two fingers through her slit so that they rested inside of her. She moaned, and began to grind against him again, angling herself so that she could buck her clit against the butt of his hand, and also bounce herself on his fingers. 

“Better hurry, Lady,” he whispered, “I hear someone in the hallway,” he warned. She tensed at the laughter echoing at the far end of the hall. 

He curled his fingers a bit to help her out, and she moaned again, grinding against him until she clenched, and her whole body began to tremble as she pressed her face against him and bit his collarbone to keep from screaming her release. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he groaned as she pulled her knickers up in a hurry. He buckled his pants and then kissed her firmly, his hands winding through her hair. She moaned again, and he nipped at her lip. She jumped when the door swung open, and a group of girls giggled at the two of them. Theo smirked as he said “apologies, ladies,” and led Hermione back out of the bathroom. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” Hermione said in a small voice as he pulled her out of the pub and into a dark sidestreet so he could apparate them back to the house. Theo merely winked at her and deposited her at her room, brushing his thumb over her lips before walking to his own room. 

Draco watched this interaction from the hallway, having disillusioned himself when he heard their arrival. He followed her into her bathing room, watching as she undressed slowly. She took her knickers off last, and he could see the damp patch inside of them. He wondered if it was left from Harry earlier, her own arousal, or if Theo had made a deposit as well. 

She poked at the hickey on her neck, and she brushed a finger over her swollen lips. “What have you gotten yourself into,” she asked her reflection, before sighing and drawing a bath. 

She sank into the steaming basin, nearly overflowing with bubbles, and sighed again. Draco watched her, content with his silent voyeurism. She was beautiful, in an understated sort of way. The kind of beauty that took you by surprise. 

When the bubbles had finally dissipated Hermione rose from the bath, water cascading down her breasts and stomach, and over her legs. She towelled off quickly, threw her hair into a plait, and climbed into bed. He watched as she tossed and turned before finally drifting off to sleep. It made him nostalgic; he used to sneak into the Gryffindor Dormitories and watch her at Hogwarts too. 

He liked the way her lips puckered open in her sleep, and the way her eyelids fluttered when she was dreaming. It had taken him months to work up the courage to slip his cock out of his pyjamas and stroke himself over the sight of her. She usually slept in a tight camisole with thin straps, her breasts barely contained by the fabric. Her nipples would poke out on the cooler nights, and they taunted him. She slept in plain knickers, and would inevitably kick a leg out from under the covers when she got too hot. 

He vividly remembered the first time she’d had a sex dream, her soft moans and the scrape of the fabric as she’d ground against her own hand in her sleep. He’d ejaculated all over himself watching her, and he’d brazenly traced a swipe of his cum across her lips. Her tongue had darted out and she’d licked it up, and fuck if it didn’t get him hard again. 

He’d fed her his cum every night after that, never daring to do more. He’d wanted to dose her with a dreamless sleep potion and fuck her limp body, but he’d restrained himself. He’d thought about placing a full body bind curse on her and fucking her as well, but worried she would be too stiff. When they’d learned about the Imperius Curse it had taken extreme force of will not to put it on her and demand she ride his cock until morning. 

Draco knew he was a sick bastard. The problem was that he didn’t care. Now, she was here at his mercy; his own perfect little sex slave, and he couldn’t even take advantage of her properly. Why the fuck had he suggested they wait until the end of the year to determine who got to fuck her? Then they wouldn’t even have time to enjoy her after that. He would definitely revisit that in the morning. Perhaps Christmas would be better? Maybe Halloween, even. 

She moaned in her sleep, and it snapped his attention back to the present. This wasn’t Hogwarts. She didn’t have roommates. He didn’t have to be quiet, or gentle. He could hold her down and fuck her face if he wanted. He could tie her arms behind her back, pull her arse into the air, and fuck her bumhole if he wanted. He did neither of those things. 

Instead, he dove into her mind and watched her get railed by him there, her face pressed into the sheets, her legs thrown over his shoulders as he pounded into her. 

“Please, cum for me,” she begged.  

He smirked to himself and pulled out of her mind, and gripped her hand, yanking it away from her cunt. She awoke with a start. 

“Dreaming about me, are you, Lady?” he smirked. 

“Draco,” she gasped, “I…” 

“No need to deny it,” he told her. “I’m sure plenty of girls dream about me fucking them. I’m more concerned that you were touching yourself. Tell me, did Harry or Theo give you permission to touch yourself in your sleep?” 

“No, but I didn’t mean to, I mean, I was asleep, I didn’t know I was doing it, I just -” 

“Excuses excuses,” Draco tutted. 

“You can’t honestly be upset with me over a dream,” Hermione said indignantly. 

“Oh, I’m not upset at all,” Draco promised with a grin that bordered on malevolent. “Still, rules are rules. You would hold us accountable, would you not?” 

“I … if you were sleeping?” she huffed. “I don’t know, I would have to think about it, and -” 

“So if you walked in on any of us rutting against our beds and moaning, you wouldn’t punish us?” Draco asked. 

She blushed. “I wasn’t rutting!”  

He climbed over her, straddling her stomach, his knees trapping her arms to the bed, and she immediately fell silent. His pyjamas disappeared with a flick of his wand, and he was staring down at her. Another flick of his wand and her pyjamas were gone as well. Her skin felt flushed beneath his, his bollocks resting against her stomach. 

Her mouth dropped open with a flourish as she took him in. The snake on his arm slithered and twined around his bicep, and the flowers swayed on a phantom breeze. A dragon coiled itself around him, moving from his chest to his back, the tail curled around his ribcage and abdomen. 

“There’s no need to be ashamed, Little Lion,” he said, trailing his fingers down her sternum. “You want us to ask for permission to masterbate; we ask the same of you. You asked me to cum for you in your dream, allow me to do you the honour,” Draco said in a low voice. He rubbed his thumb over her left nipple and she arched her back, though she didn’t go very far, trapped as she was by his knees and body. 

He smirked and did it again, capturing it between this thumb and forefinger and rolling it lightly between them. She squirmed beneath him. “Patience, Lady,” he whispered, pinching her right nipple as well. Her brows furrowed and she pleaded with her eyes. He massaged her breasts, cupping them in his hands, and her hips jerked. 

“Open your mouth,” he demanded in a hoarse whisper. 

She complied, and he gripped her so he could lean forward, sliding his knees off her arms and onto the bed in order to relieve some of the pressure; his shins, however, remained across her arms. He rose onto his knees and angled his hips so that he could place the tip of his cock at her mouth. 

“Lick me,” he commanded. She strained, lifting her head so that she could reach his cock, and he groaned loudly when she licked at his precum. He leaned closer to her, so that she could wrap her lips around the tip to hold it in place while she licked at the slit and the frenulum. His muscles tensed as he watched her, his breath catching in his throat. Fuck it felt good to have her lips around his cock. He pushed forward slightly more and his tip scraped across the roof of her mouth, her lips shoving the skin further down towards the base of his cock. The wood of the headboard groaned under his grip, and he sank further into her mouth, his breath whooshing out in a tortured sort of gasp. 

He pushed until he was fully in her mouth, and she gagged, tears streaming down her cheeks. He waited until her face was red and her eyes were panicked to pull back, allowing her to catch her breath. He pumped into her mouth a few more times and then withdrew, sinking back on his proverbial haunches to place his now glistening cock between her breasts. He cupped them with his hands and shoved them together, until they formed a sort of tunnel for him to pump his cock in. His bollocks dragged against her body as he fucked her tits, and she watched with a bewildered sort of fascination. 

“Where do you want me to cum?” he asked a bit later, enjoying the way her eyes widened. 

“Where do you want to cum?” she asked breathlessly. He traced his thumb across her lips. He wanted to watch her drink down his whole load, the way he’d always wanted her to back at Hogwarts. He also wanted to be the one to tear through her virginity.” 

“Your cunt,” he answered finally. 

“If it would please you,” she replied, her cheeks flushing. He suspected that's where she wanted him to cum too. 

He scooted back and placed the tip of his cock directly on the lips of her cunt - not far enough for it to slide in, but enough to be touching it, and stroked himself until hot ropes of cum shot out on her cunt. He had to admit, it was surprisingly sexy. 

“Can I touch myself?” she asked quickly, her voice strained. 

“Yes,” he allowed, “but ask for permission before you orgasm,” he warned. 

He was surprised when she quickly scooped up his cum with her fingers and shoved it inside, swirling it around and then smearing the remainder on her clit and moving her fingers in quick, decisive circles, applying pressure to grind it over her pubic bone for the pressure it provided. 

“You like the feel of our cum inside you, don’t you?” Draco asked smugly. 

Her hand paused for a second, but she made no comment. 

“Imagine how it will feel when it’s coating your cervix, so deep inside you that it take a bit for it to start to drip out,” he whispered, “when your tight little cunt is milking it out from our cocks, one after the other, so that you don’t know whose is whose anymore.” 

She moaned, her fingers moving faster. 

“Have you felt all our cum against that sweet cunt today, Lady?” he asked.

“Yes,” she hissed, her eyes closed tightly, her toes curling and her free hand gripping the sheets. 

“Our perfect little cum slut,” he praised. “You were always meant to be the Lady of Slytherin.” 

“Draco, I’m going to, I need to cum,” she whined. 

“Scream my name when you do: let the others know who's claiming you right now,” he demanded. 

“Draco!” she shouted, her voice breaking as her hand body began to spasm with her release. 

“There’s my good girl,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

Hermione woke slowly, stretching out on the bed and sighing before dragging herself to the shower and washing the various remnants of bodily fluids off herself. She treated herself to the various hair serums and cosmetics available to her afterwards, leaving her skin smooth and her hair silken. 

She paired a pair of skinny jeans with a strapless black bra and one of the white gossamer blouses, cuffing her jeans so that the emeralds were visible on the ankle strap of the black high heels. She slid the silver snake cuff bracelet around her left wrist, and swiped red lipstick across her lips, blowing herself a kiss in the mirror before heading to the kitchen.  

The boys were seated around the table, Matilda depositing breakfast plates in front of them. For Harry, a full English breakfast. For Theo, an egg white omelette. For Draco, a platter of eggs and bacon. 

Matilda trotted over to her. “What would the Lady like to eat?” 

“Oh,” Hermione said, surprised, “I suppose just some buttered toast and jam, and some tea, please.” 

She took the seat next to Harry, and pretended she didn’t notice the smug look he shot towards Theo and Draco. 

“We’ll be escorting you to class today,” Draco said coolly. 

“Okay,” Hermione said, unsure of how else to respond. 

“Remember,” Theo warned her, “no talking to any other males.” 

“Or accepting food or drink from anyone but us,” Harry chimed in. 

“I won’t,” she said lamely. 

“Harry and I have Quidditch practice today, so wait for Theo to escort you home,” Draco instructed. 

Theo winked at her. “Don’t worry, Lady, I’ll keep you company,” he promised. 

She blushed at his flirty tone. 

“We’re throwing the first House party of the season,” Draco pushed on, “after the Match on Friday. Bilby will give you a detailed outline of how you’re expected to behave.” 

Conversation stopped as Matilda presented Hermione with her breakfast. 

“She’ll take the tea to go,” Draco directed. Matilda nodded, transferring the tea into a travel mug and passing it back to Hermione. 

“Haven’t I time to eat?” Hermione asked. 

“It’s toast,” Draco scoffed, “it can travel.” 

Hermione sighed and picked up a piece. Harry snagged the other off her plate and bit into it, grinning at her protest and slinging his arm around her shoulder. 

They walked to campus, and Hermione briefly wondered why they didn’t apparate if they were in such a hurry, until she realised this was a chance to show off their Lady. 

Other students whispered and pointed, and she blushed when Theo’s hand slid into her back pocket. Draco led the pack, his black cloak billowing behind him. He turned to face her when they reached the stone archway that signaled the entrance to the main campus. He cupped her face and kissed her before turning and striding away without a second glance.  

Theo tugged her against him and kissed her next, leaving her breathless and dizzy when he released her. Harry grinned at her, placing a light peck on her lips before continuing to walk her to her first class. 

If she’d thought the other students were staring before, that was nothing compared to the way they ogled them now. She leaned against Harry, enjoying the weight of his arm around her shoulders. Of the three, he felt the most approachable somehow, the most familiar. If things had gone differently in their youth, she thought they might even have been friends. The sun warmed the leather of his jacket, and she sank into his side as they walked. 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead outside of her classroom, and she was surprised at how sweet it was. Then, of course, he ruined it by placing a firm smack against her arse as she turned to go into the classroom. A few onlookers jeered and cat-called as she blushed and quickly sat down near the back. 

The lesson passed quickly, Hermione scribbled her notes furiously as the Professor prattled off facts in rapid succession from the front of the room. Her hand was cramping by the time she’d finished, and she massaged her fingers after she packed her bag and walked to the door. 

A boy in a tight fitting Quidditch shirt approached her, his eyes raking across her body. She crossed her arms, regretting the sheerness of her blouse. She’d felt sexy and edgy back at the House; now she just felt like the House Whore they all likely thought of her as. 

“Hey,” the boy said, his mouth pulling up into a smirk. 

She offered him a thin smile but said nothing, brushing her hair behind her ear and walking quickly, pulling her book up to her chest and wrapping her arms more firmly around it. 

“Did you transfer in or something? That was a third year course, and I swear I would have noticed you before now otherwise,” the boy said, falling in step beside her. 

Theo appeared and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. 

“So, Shitdick, I see you’ve met my Lady,” Theo said smugly. 

“My name’s Chadwick,” the boy corrected with a scowl. 

“Right, Shitdick, that’s what I said,” Theo smirked. 

“Whatever, man,” Chadwick said, rolling his eyes and walking away. 

“Did you talk to him?” Theo asked, his grip tightening on her hip in a possessive squeeze. 

“I didn’t, I swear,” Hermione promised. 

Theo grinned down at her. “Good girl,” he whispered, placing a knuckle under her chin and tilting her head back so he could kiss her. She gripped his shirt as he deepened the kiss, and he grinned against her mouth. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you sharing is caring?” Harry asked, coming up behind them and placing a hand around her throat before jerking her back against him and replacing Theo’s mouth with his own. 

She heard Theo scoff in the background. Harry released her mouth far more quickly than she would ever admit she wanted him to, and the three of them walked towards her next class. Draco was waiting for them, leaning against the wall outside of the classroom and ignoring the gaggle of girls chatting animatedly around him. He brushed past them when he noticed the trio’s approach, their disappointment not even registering to him. 

Hermione smiled to herself when he took her hand in his and leaned forward to brush a kiss across her knuckles. Theo and Harry each pressed a kiss to her cheek before leaving, and Draco led her into the classroom, choosing seats on the back wall and glaring at anyone that looked their way. Suffice to say, there were three rows between them and any other students. 

“You’re taking this class too?” Hermione asked, surprised. 

“I intend to take my family’s seat on the Wizengamot someday; I’d like to understand every facet of the law if I intend to manipulate it,” he explained in a bored tone. 

Hermione scoffed at his arrogance. His eyes flashed with annoyance. 

“Something funny, Lady?” he whispered, leaning his head closer to her. At the front, the Professor began speaking. A quick quotes quill took notes for Draco as he waited for her reply. 

“I’m just surprised, that’s all,” she whispered back. 

“By what?” 

“That your neck doesn’t ache all the time.” 

“Why would my neck ache?”

“From supporting your fat head,” she said in a saccharine voice, fluttering her lashes at him. 

“Careful, Lady,” he warned in a low growl. “I’ve heard you orgasm, I don’t think you could do it without getting us kicked out of class,” he threatened. 

“What?” Hermione asked, panicked. 

“A Lady doesn’t disrespect her Lord,” Draco said slowly, his hand inching up her thigh. “It’s a punishable offence.” 

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked in a small voice, her eyes darting around the room to see if anyone noticed what was happening, especially the professor. 

No one appeared to be paying them any attention. 

“Shh, I’m trying to learn,” he said, nodding towards the front of the room. 

Hermione tried to follow suit, but she was constantly distracted by the way his fingers drew patterns on her inner thigh, slowly inching higher. She sucked in a breath when his fingers traced along the seam of her jeans. She squirmed, and he smirked slightly. 

“Draco,” she warned. 

“Learning,” he whispered back, his eyes never leaving the professor. He nodded absently at something the professor said, but his fingers pressed more firmly against the seam of her jeans, right against her clit. 

He moved his fingers faster, and she gripped his thigh. Her breathing became slightly heavier as he continued to tease her, and she glanced around frequently, worried someone would sense what they were doing and call them out. 

The seam pressed directly over her clit, scraping against it through the thin knickers she’d fished out of her lingerie drawers that morning, and she bit her knuckle to keep from moaning aloud. 

“You have my permission to orgasm,” Draco whispered, as if he were making some grand gesture in allowing it. 

“I’m not going to orgasm in class,” she whispered back, “I can’t orgasm in class.”

“Oh, Lady, do you have such little faith in my abilities?” Draco asked in mock hurt. She realised her mistake when he began working his fingers faster. He’d taken her words as a challenge, and she knew from Hogwarts that he was very competitive. This was wrong, so, so wrong, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

“Fuck me,” she whispered, gripping his thigh tighter as her core clenched. 

“Is that an invitation or a request?” Draco asked. 

She ignored him, trying to stifle her moans. She shifted in her seat and the wood groaned. She tensed, waiting for someone to turn around at the sound. No one did. 

“Draco,” she warned, panting slightly. 

“What’s the matter, Lady? I thought you said you couldn’t orgasm in class?” 

“Draco,” she said again, though her voice had taken on the edge of a whine. 

“Say please,” he whispered in a sing-song sort of way. 

“Please,” she said through clenched teeth. 

“All you had to do was ask,” he said, and withdrew his hand from her lap. 

She glared at him; that was not what she had been asking, and he knew it. He kept a smug expression on his face the rest of the lesson, and she marched off as soon as it was over. 

Theo greeted her at the door. “What has you all in a huff?” 

Draco came up behind her, still smirking. 

An idea came to her then. “Theo,” she said, trying her best to sound seductive and enticing, “Draco edged me during class and I’m feeling rather…needy. Would you care to help me?” she asked, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes. 

“Of course, Lady,” Theo grinned, wrapping his arm around her shoulder once more and flipping Draco the bird as he guided her away from him and towards the Library. Hermione winked at Draco, and he scowled after them. 

Theo led her through the library, until they were in the dark, cool, confines of the stacks. He shoved her roughly against the shelves, one hand gripping her hair at the nape of her neck, the other unbuttoning her jeans in a practised fashion. 

She moaned into his mouth as he shoved her jeans down enough for him to be able to get his hand inside her knickers. 

“Fuck, Little Lion, he had you so wet for him,” Theo groaned, resting his head on her shoulder as he looked between them. He worked his middle and ring finger inside of her, curling them against the front wall of her cunt, his thumb working over her clit. 

She gripped at his biceps again, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“He gave me permission to orgasm,” Hermione told Theo, worried he might bring her right to the edge and then deny her, as Draco had. 

“Oh, and then didn’t give it to you, what a mean Lord,” Theo pouted sympathetically. “Was he punishing you for something?” 

“I told him he had a fat head,” she admitted. 

Theo chuckled to himself. “Ah, well, you definitely deserve a reward then,” Theo promised, increasing his pace until she was shaking. 

“Please, Theo, don’t stop,” she moaned. 

“As you wish,” he whispered, kissing along her neck. 

She broke apart around him, left arm wrapping around his neck as she clung to him for support, her right still gripping his bicep as she shuddered and moaned, uncaring - at least in the moment - if anyone heard them. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” Theo sighed, sucking his fingers into his mouth as she pulled her jeans back up. “Now for my reward,” Theo said, unbuckling his belt as he stared at her meaningfully. She glanced around, and then dropped to her knees. 

He looked down at her with a smirk, and for a moment, she was seventeen again, and Theo was forcing his cock into her mouth while Harry held her in place. She blinked, and the moment passed. 

She pulled his cock out and stroked it a few times before placing her mouth around it, bobbing back and forth at a fast pace. 

“A little slower,” Theo said, and she slowed, sucking harder, so that her cheeks hollowed out. His eyes rolled back a little, and he placed his hands on the bookshelf in front of him for support. 

She reached up a hand to tentatively cup his bollocks, massaging the sacs with her fingers and then releasing his cock from her mouth to trace her tongue up between them. 

He stared at her, wide eyed, as she mouthed them, doing her best to mimic the swirling motion she’d watched Harry do with his hand around his shaft the night before. 

She moved her mouth back to his cock, and he growled, fisting her hair as he pistoned in and out of her mouth. She leaned into it, as he bottomed out, shaking her head side to side a little as she gagged, her forehead rolling across his abdomen. 

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, “so much better than last time,” he grunted. “I’m going to cum so far down your throat,” he promised. She sucked in a breath and then he shoved into her mouth again, thick ropes of cum hitting the back of her throat and sliding down. Even with the warning, she wasn’t able to swallow it all down, and it dripped down the sides of her mouth and over her chin. 

“You look so good with my cum dripping down your face,” he sighed, wiping away her tears gently. 

“Thank you for helping me,” she said when she’d cleaned herself up. 

“The pleasure was entirely mine,” he promised.

Chapter Text

The rest of her lessons were woefully uneventful. The boys traded off escorting her to class, their kisses growing progressively more indecent as the day went on, leaving her restless and bothered in class. She shouldn’t be restless and bothered; she’d orgasmed in the bloody library for Godric’s sake! 

Her knee bounced as she replayed their various encounters in her head. They were careful not to place their cocks in the one place it actually mattered, leaving her virginity intact. It surprised her, really, that they hadn’t fucked her yet. She wondered what they were waiting for. Wondered why she felt impatient for it. 

She knew she should hate them. They had all taken pieces of her that night so many years ago, little bits of her body and her innocence that she couldn’t get back. Sure, she’d sold nude pictures to a porn magazine - but that had been her choice. 

If Theo had asked if he could fuck her face, without the threat of them revealing her secret, would she still have said yes? She certainly hadn’t said yes to Harry when he’d touched her in her most intimate of places. Hadn’t agreed to let Draco insert himself in her mind. 

But she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t masturbated to the memory of each of those moments over the past three years. That she hadn’t had wild fantasies of them, separately, and together. 

There was something that felt so good about being bad for them. To let them degrade her. To let them use her. To surrender herself to them and their wants, needs, and desires. It gave her more purpose than anything else in her life, even if it was an ugly truth. So she wondered who the most fuck up of the four of them was; them, for using her for their own pleasure, or her, for relishing it? 

All three of them were waiting for her after her last lesson. Draco and Harry were in their Quidditch gear, and damn if they didn’t look fit. The breeches were tight and form fitting; similar to the way muggle baseball pants might fit. Their bums were on fine display, and Hermione liked the way they laced up at the waist; a sort of cock corset that she wanted to undo slowly. She wondered if they ever rutted against the broom handles. Fuck, why was she wet thinking about them rutting on the broom handles? 

They walked across campus to the Quidditch pitch, and Draco and Harry turned to face her. 

Draco leaned forward and pressed his lips against her ear. 

“I have a spare Quidditch jersey at home. You’d look great sleeping in it,” he teased, biting down on her earlobe. He winked at her as he stepped back. She wondered if that meant she was forgiven for asking Theo to assist her after Draco’s stunt in class. 

Harry yanked her over to him and pressed a hard kiss to her face, pulling back only slightly so that he could slide his glasses onto the top of his head before crushing his lips to hers once more, and damn if the adorableness of that move didn’t do something to her heart rate. 

He walked her backwards until she was trapped between him and the wall, and he pressed his hips firmly against her, so that she could feel the bulge of his cock. 

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he panted against her lips, his hand sliding under her shirt and pulling her bra down so that he could massage her right breast. “I’m so fucking horny, Hermione, and it’s all your fault,” he moaned, “denying us the glory of a morning wank,” he pinched her nipple and she whimpered against his lips, “and walking around looking like that.” 

She arched her back, leaning into his touch.

“I can’t think straight, I’ve been a waste all day. Failed a fucking pop quiz because I couldn’t stop picturing my face between your thighs last night,” he said in a husky voice. 

“I give you permission to grind your cock against your broomstick and cum in your pants,” Hermione moaned into his ear as he ground his cock against her, the laces of his breeches catching on the button of her jeans. 

He pulled back to smirk at her. “What a devious Little Lion you are,” he teased, biting her bottom lip and pulling back, until it slipped from between his teeth. 

“Oi, go to practice before you get her pregnant!” Theo called over to them. Hermione grinned to herself when she noticed the way he and Draco were both adjusting themselves through their pants. 

Harry flipped them the bird and leaned in for one last kiss, gripping her arse as he did so. She stumbled a bit when he released her, and Theo pulled her against him in a possessive sort of way. 

“Have fun with your waffles, or whatever the fuck you call them,” he grinned at them, and then apparated them back to the house. She startled when she realised they were in Draco’s room, and Theo was pinning her to Draco’s bed. 

“Why are we in Draco’s room?” she asked with a laugh. 

“Because that obsessive little fucker will be monumentally perterbed when he finds the evidence of our mutual orgasms all over his bed when he comes home later,” Theo smirked. 

“Oh,” she exhaled, watching as Theo stood to remove his trousers and undergarments. 

He threw himself back onto the bed, adjusting the pillows so he could recline against the headboard. He flicked his wand and his bag zoomed over to him, and then he pulled out his notes. 

Hermione watched him, unsure of what was happening. 

“I…um, what are you doing?” she asked finally, when it became apparent that he would not be providing her any details or instructions. 

“Studying,” he said simply. 

“With no pants?” 

“Well, I thought they would get in your way,” he explained, looking at her in a way that implied she should have realised that. 

She felt very stupid, but pressed forward anyway. “Get in the way of what, exactly?” 

He smiled at her, setting his notes down beside him and running his thumb across her cheek. 

“What a naive little thing you are,” he said tenderly. She blushed beneath his gaze. “You’re going to lay here with me while I study,” he said slowly, guiding her so that her head rested against his stomach. His cock bobbed directly in front of her face, a string of precum clinging to his abdomen. 

He rested his notes against her shoulder blades. His cock twitched again. He began humming something softly under his breath, his quill scratching as he annotated his notes. It felt like some sort of out of body experience - like a strange, surreal, daydream. Another drop of precum beaded up on the tip, and Hermione moved forward slightly to lick it away. Theo gave no indication that he noticed. She pushed him further into her mouth, letting it rest against her tongue and the roof of her mouth. 

He began to play with her hair absentmindedly, his quill still scratching against his notes in irregular intervals. She suctioned her cheeks into a tight vacuum around his cock, and the quill jerked sharply across the paper. 

“Lady,” he reprimanded her, “I am trying to study,” he said through clenched teeth. “You need to be still .” She froze, her eyes wide, her heart hammering. Drool began to pool in the cheek pressed against his abdomen. “Much better,” he praised, resuming his humming and playing with her hair. 

Her cunt clenched, and she could feel her arousal start to seep into her knickers. Why was this such a turn on? She wasn’t even doing anything, other than holding his cock in her mouth, but it felt strangely intimate, in a way she hadn’t yet experienced with any of them. 

She tried to be still as she swallowed some of the drool that was pooling in her mouth, but then that caused a rush of more drool and she needed to swallow again. Theo gripped her hair warningly and she froze again. 

Fuck, how long had he been studying for? It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. She wanted him to stop, so she could give him a proper blow job, and hear that deep guttural moan of his again. She wanted him to flip her onto her back and fuck her mouth and throat while she choked on it. She didn’t want to think , she just wanted to be whatever he needed her to be at that moment. His cock bobbed in her mouth and she whimpered. 

“Yeah, okay, fuck it,” Theo announced, tossing his notes off the bed so that they scattered all over the floor, his fingers twining into her hair at the roots. She moaned and began to suck his cock in earnest. His left hand roamed over her arse, his fingers slipping between her legs and pressing into the heat between her thighs. 

“These jeans look painted on,” he moaned appreciatively. She whimpered again when he pressed against the seam of her jeans. Fuck, she was going to wear skirts from now on, no matter the weather. She ground against his hand and he chuckled again. “Such a needy little thing.” 

He pushed her away from him and she pouted, until he tugged at the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head, before removing her bra. He guided her off the bed and kneeled before her, gripped her ankle, undoing the buckle and sliding her heel off. He repeated the process with her other shoe, and then slowly pulled down her jeans and knickers. He swallowed thickly as her cunt came into view, and he pressed his forehead against her lower abdomen as he breathed in deeply, and blew a stream of air across her exposed clit. 

She moaned, her hands falling into his hair. He prompted her to step out of her jeans, and then he laid back across the bed. “Come here,” he said thickly, pulling her onto the bed with him. He grabbed her hips and shifted her so that she was gripping the headboard, her knees on either side of his head, and he pulled her down onto his face. 

“Bloody hell,” she moaned, as he pressed his tongue inside of her and began fluttering it. His arms wrapped around her legs, so that her hamstrings rested against his biceps, and his forearms were digging into her quads, his fingers digging into her muscles. 

She looked down, surprised by how much she liked the image of him trapped beneath her thighs. She looked behind her and noticed his cock twitching again. She tried to lift herself off of him, but he pulled her down tighter, and she became distracted by the motion. She slowly began to grind down on his face, and he rewarded her with a groan that vibrated through her as his warm breath shot inside of her. 

“Theo,” she said in a breathless voice, gripping the headboard tighter. “Theo!” she screamed when he released one of her thighs and began working it over her bumhole. She could feel him chuckle beneath her, and then his finger slipped through the tight ring of muscles and she felt as if she might black out from the onslaught of pleasure. She came without warning, her cunt clenching and spasming as her bumhole clenched around his fingertip. She felt a splash of something hit her arsecheeks, and she was startled to see that he was cumming as well, more ropes of cum shooting out across his chest and abdomen. 

He finally released her, withdrawing his finger and his mouth, and letting her climb off of him. She immediately leaned forward and placed the flat of her tongue across his chest and licked a large line of cum up. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, watching her. She licked some more, her tongue swirling around his bare nipple, just to see how he would react. He leaned back heavily against the headboard, supporting his head with one arm behind him as he watched her. She moved down his stomach, her tongue tracing the peaks and valleys that formed in the outline of his abdomen. She licked up the pool of cum that had formed in his belly button, until finally she closed her mouth around his cock once more. It was slowly transitioning back towards a flaccid state, and she decided she wanted to see how long it would take before he became hard again in her mouth. So she rested her head against his damp stomach and kept him in her mouth as he began stroking her hair again. 

“Damn, Draco is going to shit himself when he sees you two,” Harry said, startling Hermione from her dream. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, didn’t realise it was even possible to fall asleep with a cock in her mouth, but she had. 

“Piss off,” Theo growled, “our Lady here was just using my cock like a bloody binky and you’ve ruined it.” 

“Yes, well, our Lady told me I could cum in my pants at practice if I wanted, and I wanted to let her know that I saved it up for her instead,” Harry retorted. 

Hermione looked up at him with sleepy eyes, grinning slightly. Harry grinned back at her when he noticed her expression. 

“You’re such a cum slut,” he said, as if he found it endearing. 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Fine, I guess you can join us. What’s one more cum stain for Draco to throw a fit over?” 

“We could make it a gift for him,” Harry suggested, shooting Theo a look that made the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. 

“What wonderful friends we are,” Theo said playfully. 

“Yes, very giving,” Harry agreed. 

“And when does our lucky friend return home?” Theo asked, climbing off the bed to rifle through Draco’s wardrobe. 

“He was going to run a few more drills on his own - I think he was trying to work through some pent up energy,” Harry said conspiratorially. 

“Hmm, so we have some time,” Theo mused, yanking a Quidditch jersey with the name Malfoy stitched across the back off of a hanger. 

He tossed it to Harry, who shoved it roughly over Hermione’s head. Theo came up behind her and pulled her arms through the sleeves and then gripped them in his wrist as he tapped his wand against them, ropes shooting out to bind them together. 

Harry grabbed her ankles and tied them each to a post of the bed while Theo secured her bound wrists at the centre of the headboard. 

“What are you doing?” Hermione shrieked, tugging at the ropes. They chafed, and her wrists and ankles were soon smarting and raw. 

“Just a little present for Draco,” Theo said reassuringly, patting her cheek. 

Harry unlaced his breeches with a slow tug at the strings, until they were loose enough that he could pull his cock out and begin stroking it. Hermione swallowed thickly as she watched. 

“You wanted me to rut against something?” Harry asked, climbing over her until his cock was nestled against her cunt, the lips barely cupping it. A bead of precum rolled down and dripped onto her clit. He began to grind against her; she wasn’t quite sure that she could call it rutting, she thought that humping might be a better word. Still, it was exquisite, the way his hard cock rubbed against her clit. 

He groaned, and buried his face against her collarbone. “Fuck, love, you feel so good,” 

“Harry,” she moaned into his hair, desperately trying to buck her hips up against him, but unable to due to how tightly they’d restrained her. “Harry, I want you to cum on me,” she begged softly, her breath rustling his hair, “Harry, please, spread it all over my cunt,” she whined. 

“As the Lady commands,” Harry said, leaning back so he could aim it properly. His cum washed over her in a warm deluge, slippery and dripping, and internally, her cunt clenched, as if reaching for it and trying to draw it in. 

“Fuck,” Theo groaned, “me next?” he asked, looking at Hermione for permission. She nodded, and Harry moved out of the way, moving his mouth to her breast as Theo swirled the tip of his cock in Harry’s cum, grinding the tip against her clit. Hermione moaned loudly, and Theo grinned. 

It did not take long for him to add his cum across her cunt, and it dripped and mixed with Harry’s as it soaked into the bed sheets below her. 

The front door slammed and Theo and Harry exchanged wry grins and pulled their clothes on in a rush before exiting Draco’s room. She heard them talking out on the landing. 

“What are you two idiots up to now?” Draco asked. 

“Just setting up a little gift for you,” Theo sniggered, and then their footsteps receded. 

Hermione watched the door anxiously, tugging at her restraints. It had felt sexy in the moment, but now she was worried over Draco’s reaction and that he would blame her for it. She didn’t know if she could handle another one of his punishments. 

Draco paused when he noticed the state of her and his bed. He walked slowly towards her, his eyes trailing across her. 

“Well, at least you’re in my jersey,” Draco said finally, “even if you’re wearing another man’s cum.” 

“Other men’s cum,” she corrected, and then winced when he quirked a brow. 

“You mean to tell me that you’re in my bed, with both Harry Potter and Theodore Nott’s cum dripping onto my bedsheets?” Draco asked incredulously. 

“Um…yes?” she whispered. 

He released the clasp on his cloak, allowing it to fall to the floor in a heap. He stepped towards her and locked eyes with her, and then suddenly the memories of the afternoon were flashing in front of her as Draco watched them. Draco slowly undid his own breeches as he watched the memories, climbing over her until his own cock was resting in their still warm cum. 

He began to grind against her, relishing in the feeling. In her mind, she watched the image he showed her of what he really wanted to do. 

He gripped the base of his cock so he could angle it towards her, dragging the tip through his best mate's cum, the tip sliding up and down her entrance. 

“Draco,” she panicked, “I’m scared. What if it hurts?” 

“It won’t hurt,” he lied in a soothing voice, “I’ll just start with the tip,” he promised. 

He did as he said, sliding his cum covered tip inside of her, just until he felt her clench around the flared edges, right where the most pressure would be. He withdrew, the flared edges struggling to find purchase on her slick inner walls until it slid free again. He rocked back into her, loving the small pants and moans falling from her lips. 

“Draco,” she whimpered. 

“Tell me what you need.” 

“I don’t know,” she wailed, “I don’t know, something more,” she begged. 

He grinned and slammed into her all the way, his hips thrusting forward into hers until he couldn’t possibly push in any farther. She screamed, the sound loud and shrill, and his cock twitched inside of her at it. 

“You said it wouldn’t hurt,” she whimpered, a tear sliding down her cheek. 

“It won’t in a minute,” he promised, pulling back. The sight of his blood mixing with Harry and Theo’s cum, and his own arousal, made his head pound. The moment she began to relax he slammed in again, her body lurching towards the headboard before the restraints pulled her back. 

She was crying softly, tears leaking down her cheeks, and it made him feel beastial. 

“Draco, slow down, it hurts,” she begged. 

His hand circled around her throat, and she froze. He squeezed slightly, gripping her as he slammed into her again. She let out a strangled sort of gasp, and he offered her a feral grin. 

“Admit it, Little Lion,” he growled, “you like it. You like the way it hurts, and the way my throat is cutting off your air. The blood is struggling to get to your brain, and your head is pounding in time with the throb of your cunt. The world is going hazy, and all you can see is me, and all you can feel is me, and you fucking love it.” 

She moaned, and her cunt clenched around him. 

“You can breathe again when you cum on my cock,” Draco promised, and he felt her twitch and spasm as he began to fuck her in earnest. 

She clenched around him, her hands clawing at him, until he finally released her. She gasped, and then she was crying: not because she was scared, but because it all felt so good she didn’t know how else to respond. 

“I’m going to cum inside you now, so deep that it will still be dripping out of you in class tomorrow, and your perfect little cunt is going to milk it out of me. I don’t care that Harry and Theo came on you, because I’m the first one to cum in you,” he growled into her ear before biting down on her shoulder as he pushed deeper inside her one last time and roared through his release. 

Hermione cried out, bucking her hips against him as his vision brought her to her climax, and then Draco was cumming across her stomach and cunt, until he collapsed on top of her, spent from the day, from practice, from the legilimency, and from his own release. He released her from the restraints with a muttered incantation, laying his head to rest against her chest. He didn’t even notice the fluids soaking into his sheets or his clothes as he fell asleep on top of her.

Chapter Text

Draco woke to a warmth around his cock, his hips bucking forward slightly into the wet opening. He’d been having a rather erotic dream about Hermione curled around him in her sleep, and he’d sort of just slipped his cock inside her. 

Unfortunately for him, his cock was not deep inside Hermione's cunt. Fortunately for him, it was deep inside her mouth. At some point during the night she had curled into him, and she was currently…suckling on his cock, rather than actually sucking on it. She made a sort of mewling sound, her body jerking slightly, and a soft exhale came from her nose. 

Was she sleeping? With his cock in her mouth? Fuck if that wasn’t supremely sexy. An image of her clutching a teddy to her chest, her hair in pigtails, as she called him Daddy came unbidden to his mind. He bit back a groan at the thought. He realised he was entirely more depraved than he had thought.

She made the soft little whimpering sound again, and he moaned under his breath. He summoned his pocket watch to check the time. It was nearing 2 in the morning. He really needed to rest before the Quidditch match, but he didn’t think he could now that he was thinking depraved lusty thoughts about the witch using his cock as a pacifier. 

He wondered if it were possible to edge himself like this? It wasn’t as if she were truly sucking his cock, but her mouth was warm and wet, and she occasionally swallowed her drool or gave a suck that was a little harder than the others. He could still jerk his hips and shove his cock into her mouth if he wanted. 

All the fantasies of fucking her mouth while she slept in her Hogwarts dormitory came back to him. He wondered how much he could fuck her mouth before she woke up. If he came, would she swallow it unaware? Now there was definitely no chance of him falling back to sleep. He rolled slowly, a mere centimetre at a time, so that her cheek finally came to rest on the bed rather than him, and his cock remained secured in her mouth. 

She let out an adorable little moan that would have made him hard if he wasn’t already. He pushed himself slightly further in her mouth and she gagged slightly, but did not stir. If anything, the gagging helped because her mouth filled with more saliva, allowing him the extra lubrication he needed. 

He pulled out a little - never allowing the tip to leave her mouth for fear he wouldn’t be able to get it back in. She shifted slightly in her sleep, her thighs rubbing together a bit. In the moonlight he could see the shimmer of her arousal between her legs. He wanted nothing more than to pull his cock from her mouth and slide it inside her wet cunt, but the rules of the game prevented it. He really needed to speak with Harry and Theo about moving that timeline up. Halloween was only a few weeks away; he could hold out that long, couldn’t he?

Her hand inched slowly across her body, until her fingers began rubbing against her clit. He began to fuck her mouth a little faster. She moaned in her sleep. 

“You like warming my cock in your sleep, don’t you, Little Lady?” he whispered, more for his own twisted fantasy than anything else. He’d meant to call her Little Lion, but Little Lady had just slipped out instead, the image of her with pigtails still fresh in his mind. 

“You like sucking Daddy Draco’s cock, don’t you?” he crooned, pushing in deeper than he had yet. Her hand worked faster against her clit. He moved his own hand over hers, moving hers gently out of the way so he could insert two of his fingers inside of her, dragging them through her lips and revelling in how wet she was. 

She moaned loudly around his cock, and he glanced at her, worried she would wake herself up. She slept on, her hips bucking against his hand. He was living out his own fantasy, using her limp body for his own pleasure. He leaned forward and tongued her nipple, and she whimpered. He sucked it into his mouth, his fingers still working over her clit and in her cunt, and he continued to piston his cock slowly in and out of her mouth. She moaned again, and he shuddered, a thrill running down his spine. 

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re going to make me cum if you keep making that sound,” he groaned in a strained whisper. Her cunt clenched around his fingers and she moaned again, louder. 

His sac drew up tightly, his arse clenching as he tried to hold back. After a third moan, he knew he couldn’t. He began to cum in her mouth, unable to shove his cock towards the back of her throat before his orgasm burst free. 

She began swallowing it, her eyes blinking open in a slow, dazed sort of way. 

“Drink Daddy Draco’s milk, baby,” he sighed, half delirious from his pleasure. She continued to swallow, until he was drained and spent. He brushed a hand slowly over her hair, and her eyes fluttered closed again, her mouth going still on his softening cock. “That’s a good Little Lady,” he praised, pulling the sheet over her before falling back to sleep himself, his cock still warm in her sweet little mouth. 

“So we were thinking,” Theo began over breakfast, his words came out in a hushed whisper lest their Lady finished getting ready for the day in less time than usual and stumbling into their conversation, “that this year-long timeline is really too long.” 

Harry nodded in affirmation. “Think about it, mate,” Harry jumped in, “we would only have a few days at best to properly treat her as we would any other Lady.” 

“So what would you suggest?” Draco asked, delighted that he could pretend to be magnanimous rather than desperately horny in negotiating an abbreviated timeline for their game and Hermione’s subsequent loss of her virginity. 

“Christmas?” Theo suggested. 

Harry rolled his eyes, “ Halloween,” he scoffed impatiently. 

“It can’t be Halloween,” Theo argued, “because of our… costumes, ” he trailed off. 

“Hmm, yes, well that would make for a memorable first time,” Harry mused, his eyes growing distant as he contemplated. “Well, in that case, I suggest a week from Tuesday.” 

“And what would the significance of ‘a week from Tuesday’ be?” Theo questioned. Draco observed their verbal sparring match with amusement, content to let them bicker and scheme. 

Harry shrugged. “Why not? Catch her off guard, and all that,” Harry said with a wry grin that made his eyes glint in a dark sort of way. 

Theo grinned back. “Right then, a week from Tuesday?” he asked, turning to Draco. 

“What the hell,” Draco said ambivalently, “a week from Tuesday.” 

Hermione was - as usual - taking her time with her morning routine. The Lords had spoiled her in terms of beauty products (magical and muggle alike), cosmetics, and clothing, and she intended to savour every moment of it. Being a Lady had its perks; orgasms and finery, what more could a witch ask for? 

She dressed in one of the pretty sundresses, knowing their season was coming to an end as summer dipped into autumn. She twirled in the mirror, the circle skirt of the dress swishing and looping around her before settling prettily around her hips, ending at the mid thigh. The dress itself was modest - at least compared to some of the other outfits in her wardrobe - even with most of her back exposed. She plaited her hair in a crown around her head, so the full effect of the dress could be noted. 

She paired the dress with flats rather than heels, further contributing to the modest sort of maiden vibe she had going. Her stomach flipped anxiously as she made her way down the stairs, unsure if her Lords would approve of, or even like, such a simple ensemble. 

Their hushed whispers stalled as she flounced into the kitchen, accepting a bowl of fruit from Matilda as she moved toward the table. She settled - to the immense surprise of all the Lords - onto Draco’s lap. If Theo and Harry were going to play games at her expense then she could do the same at theirs. So she shifted and squirmed on Draco’s lap until she was comfortable, and he was decidedly hard, and then she popped a grape into her mouth as she greeted the room at large. 

“Good morning! Lovely day isn’t it?” she asked. 

Draco’s hand was warm as he placed it on the bare skin between her shoulder blades, the callouses from his wand and broomstick alike scraping pleasantly across her back. An odd thing to be aroused by, and yet she was. Or maybe it was the fact that despite the multiple orgasms she’d received by their hands - or their mouths - and the one’s she’d given them (in much of the same fashion), they’d yet to have sex with her and it left her… on edge . It wasn’t that she wanted to have sex with them so much as she had expected it to happen already, and was now left to wonder if she was displeasing to them. Part of being their Lady meant providing them with sexual gratification at their will, and though she knew she could bring them to orgasm, it did not instill confidence in her abilities that they had yet to actually fuck her; at least, not in the literal definition of the word. 

When they failed to reply she swallowed awkwardly and turned her attention to Theo. 

“Did you have good dreams last night?” she asked politely. She hadn’t meant much by it, it was just a routine conversation starter from the breakfasts of her youth. 

Under the table Draco’s hand had begun to creep up the skirt of her dress, and she tried to keep her face impassive and her body still. His cock twitched slightly under her bum, and she leaned slightly forward to grab the sugar from the centre of the table before pressing back roughly against him. His fingers dug into her thigh in response as he gripped her closer to him. 

Across from them, Theo himself had shifted slightly in response to her question. 

“I had very… enticing dreams, my Lady, thank you for asking,” he said with a satisfied sort of smile. The tone of his voice and the glint in his eye made her wonder what exactly he had dreamed about, and if she had been involved. 

“And you, my Lord? Any good dreams?” she asked, directing the question towards Harry. She turned to look at him as she asked, her attention having been fully directed at Theo beforehand. She was startled to see he had his cock out and was stroking it slowly, his eyes fixated on where Draco’s hand had moved towards her centre, her dress pulled aside without her notice. Harry smirked at her, his head cocked to the side as he studied her diligently. Behind her, Draco ran his tongue over his fingers before slipping them into her knickers and pressing them against her clit. She gasped in surprise, a blush spreading across her cheeks. 

Harry worked his hand up his shaft, his wrist twisting and his elbow locking out straight as he applied pressure. She glanced at Theo and found he was doing the same thing, his knee bumping against Harry’s occasionally from where they had both splayed their legs wide in order to give themself more access. Theo’s other hand was fondling his bollocks, and a thrill shot through her stomach. 

“We need to leave soon,” Draco informed them, his breath heavy against her ear. 

Hermione laid her head back against his shoulder when the hand that was not moving to bury itself inside her ripped the neck of her dress aside to palm a breast. The seams gave way with a sharp tearing sound, her dress fluttering away from her as Draco pinched and rolled a nipple, and she moaned softly at the feel of it. 

His cock was pressed between her arse cheeks, and the buckle of his trousers was digging sharply into her lower back but she didn’t care because the feeling of him humping her backside was making her vision go hazy. Would he cum in his pants the same way Harry had so many years ago? The thought of it made her feel light and dizzy, and strangely powerful. She ground back against him, and his fingers slipped further inside of her, his signet ring scraping over and against her until it too was pressed inside of her, the metal cool and heavy against the slick warmth of her cunt. 

Harry rose from the table, his cum weeping with precum as he strode purposefully over to them. Draco shifted so that they faced out, allowing Harry to step between their legs. One of his hands found the back of Hermione’s head, while the other gripped Draco’s shoulder, and then he was thrusting into her mouth with rough grunts. Draco timed his fingers to the pace Harry set in her mouth, his hips canting up against her at the same speed. 

Draco pressed his lips against her ear once more, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t be heard by the others. 

“Drink your milk,” he whispered seductively, and it brought back a memory of the night before, one she’d thought she’d dreamed, with Draco cumming in her mouth as he called her baby and his ‘good Little Lady.’ 

Harry thrusted into her mouth three more times before he groaned, his hand tightening in her curls, his sac twitching and pulsing against her chin as he shot ropes of cum down her throat. He stepped away only for Theo to take his place, his hand circling around her throat rather than in her hair. His hands tightened, pressing against the side of her neck. She felt the loss of air and blood flow to her brain almost immediately, her vision darkening at the edges until she could see only Theo. Draco’s ring was scraping against her as he curled his fingers inside of her, scraping against some place she herself could never quite reach. She could taste Harry’s cum still at the back of her throat, a heady, salty sort of taste that overwhelmed her senses. 

Draco’s cock was still scraping against her, only three thin scraps of fabric separating them. Theo pressed a little harder, and tears leaked from her eyes. Her head was starting to swim, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the pleasure Draco was subjecting her to, or what Theo was restricting her from. Her pulse was loud and heavy in her ears, the beats sounding somewhat sluggish. Theo relaxed his grip and she felt the world rush back to her as Draco’s fingers pushed just where she needed them too and suddenly she was tumbling into the abyss of pleasure they’d dragged her to and all but thrown her in. Theo practically snarled as he shoved forward and let out his own torrent of cum down her throat. 

Draco waited until she’d stopped clenching around his fingers before he shoved her off of him, pushing her under the table until her knees banged onto the cold tile floor. He hadn’t even finished pulling his cock out when she lurched forward and grabbed it herself, pulling it into her mouth and sucking at it greedily. His hips bucked up in surprise at the amount of suction she used, her mouth vacuuming against him until the roof of her mouth hurt with the force of it. 

“Fuck,” he hissed from above her his hands gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. She grinned to herself and began bobbing her head against him, allowing drool to seep out of her mouth and coat his cock and his trousers as she gagged herself on him repeatedly, the noises coming out of her mouth obscene.

When he began to cum she held her breath and let it pouch in her cheeks, refusing to swallow it. Then she climbed up from under the table and spit it all out into a mug on the table, which had previously been filled with coffee. She twirled it with her finger and then sipped at it. The boys watched her with various expressions of confusion and amusement. 

She glanced at Draco and shrugged. “I needed milk for my coffee,” she said with a small smile, before exiting the room so she could change out of her ruined dress and fix the mascara tracks that had formed along her cheeks.

Chapter Text

The Lords were drunk on their win, Draco and Harry still clad in their Quidditch uniforms as the crowd made its way from the pitch back to the Slytherin House. Harry had pulled her onto his broom after the game, plucking her right out of the stands and soaring into the night, a loud whoop of joy intermingling with her own shriek of terror. She clung to him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as she buried her face in his neck. Harry had laughed, wrapping an around her waist before looping them in a large circle that made her hair fall around them as they turned upside down once before righting themselves again. 

Hermione screamed again, gripping him tighter. If she could crawl into his skin she would. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against her in a warm sort of way. She could hear Draco and Theo whooping and hollering behind them, and she chanced a peek before shoving herself move firmly against Harry and closing her eyes again. Theo was on the back of Draco’s broom, his hand placed loosely at Draco’s side as he cheered drunkenly over the crowd. 

Hermione felt the wind speed up around them, and soon the sounds of the crowd fell away as they sped along, arriving at the House before anyone else. Hermione tried to scramble off of the broom as soon as they touched down, but Harry gripped her against him, letting the broom fall away as he pressed her against one of the black columns that framed the porch, and then his mouth was against hers, his wind-chilled hands pressing up under her shirt. He broke the kiss only to lick his way down her throat and nip at her collar bone and she moaned. 

Her legs were shaky from the adrenaline rush of the flight, and then from the feel of his mouth pressed against her as his hands gripped her bum. Theo and Draco flanked them, leaning against opposite sides of the column across from them, watching the scene with matching smirks. 

Various shouts and peals of laughter echoed off the crowd into the night, warning them of their impending audience. Harry groaned, releasing her, his chest heaving as he drew in ragged breaths and wiped at his mouth. 

“Get her ready,” Draco told him, pulling Theo into the house after him to prepare for the party. Harry grinned as he yanked her up the stairs to his room, kicking the door shut behind him. He grabbed something off his nightstand, but pocketed it before she could see what it was. Then he was on her again, shoving her roughly against the bed and tearing at her clothes until she was naked beneath him. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this,” Harry said, his eyes trailing hungrily across her body. She stilled, wondering if this was the moment she lost her virginity. A quick shag before a party wasn’t what she had pictured, but then, the Lords were full of surprises. 

Harry laid across her, kissing her gently compared to the way he’d thrown her against the bed. He moaned into her mouth as his fingers worked their way inside of her, and were met with a wet warmth. 

“You don’t even pretend to fight us anymore,” Harry sighed into her mouth, his thumb pressing against her clit in a practised move that left her moaning. 

“I’m your Lady, I’m yours by contract. What’s the point of fighting anymore?” she asked. 

Harry bit her lip sharply and she gasped, surprised. She ran her tongue over the tender spot and tasted her own blood. 

“It’s more fun when you fight,” he said, biting down once more, this time on her shoulder. 

She gasped again, arching up into him, her right nipple raking across the Slytherin emblem embroidered on his jersey.  A shiver ran down her spine at his words, and a clawing, desperate feel came over her. 

“You want me to fight back?” she clarified. 

He hummed against her skin as his teeth clamped down around her nipple and she screamed at the sudden shock of it, the sensation painful only for a moment before a wave of pleasure rushed in to soothe it. 

She jerked back, trying to use her feet to leverage herself away from him on the bed, but he was too heavy, too there for her to move away from him. She pressed against his shoulders and he laughed darkly. 

“Fight back like you mean it,” he insisted. 

She had half a mind to be offended: she was trying! She bucked harder against him, trying her best to break his hold on her so that she could slip out from beneath him. All she succeeded in doing was making him hard, his cock straining once more against the tight confines of his Quidditch breeches. She arched away from him and then slammed her head forward so that it collided with his nose. 

The pain was instant as it blossomed behind her eyes, and the room spun around her. Reality and fantasy swirled as she tried to remember why she had done it in the first place. Harry was swearing as blood streamed down his face and hot droplets splashed across her chest and stomach as he leaned back to cup his nose gingerly. She kicked at his chest and flung herself off the bed, running towards the door. She stumbled slightly, and that was all he needed. He gripped at her hair and yanked her back, muffling her screams with his hand as he pinned her to the floor. She could feel his blood on her face as it transferred from his bloodied hand to her skin, covering her lips and cheeks. 

He grinned at her from above, once more securing her below his hips as the floorboards pressed against her exposed skin. Blood still streamed thickly from his nose, bleeding into his mouth and staining his teeth and tongue red in a grotesque sort of way that made her heart race. 

He leaned down and licked at her nipple again, his lips closing around her as he rolled it between his teeth. When he released it, a ring of his blood encircled her nipple and a small rivet of it ran down her breast. 

She watched, fascinated, as he smeared it across her sternum, drawing a capital H in the centre of her chest, marking her. She shoved at him again, remembering that she was meant to be fighting him, and he grabbed her wrists and slammed them roughly against the floor as he fell against her. They were both panting and the air between them was humid as they stared at one another. She bucked her hips defiantly and then wished she hadn’t when her bare clit scraped across the laces of his breeches. 

He smirked when he noticed the way she bit her lip to keep in a moan, and he deliberately rolled his hips slowly against her, providing her with the friction she hadn’t known her body had been craving. A moan escaped her, pitiful and wanton, and he grinned in triumph. 

She tried to yank her wrists from his grasp but he just shoved them more forcefully, leaning against them so that his weight was pressing them painfully against the floor. The new position meant she could feel the hard outline of his cock against her centre, and he used it to his advantage.  He transferred her wrists into one hand, freeing his other hand to adjust himself so that his cock was upright - but still contained - within his breeches. 

He pushed something cold against her entrance, but she wasn’t at the vantage point to see what it was. He muttered something under his breath and she felt her entire body tighten against the floor, allowing him to remove his other hand from her wrist. She tugged against the sticking charm but it was futile; her body didn’t move a millimetre. She groaned out of frustration and he smirked. 

He pressed a thumb against her clit, working it quickly and forcefully until she was panting, and then he used his other thumb to shove the unseen object inside of her. The object itself seemed to protest this, humming to life in a way that made it feel as if something were fluttering between her legs. The internal stimulation and pressure was strange and enthralling, and she wished she could wiggle her hips or do anything to take it deeper inside of her. 

Harry smirked at her again and then his hands moved lower, until she felt him brush a tentative finger over her bumhole. She clenched it in surprise and avoidance, and he smacked her right cheek in retribution. Due to the sticking charm she couldn’t jerk away from the movement, and the sting was sharp and surprising. Her pelvic muscles clenched, and that made the fluttering sensation between her thighs all the more intense. She moaned, and Harry’s eyes glinted. 

He pressed a finger at her bumhole again, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he traced the circle of it before he began to push a finger in slowly. 

“Breathe,” he commanded, and then he pushed further inside when she finally exhaled. 

The sensation was peculiar; wrong, but also right, and her core clenched with anticipation and confusion and excitement. He pulled something from his back pocket and began to suck on it. She watched the muscles of his jaw flex and tick as he mouthed it, a green emerald winking at her in the torchlight. He pulled it from between his lips and pressed it against her bumhole, replacing his finger with the metal object that had grown warm in his mouth. She gasped when it finally pushed inside, and she clenched around it involuntarily. 

Draco and Theo pushed into the room without knocking, the sounds of the party following them up the stairs. 

They froze at the position they found Harry and Hermione in, and Theo shoved the door shut with a loud click. Draco’s eyes traced the blood splatters and drips across her body, and she blushed under his gaze. Theo’s eyes, however, were narrowed on her cunt. 

“Is that the Snitch?” he asked, surprised. 

“Yep,” Harry said, popping the ‘p’ exaggeratedly. 

Well, that would explain the fluttering sensation, she realised. 

Draco knelt down and pressed a finger against the object in her bumhole, grinning when she moaned at the pressure of it pressing against the thin wall trapped between the object and the snitch. 

“You’ll wear these both during the duration of the party as punishment for orgasming without permission at breakfast,” Draco told her, rising from his crouched position to stare down at her. “Get dressed and fetch us some drinks,” he said before turning and exiting the room. 

“Time to be our Lady,” Theo said with a wink before following him out. 

Harry pressed a very wet kiss to her clit, his tongue scraping over the sensitive bud, before he strode into his bathing room to clean the blood from his face and change into his party clothes. She was still stuck to his floor when he returned in black jeans and a black tshirt. His jeans remained open, slung low across his hips. 

“Once last thing,” he whispered, kneeling in front of her. He pulled a pair of her knickers out from his back pocket - she wondered when he’d raided her lingerie drawer - and then he stroked himself until his cum was once more pooled in the fabric. He released the sticking charm and pulled the cum soaked knickers over her. The fabric clung to her, trapping the wings of the snitch against her clit, his cum lubricating them so that the scrape of them was pleasant rather than painful. 

He pulled his jersey over her head, and it fell just past her knickers, showing more of her thighs than she normally showed in public. He hauled her to her feet and accompanied her back down the stairs to her room, where she quickly grabbed a black pair of thigh high socks. He stopped her when she tried to select shoes. He allowed her to re-plait her hair, though he left it obviously mused when he kissed her and ran his hands through it so that wild tendrils escaped. 

She glanced at herself in the mirror and blushed when she realised that entering the party together this late, with her hair and makeup askew, her collarbone bruised with a love bite, and scantily clad in his jersey - sans shoes - they would look as if they’d just been fucking. She idly wondered if any of his cum would leak from her knickers down the inside of her thigh. The depraved part of her that had liked the way he’d wanted her to fight back (and the way he’d overpowered her) hoped that it would. 

He tossed an arm over her shoulder and led her into the thick of the party, sending her away with a slap to her bum and a nod toward the bar when a group of friends encircled him to talk about the match. She walked slowly towards the bar, having realised early on that the act of walking made the snitch and the bum-plug rub against her in a way that left her panting and flushed very quickly. 

She noticed the other Lords and Ladies throughout the room. Pansy was reclined on one of the sofas, being pampered and fawned over by her Lords. Luna was openly sucking one of her Lord’s cock in full view of anyone that cared to look. Ginny was sitting demurely on Dean Thomas’s lap, though Hermione noticed the glazed look on her face and wondered if Dean’s cock wasn’t actually buried inside of her under her skirt while they talked and laughed with the other partygoers. 

Hermione grabbed three Firewhiskey tumblers and began the slow circuit of dispersing them to her Lords. Harry took his with a wink and a nod, continuing his conversation as she took one to Theo. He took his and drained it, setting the empty tumbler on the mantle and leaning down to brush a kiss over her lips. He plucked the other tumbler meant for Draco and sipped at it as well. When he pressed his mouth to hers again he forced her to tilt her head back, and then he allowed the drink to spill into her mouth. She swallowed it automatically, and he hummed appreciatively into her mouth. 

Draco’s hand wrapped roughly around her bicep and yanked her towards him. She placed a hand on his chest to steady herself, gasping at the feeling of her cunt clenching around the snitch and her arse around the plug when he’d startled her. 

His expression was dark and dangerous, in a way she hadn’t seen since Hogwarts, and she stepped back automatically at the intensity of it. His hand was gripped tightly around a letter, and she swallowed thickly when she recognized Otto’s handwriting. 

“Mate, what’s -” Theo started to ask, but Draco cut him off, forcing the letter and pictures against his chest by way of explanation, and then dragging Hermione towards the makeshift dance floor in the centre of the room. He shoved a few partygoers off the floor until the rest scampered out of the way, the music cutting off and leaving a startled silence in its wake. 

“It would seem that someone is making a pass at our Lady,” he called into the crowd, his expression murderous. Hermione gulped, wondering what Otto had written. Harry and Theo came to stand at the edge of the floor, Theo subtly handing Harry whatever it was Draco had handed him. Harry’s own eyes glinted, his jaw clenching as he shoved it quickly into his pocket. 

Draco scanned the crowd, meeting everyone’s gaze, taking his time as he studied them. No one moved; no one made a sound. Their attention was entirely devoted to him. Hermione had noticed they all had a way of controlling the room. Theo was charismatic. Harry was magnetic. Draco, it seemed, used his own innate sense of authority to command the room. 

Her stomach fluttered as she watched him, and the snitch fluttered between her legs as if mimicking it. Draco pulled his wand out and flicked with a flourish, and a low seated sofa appeared before them. He pressed her roughly over the back of it, bending her over it, so that Harry’s jersey pulled up and revealed her knickers to the room. She was frozen with embarrassment: embarrassment over the way he was exposing her to the room, of the way that she allowed it so willingly, and at the way she worried it was obvious to everyone around them. 

Harry and Theo moved closer to her, each climbing onto the front of the couch. Draco pulled her knickers down and Hermione clenched around the snitch, hoping that it was hidden from view within her. The plug was obvious, she knew it wouldn’t go undetected, but the snitch might. Draco pulled the plug out quickly, and she stifled a moan against the couch, burying her scarlett face against the cushions. The plug dropped to the floor with a small tinkling sound, and then Draco slapped his hand across her backside roughly, hard enough that she knew the imprint of his hand would blaze red against her skin. She let out a muffled shriek into the pillow, and clenched tighter around the snitch. As much as it had hurt, it had felt good too. 

“Someone thinks our Lady is theirs for the taking,” Draco said, as if he were continuing a conversation about a broomstick or a spare textbook. “ Someone ,” he said through gritted teeth, his hand smacking against her again, the sound loud in the silent room, “is wrong.”

Hermione was whimpering into the couch now, unable to hold back the sounds. Her thighs were trembling from being on her tiptoes for so long, her muscles burning from the strain of the position. Draco moved to stand behind her, his hands gripping her waist. 

“Shall we show them who our Lady belongs to?” Draco asked Harry and Theo. Hermione didn’t look up to see their reply, but a hand gripped her chin and pulled her face up roughly anyway. Her face burned with shame, and a bit of arousal, and she knew Harry and Theo could see it. Harry took her face gently from Theo and kissed her, the movement surprisingly tender given his earlier actions and the current situation. She noticed, of course, when Draco’s spit slicked fingers entered her bumhole, but Harry kept his hands securely on her face, his tongue dancing across hers in a way that made her not as focused on whatever it was Draco was about to have them do to her. 

Draco pushed his thumb inside of her and she whimpered into Harry’s mouth. He swallowed the sound greedily, and then moved so that Theo could kiss her. Theo was not gentle or sweet with his kisses; he wasn’t talking to her with his kisses as Harry had been. He was talking to Otto, even if he didn’t know who Otto was yet. He was claiming her, his kisses hungry and desperate. 

Draco pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance, unashamed in the presence of so many people. She wondered if this was commonplace amongst Falmouth Royalty - if casual fucking in the middle of a party was not unheard of, but normal entertainment. He pushed in with a grunt, the head of his cock slipping past the tight ring of muscles until it was securely inside of her. His fingers pushed the snitch further inside of her, and she moaned at both intrusions. Theo broke the kiss and removed his belt with a sweep of his arm, the belt flying into the crowd. She knew what would happen next, but it did not stem the swell of shame, and the subsequent swell of pleasure, when Theo shoved his cock into her mouth. 

She was propped over the sofa, being spitroasted by Draco and Theo, in the middle of a party, and she was completely enraptured by it. She was at their mercy, and everyone present knew it. Draco pushed in a little deeper, and she moaned loudly around Theo’s cock, which did very little to smother the sound. Her cunt was clenched so tightly around the snitch she wasn’t sure that they would be able to get it out manually, and hoped a summoning charm would be enough to prevent a visit to the school’s healer for removal. 

Harry’s hip bumped Theo’s, his cock flashing in her vision. Rather than trading places with him, Theo merely pulled out and shifted a little, so that Harry could press his cock against Theo’s. They both pressed into her mouth, their cocks rubbing together as she sucked their tips. There wasn’t enough room for them to push in at once, so they alternated pushing into her mouth, their clocks gliding against each other as they traded in and out. Draco finally bottomed out inside of her, the painful stretch on her hole secondary to the distraction of Harry and Theo fucking her mouth in tandem. 

Draco slid out and that sensation was enough to startle her from her reprieve, and she bucked against him, causing him to groan and grip the back of her neck to keep her in place. He pushed back in faster than he had before, though still moving slowly enough that she had some semblance of hope she might adjust to the feel of him. His hand moved around her so that he could rub against her clit, and she began to whimper and moan loudly, all thoughts eddying out of her head except for her own desires. 

She hoped Otto was there; hoped he was watching her be so thoroughly debased by her Lords in a way that he could never hope to do. It didn’t matter that they were taking this from her, that they were using her. She was using them just as much. She wanted this just as much, even if she hadn’t dared to admit it to herself yet. 

Draco was growling all sorts of obscenities about her being his, and Harry’s, and Theo’s. He told them that she was their Lady, no one else’s, and Hermione’s blood sang with the thrill of it. She moaned loudly at the feeling of it all: Draco’s cock in her bum, Theo and Harry’s cocks in her mouth, the snitch inside of her, Draco’s hand on her clit, it all proved too much for her. At the clench around him when she began to orgasm, Draco spilled into her loudly, his cock pulsing as he came. Theo and Harry began to spurt their loads into her mouth and on her face, their cum spilling onto one another’s cocks as they ejaculated. Hermione was screaming with the intensity of it, black spots dancing around her vision as she hung limply across the sofa. 

“Everybody get the fuck out,” Theo yelled out, breaking the spell of revelry that had befallen the audience. There was a flurry of scraping chairs and thudding feet and hushed whispers, and then the room was silent once more. Draco picked her up and carried her up the stairs, Theo and Harry following behind him. He placed her gingerly in the warm bath, making soothing noises as she winced at the feeling on her bum. Harry helped remove the snitch, and Theo began wiping away the excess cum and blood that still coated her chest from earlier. 

“What did Otto write?” she asked, peeking at Draco shyly. She suddenly didn’t know how to look any of them in the eye. 

“We’ll discuss it later,” he said softly, running a thumb across her cheek. 

“You’re not mad?” she asked. 

“Not at you,” he said, a muscle in his jaw spasming, contradicting his words. 

“Are you -” 

“We’ll discuss it later, ” he repeated, his tone more forceful. She nodded, not saying anything. 

“I’m going to find us something to eat,” Theo said quietly, kissing the top of her head and walking away. Draco left the room as well, not bothering to say where he was going. 

“He’s mad at me,” Hermione said softly, finally glancing at Harry for confirmation 

“Tell me about Otto,” Harry said, ignoring her comment. 

“What did he write?” she asked again. 

Harry slid the pictures from his pocket, handing them to her. They were black and white, as always, a mixture of muggle photographs and wizard portraits, depicting her in various points over the past month: sitting in a muggle diner the week before she came to Falmouth, stepping into the Lord’s home that first day, her hands in Harry’s hair and his face between her thighs on his piano, her and Theo in the library, Draco sleeping with his head on her bare chest in his room. Red ink stained the pictures, the word mine scrawled messily over all of them. Otto had started scratching out everyone’s eyes with a big X over each one as well. 

Don’t forget what you promised me, Little Lion he’d written on a thick piece of parchment, the quality of the ink and parchment visible to even the untrained eye, the weight of it heavy in her hand. She dropped them over the edge of the tub with a sigh. 

“Tell me about Otto,” Harry said again, the edges of his voice weighed down with concern. 

She hugged her knees to her chest, her right knee jutting into the soft underside of her chin as she swallowed thickly. She watched the rainbow sheen of oils swirl on the surface of the water from whatever relaxant Draco had dumped into the water to ease her battered lower-half. She puffed out her cheeks before releasing a huff of air that fluttered the hair that wasn’t clinging to her wet skin. 

“He used to write to me back at Hogwarts,” she explained. 

“You didn’t write back, surely?” he asked incredulously. 

She winced. “I was…desperate,” she said in a small voice. “I needed the money, and the other girls I knew that did it; Fleur, Romilda,” she named a few, “they all said it was an easy way to make money. It was supposed to be harmless!” 

“Until it wasn’t,” Harry supplied for her. 

“Until it wasn’t,” she agreed. “I stopped writing to him, I didn’t open letters from people I didn’t know, I stopped submitting pictures to Wank Weekly . It didn’t matter. He didn’t stop, and things just got progressively worse. I’d find pictures of myself o from around the Castle on my pillow. Flowers, chocolates, little gifts tucked into my bag or my notes. After Hogwarts, I left the country. It didn’t matter how far I ran; he always found me.” 

“So you came here, hoping we would do what? Handle him for you?” His tone remained neutral, but his cheeks were tinged pink, his nostrils slightly flared, hinting at his irritation. 

She curled her arms more firmly around herself, ducking her chin. 

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small, tired, voice. 

“What does it say about us that you found us scarier than a man that’s haunted you for years?” Harry scoffed. 

“You haunted me too,” she admitted, “or the memory of you did.” 

Harry winced. “I guess we deserve that,” he said, trailing his thumb nail absently down the thin line of grout between the black tiles on the floor. 

“I don’t want to…can we please not talk about this anymore?” Hermione asked. 

“What do you want to talk about?” Harry asked, running his fingertip over the edge of his thumbnail  

“Anything else.” 

Harry pulled out a joint and placed it at the corner of his mouth before lighting the tip with his wand. A thin tendril of purple smoke curled out of his mouth on his next exhale. He offered it to her and she rested her forearm against the edge of the tub, her chest pressed to the cool porcelain side as she took a long drag. She coughed a few times and then settled back against the tub, toying with the bubbles at the surface of the water. 

Harry watched her, pulling in another long hit of the fairygrass. She observed the slow rise and fall of his chest through the thin cotton of his black shirt. 

“Tell me a secret no one knows,” Hermione asked, studying him through the swirling steam and lavender smoke that filled the room. 

A bead of sweat glistened at the nape of his neck, and her drug addled brain desperately wanted her  to lick it away. 

Harry snorted, letting his own head fall back against the wall behind him. He passed the joint back to her and removed his glasses, rubbing the edge of his shudder over the lenses from where steam had made them foggy. 

“I cry at the end of The Phantom of the Opera every time,” he admitted. 

“Which version? The book, the musical, or the movie?” she asked. 

“Any of them,” he said, taking the joint once more; it was nearly finished. 

“Why?” 

He stared at her for a long time before he replied. “Christine should have ended up with the Phantom, but she was too afraid to give in to the darker side of her desires and temptations. Raul was the safe choice, the easy choice: Eric -the Phantom - loved her, and she loved him, but she was too afraid to admit it.” 

He paused for long enough that Hermione thought that he was all he was going to say on the subject until he took a hesitant breath and continued on. 

“I guess I worry that’s what my future will be like; that my darkness will be too off putting. When people say they’re afraid of the dark, what they really mean is that they’re afraid of the absence of the light. I guess I wonder who would willingly choose to subject themself to that? To a life without light?” 

He went back to digging his thumbnail into the grout, his neck flushed from his obvious discomfort at the admission. She leaned over and grabbed his hand, water droplets dripping onto the floor from where they ran off her arm. 

“Maybe,” she said slowly, waiting until he finally looked up and his eyes met hers, “the light is just the absence of the dark.” 

The corner of his mouth turned up in a small grin. “You’re so high right now,” he chuckled. “You probably thought that was a very witty and reassuring statement, didn’t you?” 

She splashed water at him, pouting.

“Oi!” he laughed, dodging the next splash she aimed at him, and the next, until most of the bath water was on the floor and the cool air startled her from her attempts to douse him. 

He pulled a large fluffy towel down and wrapped it around her, swaddling her like a small child. She squealed when he picked her up and began to carry her into her room. 

“Harry?” she asked, glancing up at him. The water clinging to her lashes refracted the light around them, bathing his face in a golden halo. “Can I sleep in your room tonight? I just don’t want to be alone after…everything.” 

Harry smiled at her and kept walking through her doorway and up the stairs to his room. He sat her on the edge of the bed and pulled on his shirts over her head. It fit as well as any of the skimpy negligée’s they’d given her, skimming the tops of her thighs. It smelled like sunlight, and grass clippings, and ozone; the way Harry always smelled when he was fresh off the Quidditch pitch. 

He pulled the covers over them and she settled against his chest. He placed his glasses on the nightstand, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before using his arm as an extra pillow. His chest was surprisingly comfortable, his collarbone acting as a sort of cradle as she nuzzled into him. His right hand traced idle patterns across her back and hip, and he began to hum an overture that carried her into her dreams.

Chapter Text

Hermione woke up with a pile of limbs around her. Harry’s thigh was shoved between her legs, his arm resting loosely against the dip of her waist. Theo had joined them at some point during the night, his arm snaking around her ribs and across her chest underneath her shirt, his hand cupping her breast. The warmth of his breath ghosted across her neck in a soothing, familiar, sort of way. She lifted her head up awkwardly to look around the room, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. Theo had apparently left soups and sandwiches under a stasis charm on Harry’s desk before crawling into bed with them. 

She nuzzled back into their arms, tucking her head under Harry’s chin. Her movement’s had been enough to wake them - or rather, their cocks - and they both shifted closer to her. Theo’s hand squeezed her breast gently and she shivered, her hips gyrating minutely against his. He let out a sleepy sort of sigh, and pulled her more firmly against him. Harry shifted closer to her following the absence of her warmth, trapping her more firmly against Theo. His thigh pressed against her clit and her hips bucked again, grinding her against his thigh and the hard length of Theo’s cock resting on her bum. It had slipped free of the confines of his pyjamas and was leaking a generous amount of precum between her thighs, coating them with the warm silken slickness. 

Harry’s eyes fluttered beneath his thick lashes, until they finally opened. He smiled at the sight of her trapped between him and Theo and watched as Theo’s hand squeezed her breast gently again beneath Harry’s quidditch jersey. Harry dragged the fabric up so he could watch, his eyes glittering with lust and appreciation. 

She pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him, the fog of the fairygrass still lingering in her brain, making the whole thing feel ethereal and intoxicating. Harry hummed appreciatively into her mouth, his hand moving to grip her hip as he pushed his thigh harder against her clit. 

Her nipple’s peaked and tingled under Theo’s palm, and she gasped when he rolled one between his fingers. Harry swallowed the sound, holding her face in place when she went to glance at Theo. Theo began kissing along her neck, his fingers moving more purposefully over her nipple, and she moaned. She felt him chuckle against her skin, and then he was curling himself around her to capture her nipple in his mouth. 

The awkward angle didn’t seem to deter him at all as he licked and nipped at her nipple, and her fingers wound into his thick curls as she held him against her. He sucked harder and she arched into him, the intense pleasure startling her. She broke the kiss with a high keening sound, her breath coming in pants as Theo continued to suck her nipple. Harry allowed Theo to roll her onto her back and then his mouth captured her other nipple. They tugged at either side of her knickers, dragging them down her thighs and then sticking a middle finger each inside of her. She moaned loudly as their fingers curled and stroked inside of her. 

Harry snapped his fingers and ropes appeared, twining around her wrists and then she was hoisted into the air, hands raised above her, her knees barely skimming the surface of the bed. Harry crawled beneath her, his face immediately disappearing between her thighs and his tongue entering her throbbing cunt. 

Theo swung a leg over Harry, straddling his chest as his mouth dipped once more against her chest. 

“ Lactãtus ,” he whispered, and she groaned against the sudden heavy sensation behind her nipples, and then drops of creamy white milk began to bead at her nipples before spilling over rapidly. 

Theo placed his mouth over her right nipple and he began to suckle as he pulled the milk into his mouth. Her left nipple began to leak faster, her breast feeling swollen and heavy as the warm milk trickled down the underside of her breast and down her stomach, leaving a warm sticky residue along the length of her body. 

Theo moaned against her breast. Harry’s tongue was warm and insistent inside of her, and she could see both boys stroking their cocks as their mouths worked, precum trickling down their shafts and across their knuckles. Harry’s hand bumped against Theo’s arse every now and then, and Theo’s breathing grew heavy and irregular. 

“Theo,” she whimpered, and he groaned around her breast as she begged “I want, I need …more.” 

He growled against her and then lifted her off Harry’s face just long enough to spin her around. Harry, sensing what Theo wanted, dragged his tongue across her bumhole when she was settled against his face once more. She gasped and more milk dribbled out of her at her arousal. Theo’s hands cupped her breast, the milk pooling in them as he allowed Harry to probe her with his tongue. She bucked against her restraints and Theo dragged his wet hands down her body, the collected milk forgotten as he dragged his fingers across her clit. Harry’s tongue moved back to her cunt, his fingers massaging her bumhole. He slipped one through the entrance and she clenched involuntarily around it. 

He wiggled it until she relaxed and he was able to slowly push it further inside. When she’d grown used to the intrusion he pulled out and spread her cheeks, allowing Theo to rub his now pre-cum slicked cock against it. Harry continued to push his tongue inside of her and she moaned at the feeling. Theo pushed the head of his cock in slowly; much more slowly than Draco had, and the stretch was tantalising and exquisite. She moaned when it finally pushed through the tight ring of her muscles, the flared edge resting inside of her. 

He began to push slowly inside of her, and Harry squirmed beneath them until he could lick at Theo’s balls, his fingers replacing his tongue inside of Hermione.

There was a gilded mirror on an ornate stand near the bed, and she watched, fascinated by the way Harry’s tongue swirled around Theo’s sac, gliding between them and around them in a way that left Theo panting, his cock jerking and twitching inside of Hermione. 

Harry moved out from beneath them fully, spitting into his hand and pressing it at Theo’s bum, and Theo tensed for a moment. Harry paused, and Theo nodded minutely. Hermione was trembling, the edge of her orgasm so near, and she struggled to concentrate on holding it back. Theo himself had yet to push any further inside of her, and she clenched around his swollen cock head. He groaned, biting down on the top of her shoulder. 

She knew when Harry inserted a finger inside of Theo more from the sharp inhale and subsequent jerk of his cock, and the involuntary way he pushed a little further inside of her, than from watching their reflections. Theo was trembling behind her as Harry worked his fingers in, preparing him. 

Theo’s fingers worked her clit, and she moaned, pushing herself further against him, causing him to push a little deeper into her. His thumb remained pressed against her clit, but he slid three of his fingers inside of her - more than any of them had done before - and she moaned and panted at the heavy intrusion. 

Harry gripped Theo’s hips and his fingers paused inside of her as he tried to relax and allow Harry to push into him. Harry and Theo both groaned loudly when the tip of his cock breached Theo’s inner ring of muscles. 

“Fuck,” Theo hissed, and he pressed further into Hermione. 

She clenched around him because she knew what he was feeling, and it was glorious. She wondered what it must feel like to have his cock pushing into her. If she asked them for polyjuice potion, she might be able to find out one day. Harry pushed into Theo, who in turn pushed into Hermione, and she moaned at how Harry was effectively fucking her through Theo. Theo was trapped between them, and Harry took control, anchoring his hands at Theo’s hips as he thrust fully into him. Theo’s hands shot out and slammed into the headboard as he thrust fully into Hermione, and she let out a high pitched moan of pleasure, panting and gasping. Harry pulled out until only his tip was left inside Theo, and Theo mimicked the movement in Hermione. 

“Harry,” Hermione panted, sagging against the restraints, “ please fuck us harder,” she panted. 

Harry, to his credit, obeyed. “As our Lady commands,” he growled, before thrusting forcefully into Theo, who moved in time to thrust fully into Hermione. 

Harry held Theo firmly against him, sheathed fully inside of, and then slid him backwards out of Hermione, before driving him forward into her. Theo allowed himself to be used as their puppet, and soon Hermione was screaming as she tried to hold in her orgasm. 

“Come for us, Lady,” Harry allowed, and she screamed, falling apart around them. Her restraints released with no warning, and she fell into a heap against their pillows, and then Theo was bent over her as Harry drove himself in and out of Theo’s arse at a punishing pace. Theo’s cock shifted with quick, tiny thrusts as his hips jerked forward with each one of Harry’s thrusts. Harry pulled out suddenly, crawling until he was in front of her. Theo lifted her up enough for Harry to slip his cock inside of her mouth and then with two quick thrusts he was shooting his release down her throat. 

Theo wasted no time in fucking her again, setting his own frantic pace this time, until he too was cumming, his hot load spilling inside of her as she clenched around him. Her body was sticky as cum dribbled out of her bum and mouth, milk still gently leaking out of her breasts. 

She rolled over onto her back, spent from the recent exertions, and Harry and Theo both collapsed beside her. She sighed, her fingers toying with their hair in an absent sort of way as the aftershocks of her pleasure swept through her. 

“Was I good for you, Lady?” Theo asked in a sleepy voice, and she smiled as he turned his head to look up at her. 

“So good,” she promised with a tender smile. 

“Thank you,” he sighed, lifting up on his forearms to kiss her. 

A trickle of breastmilk leaked onto his bare chest and he grinned against her mouth, leaning down to suckle at her breast. She sighed, a flicker of desire coursing through her once more. She clutched at the back of his head, pressing her breast more firmly against him. 

“My good boy,” she sighed. Theo hummed his praise at her words.

“What about me?” Harry asked with a wry grin. 

“Mmm, you were good too,” Hermione promised. 

Harry grinned. “I know,” he said, before capturing her other breast inside of his mouth. 

Draco still had not arrived when she woke for breakfast, her stomach tightening with hunger pains. Theo and Harry had both extracted themselves from her at some point, and though she remained sticky from the previous night's emissions - theirs and hers - her breasts were no longer swollen or leaking, leaving her to assume Theo had ended that particular charm. 

She showered quickly, grabbing one of Theo’s premade outfits as a little reward for all his efforts the night before. He handed her a smoothie when she walked in, the glass adorned with a sliced strawberry and a frilly pink and white striped straw. She sipped at it as she snagged a bit of toast off Harry’s plate. Theo rolled his eyes, grumbling about processed foods under his breath. 

“Thank you for the smoothie, Theo,” she said sweetly, taking a sip. He grinned, winking at her. 

“Strawberries and cream, my Lady,” he informed her, “the ingredients are all locally sourced, of course.” 

Harry snorted. “Right, locally sourced, ” he said with an outlandish waggle of his eyebrows. 

Hermione glanced at him and back to Theo, who smirked. She glanced down at her smoothie and realisation dawned on her. 

“When you say cream do you mean -” 

“Cum?” Theo cut in, “yes, yes I do,” he said proudly. 

“Oh, Theo,” she sighed, pouting at him. 

His eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong? You had Draco’s ‘cream’ in your coffee yesterday!” 

“Well, yes, but I obtained that myself,” she explained. “ You masturbated to get this cream, without permission.” 

Harry began sniggering beside her. 

“What if I said Harry collected it for me?” Theo asked in a petulant tone. 

She shrugged. “Either way, you didn’t have permission, did you? So you’ll have to be punished,” she said with an admonishing tone. 

“I, but…but -” 

“Ah ah,” Hermione cut him off, “those are the rules, Theodore; ‘ the Lords may not masturbate without permission; punishment for violation of this clause results in a 24 hour ban from physically interacting with the Lady,’” she quoted from the contract. 

“But tomorrow is Tuesday!” Theo protested with a whine. 

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Hermione said, confused. 

Harry chuckled and then attempted to pass it off as a cough when Theo glared at him. 

“Never you mind,” Harry said, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “He just gets delusional when he cock blocks himself,” Harry assured her. 

Draco came into the kitchen, his eyes bloodshot, his hair limp and plastered to his forehead. His clothes looked dishevelled. He slumped into the chair next to her, plucking her smoothie from the table and chugging it. She watched, startled, unable to do anything other than stare. 

He sat the empty glass back down on the table and sighed, rubbing at his temples. He paused when he noticed Hermione’s horrified expression and Theo and Harry’s matching expressions of mirth. 

“ What?” he asked in an exasperated sort of way. 

“Nothing!” Hermione said in a squeaky voice, and Draco narrowed his eyes at her. 

Harry and Theo let out loud guffaws, and Hermione’s face turned bright red as she tried to suppress her giggles. 

“What the bloody hell is going on with you lot?” Draco asked in an annoyed voice. 

“Well, erm, Theo made that milkshake for me,” Hermione gasped out, and Harry banged the table with his fist as his laughter went silent from lack of air, tears streaming down his face. 

“What’s that got to do with anything? He’s always making smoothies. Frankly, I’m surprised it’s not green.” 

“Well,” Theo said with a choked sound, “ spinach and cream just doesn’t have quite the same appeal.” 

“You’ve all officially gone insane,” Draco said when they burst into renewed peals of laughter. 

“So,” Hermione said, finally containing her laughter, “where were you all night?” 

“Dealing with the Otto situation,” Draco said casually. 

The boys resumed their composure at once, Theo quickly joining them at the table. 

“So we’re talking about this now ?” Hermione grumbled, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth 

Draco reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, startling her. She looked up, and when his eyes met hers she felt the vaguely familiar sensation of his mind tangling with hers, like the soft cascade of bubbles over bare skin after jumping onto a lake; a soft tickling sensation. 

Her conversation with Harry the night before flitted past, as did her memories of running from Otto, finding Kyle’s lifeless body, obliviating his boyfriend, the threats that had accompanied it all. Her oldest memories of Otto, of the awkward letters and uncomfortable correspondence were the last thing he surveyed. Then he presented his own memory to her. The sensation of it transferring to the forefront of her mind felt like a stray leaf brushing past her as it was swept by, drifting in a current. 

Draco had spent the night methodically hunting down everyone in attendance at the party and searching their mind for any indication that they, or someone they knew, might be Otto. When he’d found no evidence of such things he’d wiped the memory of what happened on the dance floor from their mind, but left the impression behind. She belonged to the Lords; she was their Lady. 

Hermione blinked as he withdrew from her mind, leaving her skull feeling strangely hollow; as if her own thoughts and feelings were not enough to fill it, and she was only just now noticing it. 

When Harry and Theo asked no questions, blinking rapidly a brief time later, Hermione knew Draco had caught them up on his nighttime activities as well. 

“So what happens now?” Hermione asked, her hand still clasped in Draco’s. 

She worried he might be mad at her over keeping Otto a secret; that he, Harry, and Theo might resent her for painting a target on their backs as well. 

Draco smirked at her, and her skin rippled with goosebumps as he said “now we hunt.”

Chapter Text

“Your virginity, of course, will be a problem,” Draco whispered against her ear with no preamble during the middle of their shared class. 

Hermione glanced at him sharply, brows raised in surprise and agitation, as if asking him why he felt the sudden and intense need to have this conversation now.  He smirked at her in response. Her hair had once again escaped the confines of how she’d styled it that morning, and the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows cascaded across her face in a rainbow of colours that made his breath catch. He caught a strand between his fingers and tucked it behind her ear. 

She seemed so fragile in this light, and yet, he knew she wasn’t. The juxtaposition was breathtaking. He brushed his thumb gently across her cheek and she leaned into his touch. He knew she was still worried he was mad at her, and in a way he was. He was mad that she hadn’t told him, or if not him then one of the others. Mad that Otto had been haunting her for so long, and he hadn’t noticed it. Mad that anyone else was bold enough to think they had any sort of claim to her at all. 

“Draco,” she whispered, a small dimple of worry forming between her eyebrows, “I -” 

He shook his head, swallowing thickly. “It’s fine,” he soothed. “We’ll handle it.” 

“I should have said something, I should have warned you, I -” 

“I said,” he interrupted, leaning closer to her, close enough that he could taste her on the air, “we’ll handle it.” 

She inhaled - a small sound really - but it ignited something inside him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hold her and comfort her, pull her into his lap and hold her close against him, kissing her forehead until she felt blanketed in his presence…or if he wanted to ravage her, clawing his way inside of her body and soul until she felt consumed by him. Both sounded like viable options. 

She leaned closer, her eyes fluttering closed, her lashes brushing softly against his cheek, her lips a breath away from his. 

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, if you could be so kind as to save the snogging for after the lesson, please,” the Professor called out in a resigned, I-can’t-wait-to-retire sort of voice. 

“Sorry, Professor,” Draco said, still staring at Hermione, who had shrunk away from him and was blushing profusely as she tried to hide behind her curls, “can you blame me, when my Lady looks like this?”  

Hermione dug her elbow into his ribs and sank further in her chair while a few other students giggled at his remark. 

“Even so,” the Professor replied dryly before resuming their lecture. 

He rose swiftly when the class ended, dragging Hermione behind him and down the hallway until he found an abandoned broom cupboard and swept them inside, shoving her back against the door until it snicked shut. 

His lips crashed against hers, their bags dropping to the floor as their hands reached for one another. Draco’s tugging at her blouse and freeing it from where she had tucked it neatly into her skirt, and Hermione’s into his hair. 

He lifted her up so that she was forced to wrap her legs around him, her skirt rucking up against the dip of her hips as his right hand palmed up her thigh in a fluid stroke. 

“We missed you last night,” Hermione moaned, tearing her mouth from his to kiss along his jaw as she tore at the buttons of his shirt. 

“I highly doubt Theo and Harry would express the same sentiment; I don’t share as well as they do,” Draco chuckled, tiling his head back to give her mouth better access. He leaned them heavily against the door, his belt buckle pressing firmly against her damp knickers. 

“Fine then,” she breathed, “ I missed you last night.” 

“Hmm,” he mused, gripping either side of her neck and staring down into her eyes as he squeezed lightly, “I wasn’t sure if you would want to see me after I…claimed you so roughly. Besides, I was a bit busy wiping the memory of your orgasm from the minds of half the student body.” 

He felt her pulse increase beneath his fingers, and she swallowed thickly as he squeezed a little tighter. 

“Tell me, Lady,” he murmured, “what about me did you miss?” 

He used his free hand to rip at her blouse until it fell away under his hand, the thin fabric shredding easily with a little force. He yanked the cup of her bra down and pinched her nipple, and she moaned loudly. 

“Did you miss my mouth?” he asked, licking a long stripe from the centre of her sternum up the smooth column of her throat, moving the hand that had been around her neck to the back of her head where he wound his fingers through her hair and tugged until she was looking up at the ceiling. 

“Yes,” she panted, grinding her hips against him. 

His cock was swollen and painful at this point; he hadn’t been able to relieve himself of the ache of watching himself fuck her tight arse over and over and over again in the minds of the partygoers. The way her pupils had dilated and she’d bucked against him as Theo had cum down her throat. The memory of her clenching around him while he released his cum inside of her so close to where he really wanted to deposit it. He’d wanted to come home and fuck her across the breakfast table, but he’d restrained. He could wait one more day, couldn’t he? 

His little display the night before had solidified his lead in the points. He was one day away from claiming her in a way that no one else ever had; in a way that could never be replicated, no matter how hard Harry and Theo tried. 

“Did you miss my cock, Little Lady?” he asked as he sucked on her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. 

She whimpered, her hands grabbing at his shoulders as she tried to find some sort of leverage so she could grind harder against him. 

“Answer me,” he demanded, his tone slightly harder. 

“Yes,” she panted, “yes, I missed your cock, Daddy,” she moaned. 

Fuck , she had never called him that, not even in her dreams - at least, not in the ones he had watched - and it made him feel feral. 

“Oh, you missed Daddy Draco, did you, Little Lady?” 

It was too dark to see her blush, but he felt the way her skin heated under his lips. 

“I,” she gulped, “I…I…” she whimpered, her voice small and timid, as she finally admitted, “ yes.” 

“My sweet girl,” he moaned, kissing her on the mouth, his tongue sweeping across hers, “show Daddy how much you missed him,” he whispered, his voice low and strained as he tried not to pant. 

She pushed back on his shoulders until he let her down, and then she was on her knees, her hands yanking at his belt and trousers in a frenzy, and then his cock was free. She paused for a moment, as if soaking in the moment. He stepped closer to her, crowding her, gripping the base of his cock and directing it to stroke down her cheek and across her lips. 

“Be a good girl and show Daddy how much you missed him,” he whispered, and she moaned, taking the shaft in her hands and suckling on the tip. 

She licked at the precum that was seeping out of the small slit at the tip, her tongue pushing experimentally against it. 

“Daddy?” she asked in a small voice, sweet and innocent, entirely different from the usual way in which she spoke to him. 

It made his cock twitch to realise how invested she was in being his sweet Little Lady. 

“Yes?” he asked, his own voice calm and patient. 

“Would you choke me with it?” 

“You want me to choke you with my cock?” he asked, his heart racing with anticipation. 

“Please,” she sighed, and a groan emanated from deep in his chest as he grabbed her hair and shoved inside her mouth, until he heard the soft thud of the back of her head hitting the door. 

He pumped in and out of her mouth a few times before pushing in all the way, his body thrumming at the sound of her gagging, and the scratch of her nails on the back of his legs as he held her at his mercy and his will. 

Her moans became slightly panicked, her breaths through her nose harsh and stunted, and she began to sag against him when he finally pulled back just before she passed out. 

“Again,” she rasped, “harder.” 

Fuck, did she really want to pass out from his cock? 

“Lady, I - ”

“Again, Daddy,” she insisted stubbornly, “and if I pass out you have my permission to keep going. I just want you to use my body to make you feel good,” she assured him. 

Well, if she insisted, he wasn’t going to complain. 

He pushed into her mouth roughly, all semblance of restraint gone. He moved quickly, his sac slapping against her chin a few times before he buried himself inside her mouth deep enough that he felt her eyelashes, now wet with tears, brush against his pelvis. 

The sounds coming out of her were obscene, a symphony of wet choking noises and moans, until she finally did go fully limp. He eased her gently to the floor, hoping Matilda would be able to clean their clothes of whatever substances coated the floor as he placed his forearms down for leverage and pulled out. He continued to pump in and out of her mouth, though he made sure he could hear her breathing. 

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he whispered into the silence as he felt her stirring beneath him, “make Daddy feel good,” he breathed. 

She moaned beneath him, tilting her head so that he had a better angle. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how good you feel, you’re gonna make me cum.” 

She pushed at his hips until he pulled out far enough for her to beg “I want you to cum inside of me.” 

“I can’t,” he groaned, clenching as he tried not to spill his release at her words. 

“Why not?” she whined, “it would solve my virginity problem just like you said, and I want to feel you inside of me, she begged, her voice strained and desperate. 

“I’m not going to fuck you for the first time on the floor of a broom cupboard,” he said, hoping for any excuse she would accept. 

“Draco, please , I want to feel you inside me,” she cried. 

“Fuck, Hermione,” he groaned, warring internally with himself. He was going to win, he knew he was. There was no conceivable way Harry or Theo could catch up to him in points. She was begging for it, literally begging, and his resolve was waning. 

“Why don’t you just spread those pretty little legs, and I’ll cum on your sweet little cunt, and then we can talk about this when we get home?” 

“It’s not the same,” she whined. “What if you just put the tip in?” 

“Just the tip?” Draco asked. 

“Just the tip,” she promised, her voice over-eager. 

“You’re trying to kill me,” he groaned, casting a lumos for light and a sticking charm at the same time, securing her to the floor so she couldn’t wrap her legs around him and pull him inside of her, or buck her hips up against him. 

“Draco,” she whined. 

“Hush,” he commanded, sliding her knickers over and spreading her labia with his fingers. She was positively soaked for him, and he smeared it on the tip of his cock. 

“You want my cum inside you, baby?” he asked. 

“Yes, yes, please,” she moaned. 

He ran his cock head against her labia, coating it in her desire without allowing it to push in whatsoever. It was maddening, it was torture, it was euphoria . 

“You want me to put the tip in? Want to feel it jerk against you as I cum?” 

She whimpered. “Please!” 

“Then be a good girl and wait ,” he hissed, before stroking himself one last time and a stream of cum splattered across her labia and clit. 

She cried out, a tear escaping as her muscles clenched. The sticking charm prevented her from writhing against him, and he stroked the tip over her cum-slicked labia a few times as more ropes of cum shot out, until it was sliding down her and pooling beneath her on the floor. She panted desperately, whimpering beneath him, and then she disappeared with a pop as she disapparated with his cum still dripping down her cunt. 

Harry was startled when a half dressed and very dishevelled Hermione appeared in the otherwise empty practice room. He barely had time to register her ripped blouse or the cum dripping down her thighs before she gripped his hand and then apparated them back to his bedroom. 

“I need you,” she panted, crawling across him and kissing him. 

Harry, never one to complain when a witch informed he she needed him , kissed her back. 

Draco appeared at the foot of the bed, shoving a very confused Theo against the sofa. 

“ Hermione,” he hissed, stalking towards her and Harry, “you cannot just apparate away when you don’t get what you want!” 

“What did you want?” Harry asked, smirking up at her. 

“Draco wouldn’t cum inside me,” she pouted, looking very affronted. 

“Why didn’t you proposition me?” Theo protested from the sofa. 

“You know why!” Hermione shot back, glaring at him. 

“You’re being very immature,” Draco scolded her. 

She stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to Harry and kissing him, her hands shoving into his hair roughly. Harry once again allowed it to happen, quite pleased at the whole ordeal. 

“ Harry, ” Draco hissed, and Harry sighed, placing his hands at her hips and turning his head to glare at Draco. Hermione nibbled on his ear insistently. 

“Harry,” Draco said again, warningly. Harry let out an annoyed sigh through his nose. 

“Hermione, love, could you give us a moment?” he asked, gesturing between Draco, Theo, and himself. 

“Eugh!” Hermione shrieked and stomped towards the door, yelling “ you’re the one who said we needed to handle my virginity issue!”  at Draco as she went.  

“Once again,” Theo called after her, “I volunteer as tribute!” 

“NO!” Hermione, Draco, and Harry yelled back at him. 

He pouted, crossing his arms. 

Harry cast a muffliato charm at the door before turning to Draco. 

“So, the points,” he said bitterly. 

“I win,” Draco said smugly. 

“And a shoddy way to do it at that,” Harry grumbled back, “fucking her arse at a party full of people.” 

“I see no issue in my actions; any of us could have done it,” Draco mused.

“The real winner would be the one she picks to take her virginity,” Harry taunted. 

“If I recall correctly, I win at that too, seeing as she just asked me to cum inside of her,” Draco said with a smirk. 

“Because you riled her up first,” Harry argued, “the heat of the moment doesn’t count.” 

“Green might be your colour, Potter, but jealousy doesn’t become you,” Draco teased. 

“Oh, piss off,” Harry grumbled. 

“Anyway,” Theo cut in, “what’s the plan?” 

Draco turned to him with a devilish grin that had Harry’s stomach flipping with anticipation. 

Hermione waited impatiently in her room. She was feeling very frustrated and quite frankly, desperate. She hadn’t planned to ask Draco to fuck her in a broom cupbard, but the opportunity had presented itself, and well, he was the one who mentioned doing away with her virginity in the first place. 

She was tired of one thin layer of tissue, which served no medical purpose - and could break of its own accord - being used against her by some deranged stalker. He was obsessed with her virginity, of the idea of her perceived purity and innocence, and that he would somehow be the one to take it. 

Hermione had thought about it before; casually throwing it away on a random one night stand just to see if it would make him stop. She’d hesitated though. Perhaps some small part of her had always hoped, or known, that it would come down to this; that it would be one of the Lords that would finally rid her of the noose around her neck. 

A knock sounded at her door, and then Theo poked his head in. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, concerned. 

“Yes,” she replied simply. 

“I hope you know what you’re asking for,” he sighed. She hoped she did too. 

Theo walked into the room, entirely naked, save for a chastity belt that had been secured around his waist, his cock and bollocks restrained within. He plopped into a chair with his legs sprawled, looking put out about the whole situation. She giggled to herself, unable to help it. 

She sauntered over to him and got on her knees before him, examining the belt. Theo’s cock was visible through it, and she could even poke a finger through the metal grid to touch it. He let out a small whine when she touched him, and his cock twitched in response, precum glistening. There wasn’t enough room for him to become fully erect, and he whimpered again when she blew a small stream of air across it, teasing him. 

“Cruel, beautiful, creature,” he moaned as she played with his cock through the belt, experimenting with what all she could manage. 

She giggled again, but then drew in a startled gasp when two hooded figures appeared in her doorway, their long black robes trailing across the floor with a soft whisper of sound. They pulled their hoods back in unison, revealing twin silver masks etched with designs along the border and around the darkened eye sockets and mouths. 

“Death Eater regalia,” Theo explained from behind her, “left over from Draco’s father’s glory days.” 

A storm of butterflies erupted in Hermione’s stomach, and her heart raced erratically. She shouldn’t be aroused by the sight of them, but the whole thing felt dangerous and forbidden and sinful. Her mouth went dry as they stepped towards her, caging her between them. 

The one behind her placed a blindfold around her, and the world went dark. The one in front of her used a knife to carefully cut away at the rest of her clothes, and her breathing grew heavy. She moved to touch him, and the edge of the knife moved suddenly to her throat. She froze, scared to breathe, scared to swallow. 

“You’re not in charge anymore,” a hollow, disjointed voice said from behind her, the mask distorting it so that she had no way of knowing which of her Lords was speaking, Draco, or Harry. 

The blade was angled then so that the flat edge trailed across her breast, the metal cool and threatening. It slid down her stomach, taunting her, before it was withdrawn. 

“Lie back against the bed,” one of them instructed. With the masks, their voices were identical. She had no way of knowing if only one of them was giving instructions or both. 

She stumbled backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed, and she sank down onto it gingerly. Rough hands shoved at her shoulders until she fell backwards completely, the satin covers embracing her. Her knees were shoved aside, and then a mouth covered her clit, a flat tongue swiping fully across her. She gasped from surprise as well as arousal. 

Hands hooked under her armpits and yanked her backwards, until her head dipped backward off the bed, and she felt the tip of someone’s cock pressed against her lips. They dragged them slowly across her lips, coating them with precum, their bollocks dangling against her face.. She opened her mouth and he slid inside, the new-to-her angle allowing him to push in deeper than any of them had before. 

Meanwhile, her other Lord’s tongue pushed tentatively inside of her, his strokes slow and methodical. She squirmed against him, seeking something more , but he placed a hand over her pelvis, holding her down as he continued his ministrations. 

Across the room, Theo muttered a soft “fuck,” and the chair creaked as he shifted. Someone palmed at her breast, squeezing and massaging it gently, and she arched into the pressure. It was overwhelming, trying to focus on the cock in her mouth and the tongue in her cunt, and her mind swirled until the pleasure finally smothered it, her worries and fears receding as she became theirs to manipulate. 

“He’s gonna cum,” Theo warned, his voice low and hoarse, dripping with desire and envy. 

Hermione felt their bollocks tighten before the sac began to pulsate, and hips ground against her as they rutted into her mouth as cum shot down her throat. She moaned around their cock as best she could, and the other Lord flicked his tongue in time with their thrusts, until finally they pulled out. 

She felt the bed dip as they climbed onto the mattress, but they moved no closer to her and made no moves to touch her further. Her skin prickled with anticipation as she waited. Theo groaned from across the room, and she wondered what had caused the reaction. 

The mouth between her thighs receded, and the bed dipped again as the other Lord climbed over her. He pulled her back into the centre so that her head no longer hung off the edge. Muscled thighs wedged between hers, and she felt a heavy cock settle against her over her clit before it tapped against it a few times. She shifted, chasing after it with her hips. 

A distorted chuckle came through one of the masks, heavy and menacing, and her breathing hitched. The tip of the cock slid through the wet folds of her labia, up and down, barely disturbing them. She whimpered, lifting her hips up in invitation. They were so close; so close to pushing inside of her, and she was past the point of caring about dignity or decorum. 

“ Draco,” she pleaded, and he stilled. “Draco, I know it’s you,” she said into the darkness. “Please, I want to see the moment you claim me,” she requested. 

There was a pause, and then her blindfold fell away. She blinked into the darkness as her eyes adjusted, a faint trace of moonlight spilling over the bed. Harry - still behind his mask - was holding a sophisticated looking camera, filming them from the foot of the bed. Theo was in the corner, his hips bucking and jerking slightly as he trembled within his restraints, his eyes glazed with pleasure, overcome with the idea of it all. Draco tugged his own mask off, his eyes glued to hers. 

“How did you know?” he asked, but she didn’t answer, just pulled at his neck until he fell forward over her, and she kissed him. He kissed her back, and she savoured the moment, and the scrap of space between them, and that it would soon be gone. 

“I’m ready,” she encouraged him, looking between them. He stared at her for a moment, assessing her face, his eyes roving across it for any signs of hesitation. When he found none he realigned himself with her centre and tilted his hips forward the barest fraction of an inch, the soft bevelled edges of the tip of his cock sinking into her the tiniest amount. 

“Just the tip first,” he teased, though his voice came out as a reverent whisper that lacked his usual cockiness. 

He pushed in only enough for the flared edge to sink in and then he paused as she gasped and clenched; not from any pain or fear, but from the feeling of warmth that slid along the inside of her labia and then pressed against her in a way that nothing else ever had; her fingers, their fingers, their tongues - all were paltry imitations to this. 

“Look at me while I claim you,” Draco demanded, and her eyes met his without hesitation, and then he pushed in, slowly, so slowly that she thought he would never be fully seated; so slowly that she almost imagined she could feel each vein and ridge of his cock as his skin slid over the blood swollen shaft beneath. 

There was no defining moment; no giving away of tissue or rupturing of membranes, just a sharp pressure that slowly eased into a pleasant fullness until he was seated so deeply inside her that she was certain she could see the outline of his cock under her stomach. She’d never felt so full, so complete, so whole, and she let out a shaky gasp, tears pricking suddenly. 

“Are you okay?” Draco asked, his voice full of concern. 

She let out a huff of a laugh and asked “is this what I’ve been missing this whole time?” Her head dropped back and she lifted her hips a little hoping to shift him even deeper. 

“I’m never going to recover from this,” she sighed. “How am I supposed to go back to feeling so empty all of the time?” 

The boys all exchanged glances, as if they thought she might be having a laugh at their expense. 

“So you’re okay then? I can move now?” Draco clarified. 

“Please,” she enthused. 

He slid back slowly, dragging his cock from within her and then pushing in again, and she moaned loudly at the sensation. 

“I’m trying to be gentle,” Draco hissed in warning, “but if you keep making noises like that I won’t be able to hold back anymore. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” he added, the words sounding more for himself than for her. 

“Use me,” she begged, her eyes earnest as she offered her body to him. She craved it; the feeling she’d felt a handful of times with them, of being an instrument for their pleasure, a willing tool to meet their needs. 

Draco’s eyes glinted, the pupils blowing wide at her words, as if she’d unlocked something primal within him. The room fell away; Harry and Theo ceased to exist to them as Draco began to pound into her, as if he were punishing her with his thrusts for ever daring to be apart from him. He sank into her without mercy, and she relished in the feeling, every thought eddying out of her head until there was only Draco, and his pleasure, and how she could give it to him. 

She lifted her hips, meeting his thrusts, her nails clawing at his robes as she sought purchase. She slid the arch of her foot over his calf in an attempt to gain more leverage, and he grunted and his pace increased. 

They were past the point of sentences, each of them mumbling incoherently as they chased their release. 

“So good…” 

“Please…” 

“Right there…” 

“Harder…” 

“I need it…” 

“It’s yours…” 

“Fill me up…” 

“You take my cock so good…” 

“Please!” 

“I’m going to fill you up,” Draco promised. 

“I need it,” Hermione pleaded. 

“I’m going to cum so deep inside of you,” Draco growled, “and then Harry’s going to use whatever manages to trickle out as lubricant for him as he fucks you,” he panted, “and that’s just the beginning,” he promised. 

She cried out desperately at his words, her cunt clenching tightly around him. 

“Draco, I can’t,” she gasped, “I can’t hold on, I need -”

“Cum for me, baby,” Draco demanded, “milk this cock with that perfect little cunt,” he groaned, rocking into her. 

They moaned in unison, his cock twitching inside of her as he came, and she was certain her brain short circuited, little bolts of electricity flaring through her at the thought of him dumping himself inside of her, the cum splashing against her cervix as her own muscles clenched and spasmed, pulling it all deeper. 

Harry had started stroking himself somewhere during the last few minutes when the world had fallen away from her, and he wasted no time in taking Draco’s place. Draco’s cock slid out of her, faint traces of cum and blood coating it, and he collapsed beside her, his left hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her passionately. Harry scooped up what had slipped out with Draco and rubbed it over his cock. 

“Are you ready, Lady?” he asked, his voice low and sensual. 

She panted a desperate “ yes ,” against Draco’s lips, unable to pull herself away from the kiss. 

Harry pushed inside of her, his movements slow and deliberate, and achingly sweet. He wasn’t quite making love to her; that seemed too tender a word for it, but he wasn’t fucking her as Draco had. She wasn’t sure there was a word for what he was doing, but whatever it was, it was working. Sparks of pleasure shot through her again, building quickly, and she had to stop kissing Draco in order to focus on breathing through it. 

“Harry,” she moaned, and he smirked down at her. 

“Bask in it, Lady,” he commanded, “because this is what every spare minute of your life will be for the next year: us, fucking you one after the other after the other, or together, until you won’t remember what it feels like for your holes to be empty,” he promised. “You wanted all our cum to yourself, love, and now it’s yours.” 

He leaned forward, his forearms resting on either side of her head as Draco moved out of the way to accommodate him. 

“Tell me you want it,” he whispered against her ear. “Tell me you want me to cum inside you right now, and later tonight, and tomorrow morning. You don’t get to choose where it happens anymore. You’re going to be so addicted to our cum that you won’t be able to go a day without it. Just the thought of us cumming inside of you is going to be enough to make you orgasm, just wait and see,” he prophesied, grinding against her and into her as he spoke, so that his pelvis dragged against her clit with each stroke. 

“Harry,” she moaned, hoping he was right, “I want you to cum inside me right now, and later tonight, and tomorrow morning, and whenever the fuck you want.” 

“You want to be our perfect little cum slut?” he asked, biting at her neck above the hickey Draco had left earlier. 

“I am your perfect little cum slut,” she told him, and he groaned. 

“Fuck yeah you are, Lady,” he said, and then he grunted as he too came inside of her, his cum splashing against Draco’s, warm and indulgent. 

“Lady,” Theo whined from the chair, “please let me cum, please,” he begged. 

“Tomorrow,” Hermione laughed from beneath Harry, and Theo whined again, the chair creaking louder as he shifted. 

“Lady, please, ” Theo begged again. 

Harry chuckled as he rolled away from her. Hermione motioned for Theo to come over to her, and he jumped up quickly, hobbling over to the bed. She sat up and inspected him; his cock was contorted and restrained within the confines of the belt, precum weeping out rapidly. She was amazed at how turned on he was just from watching them. Her core clenched appreciatively; she did this to him. He was desperate for her. 

“Well, it’s only fitting that you all cum in me tonight I suppose,” Hermione mused, and Theo’s grin stretched wide. A tap of her wand against the belt and it fell away, and Theo flipped her over and dragged her hips into the air and sank inside of her with one quick movement. 

She moaned into the mattress as he wasted no time in fucking her with quick, intense, intense strokes that left her panting. Cum was sliding down her legs and he slid a hand around her to press it against her clit, his fingers matching his furious pace that left her panting. 

He came with little warning, toppling over the abyss of pleasure they’d edged him against all night, and Hermione followed him over it quickly. They lay in a sticky jumble of limbs and appendages, and sleep quickly overcame them.

Chapter Text

Hermione slipped from the bed, disentangling herself from the mass of arms and legs and sheets and wrapped a thin blanket around herself as she padded down the stairs to the kitchen. 

She startled when Matilda appeared, her large eyes blinking up at Hermione expectantly as she asked “does the Lady require assistance?” 

“Oh,” Hermione said, wrapping the blanket more firmly around herself, making sure she wasn’t too indecent, “erm, I think I can manage it myself, thank you though.” 

Matilda eyed her and then moved to begin preparing a bowl of fruit, knives thudding against the cutting board with a snap of her fingers, as she bustled about the expansive kitchen. 

“You really don’t have to -”

“Matilda would like to, all the same, Miss,” the small elf interrupted. 

Hermione watched her as she moved around the kitchen, smiling to herself at the shuffle of fuzzy pink slippers. Under eye patches rested against the elf’s face, and Hermione imagined that if the elf had hair it would be in curlers. She reminded Hermione of a kindly Gran as she fussed over her. 

“So, were your activities contained to one room, or will I need to launder multiple sets of sheets?” Matilda asked, peering owlishly at Hermione as she placed a white bowl piled high with assorted fruits in front of her. 

Hermione gaped at her, blushing profusely as she reassessed the kind Gran theory. 

“I…we…you know?” 

“It’s my duty to know,” Matilda said solemnly, but her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. 

Hermione nodded absently, wondering just how much Matilda knew exactly . 

“How long have you been at Slytherin House?” Hermione asked? She really wanted to know how many sets of Lords and Ladies had been under Matilda’s watch, and where she and her Lords fell on the spectrum of deviation. 

“Matilda came with Lord Theo,” Matilda said, her voice fond when she spoke of him. 

“You belong to the Nott family?” Hermione asked, surprised. 

“Matilda belongs to Matilda,” she said, her tone affronted. 

Hermione ducked her head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she said earnestly, “I meant no offence. I just assumed that the Nott family kept to the old ways; I hadn’t expected them to employ a freed elf when they surely had generations of enslaved ones. I am glad you belong to yourself.” 

“The Nott family does keep their elves as slaves,” Matilda explained solemnly; “Lord Theo does not.” 

“So how long have you known Theo?” 

“His whole life, Miss,” she said affectionately, her eyes scrunching with how largely she smiled. “He is a very sweet boy, Lord Theo, or he was before that Greengrass girl,” Matilda sighed. 

Hermione struggled to think back to their school days. She vaguely recalled rumours of Theo courting one of the Greengrass sisters, maybe Astoria? She couldn’t remember for sure; back then she had tried to avoid the entirety of the Slytherin house, interacting with only her Gryffindor friends and a few select Ravenclaws. 

“What happened?” Hermione asked softly, hoping that Matilda wouldn’t clam up if she thought Hermione was prying. 

“Oh it was terrible,” Matilda said sadly, her voice hoarse and gravelly as she shook her head, her large ears flapping. “Lord Theo loved Miss Astoria. His family and hers were working on a betrothal contract, but then…” 

“But then what?” Hermione asked breathlessly. 

“But then she had an affair with Professor Snape, and I rescinded the contract,” Theo said coldly from behind her, causing Hermione and Matilda to jump as neither had heard his approach. Matilda offered him an apologetic smile and a small bow, scurrying away quickly when he nodded to her. Hermione blushed, her heart still racing from being startled. 

“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly, having been caught snooping in his past. 

Theo brushed past her, retrieved two glasses and placed them on the counter. He moved around the kitchen fluidly, comfortable in the vast space. He retrieved some apple cider that Matilda had purchased from a local apple orchard near the village, and mixed in pumpkin puree, sugar, brown sugar, vanilla, and a few spices. Hermione watched the tendons of his biceps as he stirred the large pitcher he had poured it all in, the muscles taut as he worked. He plucked out a few large ice cubes and added them to the glasses before pouring the pumpkin juice over the ice and handing her a glass wordlessly. She accepted the glass, taking a small sip before placing it on the counter before her. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, peeking at him from beneath her eyelashes. 

Theo sighed, leaning back against the kitchen island, his arms crossed as he looked at her. She had never seen him so displeased. Theo was a man of many emotions; aloof, mischievous, adventurous, playful - occasionally slightly unhinged - but she had never seen this side of him. She’d seen the hint of wrath that had crossed his features when he learned of Otto. Had watched his eye become dark and distant and terrifying, but she had never thought to find herself on the wrong side of his ire. 

“Tell me about Otto and I’ll tell you about Astoria,” he finally said. 

“I don’t know that there is much more for me to say than what’s already been said,” Hermione said defensively. 

The corners of his mouth turned down in an annoyed sort of frown as he nodded to himself. “Okay,” he said, rising and clapping his hands together, “okay,” he repeated, “then there’s nothing to discuss.”

 He picked up her mostly full glass and dumped it unceremoniously in the sink. He turned and picked up his own glass, but rather than calmly dumping it in the sink he threw it, the muscles of his back rippling as he hurled it into the basin. The glass shattered, pumpkin juice splattering out, and Hermione ducked reactively, her hands rising to cover her face. 

She lowered her arms slowly, looking at Theo and the way he was currently panting, a muscle in his jaw feathering. He gripped the sink, his head bowed, making his shoulder blades jut out sharply. 

“I can’t even blame him,” Theo burst out, his voice pitched high with amusement and deliria. He laughed bitterly. “I can’t even blame him, because I understand him. How sick is that? That I understand the deranged bastard that’s been stalking and terrorising you.” 

He looked up to her then, blue eyes meeting her own, his face crumpling once more. He moved around the counter until he was in front of her, and he placed the palm of his hand against her cheek tenderly. “I understand him,” he repeated again, “because you are utterly captivating. You are all-consuming. We’re all just here, trapped in your orbit, and you don’t even realise it. Me, Draco, Harry, Otto, and a whole host of others if I had to guess.” He smirked, and she could almost taste the bitterness that clung to him. 

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist as she gazed up at him. “I don’t think you’re like him at all,” she insisted. “The things he’s done…” she shuddered, remembering. 

“Tell me what he’s done,” Theo asked in a strained whisper. 

“He killed someone,” she admitted, a tear sliding down her cheek. “My friend, Kyle, just because he saw us hugging. There was never anything romantic between us; Kyle had a boyfriend for Godric’s sake! Otto killed him anyway, and it’s my fault.” 

“Do you think I haven’t killed before?” Theo asked, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. She stared into his eyes, assessing him. 

“No,” she said finally, “no, I don’t think you have. Maybe you’ve wanted to, but I don’t think you have.” 

Theo stroked his thumb over her lips, his eyes glued to them as they parted of their own accord. 

“Sweet Lady,” he murmured, leaning close enough that she could taste his whispered words, “that’s where you’re wrong,” he told her before he closed the space between them and kissed her. 

She should have broken the kiss; should have pulled away and asked him what he meant but she didn’t. She just opened her mouth and allowed him to sweep his tongue inside, a small noise escaping from the back of her throat when he dragged it over the roof of her mouth. 

He pushed between her thighs and stepped closer to her, one hand settling against the side of her neck, the other pressing firmly against the small of her back as he pulled her against him. His skin was overly warm compared to hers, despite his lack of shirt, and the grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. Her chest pressed against his as the blanket slid down to pool in her lap and her nipples peaked as they brushed against him. 

The kiss was not hurried or rushed despite the way his fingers dug into her skin and his tongue warred with hers. There was an unspoken understanding between them; they felt the other’s pain and brokenness and soothed it the only way they knew how. Theirs had never been a relationship of words or comfort, only harsh truths and ultimatums laid down between them and reciprocated in kind. Still, there was something pleasant about the feel of his skin on hers, the way their bodies felt pressed against one another. 

He picked her up and she locked her hips around his waist as he walked the few feet to the cushioned breakfast nook and sat down. It took hardly any time at all for her to rise up on her knees and position him between her legs so that she could sink down on top of him until she was full of him. 

Earlier there had been so many sensations that she didn’t know what to focus on. Now, she pulled back, her hands on his shoulders as she bent her head to look between them and watched as he helped to support her hips as she moved on top of him. There was only the glide of smooth skin against the warm hardness of him, the feel of his muscles beneath her hands, the grip of his fingers into her flesh, and the bubble of quiet that formed around them as they became one. 

No one was waiting to claim her after him. Theo leaned forward, kissing her sternum, and then up her neck until his lips moved over the sensitive spot behind her earlobe and she sighed as her hands wound into his curls. The window behind Theo grew foggy as their breaths clouded it, warm lights from outside reflected on the surface. 

Her body grew slick with sweat, her thighs sticking to his as she ground against him, his breath almost unbearably warm against her overly sensitive skin. There was only the sound of their breathing, of Hermione’s sighs, of Theo’s muttered curses as their bodies melded together. She gripped his biceps and her head fell back, her hair cascading down her back as her core clenched tightly. 

“Theo,” she gasped, her nails clawing into his arms as she said his name again, “Theo.” 

“I know,” he murmured against her skin, “I’m almost there too.” 

She leaned forward, biting down at the junction of his neck and shoulder as she moaned against his skin. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he promised, his lips forming the words over her skin, his hand tangling in her hair as he guided her mouth to his. Her vision whited out as her pleasure cascaded around her, her release washing over her in time with his. 

There was something carnally intimate about the moment - of the rush of his semen inside of her, at the way her muscles clenched involuntarily as her body tried to move it deeper inside of her. She knew it wouldn’t matter if his seed reached her; that the contraceptive potions and spells would prevent her from becoming pregnant, but the thought of it flooding against her cervix was only intensifying her pleasure. 

There were several moments of stillness as they rested their heads against one another; Hermione against Theo’s shoulder, her face nuzzled into his neck as Theo turned to kiss her forehead. Hermione suddenly felt too aware of her body; of the way sweat dripped down her back and her hair clung to her skin where the sweat had left it damp. Of the way her fatigue suddenly caught up to her, her muscles fatigued and her body limp. Of the way that Theo was tracing his fingers down the ridges of her vertebrae. She shivered at the feel of it, and he idly brushed her hair off her shoulder with his other hand to give himself access to trail kisses along her shoulder. She sighed into his neck, curling into him, feeling very small and tired. 

He pulled the blanket back around her and stood up, swinging her around as he did so, so that he carried her like a small child. He bypassed her room and took her back to his room, tossing her blanket to the foot of the bed as he pulled his comforter over them and pulling her once more against his side. She rolled over to face him, blinking against the sleep that hovered just out of reach. 

“Theo?” she asked tentatively. 

Theo didn’t answer, simply staring at her and brushing his fingers through her hair absently. 

“Who did you kill?” 

His eyes met hers for a long time, as if he were searching for something within them. After an extended period of silence he blew out a self-depreciating huff of air before he replied. 

“The version of myself that knew how to love,” he said cryptically and then he rolled her away from him again, with her back flush against his chest, and Hermione knew he wouldn’t say anything more.

Chapter Text

Draco and Harry had left her room by the time she returned to it in order to shower and dress for the day. A green plaid skirt with sheer black tights and a green jumper with a Slytherin crest in the corner was her outfit of choice. She skipped lightly down the stairs pulling her hair into a high slicked back ponytail as she went. 

She felt shy walking into the kitchen as she recounted the events of the night before in her mind; Draco and Harry in their masks, Theo in his chastity belt, and the brief moment of shared secrets with Theo before he had closed himself off again so abruptly, wearing a mask much colder than the Death Eater masks. She felt as if they could see right through her now, and worried that the novelty of her would be lost to them with her virginity gone. A soft blush spread across her cheeks as their eyes followed her, hungry and intent. 

“Morning,” she mumbled, ducking her head and curtseying slightly. 

Her blushed deepened. Since when did she curtsey at them? Godric, she was an idiot. Draco’s mouth pulled up in a smirk at the movement, equal parts sexy and condescending. He cantered his left leg out over the corner edge of the breakfast bench, his right arm resting against the cushion behind him, turning towards her and rubbing his hand along his jaw. He brought his tea to his mouth and sipped at it, his eyes continuing to trail appreciatively down her body. 

Theo rose from his seat and grabbed his jacket with a fist before loping out of the room with a two fingered salute from his temple. 

Hermione watched after him, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. Harry rolled his eyes and moved to Theo’s seat, allowing Hermione to sit down in his. Harry sliced his pancakes in half and speared half of them onto an empty plate for her, adding a few pieces of bacon. He poured her a cup of juice from the communal jug in the centre of the table and placed it in front of her. She smiled at him appreciatively. 

“So,” she said awkwardly, “excited for the match next week?” 

“Not as excited as I am for Halloween,” Harry said, winking at her.

That, combined with the tone of his voice, made her thighs clench under the table. 

“Are we going to a party?” she asked, unsure of what they normally did. “Do we need costumes?”

Draco and Harry’s faces broke into matching grins that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on edge. 

“ We don’t need costumes,” Harry replied with a smirk, “ you , however, are welcome to dress up for us.” 

“Do you have any suggestions?” she asked, wondering what they might come up with. 

Harry’s eyes darkened as they raked over her once more. She swallowed thickly, her pulse quickening in response. 

“None that are appropriate for public viewing,” he finally replied. 

Draco’s voice was full of authority as he said “I’ll have it sent up to your room.” 

She nodded, nibbling at her bacon. After breakfast they escorted her to campus, Harry’s arm thrown over her shoulder as Draco held her free hand. Fallen leaves of various hues littered the ground, a kaleidoscope of ruby red, burnt orange, and bright yellow. Each of the porch stoops they passed had increasingly creative decorations. One featured a collection of bewitched jack-o-lanterns singing spooky songs. The home next to it had skeletons that tap-danced to the music. Witches and Wizards lined the lawns, adding more decorations; Hermione guessed by evening the streets would be unrecognisable. 

“Will there be any haunted houses?” Hermione asked, remembering the cheesy muggle attractions that featured movie characters and actors paid to jump-scare participants. 

“This weekend,” Draco replied. “Each of the Houses host one and students vote on which is the scariest. Tonight is just about general debauchery and fun.” 

Hermione nodded absently, smiling to herself as a skeleton juggled three singing jack-o-lanterns. 

A few students were dressed in costumes; dementors, ghosts, and poltergeists were a common sight. Some students wore old school uniforms, the fur lined red cloaks of Durmstrang and pastel blue frocks of Beauxbaton sprinkled amongst Hogwarts robes. Every now and then she spotted a Death Eater mask, sending a chill down her spine as she remembered the cool metal flushed against her skin as she stared into darkened eye sockets and took instructions from a detached voice as she offered her innocence up to them on a silver platter. 

They dropped Harry off in the Fine Arts building. He had started doing extra sessions to prepare for an upcoming concert; something about the acoustics being better for him to finalise his newly composed piece than at home. He kissed Hermione hungrily before he went inside, his hands sliding under her shirt and across the small of her back as he pulled her against him. He turned away quickly, leaving her breathless as she stumbled backwards into Draco’s chest. Draco’s arm snaked around her as he chuckled and guided her to their shared class. 

He toyed with the ends of her hair as the professor began lecturing, and Hermione was distracted by the simple gesture. It could barely be considered intimate, and yet it felt more intimate than some of the other things he’d done. Every now and then the strands rubbed together in a way that made them vibrate up to the root, tickling her scalp pleasantly. It made her feel small and sleepy. His fingers moved to the back of her neck, gently massaging her hair line. She fought the urge to moan and let her head fall back into his hand. She’d need to retake the class again the next semester, hopefully without him in the same class; she hadn’t retained a damned bit of information from any of the lessons. The professor droned on uselessly in the background as Draco’s thumb rubbed up and down the side of her neck. 

Hermione glanced at him out of her periphery; he was staring straight ahead, taking notes dutifully, and she wondered if he was even aware of the effect he was having on her. He glanced at her, and his eyes let her know he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. She blushed and looked away, trying to focus on the lecture. 

Draco squeezed her neck and she looked at him sharply. He smirked as his eyes locked on hers, and the soft release of pressure in her head was the only alert she got before he dove into her mind. She wasn’t sure why he felt the need to use Legilimency on her; he didn’t rifle through any memories, nor did he project any images into her mind. Instead, he simply winked and turned his attention back to the front of the classroom. 

The hand at her neck trailed down her body and locked around her wrist, pulling her hand onto his lap as he pushed it against his erection. She blushed and looked around quickly, making sure no one was looking at them. He smirked again, placing his hand flat against hers and then moulding hers around his cock over his trousers. Together they stroked him, Hermione’s heart hammering in her chest. The air grew warm and shimmery, and suddenly the rest of the classroom looked distorted as his notice-me-not charm formed a bubble around them. 

Draco held a finger up to his lips and Hermione knew that he hadn't placed a silencing charm around them. She nodded quickly, and he pushed her down in the cramped space between his seat and the seat in front of him, his fingers toying with her hair again as she quietly unbuckled his belt. He lifted his hips for her to shimmy his trousers down far enough for his cock to spring free. 

His pupils blew out wide as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and bounced the tip against her tongue. He bit his lip as she wrapped her lips around the tip and sucked hard . She moved her mouth further down, slowly, watching his eyes flutter as she did so. From this angle she could see his watch, and that the class had another twenty minutes left. She took her time as she pleasured him with her mouth; learned which movements made him tense, which ones made him bite into his knuckle to keep from groaning, which movements made him grip her hair. She liked it best when he held her head down, her face pressed awkwardly against his abdomen and pelvis as he pistoned his cock in small increments against the back of her throat so the chair didn't creak. 

Her fingers were coated in her arousal, shoved inside of her, her knickers drenched. She came as soon as hot ropes of cum shot into the back of her throat and prevented her from screaming through her release. Tears dripped down her cheeks as he choked her on his cock, and her cunt clenched harshly against her fingers, pulsating and quivering. 

The glamour of the notice-me-not charm falls away quickly, and Hermione’s cheeks grew scarlett as she blushes profusely until she realised she was still sitting in her own seat, and Draco’s watch showed another thirty minutes left in class. He slipped from her mind and reality crashed down around her: it was just a fantasy. A vivid, delicious fantasy that left her wound tight. Draco’s hand on her thigh was hot, the heat of it soaking into her skin, and when he squeezed it and nodded to the door she followed him instantly, not even ashamed to walk out of class early. 

She walked quickly, practically skipping to keep up with his long strides as he led her down a darkened hallway. Construction tarps blocked off the new science wing. Draco slipped between them, pulling her along behind him and then dragging her into what would eventually be a lab. He kicked the door shut behind him and then pressed her against it, his mouth finding hers instantly. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she opened her mouth to him, moaning at the feel of his tongue sliding across hers. 

His forearm pressed against the door, framing the left side of her face as his right hand moved beneath her sweater, pulling the cup of her bra down so he could grab her breast. The movements were slow and gentle despite the arrogant way he watched her, and her breath hitched. His eyes were molten, filled with liquid desire and the promise of sensuality. 

Though they’d hurried into the darkened room, Draco took his time exploring her body, his thumbs trailing down the plane of her stomach until every hair on her body felt as if it were on end. He knelt before her, disappearing beneath her skirt. He rolled her tights down her legs, followed by her knickers, and then his breath ghosted between her thighs as his hot tongue slipped between her folds. She sagged against the door, her hands scrambling to find purchase in his hair. 

Her legs trembled as he used his tongue and fingers as he launched her directly towards her orgasm, the build up almost nonexistent. 

“Draco,” she gasped, her hands clenched in his hair, “please,” she panted, “please, I’m so close, I’m -” 

He growled at her words, the sound primal, and she whimpered at the sound, and the way he nipped at her clit immediately afterwards. He slipped three fingers inside of her, wiggling them before stretching them out slightly, and he swallowed the moan that his movements elicited as he rose and claimed her mouth with his once more. 

His ring scraped along her sensitive skin, the metal cool in contrast to his fingers, and she shuddered, clenching around it. She bit down roughly against his lip as she tried to hold off her orgasm. He groaned as his lip split, and the coppery taste of his blood filled both of their mouths. 

“Please,” she whimpered again, her lips still against his as she begged, “Draco, please let me -” 

“If you want to come, Lady, then you’re going to do it on my cock,” Draco groaned, squeezing her closer to him. 

“I’ll come wherever you want,” she whined desperately. 

Draco spun her around, caging her against the door with the length of his body. His erection was obvious through his trousers, and she moaned as he rocked his hips against her. His fingers brushed against her clit as he rutted against her, knocking her hips against the door, his cock nesting in the crack of her bum. She moaned, clenching her muscles tightly as she fought her release. 

His hand slipped between them and she heard the clink of his belt buckle, and the rip of his zipper, and then his cock was slipping between her thighs as he let her desire coat the length of his shaft. She shuffled her feet closer together, squeezing his cock between her thighs, and now it was his turn to moan as he fucked the space between her thighs. He wasn’t even inside of her yet, but she was quickly losing the loose hold she had on her orgasm. She panted, trembling, as he bit into her shoulder and continued to piston himself back and forth between her legs. 

“Need you inside of me,” she groaned, and he gripped her hips tightly before he obliged her. 

He pushed in slowly, so that she felt the flared edge of his cock along every centimetre of her core, until she went boneless and sagged fully against him, the weight of his body trapping her against the door the only thing keeping her upright. 

“Fuck, Granger,” he moaned, pulling out agonizingly slowly, setting her desire on fire. “I can’t think when I’m not buried inside of you, and when I am inside you my head empties out and the world falls away and it feels like you’re the only thing anchoring me to my place in the universe.” 

Hermione barely registered his words as bright spots of colour began to swirl in her vision, and she sobbed as she tried to hold back her orgasm. 

“ Draco, ” she cried, and then his fingers found her clit again, and she was helpless as she fell into her release. His hand shot up to cover her mouth as she screamed his name. She went completely limp and she wondered for a moment if she had blacked out from the sheer pleasure of it all. He shuffled them, spinning so that she was laid across the black granite surface of one of the lab stations, and all she could do was grip the edge as he pounded into her, until she was screaming his name again and his cum splashed inside of her until it overflowed, dripping down her legs as he collapsed over her back with his cock still buried inside of her. 

Hermione had drifted through the rest of the day in a daze, satiated and tired, wanting nothing more than to curl up in her bed and fall asleep. Draco had offered her a tender kiss when he’d dropped her off at her next class, and she’d daydreamed for the next hour as his cum dripped into her knickers. 

Theo had picked her up after her last class, slinging his arm over her shoulder without speaking to her. She had been too nervous to try and broach a conversation with him. She didn’t know how to talk to him; didn’t know how to bridge the distance between them. She wasn’t sure if he was mad at her for asking Matilda about him, or if he was hurt by the memories of Snape and Astoria, or if he was ashamed by what he had admitted to her about himself the night before. So she let him steer her back to the house and winced as he stomped up the stairs ahead of her and slammed his door without a single glance in her direction. 

She would worry about that later. She moved into her room, closing the door gently behind her and setting her book bag down. As promised, a costume was draped prettily across her bed. She drifted closer, running her hand down the velvet red cloak. A red dress was laid carefully across the bed with a black corset placed on top of it. White stockings and red heels completed the ensemble. 

She showered, taking her time to make sure her skin was smooth and soft, free of any errant hairs. She did her makeup carefully, painting her lips crimson red to match the dress and cape. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and back, the curls moderately tame for once. She looked like a grown up, gothic version of Little Red Riding Hood. She wondered which of the Lords were going to be the Big Bad Wolf. 

Knuckles rapped sharply against her door as she clasped a serpentine bracelet around her wrist. She checked her appearance in the mirror one last time before she went to the door, only to find the hallway had grown dark as day gave way to night. The hallway was empty, and a note had been taped to her door. The red ink was still wet, and it smeared as she dragged her fingertips across the single word written in the centre of the page; run.

A body pressed against hers suddenly, gripping her to them as their hand covered her mouth. 

“The hunter is coming,” a gruff voice whispered in her ear, and then they shoved her towards the stairs, disappearing in a black cloud of smoke as she whirled to face them. 

Hermione ran, stumbling on the stairs and out the doors. Fog rolled at her from all angles. Down the street she could hear children laughing. Overhead large wings flapped, and birds crowed loudly. A wolf howled in the distance. The whisper of a man’s voice floated to her on the wind. 

“ Run, Lady,” the voice urged her. So she did; straight into the woods. 

When she glanced over her shoulder three figures in Death Eater regalia stalked towards her slowly. They glided smoothly over the gnarled roots and foliage that tripped her up. The tips of their wands were wreathed in red and green sparks, and the smell of Dark Magic filled the air, acrid and cloying. The air closed in around her as the fog clung to her hair and lashes. Her cheeks grew wet with it. The Death Eater figures grew steadily closer.

Some part of her relished the thrill of the chase, almost as if it were a taboo form of foreplay. The sound of wings beating grew louder, and the fog above her swirled in odd patterns, as if something were disturbing the air above them. A strangled cry filled the air, and when Hermione looked over her shoulder one of the Death Eaters had disappeared. Her brows furrowed in confusion. 

Harry’s voice called out through the fog, desperate and angry as he yelled “Hermione, run!”  

Another one of the Death Eater’s screamed, but the sound cut off quickly and the sudden silence was disturbing. Hermione ran faster, scrambling over felled trees. She lost a shoe to the brush and she paused for a moment to kick the other one off. Her hair was filled with leaves, and her beautiful cape was already mudstained and torn. Thorns scratched at her exposed skin and her breathing grew ragged as she ran. The single remaining Death Eater continued following her, apparently unconcerned by the fate of his fallen companions. 

A dark shape dropped out of the sky between her and the Death Eater, landing in a crouch. Black wings unfurled as the figure stood up straight. The wings were feathered, and they glimmered in the sudden burst of moonlight that was soon swallowed by the fog again. 

“He is coming,” the Death Eater said in a cold, detached voice, unaffected by the creature in his path, “Otto will claim her,” he promised. 

“He’s too late,” Harry replied, “she’s already been claimed,” he snarled, and then he launched himself at the Death Eater, talons extending from his hands and sinking into the soft flesh of his new prey. The Death Eater retaliated with curses that seemed to bounce off of Harry’s skin. Hermione watched, rooted to the spot, her eyes wide as she tried to process the scene in front of her. 

Ropes flew from Harry’s own wand, binding the Death Eater to the tree. He snapped the man’s wand and pocketed the broken pieces. After a body binding curse and a blow to the head that rendered his captive unconscious, Harry turned towards Hermione, his eyes glinting in the darkness. 

Fangs flashed as he smiled at her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as goosebumps formed on her skin. His eyes raked down her body as he walked towards her, backing her against a tree. 

“You’re a Veela,” she whispered, surprised, reaching out to run her fingers down the inside of his wings. He groaned loudly at the contact, shuddering. 

“They set the monsters free on Halloween,” Harry replied, his voice a low growl as he flicked her hair over her shoulder. 

Her words fell away as he leaned forward and sank his fangs into the crook of her neck, his hand gripping the base of her neck to hold her still. She gasped as his tongue flicked across her skin, and when he pulled back her blood stained his lips and dripped down his chin. She pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him, and he growled into her mouth as his tongue met hers. 

“Run,” he urged her, pushing her away from him and deeper into the forest. 

Harry watched her disappear between the trees, smiling to himself. He crouched low and then launched himself into the sky, his wings stretching out wide before flapping automatically. He loved the way the wind felt gliding across them. The moonlight sang to him, and the wind played with his hair, and his heart nearly burst from the joy of it all. He was a child again, a child of nighttime and shadows and darkness, and he relished it. 

He chuckled to himself as Hermione glanced over her shoulder, completely oblivious to the way he circled her from above. Once upon a time his darker urges had scared him; when he was younger and untrained he had struggled to control them, had struggled to fight the transition from man to Veela, had struggled against his new instincts. 

Sirius and Remus had helped him, showing him the Shrieking Shack that had once been Remus’s hideout. Sirius had helped Theo and Draco as they learned to transform themselves as well so that Harry wouldn’t feel so monstrous and alone. Those days felt distant and foreign to him now. Tonight was different; tonight, Harry would let his baser side take control. Tonight he would hunt. His blood thrummed with the thrill of it. He could taste Hermione on the wind, could smell her desire and her fear as they mingled into a heady mixture that made his pupils dilate and his blood heat. 

He let her wear herself out as she made her way into the deepest part of the forest, until even the fog struggled to find its way between the thick branches. She screamed as he dove down and pulled her against him before pinning her to the ground, his wings expanding to block out the thin tendrils of light. His hands gripped her wrists tightly as his shins pressed against her thighs. Her chest heaved as she panted, and the sound of her frantic heartbeat was a beautiful symphony. 

He nuzzled into her neck before biting down, her blood welled in his mouth, fresh and salty. He could feel her struggling beneath him, trying to yank her hands and legs free, and he smiled. 

“You know I like it when you fight,” he murmured, rubbing his nose up the column of her throat until he could place his lips against the sensitive skin below her ear. Her breath hitched again and she squirmed beneath him but he could tell this time she was seeking the pressure of his body against hers rather than trying to escape from beneath him. 

Her skin was sweat slicked, and the tiny cuts from stray branches and thorns were beaded up with blood. Her hair was a tangled mess of leaves. She was beautiful. He watched as the small traces of fear turned to desire as she looked into his eyes and he growled again, just so he could listen to the way her heart sped up and the smell of adrenaline bled into the warm scent of her desire. He ran a talon down the centre of her body so that the corset and dress fell away. She wasn’t wearing any knickers beneath them, and this time his growl wasn’t intentional. 

She arched up towards him, the only movement she could make with the way he had her pinned. He closed his mouth around her nipple and she moaned loudly. He traced her areola with his tongue and he rested his weight more fully against her. He let go of her hands and she immediately began to stroke his wings again. He groaned and buried his face against her neck. No one had ever touched his wings before - not like this, at least, with such purpose - and his nails dug into the ground as he struggled to maintain his composure. 

“Can I make you cum from this?” Hermione asked, her voice awed. 

He groaned again. Fuck , but he wanted to know the answer to her question as well. 

“You can try,” he finally growled, unable to push the thought out of his head now that she’d put it there. She immediately began to stroke his wings again, gently, so gently that sometimes he wondered if she was even touching him. His cock twitched painfully against the confines of his trousers. His hips sagged down against hers as she ran her finger under the seam of one of the feathers, the feeling sharp and foreign but strangely pleasurable as well. 

She traced the seam of skin where his wings protruded from between his shoulder blades and he nearly wept from the delicious thrill that shot through him when she did it again. The base of his skull hummed at all the new sensations, and his skin felt raw and electric. She stroked from the base of his wings to the tip in one quick movement and he ground his hips down into her, practically rutting against her as his instincts took over. Something was building inside him. A desperate need to claim her, one that was foreign and overwhelming. 

“Hermione,” he grunted as he ground against her, and she whimpered, running her hands up his ribs and across his back, until she could massage the membrane of his wings at his back. 

He panted. One of her hands slipped between their bodies to undo his trousers and then she palmed his cock and he stopped thinking altogether. His basal instincts took over as he pushed her hand away and shoved his cock inside of her in one quick movement. His mouth found the  junction of her neck and shoulder and he bit down as he began to fuck her. Her hands clawed at his back as he slammed himself into her relentlessly. 

She was crying his name, muttering it over and over, her tone delirious as she surrendered to him. 

“Mine,” he growled against her blood and sweat slicked skin, “you’re fucking mine,” he told her. 

“Yes,” she whispered, “yes,” she promised. 

“Mine,” he repeated, and her eyes rolled back as he figured out a way to push a little closer to her. He wanted to bury himself inside her. His body was screaming at him to claim her. His instincts were demanding that he claim her, that he breed her. The idea of his cum shooting inside of her, working its way deep into her womb and taking root nearly made him collapse against her. 

“Harry,” she panted, “Harry, please, I need you, I need you to…I need -” 

“Tell me what you need,” he growled. 

“Please, Harry,” she begged, tears glinting at the corners of her eyes. 

“Tell me,” he insisted. 

“Come with me,” she begged. 

His spine stiffened as lighting raced through his veins, and her hands trailed down his wings as she coaxed his release and then his fangs were buried in her neck once more as he slammed himself into her as far as he could go, and he roared his release as she screamed and clenched around him. 

Harry stared down at Hermione as his heart rate returned to a more normal pace. He was slow to withdraw from the warmth of her, his hips occasionally still rocking forward into her even minutes after their mutual orgasms had ended. Her eyes had fluttered shut almost immediately, her cheeks a delicious shade of pink, her hair fanned out on the forest floor. 

He could still taste her blood on his lips, salty and metallic. Most of what had spilled out - either from his love bites or the thorny foliage - had dried into maroon or brown tracks against her bare skin. Most of her costume, save for the velvet cloak, lay in tattered shreds around them. Now that his carnal lust had been mostly satiated, he was able to think more clearly. 

He had started hunting her the moment she had stepped out of her room, following the scent of her fear and the sound of her heartbeat as she’d stepped into the forest. He’d never had the opportunity to truly hunt before; to chase the warmth of a desired partner, to taste and smell and feel their fear. It had made his blood sing, his vision narrowing as he focused on her. He’d almost missed the three “death eaters” stalking her. In some ways he was grateful to them; they’d scared her and the scent of her fear had been intoxicating. Still, he couldn’t have anyone encroaching on her; she was his …at least until he had to deposit her to Theo, and eventually Draco. 

This night and the order of events had been carefully planned for weeks. Otto’s henchmen had no part in it. So Harry had incapacitated them, and later, when their night was finished and Hermione was safely tucked into her bed, they would be dealt with. Harry relished that too; it had been too long since he’d allowed the beast within to take control. Torturing those who sought to harm his Lady would be the perfect time to lose himself to his basal natures. 

Hermione began to stir beneath him, her breathing shifting to something small and needy. Harry smiled, pulling the cloak around her as he cradled her to his chest and rose into the sky. 

His cock twitched as she began to kiss along his neck and he gripped her bum tighter as she bit down around his collar bone. 

“If you keep doing that I’m going to have to fuck you again, and we’re already late,” he growled into her ear. 

She gasped as he swooped lower, the leaves at the tops of the trees brushing against her back. Her nails dug into his back, and then her hands trailed across his shoulder blades until she touched the base of his wings as if to feel the stretch and pull of his muscles in action as they flapped. A wave of pleasure racked through him and he cursed as he momentarily lost control and veered slightly off course. 

“Hermione,” he grumbled, cautioning her, “behave, or I’ll make you behave.” 

She glanced at him innocently from beneath her lashes before she slowly and deliberately repeated the motion. He growled before he pulled his wings around her and raced towards the ground, levelling out only moments before they crashed into the ground. 

“I warned you,” Harry whispered into her ear before pulling out his wand and tapping it against her hip. The effect was instantaneous. It would need to be done for what Theo had planned for her anyway, Harry reasoned. Seeing as it was a new spell, he took a few minutes to test it out - for science - before pulling a limp Hermione towards his chest and carrying her the last few miles to Theo. 

Theo trotted back and forth in the small clearing, watching the skies for any signs of Harry and Hermione. His stomach was in tight knots; about his earlier spat with Hermione, as well as the thought of revealing his animagus form to her. Only a few people knew that he was an unregistered animagus; Harry, Draco, Sirius, and Remus. He wasn’t sure if adding Hermione to that list was the smartest of choices. Harry at least had seemed to think it was, and then Draco had gotten on board with the idea and they’d filled his head with lusty thoughts of fucking her in his animagus form and he hadn’t been able to say no. 

His tail flicked impatiently. His left flank twitched as he crossed his arms. After a few minutes he noticed Harry carrying Hermione’s limp form towards him. 

“Used the spell prematurely then?” he questioned as Harry came to rest on the floor. Hermione’s head did not swivel towards him, confirming his theory. 

“ Someone couldn’t behave,” Harry chuckled with a shrug. 

“Unsurprising,” Theo murmured, walking over to them. He brushed a strand of hair off Hermione’s face and gripped her jaw so that he could turn her head towards him. Her expression remained unchanged, but he noticed the way her pupils dilated as she took in his form, and he smirked to himself. She was unable to move of her own volition but she could still feel everything. 

He turned away from her slowly, allowing her time to study him as he moved towards the breeding bench and pulled his wand out, tapping it against the frame to make a few minor adjustments. The spell was only meant to make the lower half of her body limp and pliable, allowing her to handle the girth of a Centaur’s cock, but clearly Harry had been a little too overzealous when he’d cast it. Theo needed to fix the bench so that her whole body could be draped over it without her having to support her upper body. 

He could hear Harry murmuring something to her. He thought it might be an explanation; that when Harry discovered he was the first Potter in half a century to have an active Veela gene, he’d relied on the help of Theo and Draco’s beastial forms to ease his transitions. Harry joined him at the bench, and together they began to position Hermione. Her torso and chest were angled downward on a soft leather bench, her thighs positioned against smooth padding, and her shins slotted into grooves as her ankles were strapped down. Harry turned her head to the side so that Theo could see the profile of her face. Her breathing was heavy and laboured, and he could see the sheen of her arousal and Harry’s cum as it dripped down her thighs. 

Theo trailed his fingers down her spine as he circled her. Her nostrils flared as she got a good look at his hardening cock when he walked in front of her. Already the effects of the spell were beginning to dissipate, then. That was okay; as long as he had sheathed himself inside of her before they wore off completely then she would be fine. He just needed time for her to adjust to his girth. She would be sore the next day, but that only made him want to fuck her harder. With the spell they’d cast, he could safely rearrange her guts if he wanted to; and he wanted to. 

He walked around her until he was behind her. The way they’d trussed her up her bare bum came just to the underside of his chest and he saw her fingers twitch when the smooth fur that covered his lower half tickled across her backside. He kept walking over her until his semi-hard cock rested against the backs of her thighs. He bent at the waist, so that his chest was flush across her back. His forearms framed her head as he draped his entire body over hers. 

“You look so perfect right now, Lady, limp and laid out across this breeding bench, covered in your own blood and Harry’s cum,” he whispered in her ear, his voice low and husky. He swallowed thickly as his cock twitched against her. Her eyelids fluttered. 

His eyes locked on the multiple bite marks along the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He kissed them, his tongue tracing the shallow divots Harry’s fangs had left. The barest hint of a whimper escaped her. 

“Sweet Lady, you ran from your stalker into the arms of three monsters that couldn’t wait to devour you,” Theo murmured against her neck, his hand slipping between her body and the breeding bench, his fingers finding her swollen clit almost instantly. 

He dipped his fingers inside her warm cunt, spreading them as he massaged her. She pressed her cheek harder into the bench and her whimper was louder now, though her mouth remained slack and still. She was soaked for him and though trace remnants of Harry’s cum were there, most of what he was feeling was too thin and slippery to be anything other than her own arousal. 

He rutted against her, his cock fully hard now, the length of it dragging over her bum and the small of her back, his heavy balls slapping against where his fingers pushed inside of her. 

“I’m going to shove my cock so far inside of you that you’ll be able to feel it at the back of your throat. You’ll be so full of me that you wouldn’t be able to scream even if you had your voice back; and when you think you’re too full to breathe, Harry’s going to choke you on his cock,” Theo promised. 

Hermione’s cunt clenched around his fingers, spasming as her orgasm overwhelmed her. Theo grinned widely. 

“Good girl,” he praised, waiting for her orgasm to subside before he glanced at Harry and asked, “care to line me up?” 

Harry, who had been silently stroking his own cock while he watched the scene before him, smirked and dipped under Theo. The arch of his wings brushed along Theo’s stomach, and Theo shivered slightly, his core clenching. Harry’s hands were warm and firm as he grabbed Theo’s cock at the base and slid it up through Hermione’s arousal. Theo startled when Harry’s hand rubbed over the tip of his cock as he spread the arousal around the tip and up the shaft. Theo began panting, his hands gripping the bench until his knuckles turned white. A mirror appeared suddenly next to the bench, so that Hermione and Theo were both able to see the way Harry kneeled under Theo and guided the fat head of his Centaur cock to Hermione’s swollen, glistening cunt. Theo groaned audibly as he began to push into her, her muscles resisting him as he tried to push into a space entirely too small for him. 

Hermione’s eyes were glued to the juncture of their bodies in the mirror, and Harry moved to fondle Theo’s balls while Theo continued to push past the tight squeeze of Hermione’s cunt, until finally, finally , the head of cock disappeared inside of her. His hind legs buckled a bit at the feeling of her clamping down around him, the pressure almost unbearably sweet. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, panting, unable to think, to move, to do anything other than relish the feeling of sinking into her. He moved slowly; he didn’t need to. With the spell still keeping her body pliable beneath him, he could have slammed home the second the flared edge of his cock slipped inside of her. Instead he savoured the tight squeeze as he pushed inside of her, feeling her muscles expanding to allow every hard inch of him inside of her. He felt the way her cervix stretched, accommodating him as he pushed past where he should be able to. Felt the slide of her organs, felt her pulse as it thrummed through her entire body, her heart practically beating against his cock. He pulled out just as slowly, and Hermione’s moan was guttural when he pushed in more quickly. 

Harry crawled out from underneath him and went to the front of the bench, his fingers tugging on her jaw until her mouth was open to him. He fucked her face slowly, as if he were making love. His eyes never strayed from hers, as if Theo weren’t also there fucking her body. As if it were just the two of them. Theo growled as he began pumping into her more forcefully, his speed increasing. He would make sure she bloody well knew he was there too. Would make her feel every fucking inch of him as he used her body as his own cock sleeve. It was his cock at the base of her throat. It was his cock making her cunt quiver like that. It was his cock rearranging her guts. It was his cock she was clamping down around as she screamed through her orgasm. 

Harry was panting, his jaw clenching before he groaned and shot his cum down her throat. Theo waited until Harry had stepped back to wrap his arms around her, his forearm sliding between her breasts as his hand wrapped around her throat. His teeth nipped at her ear and his fingers toyed with her nipple. 

“You’re going to cum around my cock again, Lady, and then I’m going to fill you up with so much cum that you’ll still be dripping with it when Harry drops you off with Draco,” he growled. 

She let out a low moan, followed by one breathy request, whispered so softly that only Theo could hear it. 

“Yes, please,” she moaned. 

Theo pumped into her a few more times until his release washed over him, his head emptying of thought, or sight, or sound, and he collapsed over her again as his cock twitched as thick ropes of cum poured into her. He filled her, her stomach seeming to expand as his cum filled her, until it was overflowing and dripping out of her and down her thighs, pooling beneath her on the bench. 

Theo staggered back when he’d finished, his legs buckling beneath him and he had to reach out and hang on to the trunk of a tree to keep from falling over completely. Harry collected her, wrapping her up once more in her pretty red cape and taking to the skies before Theo could even catch his breath. 

Movement returned slowly through Hermione’s tired muscles as Harry flew her past the treeline and out towards a large body of water. Hermione was too tired to do anything other than rest in Harry’s arms and stare out at the sliver of moonlight reflected on the water’s surface. Harry flew low over the water, the tail of her cloak dragging through the water and leaving a soft ripple behind them. He stroked his thumb across her cheek after he deposited her gently across the rocky bank at the water's edge before he rose straight into the air and disappeared above the clouds. 

Hermione looked behind her, wondering where Draco was. She flinched when something cool and wet brushed against her, and she screamed and tried to scramble back when she looked down to find a black tentacle wrapped around her ankle. 

A dark figure blocked the moonlight, and then Draco loomed over her, his pale eyes practically glowing in the darkness. He covered her mouth with his hand, shushing her with a chuckle. He pulled her against him, and Hermione barely registered what was happening as he pulled her back towards the water’s edge. 

“Draco,” she gasped, looking down at his black body, several tentacles moving to wrap around her, “what are you?” 

“A metamorphmagus, like Tonks,” he said, tossing her cloak back towards the shore and guiding her deeper into the water. 

Hermione shivered at the cool temperature, and the feeling of suckers gripping at her skin. His hands settled at her hips while two tentacles reared up out of the water and wrapped around her breast, suckers suctioning directly over her nipples. Another set of tentacles coiled around her thighs, and one pushed against her clit. She protested when another tentacle wrapped around her neck.

“Dra-” her voice cut off as the tip speared into her mouth, and her eyes bulged as a salty substance was secreted against her tongue. 

Draco chuckled darkly as he pulled her completely beneath the water and dragged her down towards the sandy bottom. She struggled - or tried to struggle - fighting to get back to the surface. The tentacles tightened around her, and she froze, pleading with the murky shape in front of her with her eyes. 

“Breathe,” Draco cooed in her mind. Hermione couldn’t bring herself to listen, and the edges of her vision grew hazy as her lungs burned. “Breathe,” he commanded, forcefully this time. 

She sniffed, figuring out that the burn of water in her sinuses would be preferable to the death sentence of a deluge of water in her lungs. To her surprise, she breathed as easily as if she’d taken a breath above the water. She opened her mouth to ask him how, but the words came out distorted by the water. 

“The secretions from the tentacles,” Draco explained in her mind. “I took the anatomy of a kraken and a siren to make this possible.” 

Of course he did. Nothing else about this night had been normal, Hermione mused, so why should this experience be any different? She quickly grew distracted by the tug and release of the suckers over her nipples, suctioning and releasing over and over again. He mimicked the sensation with the tentacle over her clit. Another tentacle moved between her legs, wriggling and poking until it slipped inside of her. She would have thought that after the feeling of Theo’s monstrous Centaur cock inside of her that she would be ruined for anything else, but she was wrong. Theo’s cock had been long and hard and overwhelming; the tentacle inside of her was more dextrous and precise with its movements, and the effect was immediate. 

She gripped Draco’s biceps, moaning as sensation overwhelmed her. Draco’s hands moved to her face and then his mouth found hers in the darkness. His tongue was warm as it moved over hers, and she melted into the familiarity of him. Somehow the Lords had come to feel like home, each in their own strange way. She relished the feeling of his body against hers, his chest pressed to hers, his hand on the small of her back as the other cupped her face gently. Tentacles moved around her body, enveloping her in a way that felt comforting and loving rather than smothering or invasive. 

She writhed against the one inside of her, and then it moved out of her as Draco lined his cock up and he slid into her. The tentacle that had previously been inside of her moved towards her bumhole, tracing the rim before probing it slightly. Hermione groaned, her hands circling Draco’s body until she could hold onto his shoulders as the tentacle pushed past the tight ring of muscles. She bit down around his collarbone, groaning as he and the tentacle moved in and out of her in unison. That, coupled with the stimulation on her clit and nipples left her a quivering mess of pleasure and desire. She’d lost count of the number of orgasms the Lords had gifted her with that night, and she was quickly approaching the point where pleasure became so intense it was painful. 

Draco seemed as lost to the moment as she was with his eyes closed and his head tilted back, as he moved within and around her. She grasped his face, waiting for the glow that indicated he’d looked at her again, before she kissed him deeply. She poured herself into the kiss, into him, hoping it could convey all the feelings she didn’t have a name for, and couldn’t express even if she had the words. 

She broke apart around him, her orgasm sweeping through her, and when Draco’s release followed hers, each of the tentacles pulsed and released a cloudy substance in time with the ropes of cum shooting inside of her. 

The tentacles retracted as he carried her out of the water, her head resting against his chest. 

“Draco?” she asked tentatively, fighting past the urge to yawn. 

“Yes, Lady?” he asked, his tone amused. 

“What other forms can you take?” she asked with a blush.

His laugh vibrated through her. “Curious little Lady,” he teased, kissing the top of her head. “You’re too tired for me to show you tonight,” he chuckled. 

“I’m not,” she protested weakly, though the yawn that slipped out suggested otherwise. She blushed. 

“Was there one you were hoping for?” Draco asked gazing down at her curiously. 

She blushed, and Draco smirked. 

“Well…it’s just…you picked out a Little Red Riding Hood costume,” she said slowly. Draco waited, obviously intending to make her say it out loud; “I just thought one of you might be the Big Bad Wolf,” she whispered, avoiding his eyes. 

Draco’s face morphed, his teeth turning into fangs as fur sprouted and his ears elongated. 

“You want me to turn into the Big Bad Wolf, Lady?” he asked, challengingly. “You want me to hunt you, breed you, and knot in you?” 

Hermione gulped, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t think she could run even if she thought a real wolf was chasing her. Still, there was something primal about the look in his eyes. The gleam of moonlight off his fur. The glint of his fangs. The idea of him mounting her and knotting inside of her. 

“I…yes,” Hermione admitted. Draco sat her on the ground and finished transforming into a large wolf, his fur the same white blond colour as his hair. 

He growled as he pawed at the ground, his nails leaving large gouge marks in the dirt. He threw his head back and howled, the sound eerie and thrilling, and her nipples peaked immediately at the sound. Draco stalked towards her and pressed his snout against the apex of her thighs, the cloak falling open as he nudged it aside with his nose. He growled again as he sniffed at her cunt, and his tongue darted out in a rough, scraping lick that slipped between her folds and left her panting. 

“Run,” he prompted in her head, his voice low and hard. She turned and ran. 

He howled again before chasing her across the rocky cliffside back into the wooded treeline. The moon disappeared behind the thick leaves and clouds, and Hermione ran blindly, panting with desire and adrenaline. 

It did not take long for Draco to catch her, his teeth sinking into the back of the cloak, and then he was over her in an instant, laying down so that he trapped her between his body and the forest floor. He licked at her throat and she moaned. She rolled over and pushed her hips into the air greedily, and he surprised her by backing up and licking at her rather than slotting himself inside of her immediately. She whined as his tongue pushed inside of her, long and fast, different than anything she’d felt before. She couldn’t even pretend to be ashamed of how much she liked it as she pushed back against his snout and forced his tongue deeper inside of her. 

He growled and crawled over her, his fur tickling her back as she felt the tip of his cock against her opening. He had allowed his body to transform fully, meaning that his cock was now longer and thinner than normal, and she whimpered as it slipped inside of her. It wasn’t the same feeling of fullness that she felt with any of them usually, and it certainly wasn’t the same as Theo’s centaur cock. It was more of a spearing, slippery, sort of feeling, but the scrape of his nails, the brush of his fur, the heat of his breath made it feel every bit as primal and indecent. 

He humped her, crouching over her as he fucked her and she muttered incoherent pleas to the moon and the darkness and Draco. 

His cock swelled within her, finally filling her fully, and she trembled as she screamed his name and fell apart around him. His howls joined her screams as he came with her, his cum spilling inside of her and then his knot formed and sealed it inside, and she panted through the pleasure of being so stuffed, filled, and stretched. 

Last week - yesterday, even - she had been a virgin. Tonight she had been hunted and fucked by a Veela, strapped to a breeding bench and filled by a Centaur, dragged beneath the water and fucked by a Kraken/Siren hybrid, and now she was about to be knotted in by a wolf. The worst part was that she fucking relished it. She was content to be at their mercy. If they wanted to tie her down and fuck her one after the other, or all at once, she would probably say please, beg them to do it again, and thank them when they were done. If they wanted to publicly degrade her she would accept it with an open mouth and spread her legs. If they wanted her in their human or beast forms, she was anxious and willing. They were supposed to be monsters; they were monsters, and still she craved them. Who was more depraved then: them, or her?

Chapter Text

Consciousness hovered around her like mist and yet when she tried to reach out and grab it, it slipped through her fingers. Warmth enveloped her, the familiar scents of her Lords swirling and cascading around her; freshly mown grass, spearmint, and parchment. Dreams danced behind her eyelids as she was swaddled in a downy comforter, silken sheets welcoming her into their abyss. Their voices drifted through her dreams, chasing away the masked faces that hunted her. 

“Who were they?” Theo questioned Harry, his voice tight, as if it were struggling to slip through clenched teeth. 

“Dean, Neville, and Seamus,” Harry replied, “but they were under the Imperius Curse…not that it will save them from waking up very broken and bruised,” he added in an unforgiving tone. 

“Did you look through their memories? See if there was any -” 

Draco’s question was cut short as Harry interrupted: 

“No trace - whoever cast the curse must have Obliviated them as well.” 

“Fuck,” Draco let out an exasperated exhale. 

Hermione sank deeper into her oblivion, their voices drowned out by her own subconscious. At some point she roused enough to realize that the house had grown quiet, and then sleep claimed her again. 

Theo stroked his thumb over a bead of condensation that was threatening to trail down the side of his drink. The first glass of Firewhisky had burned as it went down, as had the second, but the third? The third soothed the splintered edges of his anger, quieted the murderous thoughts about Otto into a dull roar, and numbed the shame over how he’d treated his Lady over their tiny spat. He sat in an armchair in the darkness of her room, listening to her breathing, enjoying the peaceful rise and fall of her chest under the covers. 

Normally it was Draco that watched her sleep - he’d done it for years, sneaking into her dormitory at Hogwarts. Theo hadn’t really understood the appeal. She was just sleeping for Salazar’s sake, how attractive could it be? Now, as his eyes traced over the curve of her parted lips, the way her hair fanned across her pillow, the subtle shift of her body as she changed positions, he understood. There was a softness to her in sleep. A surrender. An innocence that begged to be claimed. 

Moonlight bled into the room, soaking her bed with its celestial light. Her eyelids fluttered as she dreamed. Theo placed the now empty glass on her vanity and moved to stand beside her bed. How many times had Draco done this? Watched her dream. Shared her air. Had he wanted to reach out to touch her as Theo desperately wanted to? To trace his fingertips across her cheek? To follow the curve of her shoulder down her arm? To thumb the nipples that were peaked under her silk shift? Theo knew he must have; the temptation was too great. 

He toed his shoes off quietly before removing his clothes and lifting the covers enough to slide beneath them. Hermione remained motionless in the bed as he moved towards her until his body was flush against hers. She was soft and warm, and he nearly groaned as he ran his hand down over her hip. Had Draco ever done this ? Had he ever pushed his fingers between her thighs to seek out the warm wetness that pooled between them? 

Theo’s breathing was growing ragged and he struggled to keep it quiet. He didn’t want to wake her. Maybe it was wrong of him to seek her out in this vulnerable state. Maybe it was invasive. Maybe he didn’t care - no, he definitely didn’t care. Why shouldn’t he indulge in her? From the blush spreading across her cheeks and the soft moan that escaped her, she was enjoying his exploration (or was it exploitation?) of her body. 

His thumb brushed her clit and she arched into him, her breasts pressing against his bare skin as he leaned forward to place a soft kiss at her shoulder. He curled his fingers inside of her and she whimpered softly, her brows furrowing slightly. Theo’s precum dripped down the head of his cock, leaving a silken trail of desire across her thighs as it bobbed over them. 

He gripped the base, pushing the tip against her wet folds, brushing it between them until it was coated in their mutual desire. He knew Draco must not have done this - if he had, there was no way he would have been able to prevent himself from driving his cock inside of her as Theo now did. Her virginity would have been long gone. That, or Draco possessed a level of restraint inaccessible to Theo. 

She moaned softly as Theo slid inside of her, the head of his cock pushing past her tight inner muscles until he was seated fully. Fuck, it was almost better than the numbing spell they’d used earlier. She could wake at any moment; the threat of it only aroused him more. How much could he do while she was sleeping? How fast could he move? How hard could he fuck her before her pleasure hurtled her into consciousness? Could he bring her to orgasm without waking her? Were such things possible? Could he take his pleasure in her body while she slept on, only subconsciously aware of him? Could he claim her with his cum deep inside of her and drift off to sleep that way, his cock plugging her up so that not even a drop was waisted as she warmed his cock all night? 

He rocked his hips gently as these thoughts barreled into him, consuming him, his desire ratcheting to new heights. She was so beautiful in the moonlight, taking his cock like a perfect little Lady, pleasuring him even as she slept. Salazar save him. The feel of her, his cock gliding smoothly inside of her, her muscles clenching involuntarily around him. He wanted to devour her. He wanted to destroy her. He wanted to worship her. He just didn’t know which he wanted more. He rolled over her gently so that he could piston himself deeper into her, her breasts swaying softly in time with his thrusts. He bent over one and pulled her nipple into his mouth and she moaned again. 

“There’s my good girl,” he praised in a reverent whisper, “taking my cock so good in your sleep, letting me use you as my perfect little cum slut. You were made for taking my cock,” he moaned against her skin, leaving a trail of kisses up her throat. He accredited the rounds of vigorous, beastial sex with the three of them earlier for her ability to sleep through his ministrations. 

“My perfect little fuck doll, made just for me to dump my cum into,” he continued on, hardly noticing what he was saying. 

He pressed his thumb against her clit, brushing it up and down in time with each thrust of his hips. Hermione’s breathing had grown as ragged as his own, but still she did not wake. 

“Fucking dirty girl, moaning for me in your sleep, practically begging for me to fill you up,” Theo growled into the night. 

She lay limply beneath him, and he almost wished Draco and Harry were here to join him, each of them using her in their own wake to take their pleasure. One of them slotted behind her, claiming her tight bum, the other above her, shoving their cock deep into her throat as her slobber dripped onto the sheets below them and she choked on their cum. Fuck, the thought of it was nearly enough to tip him over the edge and send his cum spilling out inside of her. Then he was thinking of how much he wanted to watch Draco or Harry use his cum as lube as they pushed into her next, until all three of them had fucked her as she lay unconscious beneath them. 

The soft murmur of “please,” that fell from her lips as she shifted beneath him, dreaming of being fucked had him biting his knuckles to keep from waking her with his groan. 

“Fucking begging for it,” he moaned again, “always knew you would make a perfect cum slut, the perfect Lady, fucking perfect is what you are,” he rambled as he fucked her harder, her body rocking beneath him. 

He was past the point of caring if he woke her up. There was a humming in his ears, a sort of low buzzing that was ratcheting into a high keening sound that reverberated inside his skull as he chased his pleasure. When she clenched painfully around him, a moan tearing past her lips as she came, it felt as if lightning shot down his spine and then his cum was spilling out inside of her with abandon as his balls pulled tight and his cock pulsed and pleasure made his vision go white. He slid most of his weight off her, though he was neither willing nor able to remove his cock from her perfect cunt, and then he was tumbling into sleep beside her. 

Hermione woke well rested, sunlight pooling into her room and warming her skin. The bed was empty, though a newly familiar slickness coated her inner thighs and dripped from her cunt. She smiled to herself, wondering which of the Lords had used her in her sleep. The thought sent a thrill through her. She dressed in a burgundy skirt and a white blouse, smiling to herself as she knew it would remind them of her costume from the night before. Briefly, she wondered if she should feel ashamed or embarrassed of the ways they’d claimed her last night but found the memories only made her desperate for more. Perhaps she was equally as depraved as they were. 

She noticed Harry first as she stepped into the kitchen, and memories of the way he’d hunted her - and of the way he’d hunted her would be captors - flashing through her mind and leaving her hot and flustered. He smirked at her blush, as if he could sense her thoughts. It was the smirk that did it…or maybe it was the way she’d woken up wishing one of their cocks was inside of her…either way, she blamed her lust addled mind as she walked over to him and straddled him without a glance towards Theo and Draco. Harry’s smirk deepened and then she was pulling his mouth to hers as she kissed him at the breakfast table. 

Harry’s hands were at her waist in an instant, skating over skirt and shoving it up so that Draco and Theo would be able to see she hadn’t worn knickers beneath it. 

“Salazar,” one of them breathed in a low growl behind her, but Hermione was too absorbed to notice it beyond an additional tendril of desire. 

She ground against Harry, her hand slipping between them to free his straining cock from his trousers. 

“Feisty this morning, isn’t she?” Theo whispered towards Draco. 

The sound of a zipper opening was the only response. 

Harry’s hand covered hers and then he was helping to guide himself inside of her and they groaned in unison as she sank onto him. Harry nuzzled into her neck, and she gasped when she felt fangs scrape over her skin before puncturing it as he bit down. She groaned, tilting her head to give him better access, her blood dripping down the front of her shirt and staining it. Theo tugged at her chin, turning her head enough for him to slot his lips against hers, his tongue dipping inside of her mouth. She moaned, and Harry gripped her waist tightly, grinding her against him as he pistoned himself in and out of her. 

“If you don’t want to be late, I suggest you hurry up and make your Lord cum,” Draco said lazily from behind her. 

Hermione reached behind herself, her hands trailing up Harry’s thigh and dipping down towards his balls, until she was able to cup and massage them. Harry moaned, fucking her harder, until his cum was shooting inside of her. She broke away from Theo as she climbed off Harry and smoothed her skirt before turning towards Draco. He watched her with a predatory gaze, his hand working his own cock in a confident manner. 

“He’s not the Lord I was referring to,” Draco said coolly. 

Hermione smirked, striding towards Draco and making a move to straddle him as well. Draco stopped her. 

“Ah ah ah,” he chastised, leaning close to whisper in her ear, “drink Daddy’s milk like a good little girl,” he commanded. 

Theo pulled at her hips, forcing her to climb awkwardly onto the bench as she tugged Draco’s cock into her mouth, lapping at the precum that had already accumulated. She flicked her tongue over his frenulum just as Theo dragged his cock through Theo’s cum that had begun to drip out of her, before sliding inside of her. 

She shouldn’t like it as much as she did, she knew, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to care. Draco was pistoning his hips and driving his cock into her mouth just as Harry had done inside her cunt moments before, and she focused on his moans and grunts of pleasure as she choked on his cock. Theo fucked her from behind, Harry’s cum the perfect lubricant. 

It would have been a perfect morning were it not for the Howler that appeared, dropped onto the table by an unfamiliar owl that swooped in and out of the kitchen before the action registered. 

“Now, let it be war upon you all,” a disjointed voice growled, the Howler tearing itself into shreds that transfigured into pictures of Harry buried inside of her at the breakfast table, of her mouth around Draco’s cock as Theo pushed inside of her from behind; pictures from inside the house, pictures of them at that moment , Otto’s familiar handwriting covering the images with the word whore written over and over in blood red ink that still dripped from the photographs.

Chapter Text

If Hermione had any breath left in her she would have screamed. Instead, her knees buckled as trembles overtook her and she sagged backwards against Theo. His arms moved around her protectively as Draco and Harry immediately sprang into action, Harry inspecting the wards as Draco checked for intruders. 

Theo carried Hermione from the kitchen, Matilda scurrying ahead of him to draw a bath and set out hot chocolate. Bilby scuttled past them on the stairs, his arms overflowing with scrolls as he muttered to himself while Draco roared his name from the kitchen. Theo attempted to sit Hermione down on her bed and help her undress but she clung to him, her fingers curled so tightly into his jumper that they’d started to cramp. Eventually Theo kicked off his shoes and sank down into the tub with her, clothes and all. 

Her voice felt small as she finally asked: “he was in the house?” 

“It would appear that way,” Theo replied, “magic is a powerful thing, though. He could have been miles away,” he mused, “or he could have installed cameras. Harry is checking,” he reassured when he felt her stiffen. His hands pulled her tighter against him, his jumper soggy and heavy against the bare skin of her thigh. 

“Do you think…” she paused, nervous to even ask the question. 

“What is it, love?” Theo whispered against her hair, his free hand rubbing squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. 

“Do you think he has copies of those photos? That he intends to…share them?” 

Theo’s grip tightened almost to the point of pain before he seemed to realize it and he relaxed it again. 

“No,” he said decisively. No, he hates that we have access to you. He wants you for himself. He wouldn’t want anyone else to see you like that,” he concluded. 

Hermione shivered as she considered his words. Harry strode into the room, not seeming to find the sight of them bathing fully clothed strange at all. 

“No cameras aside from our own,” he informed them. 

Hermione’s brows furrowed in confusion. 

“You have cameras in the house?” she asked. 

Harry nodded absently. 

“Why?” she pushed. 

Harry and Theo exchanged a look before Harry shrugged and said “security reasons.” 

“That,” Theo snorted, “and Harry’s a kinky bastard that likes to -” 

Harry glared at him as he loudly interrupted; “Draco said no one else was in the house, and there were no abnormal magical signatures. We don’t know how Otto was able to get the photos. We need to meet with some of Lucius’s colleagues,” Harry hedged. 

Theo sighed. “Bloody hell, I was really hoping to avoid that,” he muttered. “I need to change,” he said, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s temple before scooting away from her and rising from the tub, a warm cascade of water sloshing over the sides as he climbed out and trudged towards his room. Matilda appeared to wave away the wet footprints before disappearing again. 

Harry reclined against the sink, watching Hermione. 

“How are you feeling?” he finally asked. 

“Scared,” she admitted, “and angry. I hate Otto. I hate myself for giving him access to me.” 

“I was actually referring to your eventful night, but we can circle back to that,” Harry said, moving to kneel next to the tub. “You did nothing wrong; Otto is the only one to blame for his actions.” 

“I wrote back to him all those years ago - I let him think I wanted him too,” Hermione argued. 

“Then you stopped writing to him. You took away your consent to his access to you. He’s the one with some misguided belief that you owe him anything, or that he has any claim to you,” Harry reasoned. He stroked his thumb across her cheek before moving his hand down until it rested against her neck. “Now, about last night,” he whispered, leaning closer to her until she could almost feel his lips brush against hers as he asked, “how are you feeling? From your display this morning, I take it that we didn’t scare you off?” 

“No,” Hermione whispered, trying to keep her breathing steady as Harry’s grip on her neck tightened, “you didn’t scare me off.” 

“Hmm,” Harry hummed, his hand moving to the back of her neck as he licked up the column of her throat, “perhaps we’ll have to try harder next time; your fear tastes delicious,” he whispered, and then he moved away from her, rising to stand. “Best get some dry clothes on, Lady: if we keep missing classes they’ll kick us out and I haven’t fucked you all across campus yet.” He winked before striding from the room. 

Hermione changed quickly, transferring the hot chocolate to a travel mug before following the boys towards campus. After kisses from both Theo and Harry outside of the classroom, she and Draco sat in their usual seats. 

Draco informed her that Bilby would be meeting her at the end of the day to escort her back to the house, as he and the other Lords needed to go to a meeting with some of his father’s associates . Draco felt confident that they would have insights as to how Otto was observing them in the house. Hermione understood, but she was mainly frustrated that not even one of the boys would be staying with her; she was sure to miss their company. Then again, she was dreadfully behind on her schoolwork and couldn’t deny she needed some uninterrupted time to catch up. 

The rest of the day passed quickly. She bumped into Ginny outside of her last class, smiling and hugging her after they’d squealed at one another in greeting. 

“Hermione you bitch, I’ve missed you! It’s been ages !” Ginny chastised. 

Hermione blushed. “Sorry Gin! I’ve just been so busy with Lady duties. You know how it is,” Hermione laughed, and Ginny joined in. 

“Let’s go for a drink and we can compare all the ways our Lords keep up busy,” Ginny suggested, her eyebrows waggling suggestively. 

“Oh,” Hermione hedged, knowing she was meant to meet Bilby to return to the house. “I’m not sure, I have a mountain of revisions to do, and the Lords will be expecting me, and -” 

“The Lords are always expecting us, Hermione,” Ginny reminded her, “and besides, you know what they say…absence only makes the heart grow fonder - or in our case, only makes the cocks grow harder!” Ginny chortled at her own joke. 

“Well,” Hermione hesitated, glancing around for Bilby in hopes he would intervene. The boys would be furious if she went out unaccompanied, especially with Otto’s declaration of war. “The pubs will be so crowded and loud,” she attempted, hoping it would dissuade Ginny. 

“Pffft,” Ginny waved her hand airly, “as if we would drink that swill! Come to the Gryffindor House. I’ll go in first and blindfold the boys and chain them to the bed, and they can just wait until I’m ready to go service them. I’ve been meaning to edge them anyway, it's a win-win!” 

Hermione laughed at Ginny’s logic. “Well, if you’re sure -” 

“Of course I’m sure,” Ginny interrupted, giggling, “let’s go!” 

She grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her behind her. Hermione glanced over her shoulder one last time, scanning for Bilby. She hoped the boys wouldn’t be too mad. Then again, she wouldn’t mind if they punished her either. 

Hermione waited on the porch of the Gryffindor House as Ginny popped inside and arranged her Lords, her cheeks flushed and a mischievous grin on her face when she returned, waving Hermione into the house. Hermione followed her through down into the wine cellar, the decor around her so similar to what she’d grown up with at Hogwarts. She almost felt she was back in the common room when they settled into oversized armchairs in front of the fireplace in the den. 

She was moving to refill her glass when the room went suddenly dark. Ginny’s irritated “what in Godric’s name is going on” was quickly followed by a deep thunk and then a thud as her body hit the floor. Hermione didn’t even have time to scream before her muscles locked into place and her mind went blank as she fell face first into the darkness. 

It was her own fault, really. She’d promised she’d be good. Promised she’d be devoted. Promised to remain pure. Then she’d let those filthy Lords deflower and defile her. Hermione Granger would get what was owed to her - and so would Otto.

Chapter Text

Harry had rushed from the practice room the moment Neville Longbottom’s patronus appeared, a breathy and panicked “Get to Gryffindor House, someone’s taken Ginny and Hermione” emanating from the Hippogriff before it dissipated. His wings had torn through the back of his leather jacket on instinct as he launched skyward, his own patronus messages cantering towards Theo and Draco in the event Neville hadn’t managed to send one to them. 

Gryffindor House was dark when he landed on the ancient front porch, the supports groaning under the force of his impact. He slipped through the shadowed rooms, following Hermione’s scent to an empty den, lipstick stained shards of glass and a wine soaked carpet the only trace of her. 

A scuffling sound above him sent him racing up the stairs, only to discover Neville naked and bound to a chair in the corner, the rest of the Lords bound and gagged in various positions on the bed. Neville was struggling against the restraints, and looked relieved - if only a little embarrassed to be found in such a position - when Harry entered the room. 

Harry released the restraints with a flick of his wand, a blanket draping itself across Neville’s lap a moment later. 

“What happened?” Harry asked, releasing the rest of the Gryffindor Lords with another casual flick of his wrist, though they remained still and quiet on the bed. 

“They’ll come to in a bit,” Neville explained, unaffected, “Ginny…ah…likes to experiment with -”

Harry cut him off: “I don’t need to know the particulars, I need to know what happened to Hermione.” 

“Right,” Neville said quickly, moving around the room as he gathered his clothes and pulled them on hastily, “Ginny settled us in our positions, promising to be back after a drink with Hermione. I could hear them giggling downstairs, and then Ginny cursed, and then it sounded like someone attacked her and Hermione. It went quiet after that, too quiet. Gin likes her games and role playing, but she wouldn’t stage something like this. I sent you the patronus, but Gin has the bindings charmed so that we can’t get out of them on our own, or I would have tried to go after them.” He blushed slightly with this admission, and Harry nodded quickly, making his way back down the stairs with Neville at his heels. 

Draco and Theo arrived in dramatic fashion as he and Neville scanned the room for any trace of magical signatures or dark magic. Harry swore when the spells revealed nothing. Theo pulled Harry aside while Draco conversed with Neville, grilling him again about what he’d heard. 

“Can you track her scent?” Theo whispered hopefully. Harry shook his head grimly. 

“They must have figured a way past the anti-apparition wards. Her scent doesn’t extend beyond the house,” Harry explained. 

“Fuck,” Theo hissed, running hand roughly through his hair. “Where the fuck is Bilby?” 

“No trace of him either,” Draco supplied, joining their conversation. 

“You don’t suppose one of the other Houses is responsible?” Neville suggested awkwardly, wincing. “Like what happened on Halloween?” 

“It’s possible,” Draco mused. “Harry and I will check Hufflepuff. You two check Ravenclaw,” he instructed. Theo nodded, gesturing for Neville to follow him. 

“Do you want me to scout or infiltrate?” Harry asked; they could always storm the house together, but years of experience dealing with the shady and dubious lot involved in the Underworld had taught them it was best to have someone waiting on the outside just in case. 

“You scout,” Draco instructed, and the set of his jaw and glint in his eye made Harry wonder what deadly creature he planned to shift into. 

Draco willed his body to become smoke and wind, to turn into the silent scream of nightmares and the cloying smell of death, and then he moved through the darkness as if he belonged to it. 

The Ravenclaw House was as dark and silent as the Gryffindor house had been, a strange coincidence for a weeknight. Draco was not one to believe in coincidence. He circled the House, checking for any hint of Dark Magic, any sound or sign of foul play. When he spotted Harry circling above he slipped down the chimney, scanning every room for any sign of life. 

He found them - predictably - in the basement. The area was layed out similarly to that of Slytherin House, with separate storage rooms, wine cellars, a smoking room, and so forth. Ginny was naked and tied to a bed in of the cellars, in a position similar to the way she’d left her own Lords. Her eyes were covered by a scrap of black fabric tied tightly in the back and her red stained lips were wrapped around a ball gag. Two figures stood over her, whispering disturbingly filthy things as they trailed different instruments across her naked body. She thrashed wildly against the restraints, a muffled scream emanating from her that only made them men chuckle in response. Were he not terrified to find Hermione in such a position, Draco would have stopped to help her. Instead, he moved to the next room. 

Hermione was draped across a bed, her clothes half removed, the buttons of her shirt strewn across the floor, her shoulders and collarbones bare, as a man laved his tongue against her nipple, his other hand roughly gripping the opposite breast. Her skirt was rucked up against her stomach, her knickers were - mercifully - still intact, though another man was mouthing her through the thin material, her legs thrown over his shoulders as he knelt before her. A third man hovered nearby, stroking his cock boldly as he watched the scene with rapt attention. Shock ripped through Draco as he watched Hermione submit to the men, her eyelids half closed, fluttering as pleasure washed across her features. 

Her fingers curled in the hair of the man between her thighs, who had scraped his teeth over where her clit rested beneath the now soaked fabric of her knickers, followed by a loud moan and a whimpered: “just like that, Draco” escaping her.

It was then that he understood; they had imperiused her to believe she was with her Lords, that this was all by their design. Draco tore through their minds, ignoring the gasps and hisses of pain as he dug through their recent memories. Each of them had been overpowered by a masked figure at some point during the day, the subtle cocoon of the Imperius curse enveloping them and guiding them to the Gryffindor House and to Hermione. They felt no guilt over capturing her and Ginny, harbored no remorse over placing them under their own Imperius curse and making them believe they were spending the night with their Lords. The men’s own impulses had blended with the guidings of the curse, and their own sadistic impulses and inhibitions - ones that Draco himself might have liked to try with Hermione, but loathed coming from these cretins - left Draco shaking with an uncontrolled rage. 

It took him only minutes to harness the Imperius curse placed by the masked figure, contorting it in his own form of retribution. Had the men been acting not of their own free will, he would have simply removed it as he had from the Gryffindor’s on Halloween. Instead, he fed into their dark fantasies, goading them with insatiable desire, forcing them to enact them on one another. The spell would wear off in 72 hours, at which point they would realize they had been sexually torturing and dehumanizing one another, rather than Hermione, as they thought. He broke a few bones as well, masking the pain so that it too would go unnoticed until the end of the long-weekend. It was a fate they might not deserve, but one he bestowed upon them anyway, for daring to touch his Lady, to lust after and covet her, to plan to break her and enjoy her screams of pain as much as they did her initial screams of pleasure. 

He wrapped his shadows around Hermione, who had waited mutely on the bed without the nudgings of the Imperius curse guiding her. She stared, unseeing, into the room. Draco picked her up gently, ushering her out of the room and into the open expanse of the sky, unwilling to lift the curse while she was still in the room with the men who were already carrying out their first sexual act, oblivious to the original Hermione. She didn’t need any more horrors burned into her memory. 

Draco wordlessly pushed the images of the cellar and what had transpired within to Harry. Harry’s jaw was tense with anger when Draco finished, his hands balled into fists as he flew into the House. Draco knew without further intrusion into Harry’s mind that he was going to rescue Ginny before alerting Theo and Neville. He moved swiftly through the dark sky, Hermione shivering slightly at the chill. Draco wrapped her tighter against him, pitching them forward to land silently against the landing of the front porch and gliding through the doors. He settled her in front of the fireplace, draping a thick blanket around her shoulders before lifting the Imperius curse. 

The glossy film over her eyes receded slowly, the colour draining from her face as realisation dawned. Draco rocked back on his heels in front of her, trying not to crowd or overwhelm her. She began to tremble slightly, her breaths growing shallow and ragged, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the blanket more firmly around her. 

She tripped over her words, her questions tumbling out faster than her mouth could ask them, each one punctuated by near guttural sobs: “is he…did he…is Ginny…where…and what about Bilby…” and finally she managed to rasp out “how did you find me?” 

“There is nowhere you could go that we would not find you,” Harry promised, striding into the room, his dark wings disappearing as he moved towards them. Draco glared at him when Hermione flinched back, startled by his sudden appearance. Theo came in from the kitchen with a steaming mug of hot cocoa in his hands. Hermione took it from him, tucking it against her chest silently. 

“What do you remember after going to the Gryffindor House?” Theo prompted, and Draco was grateful he didn’t chastise her - yet - for going there without their permission, especially after Otto’s most recent warning. Hermione sniffled, refusing to meet their eyes and instead staring into the depths of her mug, the steam delicately swirling over her cheeks. 

“Ginny offered me a drink, and then the room went dark, and then…” she trailed off, a blush spreading even as she frowned. “I thought…I thought it was you ,” she explained, finally glancing towards Draco, then Theo, and finally at Harry. Her gaze lingered on him the longest, enough that the baser, primal side of Draco grew jealous. 

“I thought you had brought me back here,” she explained in a rush, “and you were going to…er… punish me, for my disobedience.” She blushed harder, and Draco catalogued the reaction for a later date and time, when she wasn’t still reeling from the traumatic experience, and the threat of Otto and his seemingly unmitigated access to the other Lords. 

She began to cry, from fear or shame he couldn’t tell. Theo extended a hand towards her, moving to comfort her, but she flinched away, and Draco’s glare turned towards him next. She obviously didn’t trust what - or who - she was seeing, and Draco hated Otto even more for taking that trust from her. 

“I don’t know how to tell what’s real,” she cried, a panicked note of hysteria creeping into her voice. “What if you’re not real? What if none of what happened earlier was real? What if I think one thing is happening, but what I’m seeing is just a…a…a glamour of sorts, and something else entirely is happening to me and my body and…” her voice rose higher and higher with each fear expressed, until she choked on a sob, her eyes panicked and wild as she glanced around the room as if looking for a flaw that would let her know it was fake.

To Draco’s surprise she relaxed into Harry’s arms as he pulled her into his lap, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. One hand gripped her shoulder tightly, pulling her closer, the other holding her thigh possessively. 

“You’re safe,” Harry murmured into her hair. “This is real,” he promised, “you’re safe. Draco removed the Imperius curse, Theo checked the wards, you’re safe, ” he soothed. Hermione cried harder, her snot and tears seeping into Harry’s shirt, but Harry didn’t seem to mind, just rocked her gently and made soft shushing sounds, rubbing his hand up and down her back occasionally in a reassuring sort of way. 

“What do you say we get you cleaned up?” Harry asked when her tears had finally subsided into the occasional sniffle. Hermione nodded mutely against him, and Harry rose, shaking his head in a subtle rebuff when Draco rose to follow. 

The soft sounds of his footfalls fell away as he moved up the stairs, and Theo let out a long exhale, pouring himself and Draco a large tumbler of Firewhiskey before falling heavily into one of the armchairs. 

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Theo ground out, clearly frustrated. 

“I intend to find out,” Draco nearly growled, gripping his tumbler so hard that the glass shattered, the sting of alcohol against his freshly cut skin barely registering. “Where the bloody hell was Bilby?” he asked, removing the glass shards with his wand and wrapping a cloth around his hand to staunch the blood flow. 

“Found him obliviated, knocked out, and trapped in a broom closet near her last class,” Theo sighed. “No magical signature there, either,” he grunted, sipping from his drink and offering it to Draco, who turned it down, reaching instead for the half-full bottle and taking a long pull from it. 

“We might need to hire out additional security,” Theo mused. 

“I don’t want her going anywhere without one of us,” Draco snarled, “not even the bloody toilet. No one is stealing her from us again,” he declared.