Keywords: M/F anal, oral Author: W R Jenkins Title: Potter: A Krummy World Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal. This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories. They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation. End Sermon. Untold Hogwarts: A Krummy World - (HPkrum.txt)- More from fan wizards- this one obviously more fixated on Hermione than jealous of Harry. Also not as dependant on outside sources. More interesting or not? Good question. No question there's more sex. M/F, MM/F, oral, anal, hexes A blow-job doesn't show love, girls. It might be said to demonstrate a certain devotion, but that's not the same. As wizards don't know what love is, it is sometimes mistaken, and, as you must have heard before, does tend to leave a feeling of obligation that can be useful. It's not love, though. Pansy Parkinson is sadly aware of this as she kneels in front of Draco and lets Draco's engorged penis bump into the back of her throat. She's sad because she knows Draco will only love her if forced. At the present, she is allowing the troublesome penis to make tears squeeze from her eyes only to appease Draco. She's not crying. It's just a reaction to the turmoil her body feels at its unnatural use. She wishes she wasn't- shedding tears that is. It amuses Draco too much and that's wrong. She can't help it. She would rather submit to his casual abuse with the outward calm she feels inside. It's nothing to her- nothing out of the ordinary at least. In perspective, she'd rather be kneeling as she is, enduring the uncomfortable reactions as he fucks her face to nearly any other of Draco's favourite pursuits. She's used to it if her body never adjusts. She doesn't like it when his semen burns salty in her raw throat, but it is preferable to anything involving being naked for Goyle to see. Most of Slytherin has seen her suck Draco's penis one time or another. Pansy is inured to that. She still finds it unsettling when Draco wants to exhibit her as he has her in some other way. "What thank you, Pansy," Draco says as he zips his pants. "That was most... adequate." Pansy resists the burning. She doesn't wish to gag or cough where Draco can see. She puts her head down so putting her hand to her throat seems a more normal motion. She leaves, forcing herself to walk slowly as she seeks a spot beyond Draco's gaze where she can summon water and soothe the irritation of his semen in her throat. Hermione Granger stretches languorously on her beach chair. She is blissfully unaware of the attention she attracts. She is not quite used to the appreciation her developing body demands. In her rather brief bikini, the filling globes of her breasts stand out all the more starkly. They are heavy and round-bottomed, yet firm enough stand out and attract notice. They are, in most ways, mature breasts, not the high, bobbing breasts that might be expected on one of her tender barely 18 years. The thicket of hair that surrounds her head descends in a faint wedge to just past her shoulders. With the remains of her school-girl bangs the effect is vaguely like a pharaoh's headdress. The large sunglasses she wears against the sun, even in the shade of her umbrella, complete a look of mystery. She casts the glasses aside as she rises from the lounge and then, with a giggle, unties the top of her bikini to join it. Who will notice in St. Tropez? Only everyone. She is sleek from growing, from her adventures, because she was always meant to be. Her bottom, almost too narrow, shares the features of her breasts in being rounded at the bottoms and seeming to hang heavily with a most salacious promise. This is at rest. In motion, there is nothing seductive nor even swaying about her gait. She set out strongly, one foot in front of the other. Whatever jiggle there is comes from the sand yielding under her stride. She sees the admiration now. She is no longer unaware of the eyes on her as she walks to the water. There is a smirk on her face. Part is for what they think they see and are mistaken. They cannot know her if her external flesh is all the see. She is more. Part is for what they do see and the newness of the appreciation for her. The sun gives the illusion of auburn at the edges of her tangle of hair. The sun brings out the green in her eyes and makes them hazel in the light. And she is bronzed, smoothly, completely down to the darker brown of her nipples. There is only the most private patch of her skin that is still her normal pale hue. She has been enjoying the admiring stares when she chooses to submit to them. For all the falseness of her turning from a cute little girl into a striking young woman being like the ugly duckling's transformation into a swan, Hermione still feels it. She has not been so inviting as to accept any advances, however. She is finding that power to be even more heady. This woman they assume her to be can decline them and still leave them grateful for her refusal. It could quite turn her head if it didn't amuse her so much. She is two days away from being: "Oi, Hermione, could you chuck that garden gnome over here" again. She kicks the lapping waves as she walks along the edges of the surf, watching men watching her and looking at the others at play on the beach. It has been revival and renewal along with self-discovery. The torrent of emotions, the rush to action, the confusion of battle, have all been, at least, quieted, muffled by the heat of the sun and the soothing constancy of the waves on the shore. She is looking forward to the old life resuming, but she is going to fill the next two days as full as she can until she can see her friends and try to see what normal might be now. "But your mum is everywhere," Harry protests in a hoarse whisper behind the chicken's shed. Ginny Weasley is quite a different matter than Hermione. She is as pale as Hermione is tan and silvered even more to a white glow in the light of the moon. She is also completely naked, suddenly so, and that is the part that has Harry protesting. "Then she'll see something she might not like to see," Ginny says, "Don't say that will stop you." Like her paleness, Ginny also differs from Hermione in that her 17- year-old breasts are much as you might expect on a young girl. They jut out as if springing up, pinkly pink nipples at their tips. If a bit smaller, they seem to extend as far and with the air of searching out adventure. She is hurriedly undressing Harry as he stands in indecision, neither helping nor hindering. Her hips are womanly wide already and her buttocks are high and round. "I don't want to start a row on my first day here," Harry complains. "Then be soon done, I say," Ginny grants him no quarter. "You can't say you don't want me." It isn't a question. Ginny has succeeded in tugging Harry's pants and underwear to his ankles and Harry's wanting is quite evident. Using the advantage of his hobbled ankles, Ginny tips Harry onto his back and falls atop him. "It will be sooner if you help," Ginny assures him. Harry has no reticence for her embrace. It is how much he wants her that gave him pause at first. He fears he will not be able to stop holding her, kissing her, having her, once he begins. Her breasts are marvellous to him, quite full enough and moving with an erotic sway that sends shivers through him. He reaches to trap one as Ginny descends to put her mouth over his. It's much better than talking to share the language of love. Their tongues convey what words might stumble at with much more precise conviction. Harry kisses her with all his longing and feels how she has longed for him in the way her tongue will not be trapped or conquered. She wants him and will have him. He should make no mistake about that. Ginny could not shout it clearer than her tongue relays. She is eager, needy for him. Harry fights her tongue's onslaught to make his tongue tell her the same. She is trying to move into position and now comes the tussle. Harry is having none of it. If she wants him, it will be on his terms and his terms are that he wants to have her. They still kiss, but it is their bodies now communicating the subtle message with a less subtle struggle as Ginny tries to remain atop Harry and he wrestles her down to turn her on her back. In the end, Ginny yields. Harry will contend forever, she knows, but it is a simpler reason that lets her give in. As they struggle, they delay. Ginny can no longer stand it. She lets Harry roll her back and opens her legs to welcome him. She wants to feel... Ahh, that's it. Mrs. Weasley is long forgot as Harry enters Ginny and presses home. As he feared eternal lingering before, he now fears instant ejaculation. He has wanted her so long that feeling himself inside her seems every purpose to him. "I need you so much," Ginny says earnestly and Harry hears both the plea and the threat. He fears to fail her not for her wrath, but for her disappointment. He begins to thrust with the purpose of pleasing her, but is soon taken by his own need. She is too perfect for him, too eager for him, he can't think of anything but driving into her and finding the pleasure of being inside her. "Herm-own-ninny?" Hermione is too shocked to raise her hands. It is her first instinct at recognizing Viktor's familiar slaughter of her name. It doesn't seem odd at all to her that she would be modest in front him, however bold she feel in front of strangers. "Viktor? What are you doing here?" Hermione asks. "Vhat does anyvone do here?" Viktor smiles easily, "I am on holiday." "And I am quite naked," Hermione says, although it is obvious and obvious Viktor has noticed. "Won't you come back to my umbrella with me?" She allows Viktor to fall in beside her, but he has to step quickly to keep pace as she sets off for her belongings. She doesn't speak, and he continues to grin at both her nervousness and the jealous looks he is receiving from the other men who have been admiring Hermione. "You are beautiful, Herm-own-ninny. You need not be ashamed," Viktor says as Hermione snatches up the top of her bikini and puts it in place. "Yes, well, thank you, I think," Hermione is still flustered at her display. "But I feel much more comfortable not having to think about my... tits hanging out." Viktor chuckles at her choice of words and how she chose them. He still smiles as warmly and seems to regard her in the same manner as before. It is apparent he is still taken with her. "It is St. Tropez. It is expected," Viktor says. "But it is mostly hoped to see somevone as beautiful as you." "You are looking well yourself," Hermione says, finally settled enough to look at him. "But I would expect to see you surrounded with admirers." It is Viktor's turn to blush. He doesn't, but his look is guilty as he looks at his feet and then back up at Hermione. "I am, how you say, incognito," Viktor confesses. "And I am not such a person that excites admiration as you." "Well, that's just silly, isn't it?" Hermione says. "I mean, look at you. You're quite as nice as anyone out here and if they knew..." "I am pleased if they don't," Viktor says earnestly, "It is a relief." "I suppose I understand," Hermione says, "Though I must admit I have found the attention... interesting." "But not engaging," Viktor says slyly, "I haff seen. You send them avay ven they come to you." "But not you, Viktor. You're an old friend. Now where's my manners? Sit, please. We must talk," Hermione finally comes to herself. It seems Viktor is quite up to date on Hermione's recent adventures. It makes Hermione feel strangely warm to hear how he's been keeping track of her. Even more interesting is his profession of happiness that Harry has found a love. It does not escape her that Harry's love life is an odd concern for an international seeker. She is bright enough to see the reasons. Viktor does not wistfully proclaim his continuing affection. He restrains himself very politely, but Hermione feels the attraction is still there. "Now I vill do vhat all the others haff and accept my fate," Viktor says finally. "You must haff dinner with me. There is still much to discuss and I vould be glad of your company." Hermione giggles at his seriousness. She hardly gives it a thought before she accepts. Viktor is no stranger and if he might have the same desires as the others, he has always been a gentleman about expressing it and mindful of her feelings. She is more uneasy as she prepares to meet him. It is not just her flitting indecision what to wear. She has had time to consider her feelings and is concerned that she has so much trouble deciding on an outfit. It argues that she entertains more possibilities than meeting a friend for a meal. This makes her think of Ron and if these feelings are somehow a betrayal. She cannot resolve this and remains unsure as she goes to meet Viktor. It is lovely, meant to impress by someone with the means to impress. Hermione finds herself quite taken away by the setting and the service in a small cantina that seems to have been reserved for them alone. Viktor is his same careful, polite self, but Hermione cannot help but be agog at the trouble he's gone to. It is so obvious what he wishes, she thinks. Why can't he just say it, she asks herself. She finds herself irritated with Viktor's restraint. Contrary to all reason, she is impatient with his self-control. By the time he escorts her to her door, she is reaching anger. Why can't he see it? In some sense she knows her reasoning is flawed, an excuse for herself, but she doesn't dare face it. "I had a lovely..." Hermione gets out and then flies at him. She's had enough worrying the topic. Wise, right, wrong, forward, indiscreet, she no longer cares. Viktor has not only reminded her of a wonderful time, but has been even more wonderful in the present. "Herm-own-ninny? Vhat?" Viktor is still out of breath from her kiss. "It's just silly, acting like old, stiff people when we both know very well what we want," Hermione says a bit sternly, instructively, "You do want me, don't you?" "But it is not proper?" Viktor seems unprepared for her zeal. "I haff no vish to offend you." "Did I kiss like I was offended?" she asks sharply. "Now come in before we make a scene on the doorstep." Hermione is hiding nervousness in her own boldness behind the boldness. She is quite determined, but unsure what her determination will yield. She knows her intention, but doesn't know how long her resolve will last. "Herm-own-ninny? You do not mean? Do you mean?" Viktor is awash with questions. "I mean to have you," Hermione says plainly. "Don't you feel it too? Doesn't it feel like we should?" "I vould be so honoured, I shake," Viktor professes. "I haff alvays vanted you, but who could not? I must vait until it vas proper. It is proper now?" "Oh, Viktor, probably not, but are you going to let that stop us? I want you. I want you now and I don't care about tomorrow," Hermione is getting giddy or desperate with the need to proceed before her nerve fails. But in the end it is not the desperate affair of needing to not throw herself at Viktor and miss. He is as cautious as a balloon in a room full of needles and Hermione is calm after showing him the loo and her room, the only others apart from the one he first entered. It is not mad romantic passion as she sits him on her bed and undresses him. He is still very polite, almost as a servant as he helps her from her dress and waits for her to remove her undergarments to join him. The mad romance begins in his arms. He is not so much more mature as he was when she was 14 and he was 18, but he is a man of experience. His passion is quieter, more controlled as he holds her and caresses her. Hermione feels a moment of foolishness for her modesty on the beach as she realizes that Viktor sees her, all of her, as an instrument on which to bring out her passion and not with the greed of a youth. She is distinctly aware that his touches are to arouse her and that it is her arousal which excites him. "Oh Viktor, this is wonderful," Hermione sighs. "No, it is you who is vonderful," Viktor argues. "Oh, Viktor, please... now..." Hermione sighs. But there is no rushing him. Even when her squirming to bring them together lures him between her legs, Viktor takes her slowly as if it holds great meaning, and then barely moves inside her. Hermione abandons herself to his care. She moves as he moves and finds this gentle urging pleases him. They work to the crest, his dark eyes snapping as he stares down into hers. It takes forever, an eternity, but an eternity of bliss as they build and build together. It is quite as furious as Hermione could wish at the end. She finds false peak after false peak as Viktor thrusts vigorously but with purpose in building ardour. And at the very end, her scream is caught in her throat in the panting as she climaxes most actively, caught in Viktor's arms. "I don't know quite what to say," Hermione breathes after a few moments to collect herself. "It's never been like that. Never, Viktor." "Then you haff never been vith von who luffs you," Viktor says simply. "And you deserve no less." Hermione isn't sure what to say. She's been told she's loved in bed before, but Viktor is convincing where she discounts the profession from Ron, since it's typical to love someone who's shagged you. "I do not say this to make you luff me," Viktor says at her confusion. "I do not think you do, and I am resigned. But you haff let me show you my feelings and I am grateful." "Well, that may be how I feel as well," Hermione says. "I'm grateful to have a friend like you... Although I'm sure I should say something more enthusiastic about what you've just done for me. I'm serious. It vos vonderful." Viktor snorts at Hermione mocking his accent. For a moment Hermione thinks she sees the smile of a little boy pass over his face. Viktor seldom seems happy and she is glad for him. "And I'd appreciate if you'd do it again, all night if you wish," Hermione says. "I hope you no have no intention to leave before morning." Viktor can be induced to proceed quicker, but with no less attention, Hermione discovers. He need not linger so long on every phase, but he cannot be hurried to passion. He is so attuned to her Hermione feels a bit embarrassed to be so easy to discern. It is most thrilling to kiss Viktor farewell on her doorstep. Hermione imagines she should faint for shame, but finds the open declaration of her night of passion perversely pleasurable. That for them, Hermione snaps her fingers at any who would spread gossip about her. They're jealous- as they should be- and don't even know how jealous they'd be if they knew who Viktor is. That her not-so secret lover is indeed a famous man is pleasurable for the very fact it is a secret. "You vill, perhaps join me again?" Viktor finds Hermione in her usual place on the beach, "Perhaps without the later events?" Hermione is again topless and makes no move to cover herself. It would be only silly seeing what has passed between them. "Why not that part? Do I bore you?" Hermione accuses playfully. "No- certainly not! I just... do not vish to start talk," Viktor explains. "I'm sure everyone that wants to talk already has," Hermione says lightly, "And I don't care. If it is your reputation you are speaking of I will understand, but for me; I don't give a fig." Viktor smiles at her cheek. He seems no less eager to accept her carelessness. But after dinner they retire to his beach house, which Hermione must admit is more sumptuous than hers. Their lovemaking is superb. Hermione learns the gentle touch and the sighs of content that rouse Viktor and they both contribute to a bout of sex that the very angels must envy. And after, Hermione teases Viktor into play that brings out a smile that she has never seen so wide and for so long before. It is with great regret- his at first as he faces the burden of telling and hers as she hears it is Viktor's last night. He will depart in the morning for Bulgaria, his holiday at an end. Hermione determines he will leave with her memory fresh on as many parts of his body as she can manage. He is dishevelled, but still with the hint of a smile as he is collected. He nods as he departs with the entourage and Hermione makes her way back to her own rooms. It seems the cat is out of the bag. With full escort, Krum is recognized and it takes less time than Hermione's walk for the news to spread down the sand. By the time she reaches her door, people are pointing at her without any pretence. Hermione is somewhat surprised at the number of magic folk she has been holidaying with. Hermione spends much of her last day tanning privately on the roof. Viktor was so much amused with that one last spot of virgin sunless skin, that she resolves to at least darken it a bit. She giggles as she imagines the scandal when Ron discovers her all-over tan. She thinks she might tell him she lay out on the beach starkers. She imagines his furore and then, unwillingly, thinks of what he would say if he knew the whole truth. She is hardly his slave, however he feels, she thinks defiantly. He deserves no less from Krum, she continues, seeing the way he unfairly carried on about him the first time. But Hermione knows she does not feel that way. It is not, perhaps, wrong for her to follow her heart in this, but it is less than right to use Ron's shortcomings to justify it. There is no more than an assumption between her and Ron, but she knows the assumption and violated it. Still, she cannot feel it was wrong. She did not intend to wound him but may have nevertheless. It is a question with no answer. Depending on silence is the cowardly way out, but it seems the kindest. There is no reason to tell Ron, really. That's hardly the same thing as keeping it from him and nothing at all like lying. "No, Mrs. Weasley, I insist! I am not Ron's school chum any more and I don't expect to be treated like a child," Harry is arguing with Molly. "Now Harry, this is hardly polite of you. And to think you used to be such a nice boy once," Molly tries the usual ploys. Ron cautiously peeks around the corner into the kitchen where they are arguing. His active mind has run ahead of him and he fears, from the tenor of their voices, that he will see Harry groping his mother or worse, some disturbing state of undress. Ron is shocked and saddened by what he sees. His mum is struggling with Harry all right. She is trying to push his hand away. But Harry is not trying to grope her. He is trying to give her a sack that tinkles with the sound of gold inside. "It's only fair I contribute for the bother I cause," Harry insists. "I am being polite. Now take it and no argument." Ron has no wish to be reminded of the family's financial state. He wants less to be reminded of his own uselessn... er, lack of contribution. As he slinks away he meets Ginny, who he knows is seeking Harry. Ginny does little else when Harry is around. Ron doesn't like to think of her that way, but he has been known to refer to Ginny as a Harry- seeking cunt. "He's in the kitchen. Giving mum gold," Ron says in passing. Ginny spares only a moment to regard her long-faced brother. She doesn't understand what Hermione sees in him. She's caught him enough times to know he's not overly endowed. She doesn't bother long. Ron's told her where Harry is and she seeks him. "Well, you two- together again," Molly says sharply as Ginny comes in. She knows what they're up to and is frustrated she has not, so far, been able to catch them at it. She herself is not sure of her purpose. It can't be to force Harry to take Ginny, because she is sure that is his intent in the end, but she is still, perhaps by some prompting it is her duty, eager to find them in compromising circumstances. "Yes, mum, and soon to be together without you in attendance," Ginny teases her with the very subject of her thoughts. Well, we will see. Yes, we will see, Molly resolves as Ginny takes Harry's hand and leads him out of the Burrow. She doesn't pursue at once as Ginny would be prepared for that. She sets herself to putting Harry's gold in a safe place to let the couple gain a false sense of security. They never consider that we were young once, Molly smiles to herself as she considers where Ginny and Harry might be off to. Now where would Ginny go that she thinks safe, she asks herself. Well, it's good luck to Molly trying to find them in all the long grass and hillsides surrounding Ottery St. Catchpole. Ginny has less than a plan and more of a dizzy pursuit as she drags Harry along behind. There is no secret destination, only a very obvious intention as she looks for the right spot. She seeks not concealment, but some mysterious feeling that will make her sure the place is right. When she finds it, she knows, the urge will come to her even stronger than it is now, tickling between her legs. And there it is. One lone tree and the trampled spot beneath it. The view of the rooftops below stretches out like a picture painted just for them. Ginny pulls Harry happily into the shade. "Here it is. Our special place," Ginny announces. "A bit exposed, isn't it?" Harry asks nervously. "Do you see anyone?" Ginny is a bit sharp being contradicted. This is the place. She knows it. She doesn't wish to be questioned. Harry hears the warning and sits down obediently. He would prefer not to risk it, but he knows the danger is less than angering Ginny. His misgivings are quieted only moments later as he and Ginny settle into a heated snog. Nothing for it, his last bit of vigilance yields. Ginny is so warm and so soft and so eager. Mrs. Weasley is out of breath. It takes only a brisk walk to the borders of the Burrow to cause this anymore, but she has been exerting herself far more in her search. The hills are rather steep and she has had no luck in her pursuit. It seems her daughter is a tricky one and has gone to none of the shaded bowers or hidden glades she suspected. She is disappointed. She was sure she had found all the secret trysting places out in her years of wandering. She is huffing back towards the Burrow when she notices the solitary tree. For some reason her eye is drawn to it, standing all alone atop the hill. Surely not, she whispers to herself as she conjures binoculars for a closer look. There is confusion mixed with consternation as she turns the glasses on the scene. What is she thinking? collides with, how does she know to do that? as she sees Ginny wrapped around Harry like a snake. It is the last place she would look as it is the last place proper for what they are doing. Mrs. Weasley ambles toward the tree to have a closer look. Harry and Ginny are totally unaware they are being observed. For Ginny's part, she is uncaring as well. Part of her choice, it being a question how much she is aware of it, is to dare this very chance. There has been adequate time to proceed while Mrs. Weasley sought them. They have gone from Ginny sitting on Harry's lap as he leans against the tree, to Harry laying over her in the grass. Their clothes have been shed, piece by piece along the way. Ginny is eager, but not eager for consummation and Harry remains wary. She is again sitting on Harry, wrapped around him, sitting on his penis, but not with it inside her. Her legs wrap about him as she stretches up to bring her breasts to his mouth as Molly lifts the binoculars to see. It is so open! Molly reacts to the boldness she sees with a shiver. Then come the prickles of chill as she realizes that the only danger to their privacy is herself. They may be carrying on in the open, but she too is exposed, the lone observer to their passion. She squats down and then lays flat. Each move is accompanied by the thought that she shouldn't. She has small excuse to hunt them and none to remain hidden and watch. No motherly worry can excuse her. If that were her motive, she would approach and stop them. Ginny is arching as if she were penetrated, but she is only pierced by the sensation of Harry's lips pulling at her nipples. She is quite impatient and nearing the end of her ability to delay. She sits, pressing Harry's erection down under her bottom and pulls his face up to kiss him. Their position is suited only to having him the way she sits and Ginny has decided otherwise. She has to uncoil to move and comes to her knees over Harry's legs. She leans sideways to lay on the ground. Harry sees that she is finally ready to have him and follows her. Oh my! Molly blinks as Harry rises to move between Ginny's lifted knees. Harry is such a modest boy. Even at her distance, she can see Harry is above ordinary. Her brow is a little fevered as she watches Harry position himself and then move. Despite herself, she can't help think about what Ginny must feel to have Harry inside her. Her breath comes quickly even though she rests on the ground. She is horrible to watch, she thinks. That must explain the flush she feels rising as she trains the glasses on them and watches Harry's buttocks rise and fall rhythmically. Well then, Ginny is giving a good account of herself, Molly thinks as her daughter thrashes, hands pulling at Harry, legs wrapping around him as he thrusts. There is nothing passive in either of them, she notes as they work to a climax with passion she can see even from her distance. Ginny is quite pleased. Molly can see the signs from where she lays. Harry is as good a lover as he is a man, she concludes. They lay, still wrapped tightly around one another and kiss in stillness. It quite suddenly occurs to Molly that she is still exposed. She can make out the lovers without the glasses. They certainly could see her if they looked her way. Perhaps she is safe for the moment, but how can she leave without them seeing? If she stays, will they walk toward her and discover her? She feels trapped. Nearly shaking with relief, she sees Harry move to kiss Ginny again. She gets up slowly and backs away. She is not calmed until she can move behind a rise that briefly obscures them and scamper off. Her breathing has not returned to normal even as she passes the gate to her yard. "Where have you been off to then?" Ron's question makes Mrs. Weasley jump. "If you don't wish me to question your every movement, I doubt you should question mine," she says sharply. "I was off on an errand. Do you really want to know?" "You left the potatoes peeling," Ron says petulantly, "They'd be down to nothing if I hadn't stopped them. I didn't know you were off." Ron is not one to retain this matter or much question, Molly sighs in relief. It just wouldn't do for anyone to know where she has been or what she's been watching. Ron is more curious than she suspects, but not so curious he will pursue it. His mother's warning about inquiring after his activities is too threatening. Hermione is due to visit and he has plans he dearly hopes his mother will never learn. "In the back? Are you going to like that?" Harry asks with concern. "I don't know. I've never tried. But I want everything with you," Ginny says over her shoulder. "Now go on. Try." Molly mis-judged their intentions and their infatuation. However much good it did to raise her blood pressure- just for the exercise- she was in little danger of discovery. Harry and Ginny were not going to leave after only one go. It is probably best that she did leave, however. Watching longer may have stressed her heart beyond its ability. We can only ponder how she may have reacted to Ginny putting her arse in the air for Harry to bugger. "There. Is that all right?" Harry asks nervously as he makes his first invasion of Ginny's arse. "No!" Ginny grunts. "It's quite tense, really. Go on now. Be brave. I think it will be better." She is proceeding on superstition and hearsay, but she also has her present feeling that it can hardly be worse. She feels poised on the point of something and reckons it will be relief of one sort or the other when Harry presses the point in. "Unnnhh!" Ginny grunts again as Harry pushes and then must urge him as he threatens to pause again, "No- go on. It's better. Put it in and then we'll see." "I don't want to hurt you," Harry is on the edge of a whine. At least he does as told before complaining. Ginny feels him against her bottom and the uncertain consequence of his stiff penis buried in her bowels. Her satisfaction at having managed is very pale at the moment. She wants to do this for Harry, give him this, but the sense of it is seeming less and less at the moment. There is little to say in favour of having a penis in your arse, she suspects. "It doesn't hurt," Ginny says, (anymore) she adds to herself. "But stay there for a moment. I must take a breath." Harry is eager for that request. His uncertainty is almost the match for Ginny's about this strange venture. It is very warm where he is plunged into her arse and he is gripped most tightly at the base. It is foreign and seems somehow dangerous. He is happy not to disturb the balance. "Now, gently," Ginny says when she despairs of a change. She was counselled to relax when she sought advice, but she doesn't see how it is possible with such a large thing intruding in her arse and in her consciousness. She instead braces and determines to endure for Harry's sake. Harry is reluctant. He knows nothing has changed. He can feel the same things as Ginny although from his own perspective. He can feel her contest the invasion she feels and stalls as long as he dares before trying to appease her. These are a star-crossed pair. Or perhaps it is only that they are who they are that makes things go well. Either the cosmic influence or their shared caution brings the solution before they soldier on in needless ignorance. "Oh my! Yes, move," Ginny gasps as Harry's first timid motion announces the change. It is no longer the same strain. Harry is every bit as imposing and invading, but somehow the panic is absent. Ginny is accepting the intruder now with no fear and a creeping sense of excitement. "You've let up," Harry observes. "Good thing, that. I feel I can move now." It is a wonder that they never encountered a discussion of the attributes of an anus, but they've had things on their minds. In any case, the wonder of discovery only adds to the mystery of this marvellous adjustment and makes it seem more magical. Harry moves more eagerly and Ginny is finding that precisely those things that seemed so overwhelming are the things that are exciting her. Oh, it is so wrong to feel his penis in her bowels- and that naughty thrill drives the tingle that runs through her. She is being so bad and Harry is bad with her. For Harry it is more earthy and direct. It is most stimulating and it is special, personal, unique to Ginny. She is the only one that could, should or would provide such pleasure. He feels more connected as he feels more stimulated. "I won't last!" Harry warns. "Don't!" Ginny urges, "Don't spare me. Take me as you want." There is still a part of her that wants the penis gone. But it is the perception that providing Harry's pleasure is the pleasure of it for her that prompts Ginny. She is his to have, no regard for herself, is conversely exciting. That it must please him pleases her. "That didn't go as well for you as it did for me, did it?" Harry asks obliquely after ejaculating into her bum and falling to lay beside her. "Oh yes it did," Ginny maintains, "Only not in the same way. It may not have been so physical, but I'm proud. It makes me feel good to know I can please you that way." "You always please me. Most times nearly too much to bear," Harry says. "You don't have to change anything for that." Ginny smiles to herself. Not having to is part of what makes it special. She doesn't try to explain that to Harry. "Uhhhh...? Wha...? Who...? Hermione?" Ron barely recognizes her when she arrives at the Burrow. To be fair, she is wearing her sunglasses and the tan does make a difference, but this is a woman whom he's been recently intimate with. It demonstrates how standing a bit straighter and exuding confidence can make a great change. Rather than being annoyed, Hermione is smiling. Her holiday has given her time to think. She is not the same timid child she was and it is somehow right that Ron have to discover who she is all over again. There is that other matter, but Hermione has pushed it far from her mind. What happens in St. Tropez, stays in St. Tropez, she reckons. She is starting a new chapter. No need to bring any of that forward. "Why Ronald, so good to see you," Hermione says, barely needing to go on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "I see you haven't changed." Ron is dumbstruck. It takes some time to process it all. This is with Hermione fully dressed and not in a bikini. Were she wearing so brief an outfit, it is likely Ron might stutter for hours without recovering. "Well, you have," Ron is quick to say after his slow adjustment to his surprise. "What's happened to you?" "Nothing," Hermione says calmly. "I've got a tan. Otherwise it's just me." Ron finds allies in his shock when Harry and Ginny join Ron and Hermione. Harry and Ginny see the change as well. It's more her manner, really, but there's no debating that Hermione has changed. "I'd ask what you two have been doing, but I think I can guess," Hermione says waspishly to Harry and Ginny. "I've been showing Harry about," Ginny replies regally, "Now that you're here, you and Ron can join us." Harry and Ron go a bit wide-eyed. For once, they are as much a party to the conversation as the girls, but their reaction is different. Getting away for a bit of private time might strike them both as a good idea, but it seems their idea of private is different than Ginny is proposing. "But not too closely, dear," Hermione kindly explains to Ron. "I'm sure Ginny didn't mean for us to pile on." Ron blushes for thinking it and then blushes for thinking what he was thinking at all. It turns him quite red and tests his ability not to heat up. He is still a bit disgruntled, but doesn't want to ruin his chances to welcome Hermione home in private. "Now Ron, don't be too shocked," Hermione says to insure Ron is shocked even more, "but women are quite free in St. Tropez. It's expected." Ron is reliably curious after that. He was eager enough that Hermione had removed her blouse and was preparing to take away her bra. When she does, he doesn't get it for a beat. Hermione is so evenly all-over golden he doesn't catch that it should be different. "They've gotten bigger, if that's what you mean," he blurts out. That is only barely possible and if so, by so little it is incredible Ron could see. He is not familiar with tan lines, not fancying the sun and rather proud of his own pallor. "No they haven't, not really," Hermione says, amused by his denseness but also his appreciation. "Then you're darker," Ron finally notices, "all over." "Yes," Hermione titters, "I took the sun almost every day." This is only beginning to sink in when Hermione sheds her knickers and Ron sees the one part that is lighter than the rest, still a bit rosy with Hermione's overexposure for effect. Then it comes to him in a rush. "Where was this sun?" he asks gruffly. "In the sky where it usually is," Hermione teases him until he scowls and then says, "But yes, I laid right out under it with hardly anything on. I asked you not to be shocked." "But then... But then... They all saw... There were looking..." Ron splutters for a moment and then gulps to a eccentric stop. His eyes come up to Hermione's from where he has been staring at her crotch and there is wonder in them. He gulps twice more before he goes on a little more hoarsely. "Hermione, you are a bad girl," he says reverently. "I should mind, but..." He glances down and Hermione knows his meaning. His penis is throbbing. He is usually as aroused by the time he prepares to enter her, but they have not yet touched. He is excited by the idea that she has been exposing herself. This is a different development than Hermione planned. She was to tease him back to reasonableness when he protested and then make him forget in the haze of passion. She quickly re-adjusts and moves straight to the passion. She grabs him aggressively, out of character, pulling him to her with her arms around his back. She kisses him hard, his penis crushed between them, already leaving a wet trail on her belly. One hand slips down to grab his bottom to press him more tightly against her. There is no more that needs to be done for Ron, but she needs more for herself. For once, Ron responds with an equal fire and Hermione feels him clutch at her with a determination he rarely shows. She wants him to carry on desperately. The fire he shows makes her want him more, but it is not quite enough to bring the arousal she needs. Mercifully, as she pulls him back and falls onto the bed, Ron is still caught in his need. His mouth runs down her neck, across her shoulder, almost feeding rather than kissing. As she crawls backwards onto the bed, he follows, finding her breasts as they are pulled in front of his face. He pauses to press his face to them, between them. Hermione feels his need like a shiver in her heart. As Ron crawls up, she opens her legs to guide him. She isn't thinking how quickly they come together. She has never been as ready for him so soon, but that too is lost as she looks into Ron's eyes as he enters her. He does want her and she can see that it is her and not just any woman in his eyes. She is flattered, and ignores her usual annoyance that this also means he regards her as property. Somewhere in her head she realizes this is also the source of Ron's excitement at the thought of others seeing her naked body, but that is far too complex a thought to hold when Ron's penis slides into her. She knows she is the source of his passion and sighs happily to let the rest go. She moves with him as he thrusts. She lets his need for her lift her. She pulls at him. She wants him to give her more. She wants to encourage him to have all of her he can take. It is not without self-interest. Ron's fevered vigour excites her as well, but her intention is to give Ron all the pleasure he can have. It is almost a fortunate accident that her pleasure follows his as far as she is concerned. Hermione is not beset by guilt as she lays beside the snoring Ron. Hermione is beset by interest. What she feels for Ron is puzzling. It is not a question of how she feels. It is a question why she feels it. Having sex with Krum only made her feelings more clear and yet more confused. She was supremely comfortable, more the second night than the first. Her experience was as sexual and satisfying as she could imagine. Yet it was physical perfection and only a fondness emotionally. Viktor had been right. She did not love him as he said he loved her. In that, she hoped she gave him some brief satisfaction of his desire for her. Her own satisfaction was only to be well loved. She feels the difference with Ron. But what is the difference? He is boorish, contrary, occasionally sweet and overall a decent sort. What in that causes her feelings? Or is it something under all that, some primal identity, some basic understanding beneath conscious thought that seeks each other? She turns over to sleep. This is not a riddle she will solve by finding more questions. It may be unsolvable. Her mind shrugs as she lets go of consciousness. She feels it, what does why matter? Waking in Ron's room seems to be no scandal in the Burrow. Hermione wipes her eyes as she identifies where she is. She sits up and Ron stirs grumpily beside her. That he doesn't bolt upright and try to smuggle her from the room confirms her impression on waking. She makes a little cry and snatches at the covers when she notices that Harry crept back into the room after she and Ron were asleep. He is grinning at her as she covers herself. "I know where you were so late," Hermione says to regain some dignity. "I know what you two were doing while I was gone," Harry says in return. "Well, ahh... yes then," Hermione finds the transition more difficult, "you must know what state I'm in and I'd appreciate it if you'd look away so I can reach my clothes." Hermione is grateful that Harry nods and turns away. She only begins to feel slighted as she slips out of bed and begins to dress. She was quite shocked to think Harry was seeing her breasts, but now she feels it somehow rude of him to not be curious enough to peek. Perhaps Ron passed some of his insanity to her, she thinks. First off, Harry would never agree and renege. Secondly, it is unlikely that he would know that her words and her desire were opposite. "Safe now," Hermione says in bra and knickers. "You can turn back if you like." Thirdly, she adds as she sees Harry's look, he's too shy. It seems even bra and knickers is too little for him. Harry tries to make it look natural, but his head moves too quickly as he suddenly becomes interested in the Chudley Cannons poster that has been on Ron's wall since he first visited the Burrow. "Go on, Harry, it's no more than a swimming costume," Hermione chides him. "No need to blush." "I don't recall seeing you in one of those either," Harry reminds her. "And there's just too much of you, Hermione. If you know what I mean." He means he's guilty over what he saw when she sat up, Hermione reckons. Now he can't get it out of his mind when I'm scantily dressed. This is somehow more reassuring. She doesn't want to seduce Harry, but she has grown used to appreciation. "When did you get back?" Ron sits up, still groggy, and asks Harry. "Been here all night," Harry says unhelpfully. "Watched you two sleep as innocent as babes. Didn't come in late." Ron smiles as he cottons on. Hermione finds it interesting to witness the kind of boy code that is passing between them. Perhaps Ron is more clever than she gives him credit for, only in a language she is slow to understand. Perhaps he speaks boy, but is rubbish understanding girl. Mrs. Weasley doesn't turn a hair at which bedroom Hermione emerges from. It is the final confirmation that Ginny is the only girl whose chastity is guarded in the Burrow. Hermione absorbs this with a wry smile. She is, of course, happy with the freedom, but somewhat confused by the thinking. It seems chastity is not the issue. It is only Ginny's chastity that is a concern. Hermione feels strange to be given the freedom to be a tart. "No, Draco, I won't have it!" Pansy is protesting. This is exactly at the bottom of her list of Draco's amusements. She doesn't even feel her normal obligation to appease him. She won't have him if he is going to insist on such things. Her desire for him falls far short of being shared with Goyle. "Go on Goyle, she'll find she will have it," Draco says smugly past Pansy's ear. "She does like it. She just has to protest for form." "No! Don't! I don't like it! I really don't!" Pansy tries to convince Goyle, but then feels him and knows he is ignoring her. Draco knows all the tricks. He has her doubly trapped, his legs over her calves and his hands gripping her bum to spread it open for Goyle. Her arms are inside his and she might be able to struggle one free, but she knows Draco will only catch it and hold her in place atop him. That he saves this to especially humiliate her only makes it worse. Not that she might grow accustomed, because she is sure that is impossible, but because Goyle knows she is being punished as he puts his organ into her arse. "There you go. Enough for you?" Draco taunts as he feels Goyle's penis slide into the orifice on the other side of the membrane from his own. "No! Please! You only do it to torment me!" Pansy shrieks as two penises fill her. "Of course not, my dear," Draco mocks, "I just know that you can never get enough. I'm just trying to help." Pansy's crime was to ask about Draco's mother, Narcissa. She thinks it is his reaction to her being too familiar. It is actually Draco's reaction to her trying to poke herself into his family. Draco has long suspected Pansy's danger. She covets him and that is reason enough to expect her to plot. She would like to marry him, he is sure. If she could win his mother to her side it would be a powerful ally. Pansy being pure blood is reason enough for his parents to approve. Draco thinks that is the reason Pansy wishes to establish relations with his mother. In a strange, but less sinister way, he is right. It is a deeper, less calculated motive than he suspects and it is the reason Pansy is being punished. Goyle is burly and without compassion. Pansy is right to fear his perception of the situation. He is not being used to toy with her this time. He is being given free rein to abuse her as he will. It is a rare treat for Goyle and he stabs into her with glee. Begging was never going to distract Draco from his purpose. Pansy only had some small hope to alter her fate. She gives herself over to her screams now. It may well be beyond her to control them in any case and the effort would be certainly wasted. Only the mindless reaction of screaming, of abandoning herself to the madness of her inevitable fate is left to her. Goyle is encouraged by her distress. He rams his hard shaft into her rectum with greater energy and speed. Her screams make his rare treat sweeter. Beneath her, Draco scowls at the loud cries near his ear. It is the only part of it he doesn't enjoy. His hands still pry Pansy's buttocks apart, but also serve the second office of pushing her back down onto his own erection as Goyle threatens to drive her off with his thrusts. He scarcely needs her movement to keep his interest. Goyle's penis charging back and forth over his is quite enough stimulation. He needs little in any case. Just the thought of Pansy's helpless submission and her torment is enough to keep his erection raging inside her. He would throw her off and follow Goyle into her ravaged rectum when Goyle is done with her, if Goyle was not so likely to ruin her. He is sure there would be pleasure enough for him, but Pansy is likely to be too numb for him to have the effect he wishes. Draco lays there, waiting, and enjoying both the stroking of Goyle's penis and the import of it driving into Pansy's arse. Pansy's screams have become weak as her throat is too raw. Draco is very randy and looking forward to having Pansy cure him. Pansy is too bereft to much notice as Goyle drives into her and ejaculates. She is wrung out, limp, from the ordeal and responds sluggishly to Draco's shaking. She hears, but barely comprehends what he shouts at her. "Are you daft or just deaf? Get up! Up I say!" Draco shouts as he shakes her. "Damn you, woman, respond!" Draco is more eager now that the stimulation of Goyle's thrusting penis has been removed. He no longer wishes to wait. It is his turn and he wants to be amused and satisfied by his victim. He pushes Pansy up as she slowly returns to slack-faced attention. "Now show me that you want me!" Draco demands. "Mind you, I will be grading your effort." He doesn't grant her the option of not wanting him. Her having a choice is antagonistic to his desire. It is the amusing part of the amusement and satisfaction he wishes Pansy to provide. His erection swells as Pansy lurches on him in response. No matter what he does to her, it seems, she still obeys. That excites Draco to his core. "You see," Draco taunts as he grabs Pansy's breasts and closes his fingers tightly on them, "No reason to neglect your needs as well." He does not pull or torment her breasts. His hands are merely mocking and serve the deeper purpose of giving Draco a sense of control. He holds them to remind her who she serves as she robotically rises and falls on his straining erection. Her passion, indeed her activity, is secondary to Draco. His power over her is heady and he is willing, and able, to enjoy it as long as it takes for Pansy to prompt his natural reaction. Pansy dully senses this, but more directly throws herself into it to end her torment. As she is able, she gathers the strength to move more energetically on Draco's penis. Her abused rectum sends sharp reminders, particularly on the down thrust, but Pansy perseveres with the certainty that delay will only extend her suffering. "There you are! There you are!" Draco trills as his testicles tighten, "See how much you want it. Now there's s good girl." Pansy hears only the signal that her trial is nearly over. She works with increased fervour, careful to add as much front to back as she can manage as she rides Draco's erection. Her pains, nearly constant, are now almost a comfort since they signal the approaching end. She crawls, finally, from the room, no longer caring for the amusement it might give Draco. She is beyond thoughts of her honour. There is no reclaiming that after what she has endured. She wishes only to escape as quickly as she may. Whatever healing may come will only start away from the scene of her shame and then only after a long respite. She cannot do anything to erase what she's suffered by feigning a dignity that both she and Draco will know is false. As she draws her legs to her chest, pressed into the corner of her room, Pansy does not cry. She plots her revenge. "Then you laid out, like this, every day?" Ron is beginning to delve into Hermione's all-over tan. Since it seems she's not worth bothering about, Hermione has not dragged Ron far from the Burrow. They lay in the grass little more than a hundred meters from the rear wall. Hermione yields to Ron's fascination and allows him to strip her quite naked as he admires her. She is reclining on her back as he asks. "Well, not quite like this, as you should be able to tell, staring at me as you are," Hermione teases. "You would see the difference in tone if you were looking for that." Ron smiles as if he's been wound up only to get a gift he actually wanted. There's little enough to disturb him when he is laying beside Hermione starkers. "Well, I see you might have spared the naughtiest bit," Ron drops his voice conspiratorially, "But you had to show... those." "You can call them breasts," Hermione says in her teacher tone. "That's the proper name for them- when you have a proper reason to speak of them. And yes, St. Tropez is that sort of place. Most women do. You're thought odd if you don't." This seems to make Ron's head spin. He gets a far-away look that Hermione finds annoying. She knows he is envisioning acre upon acre of bare breasts. She softens a bit, looking at him. He can't help it, she realizes, and his glazed look is so dream-like that she can't fear his intent. It is wishful and a reflex, she decides. And if not for it, he would not be so taken with her own breasts. Hermione decides not to rail against nature as it is to her benefit as well. "And of course all the men stare," she says to jolt Ron back to the present. His concerned look lasts only a beat before spreading into a wide grin. Thinking of men seeing her breasts exposed does please him. It is odd for one of Ron's jealous nature, but it cannot be denied. Among other, less pleasant thoughts, Hermione knows it means he is proud of her and chooses to think of that as she responds. "Then they saw a lot of you," Ron says, looking her over again. "Almost all, as you can see," Hermione says. "And it doesn't bother you?" She asks without thinking and would call it back if she thought where it might lead. "You weren't alone were you?" Ron asks, "I mean, not the only one. You said everyone did. I don't see I mind if it was normal." He isn't addressing the real issue and his first question reminds Hermione why it is a dangerous thought to pursue, but it will seem odd if she changes the subject. She is nervous as she proceeds. "Well, it was a bit frightening at first," Hermione admits, "but it got easier as the days went on." "You have nothing to be ashamed of," Ron says gallantly. "Pity I wasn't there to see it, though." There is a flood of relief as Ron does not veer in the dangerous direction. Hermione even finds herself grateful for his detour into imagining what he might see. She no longer feels she must continue. Ron's compliment gives her the perfect excuse to kiss him and distract his attention into more personal pursuits. All this talk has made him as eager as before. Hermione feels that before she even opens his jeans to get them off him. Perhaps I should walk about without a shirt if this is the affect it has on him, Hermione muses. But it is hardly necessary to make Ron more randy. He is forever awaiting an opportunity and needs no encouragement. He is, however, more eager than usual, she notes. "Did they all stare much?" Ron picks up the conversation as they lie naked together. His hand is idly, and very nicely, stroking her breast as he asks. His eyes are alight with eagerness for her answer. "Not too much," Hermione emphasizes an imagined distinction. "But I did notice signs of... interest." She feels his fingers close at that revelation. She is gratified that her instincts are true. He is not squeezing with an angry reaction, rather, it is a sign of his increased interest as she implies the excitement she caused. "Who wouldn't be?" Ron says thickly, his breath coming faster. "But I'd much rather have someone who I wish to do something about it," Hermione teases as the sole of her foot sweeps up Ron's leg. Ron is ready to do something about it. Hermione counts it a measure of his restraint and maturity that he kisses her first. Even so, it brings his penis in contact with her vulva and she can feel the wetness leaking from the tip as they kiss. It is as if he is fighting to restrain the unruly organ. His penis probes her labia like a dog on a leash, wanting to poke its nose in but being prevented by its owner. Hermione finds Ron's need nearly as arousing as the erotic contact of their genitals. "Come on then," Hermione breathes as they break the kiss. "I'll be ready before you can be started." If she hoped for a valiant protest, she is disappointed, but Hermione knows better than to hope that. Ron is too eager even if he was so inclined. He does not take her rudely even so. He is at least careful as he presses slowly inside her. If she wished to compare, she would find it slightly better than early attempts to make love with Ron. She is receptive, if not fully lubricated as he comes into her. He is, at first, content to stay deeply inside her and Hermione feels herself welcome him quickly. "Do you really like them? My tits, I mean?" Hermione says to encourage Ron to prove it. "Are you daft?" Ron asks. "Hermione, these are the nicest... breasts that there are. They're... you're perfect." Again it is the ardent profession as much as the fondling prompted by her question that arouses Hermione. She finds herself quite as eager as Ron for him to proceed. Eagerness is the key. It might not be the total sensual experience that she had from Viktor, but it is as effective as it is urgent. She can respond in kind and finds herself scaling the heights quite as helplessly, if without the trappings and curley-cues. "Oh Ron, you animal!" she gasps, rolled into a ball and being buffeted on Ron's ardent thrusts. "Grrrr!" Ron growls in response, sensing how near he has brought Hermione. It is not so rare for him to satisfy Hermione that he does not recognize it. It is only rare that it has taken so little care on his part to rouse that passion. Ron does not think of that at present. He knows that Hermione is near, that he is near and that his fervour will carry them both through. Hermione is spared her questions as she lays beside Ron, breathing hard. She has felt it most explosively this time, but that is, as all the boys say, only proof. There is more and perhaps discovering all those things is the reason to be in love. "Where did you lot get off to today?" Ginny asks directly when the couples come back together at the Burrow. "We didn't wander far because it seems our activities spark less interest than yours," Hermione answers as directly. "Oh," says Ginny, retreating a bit, "I just thought you might come along and see some of the places we've found." "Places for what?" It is Mrs. Weasley's inquiring and accusing voice that interrupts. "Just places," Ginny says casually. "The view over Ottery St. Catchpole for instance. Harry finds it quite nice." Ron, whose knowledge would be vital, doesn't notice his mum's reaction. Ginny and Hermione, however, do. She is suddenly tottering off without so much as a parting warning. It is enough unlike her that Harry thinks it strange without bothering much about it. "We didn't think you meant for Ron and I to pile on," Hermione hisses as Mrs. Weasley moves out of earshot. "Nor did I," Ginny replies. "We just meant to show you places and then be off our separate ways." "So long as you don't mean us to watch," Hermione says, heeding how red Harry is turning as she goes on. "I know we're all close, but I don't think we need to be as close as that." "I'm not the one parading naked for strangers," Ginny lets her pique show, prompted by Hermione's embarrassing Harry. "Which is as well," Hermione starts and then draws back. It was easy and somehow natural to fall into this spat, but Hermione comes to her senses. There is no reason to fight. There is every reason for them to get along. "I'm really the only one here that can, without raising some major issues," Hermione says with renewed calm. "Me and Harry. I don't think I'd mind so much seeing you naked, but I think it might be a problem for your brother as he might be for you." "Not that I'd have much to see," Ginny takes a swipe at Ron. "Which is best all around, I say," Ron speaks up. "And parading naked is what everyone does in St. Tropez- for your information." It is not strictly coming to her aid, but Hermione knows that is at least part of Ron's intent. That it allows him to defend her and swipe back at his sister shouldn't dim her pleasure at Ron's retort. "St. Tropez? That's in France, isn't it? You seem to like France, Hermione," Harry speaks up to lead them away from argument. "Well, it is so easy to pop over and pop back and there are some interesting places," Hermione joins Harry in steering the group back to neutral ground. "So, Harry, would you find it interesting to go where I could walk about with my boobies hanging out?" Ginny seems unwilling to let it go. Harry turns red again. There's no good answer to that question. He knows Ginny wants him to support her, but he can hardly say anything negative about her breasts. Having her walk about topless might be a terrible strain on him, but he can hardly say he wouldn't like it. Harry just stares at his shoes, still blushing. "Obviously he would like it, Ginny," Hermione butts in. "And how not? Has Harry ever said he wished you didn't have such ugly things? You're being silly now. And you don't understand." Ginny has put herself in a corner and can't remember why. One retort led to another and now she finds herself in an indefensible position. "Then what if she did?" Ron takes advantage of the hesitation to propose a solution of his own. "You said it's easy to pop over and pop back. Why don't we go and see what it's like?" Because it's only a silly argument, because that's not your real reason, because of the expense: Hermione runs off a list of reasons in her head. Then she thinks: why not? She is sure she can bring Ron quickly into hand if he goes too wild and for the rest? It might broaden their horizons if it doesn't lead to something else. "As you've just come from there, I wonder if you fancy going back?" Harry asks Hermione. "If we decided we wanted to, I mean." Hermione looks at Harry. Harry? She can't believe Harry wants to go look at bare boobies, but she can't reckon another reason. Well, if they all agree, Hermione isn't going to be the one to balk. "I could show you around. Mind you, taking a place is expensive if we wish to stay," Hermione answers. Harry never exactly vowed that another tenner would never touch his hand, but he is ambivalent looking at the Muggle money he gets in exchange at Gringotts. His memories aren't the best. But Ginny was defiant, Ron eager, Hermione amused and he himself is curious about what the fuss is about. There is only one snag before they are off. "Arthur! Explain to these four why no decent witch or wizard would mix with Muggles of that sort," Molly is demanding Arthur. "But Molly, learning about different people and different customs is part of growing up," Arthur argues with her instead. "And they, all of them, are of age." "But there's no reason for it!" Molly pouts. "There are plenty of things to learn here at home." "Wouldn't you just as soon explore the haunted castles here in England?" Molly asks the group. Ron laughs out loud. Harry is more concerned to appease Mrs. Weasley and keeps a solemn face. Hermione treats it all very seriously. "But you know that's just Muggle superstition," Hermione reminds Mrs. Weasley. "Most ghosts prefer magic communities. I doubt one in a hundred of those castles is truly haunted." "But there- you see? You could discover which ones are and which ones aren't," Molly says excitedly, mistaking Hermione's pedantic reply for an opportunity to change their minds. "Yes then, mum, we're off," Ginny tries to bring the confrontation to an end. She is as ambivalent about the challenge she's accepted as Harry is with Muggle money. She has nothing to be ashamed of, she thinks defiantly. At the same time she feels she has somehow been tricked into going. If Hermione dares, then I will too, she thinks. But there will be so many strangers, comes straight on the heels of that thought. "But you shouldn't, none of you," Molly makes one last attempt, but the children ignore her and Arthur is slowly shaking his head. Hermione feels a bit better as they arrive on the beach. She's concluded that it is only Mrs. Weasley guarding Ginny's chastity and, as Mrs. Weasley is a bit mental, she doesn't have to feel slighted. As for their adventure, Hermione is really only a bit less nervous than Ginny. That she has before is her only advantage. She is sure it will be different with Ron and Harry and Ginny in attendance. Her mind goes back to the modesty she felt when she realized Harry was seeing her breasts. It will be different to be bold in front of all of them. She is even unsure if Ron can maintain his lecherous appreciation when actually confronted by other men looking. She finds she has underestimated the depth of Ron's appetite for knowing men can ogle her. In the rest she is accurate. The first obstacle is finding lodging. They can't all stay in the same rooms Hermione took. There was one bed and that won't do. They find no rooms Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione can let separately. What is left is one larger suite with a veranda, living space and rooms off each side. "We're lucky for it, I'd say," Harry offers. "Most of the rooms seem to be engaged. And this is perfect." The veranda is a pleasant addition, Hermione thinks, but they will be all together too near each other in general. She is uncertain how she feels about being entertained by the sounds of shagging from the other room, much less Ron. Ginny is smiling at her and Hermione realizes her own uncertainty is on her face. I think you're forgetting something, Hermione reminds herself and smiles back. "Shall we go down to the beach then?" Hermione suggests. "Do you see the umbrellas? Every place comes with them, I'm sure." As Harry and Ron set out to look, Hermione goes into her and Ron's bedroom to change. Strip off is more like it as she brings out the construction of strings and two triangular panels that serve as the top of her bikini. The bottom, she sees for the first time, is strangely similar, having the same triangles, but joining at the points where it goes around her crotch. She feels scandalously naked, but strangely calm. What shock she had when she realized Harry was in the room has become a twinge of excitement. She marvels what a transformation such small and tenuous cover can make. Hermione was content with the sold colour fuchsia of the umbrella on her first stay. It made an agreeable rosy glow beneath it. She discovers a more garish confusion of red, green and yellow panels on the umbrellas that Ron and Harry find in their present lodging. She is interrupted in her assessing whether the multi-colored ones will attract more or less attention as Ginny emerges. She wants to laugh but Ginny has been prickly enough, for some reason that still puzzles Hermione, and she doesn't want to annoy Ginny further. The suit must be ancient. That serves one purpose as to be almost miniscule where it attempts to contain Ginny's breasts, but each cup is adorned with a ridiculous, flapping appliqué of a sunflower. The bottom serves better, being plain, but it is too narrow where it goes to nothing between her legs in front and too broad as it tries and fails to cover her bottom in back. The two women are assessing each other's costumes sharply, but the boys are standing dumb, mouths gaping and eyes wide. They don't care about the costumes, of course, except as they interfere with them seeing the parts that are stunning them. Hermione bites back her opinion that Ginny's top is no matter and all the better for being shed as she sees the boys's reactions. Even Ron seems undisturbed to look at his sister's exposure. Hermione begins to wonder if they will be able to survive all the other women that might pass by. "All right, let's go," Ginny says rather fiercely and with a note of doom. Hermione is suspicious of Ginny's mood but not inclined to stop her. There is a part of her that is happy to see the ambivalence. Ginny, for most of the time she has known her, has been the bold one. Hermione is proud to be the leader for once. They venture only a dozen paces from the veranda before setting up the umbrellas. They found only two chairs suitable for the beach which Ginny and Hermione set up as Ron and Harry position the twin pools of shade to protect them. As they are a bit off the beaten path, the boys aren't distracted in their task. "Then this is how we do it then?" Ginny asks with uncertainty. Hermione can't hold her annoyance with Ginny. Ginny is clearly nervous and Hermione can't bring herself to make it worse. At the same time, Hermione feels it is kinder if Ginny conquers her mood quickly. "Mostly if we wish to walk along the beach," Hermione says, taking off her top to set the example, "There's little point to sunning in the shade." "Who's going then?" Hermione says bracingly. She is finding there is more thrill than anticipated exposing her breasts, even to Ron who is familiar with them. "We all will," Ginny says quickly and then turns to Harry. "Won't we, Harry?" The boys have enough sense to see their part is to fall in line. There is something they don't wish to disturb happening as well as the sense it is important to not upset the girls. Ginny pulls off her top with a furtive motion and then pauses with it still clutched in her hand. It lasts only a second and then she drops the horrid thing and stands up straight. "Then let's go," she says with false bravado. As Ginny crouched a bit removing the top, Hermione doesn't think it is intentional, but Ginny does nothing to brush away her long red hair draping over her chest. It might provide Ginny with a feeling of cover, but actually the waving strands call attention to the breasts they purport to conceal. Her bold inquisitive nipples jut out and the swing of her hair only serves to accentuate the sway of her breasts as she walks. She is certainly the one that attracts the eyes as the two couples walk hand in hand to the surf. They might start on Hermione's generous roundness, but snap to Ginny. Or, starting on the teasing pink nipples peeking out of the red hair, they swivel to Hermione only to snap back to look longer at Ginny as they two couples pass by. Harry is gallantly, or perhaps bashfully silent. Ron can't help starting a running commentary. "He's quite impressed. Wonder his eyes don't fall out, he's staring so hard. There's another one. Causing quite the stir, aren't we?" Ron rattles off as they pass one admirer after the other. Hermione darts a look at Ron's bathing costume. Happily, he is not, at least evidently, erect at the reactions. She does find it nice that he is so unlike himself at the moment. That turns a bit sour as Ron sees the first other woman. His commentary is choked off as he stares. They are quite nice, Hermione thinks. Not as nice as her own, but she can grant Ron would find them attractive. She is fighting the urge to get hot over the appreciation. She knew from the first it was part of Ron's aim. Better for him to get over it than to long for it, she thought. As she sees him appreciate, she has to hold tight to that thought. Harry seems more amazed, Hermione notes. He is looking quite as openly as Ron, but he seems less ready to drool. Hermione thinks Harry's reaction is more like seeing a rhinoceros for the first time than a reaction of arousal. Ginny is tugging him along impatiently, but Hermione thinks that might have to do more with Ginny's nervousness at being bare-breasted in public for the first time. Ginny is controlling her panic rather well, but Hermione thinks she see chinks in Ginny's facade. "And what exactly is our purpose? Where are we going?" Ginny asks. "I thought to the water and walk along the surf," Hermione offers. "But we can return if you'd rather." Ginny returns a look as if she is being patronized and Hermione finds a handy excuse to offer. "We do have to be careful with you," Hermione says and Ginny's displeasure becomes a scowl. "Because you're so fair you'll burn," Hermione hastily explains. "You have to start with very little exposure and build up." Finally something tickles Ginny. 'Very little exposure' is too much like what Ginny has been craving. She is less adverse than any of them might think, but she is finding the reality a bit daunting. She wants to be as bold as Hermione, but her heart is pounding in protest of that wish. "Then we should turn back then?" Harry asks. "Oh I think just to the water and back," Hermione looks at Ginny. "She can stand a few minutes even at first, I think." Ginny is smiling weakly. It is the least contrary she has seemed from the time the trip was planned. Hermione doesn't understand, but she is glad Ginny's mood seems to be passing. Ron and Harry seem oblivious to this subtlety. They have their own pursuits as they walk along the beach. Harry's head doesn't swivel as much as Ron's, but he's taking in the sights as well. With Ginny wrapped in her own drama, she doesn't take notice, but Hermione does. This is, after all, an old story for Hermione. She's not sure the boys would grasp her meaning if she explained, but she resolves to explain it to Ginny, before Ginny notices Harry's interest and is unduly concerned. It's no more than saying: good day, in Hermione's understanding. It's polite in a strange way. She knows how she feels complimented by notice and she can guess the benefit to the noticer as well. It's a kind of mutual appreciation and no harm as long as it remains just that. Back in the shade of the umbrellas, Ginny scowls at her discarded sunflower top. She drops into the chair with an air of resignation without reclaiming the hideous thing. After a moment, Hermione sees her relax. Ginny has made peace with her state. She is slowly calming the frantic beating of her heart with cool reason. She's been walking about with her boobies out for some time. More people have noticed than are near them in their rather secluded part of the beach. It's almost private where they are in the shade and she doesn't mind Harry admiring her. Her heart feels it is a weak case but does finally go back to its normal beating when Ginny seems unwilling to respond to its prompting. Calmer, Ginny begins to feel the tickle of excitement at being a naughty girl. Hermione is stretching because she needs to, because she is quicker to be comfortable with her display, and because it amuses her. There is still a tickle of her own to know Harry can see, but she is finding it less disturbing and faintly arousing. Ron is securely in the arousing camp. Hermione hears him sigh as she thrusts her breasts up in her motion. She can't help her tender feelings that she can so affect him, as familiar as he is with her body. It is hardly proper to discuss the affect of sea air on passion and the couples rarely offer more than vague hints on the subject in any case. They emerge from their separate rooms refreshed and merely smile after their first night. It is a morning of plans for Hermione and for Hermione and Ginny alone. The boys are free to go ogle all the women they may in the meantime. Hermione means to take Ginny shopping. "Not to be rude, but even in the costume you brought it's too evident," Hermione is saying as they look at the available costumes of a more recent vintage. "Well, I was occupied with other concerns at the time and I suppose it's good you noticed," Ginny says with some uncertainty. "I don't mean to offend," Hermione says, "but it looks horrid." They settle on a shocking bikini. Hermione regards it with some doubt. Although the top is larger than the one of her own present outfit, the bottom is absolutely miniscule. Seeing as the top will get little use, Hermione is more doubtful. The bottom is substantial enough in front, but thins to little more than dental floss in the rear. Hermione is unsure if she is more concerned that Ginny will be exposing her entire arse out of empathy or jealousy. "I'm just more familiar given the state of my hair," Hermione is apologetic as they get to it. "But I still fear trying to hex it. I only know the Muggle way, I'm afraid." "Well as I have no idea what you're saying, I suppose I must trust you," Ginny says. "How do we go about it?" That is more than a little embarrassing. The Muggle way is called shaving and it calls for Hermione to be far too close to the parts being shaved. Hermione likes to think herself worldly, but she is still uncomfortable as Ginny takes off her knickers and spreads her legs. "Well then, ummm... How do you want it?" Hermione asks to delay. "There's options?" Ginny asks. It is as good a time as any. Hermione feels even more awkward staring at Ginny's crotch while she is dressed. For some reason, baring her own barbered pubis provides a feeling of relief. "I just do a simple wedge shape, but it could be a heart- or an exclamation point. Anything you like," Hermione says. "It's like carving a topiary, if you see what I mean." Ginny seems perversely interested in what Hermione has done for herself. She barely restrains herself from reaching out to stroke the furry patch. She examines the way Hermione cleans her labia with an intensity that makes Hermione's ears begin to burn. "Why not have it all off?" Ginny asks with an odd grin. "Wouldn't that be much simpler- in the end?" Ginny is no dunce nor innocent. Hermione knows she must be aware how it will appear. Hermione feels a thrill of cold pass through her. That is naughty in the extreme. Hermione feels a following surge of excitement at the thought. Ginny seems to feed on Hermione's nervousness as she clips the hair as short as she can manage with her manicure scissors. Ginny is plainly enjoying Hermione toying with her down there. Ginny leans back to force Hermione to confront her sex. "Now the shaving," Hermione announces. Ginny is more contrite and not a little nervous herself as Hermione lathers the short hairs and produces her razor. As if there is some pipe between them, it seems Ginny's smugness flows into Hermione as it leaves Ginny. Ginny is flushed and perhaps not all with worry as Hermione pats her mons and vulva with a wet towel to remove lingering lather. There is a certain amount of unavoidable arousal when someone is mucking about in such private places. "And it will need doing again?" Ginny asks with honest interest. "I will show you how and you can manage for yourself," Hermione says, a bit flushed herself. Ginny restrains herself from flaunting her newly-denuded sex at Hermione, but she asks for a mirror and proceeds to examine it from all angles in a way that is nearly the same. She is imagining the effect it will have on Harry when he sees it the first time. She feels brazen, exposed and cannot see how it will not have the same effect on Harry. "There. Isn't that better now?" Hermione says with relief when they get Ginny into her costume and her naked crotch is finally covered. "I do feel much... cleaner," Ginny grants and then gasps, "But you mean all that... that was leaking out as we walked down the beach?" It has been quite a tumble of feeling wise and then humble, haughty and then embarrassed, for both of them. It is emotionally exhausting at the same time they feel exhilarated for having gone through it. They are in high spirits when Harry and Ron return. "You two have a good time with... girl stuff?" Ron asks smugly. "You two enjoy all the titties?" Hermione asks and Ron goes wide-eyed. "Well, we were just walking," Ron tries his excuse. "Oh Hermione, you said you wanted them to," Ginny speaks up with some information that is new to Hermione. "You said they should look and that would show them how much better they are at home." "That's me," Harry says quickly, looking at the oddly-clad Ginny. She is in jumper and bikini bottoms. It is an odd collision of ordinary and very scarce. Harry hasn't even seen that there is nothing to speak of behind. "There was nothing I fancied as much," Harry says. "Well, of course," Ron says as if Harry was accusing him, "I hardly noticed, personally. I mean, I suppose there were some, but nothing so fine as yours, Hermione." She ignores for the moment that Harry refers to Ginny as a person and Ron seems to regard her as bearer of her breasts. It was only her intent to wind him up and she has better plans for the rest of the day. Ginny is just a bit too squirmy as she lays back on the chaise. She has, again, eschewed the top of her bikini, but arranged her hair to provide partial concealment purposefully this time. Hermione thinks the agitation comes from the secret under her bottoms she is impatient to reveal to Harry. Hermione is reclining regally, sunglasses in place, as she and Ron discuss, of all things, why the sea is bluer here than in England. Ginny is the one that bursts in with the suggestion that they go for a walk down the beach. Perhaps her shaved parts were the second revelation for Ginny, Hermione considers as she sees Harry's reaction when Ginny stands. She paid little mind, but from the evidence of Harry's shock, it seems he was not aware just how exposed Ginny is in the rear. "Blimey!" it is Ron that gives voice to the shock. "Are you going out there with your bum naked to the world?" "It's not your place to mind," Ginny says sharply. "I don't hear Harry making any complaint." From looking at him, Hermione suspects it is because Harry is speechless. He is staring unapologetically at Ginny's arse. If he can think, it is impossible to see what he is thinking. Harry seems to revive when Ginny takes him by the hand and draws him into the sun. His consternation is replaced by a placid look and Hermione wonders if he remembers what he saw or if it has escaped his mind. The sun bouncing off the pure white of Ginny's bottom is blinding and Hermione tries to pull Ron level so it does not attack her eyes. He resists, seeming to take pleasure in scowling at the display. Hermione is only fussed that Ron can't let it go. She has no fear he is in any other way attracted to his sister's arse. That goes for less people than were unimpressed with Hermione before. Ginny gleans some curious stares as well as the more leering ones as they walk to the water. There are enough left over, or shared for Hermione to not feel slighted. She is still the golden goddess and feels the appreciation even if Ginny seems to attract the longer stares. It is different with Ron by her side. It is, indeed, mostly for him and his liking for her being appreciated that she wants the attention. Of course it is nice and before it was her only gratification, but now, she knows it is pale beside the real attention she will have later. She doesn't know how Harry processes it. She can hardly see any alteration in his adoring looks at Ginny whatever the circumstance. He is simply happy. He also seems agreeable to whatever Ginny wants. That's their problem, Hermione thinks. Her mind is already turned to the wide, wide sea and the prospect of what will come at sundown. Restraint has kept Ginny from turning lobster red, but Ron is showing patches and Ginny's hue is crimson at best. Tanning seems not to be for the fair, nor the ginger-haired. Harry is showing signs of a deep, rich brown that will put even Hermione's bronze to shame. This mostly concerns them for practical reasons. Fortunately, Ron's trunks protect the important areas as far as Hermione is concerned, but she wonders how a tender bum will affect Ginny's night with Harry. She doesn't wonder long as Ron is eager to show her what a day of watching bare breasts bounce by has done for his libido. It has given him more appreciation for hers, she grants. Ron spends more time examining, exploring and discovering the tingling globes than any time before, including his first discovery that Hermione had breasts. Hermione, as much as she cares under the spell of stimulating hands and lips, feels no comparison, only a frank appreciation. If she thought so deep, she might think Ron grateful that hers were so fine and perfect. Ron is more capable, but less likely to reach that conclusion. He is too lost in the appreciation to even account for his growing need to move on. That only stops him when it reaches the crisis stage and he must relinquish her breasts to move between her legs. "Ron? Let's enjoy it this time, shall we?" Hermione asks as Ron stabs his penis into her. Ron looks confused. "Just be calmer," she explains. "Let's take our time. I think it will still be grand even if we don't hurry." Ron is amenable. They have been shagging long enough that they've done all sorts of ways and rhythms. The experience allows him to not be immediately offended and to expect the same reward however they go about it. "I could go on top if you'd rather," Hermione suggests when Ron finds a steady stroke he means to delay them. Ron smiles at her almost gratefully. In fact, his emotion is more self-directed because Hermione can be quite surprising and very arousing, left to herself. He relaxes to let her turn him to the bed and clamber over him. "Don't you still want to play?" Hermione prods him as she mounts his ready erection and leans to let her breasts hang for him. Ron doesn't question why he loves Hermione. She knows what he wants and, less happily at times, what he needs. She takes care of him. Nothing could appeal to him more. Still, her breasts swinging gently over him, begging for his hands to hold them and stroke them, appeal quite a lot at present. He reaches up to play. Hermione moves contentedly on his penis. They both are enjoying Ron's fascination with her breasts. Hermione moves more urgently, feeling content mix with growing passion. "Oh Hermione! Go on! Go on!" Ron is quite vocal as Hermione gives way to the gathering need inside her. His hands clamp on her breasts and Hermione is not above finding the twinges inciting. It is a continuation in her mind. Ron's continuous homage to her breasts made her compelled beyond her normal desires to impale herself on his hard prod. As she aroused him more, he played harder. It was not a vicious cycle, but rather an irresistible, primal cycle of growing excitement. As Ron tugs on her breasts, Hermione struggles to move hard enough, fast enough to return the arousal he gives her. Ron exploding inside her is beneath her notice. His ejaculation is ignored as she slaps her bottom on him. Only as her own orgasm bursts on her, does she flop disjointedly on his erection. Bright light, cold flood, electric shock, white heat, she doesn't consider as the sensation takes her. She vaguely, as if at a distance, knows the jerk of sensation as she tugs her own breasts in Ron's grip with her floundering. "Oh dear, and I hoped it would be good," Hermione pants when she is able. Ron smirks wryly at her sarcasm. He has only just recovered, but in time to see Hermione's eyes roll back into place in her own recovery. He is not as impressed as should be, perhaps. It was quite indescribable, but he has always known Hermione to be capable and perhaps even expects her to give the extraordinary. Ginny doesn't say so. She is begrudging even when Hermione presses her alone. But, yes, her sun-warmed little arse did sting and burn being rubbed on the bed when Harry shagged her. She certainly didn't tell him or complain. She is going to bear it and dares Hermione to say anything. Hermione suggests unguents. Hermione is horrified she neglected to bring any texts that might suggest a remedy, even though she is sure she has never seen one in the books she owns. It is not like her, Hermione ponders after the exchange. She didn't think of a single book when departing. It is hard to believe she could be so distracted, but the evidence points that way. Hermione was simply too focused on being naked, seeing Ginny naked and having the sex resulting to think of anything else. She was obviously too distracted to think of another thing as well. It occurs when they find a magic shop- real magic, not the Muggle kind, in search of a potion for Ginny's bottom. Among the dried horseshoe crabs and other local ingredients, they find a nosy witch. "I've seen you," she says as she points to Hermione, "You're the tart that was with Krum." Ginny laughs, thinking the old woman has held a memory for a long time indeed. Hermione is quieter. "I've only just got here," Hermione says. "This is the third day." "Don't remember you," the witch says to Ginny, ignoring Hermione's words, "but I remember you. No mistaking you. You're the tart all right." Ginny and Hermione don't discuss it at first. Ginny allows Hermione to begin, but when she doesn't, asks straight out. "Was Viktor here?" Ginny asks. Hermione didn't know where to start. She intended to explain, but was still working it out. She never intended to lie to Ginny. She doesn't. "Yes. And I was the tart with him," Hermione admits. "But you won't mention it to Ron, will you?" Ginny shakes her head. "But if I've found out, what will prevent him?" Ginny asks. Neither of them can think of a way to make Ron glad of it. They can't think of a way he won't be infuriated. They both agree it will be better confessed before he discovers it on his own. Hermione proceeds in the best way she can devise. Whether she feels that she has sinned deeply or not, it is Ron's feelings that matter here. She tries to imagine his reaction, not simply his anger, but where it comes from. The veranda comes into play. It is little more than an awning with a low fence about the edge, but it will serve. Ginny drags Harry- as much as he needs to be dragged off for a moon-lit walk, with a nod to Hermione. Ginny will insure they are gone a long time. "I love you, Ron," Hermione says as she sits him on the veranda. "Me too," Ron says, wondering what unpleasant thing Hermione wants, to start that way. "I do," Hermione repeats. "I am yours. Only yours." Ron is saved from wondering at this as Hermione removes her top. She is standing in front of him about a pace away. Ron begins to think that it can't be so bad with this for a beginning. "All of me, to do as you will," Hermione says, shedding the bottoms to stand starkers in front of him. Ron opens his mouth, but Hermione is too nervous to hear what joke, ribaldry or comment he might make. She bends to put her hand over his mouth to shush him. As she comes close, Ron can see the intensity in her eyes and is stilled. He sits back. "You won't joke when I tell you," Hermione says ominously. She walks to the edge of the veranda and puts her hands high on the supports. She stands with her feet spread a shoulder's width apart. She presents a stunning image to Ron's eyes. "I mean you may beat me if you wish," she says. "I think there is a strap, but you have a belt in any case. I only ask that you tie me here if you do. I don't think I can bear it and I must." "What are you talking about, Hermione?" Ron can no longer be restrained. "No- sit, unless you mean to bind me," Hermione says as he rises. "You should sit while I tell you. Then you can do as you wish." "I'm sorry," she begins. "I'm sorry and I deserve if you beat me, but please, do that and don't leave," Hermione dissolves as she speaks. "No- don't interrupt, I will say it," Hermione cuts off a sound from Ron, "I was here with Krum. I was with Krum. We made love. I'm sorry. Beat me if you wish." "What?" Ron sputters, "Krum? What about Krum?" "I said," Hermione gulps out, "Don't make me again." "Why? Why would you?" Ron sounds more forlorn than irate. "Because... because... I don't know," Hermione breaks down. "He was here. He's my friend. Maybe I was lonely. Maybe he seemed to want me so much." "Please... Please don't leave! Beat me but don't leave," Hermione cries out, thinking the silence is Ron turning away. "Beat you? Is that what you want? Is that what you think will make it up to me?" Ron's voice is a low growl, intense and soft. "I don't know," Hermione says helplessly, "But whatever will, I want you to do. I love you. I love you. I'm sorry. I just couldn't stand if you go." "All right then," Ron says coldly. Hermione can hardly breathe as she feels the ropes twine around her wrists, binding her to the awning supports. Her breath comes shallow and fast as she tries to imagine what Ron will do. She is serious in her offer. She means to humble herself. It may have been a lark to her, but she was thinking for Ron. She fears he takes the betrayal to heart. She could come up with no better way to show her contrition and remorse. But as it seems he means to accept the offer she dreads it. As I should, she thinks. I should let Ron shows me how he feels. "Krum!" Ron says so close to her ear she flinches. "Krum because he would hurt me most?" "No," Hermione begs, "Krum hurts you because you know I'm fond of him. It was because I'm fond. But I love you, Ron. I'm sorry I hurt you." "So you go off together?" Ron accuses. "No. We didn't know the other was here until the last night," Hermione answers. "So it was one night?" Ron asks. "Two," Hermione admits. "Well then, I should beat you," Ron says. "You sleep with another man and then you come to me fresh from his bed. Are you a whore?" "Yes, Ron, whatever you want to call me," Hermione agrees, "But I don't want you to leave. Do anything, but don't leave me." "You forgot to say you love me," Ron says coolly. "I do, but I don't know if you care," Hermione says. "I do, but maybe I don't deserve to." "And why should I believe you?" Ron asks. Hermione cannot answer. It's not that she has nothing to say. The emotion- the regret, the fear, overwhelm her and she sobs. "Well then, I should get to it," Ron says and Hermione jerks in dread as she feels his hand on her buttock. "I thought you might be playing," Ron says after long pause. Hermione since stopped sobbing and is gasping with the trailing edge of her panic. His words sound strange to her. "Play-acting," Ron refines his meaning, "but I think you're serious. You really mean for me to beat you." "Yes, Ron, whatever you wish," Hermione gasps. "Well I have you in position," Ron says and pauses for at least two breaths, "but I don't think I will." "Mind you," he says quickly on the heels of that, "I'm not so sure of myself as I might sound. But I think if I beat you it would be for the amusement of it." "Whipping my slave, make me a big man," he explains after a gap. "But I don't feel a big man right now." "I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to hurt you," Hermione blurts out, and then, "but I didn't stop because I might." "What I'm trying to say," Ron says sharply at the interruption, "is I am hurt. You know I'm hurt. But what of it? What can we do now? You can't undo it. You say you're sorry. I think you are. I thought you might be play-acting to be all dramatic, but don't think you are. "I might beat you if I thought you were pretending. But there's points in your favour. You told me. That's one. And I think you were honest. That's another." Ron takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. "I just don't know what to do now." "I want to make it up to you," Hermione offers. "Whatever can do that. Anything." She feels the ropes unwind from her wrists. Ron pulls her arm down. He turns her toward him. "Remind me you said that," Ron says, sadly. "I'm just not in the mood now." Hermione wants to punch him. There is no possible reason for it, but she feels let down. She's the remorseful one and Ron looks as though someone has died. She stares at him blankly and he looks back. "Will you kiss me?" Hermione asks. Ron shakes his head. "Beat you? How did you arrive at that?" Ron says as he wakes up. After refusing to kiss Hermione, he took her hand and led her to their bedroom. He left her there as he got ready for bed and lay down. He allowed her to curl up next to him but nothing else. Somewhere in the night the thought must have haunted him. "I thought you'd be angry and I wanted you to know I realized I deserve it," Hermione says after Ron again poses the question to her awake. "Tell me why you deserve it. Tell me everything," Ron prompts. "I think I'm ready to hear it." Hermione spares no detail beyond Viktor's skill. She admits inviting him. She admits offering the second time. Ron listens with a puzzled look. "Then you came back to me?" Ron asks as she finishes. Hermione nods. She cannot read his expression. It isn't happy. That's all she can tell. "Go get your clothes," Ron tells her. "Out on the veranda, go pick them up and come back." It isn't so much different, Hermione tells herself as she feels Ron's eyes on her as she crawls out of bed. The bottoms hardly cover anything. As much as she knows it is a test, she knows Ron does not want her to cover herself. She doesn't meet the others nor see that Harry pulls back at the door of his and Ginny's room as she goes back to Ron. He's sitting up when she returns. "It all seems a bit odd, doesn't it?" he asks her. "What do you mean?" she asks him. "All sexy Hermione- naked Hermione- tie me up and beat me Hermione," Ron counts off. "A bit showy, don't you think." Hermione drops her head. She did plan for it to be large. "Only so you would know how serious I was," Hermione tells him. "You could have beaten me, you know." "Did you think that likely?" Ron asks. "You could have. I was willing," Hermione maintains. "Even for sport if you wanted. I really feel that bad, Ron. I don't want you to doubt me." "Viktor Krum," Ron says to himself. "After four years." "I'll make it up to you," Hermione says quickly, "Anything. You told me to remind you." Ron lifts one eyebrow as he considers her. Hermione is not used to this look. She isn't sure what it means. "I'll consider it," Ron says after a long pause. "Anything gives me a lot to pick from. Now cover up so we can go out to Harry and Ginny." There is no way Ron could have made Hermione more nervous. She is not nervous about what he might request. She is resolved to do it, and that is that. She is nervous whether Ron will forgive her. It is so strange after so many times needing to forgive him. Hermione is subdued. Harry notices and notices Ron is likewise sullen. Ginny is normal, but since she has been bubbly, that is also worthy of comment. Harry keeps his comments to himself until alone with Ginny. Otherwise, they pretend normalcy, sitting under their umbrellas, walking along the beach. The visit to the local witch did yield good along with bad as the lotion obtained lets Ginny turn red-gold in the sun. Other than the mood, the only difference Harry notes is that Ron seems a bit more alert to men who admire Hermione as they pass. Ron seems to study them and Harry thinks perhaps Ron's jealousy is about to trigger. "Did Ron and Hermione have a row?" Harry asks Ginny in privacy. Ginny pauses a moment. Hermione didn't say anything about Harry. Her concern was telling Ron. As the reasonable assumption was the boys would find out, Ginny decides it is all right if Harry finds out from her. "It seems Hermione encountered Viktor on her first vacation," Ginny says. "She's just told Ron. I didn't say anything because Hermione wanted to tell Ron first." "I understand," Harry says automatically and then, "Viktor? Viktor Krum? I can't believe Ron is being so civil." "As I understand it, he's still considering," Ginny offers. "But even Ron isn't 14 any more. And I'm sure Hermione made every effort to be convincing." Harry can't help grinning at that. He doesn't have to be disturbingly specific in his imagining how Hermione might be convincing, just enough to think that she might overwhelm Ron. But Harry has seen little evidence Ron's jealousy has progressed from the time they were 14. He reconsiders Ron's hard looks at Hermione's admirers on the beach. It is not that they've grown apart. It is that there was nothing to share in these areas before and they are only beginning to work out how to share them now. That is why Harry is so wide of the mark as he contemplates what is going on with Ron and Hermione. "I think I can work out why you offered to be beaten," Ron is saying very reasonably in his and Hermione's room. He is yet to thaw to the point of welcoming Hermione, but she is allowed to sit on the other side of the bed from him. In his own instinctive way, Ron knows the uncertainty she feels is part of her punishment. "I had a bit of it today on the beach," Ron reveals. "I considered having you go with men I saw. Quite mental, really." Hermione feels a chill. This is not what she wants at all. Worse, it argues that Ron is considering a rather terrible revenge. "Oh yes," he says, seeing her shiver, "it would be quite the thing for you, but what for me? That's what I'm trying to say. I can see how it's difficult to choose just the right thing." "I'll do whatever you say," Hermione reaffirms, although nervously. "That is why binding you naked on the veranda isn't right either," Ron goes on as if she hadn't spoke, "I'm sure it might affect you, but I'm not sure I see the benefit for me. The same as beating you." Hermione is growing more confused. Is he naming things to increase her terror? What is his purpose in tormenting her so? "But I think I have it," Ron says getting up from the bed and walking around to face Hermione. He reaches behind her to untie her top and draw it off. He lifts her to her feet to draw down her bottoms. He pushes the uncertain and naked Hermione to her knees in front of him. She looks up nervously. There is an obvious purpose to her position, but Ron is making no move to open or drop his trunks. "Promise," Ron says, looking down at her. "Promise you will consider me if you encounter someone you're fond of." Despite herself, Hermione's mouth opens slightly in her wonder. "Remember," Ron starts again, "Remember this time and consider what it means before you do anything. If you hurt me again, I will have to assume you meant to." "I promise, Ron, I promise never..." Hermione says fervently before he holds out his hand to silence her. "Promise to consider, that's what I ask," Ron says. "I won't believe a promise to never. Too easy to make you a liar and me a fool. Just tell me that if it happens again I will know you intended it. That is what I require." "Yes, Ron, whatever you require," Hermione says dutifully. "But I won't! Not realizing what I do now." "What is that?" Ron is actually interested. He has spent much thinking, not an activity he much prefers, and wishes to know if there was something he did not consider. "I wasn't sure," Hermione drops her head to confess, not able to say it while meeting Ron's eyes. "I didn't know if it was a lark, a hysterical reaction to the danger we faced, or what. I hardly felt we'd sworn undying love, whatever we felt." She looks up into his eyes, "But upon returning I felt so awful that I felt it must be. That's why I was so fierce you not leave. I'm sure now, Ron. I do love you and it's real. That's how I know I won't!" His expression is hardly the expression of one lightning-struck by love's dart. He wears a twisted grin as he regards her. He finally reaches out his hand to lift her. "So, promise to consider and remember," Ron repeats. "I spent some time working that out. And you can count yourself lucky that I remembered I haven't always been so blameless while I was working it out." "No," Hermione says, getting weepy, "There was Lavender, but I'm not saying that applies. That was different, but..." She trails off, not sure it is time to lighten the ominously sombre mood she feels. "But if it is as you say, then it does in a way," Ron says reasonably, "Kinda before it was real in some way. But I meant leaving you and Harry." "That was the horrible Horcrux," Hermione says quickly, knowing it was not, but eager to excuse Ron as he has her. "Good evening, Mr. Parkinson, Pansy, to what do we owe this honour?" Lucius Malfoy greets the pair at the doors of Malfoy Manor. "Your wife, Narcissa, invited us," Mr. Parkinson says. "It is over some details she wishes to work out with Pansy. Woman stuff, you know, don't like to inquire too deeply, if you understand me." Lucius nods agreeably and shows the pair in. Narcissa is waiting to entertain Pansy in the drawing room. Draco is in the great room and regards this visitation suspiciously. "So, what ho, new government mucking things up horribly, eh?" Parkinson begins a conversation. Draco creeps to the door of the drawing room, hoping to overhear. He doesn't think Pansy would dare repeat the things he has done to her, the most recent in particular, but he still wishes to know what is being said. He can't make out the words, but he relaxes. His mother and Pansy seem to be talking agreeably. He doesn't think that would be the case were Pansy relating being buggered by Goyle while he held her. It is still troubling what Pansy might have to say to his mother. Needs the lesson repeated, Draco decides. Who should I recruit in addition? His mind fills with additions to his cruel use of Pansy. Not just a third to rape her mouth as he and Goyle fill the nether orifices, perhaps a string of lovers to take her in succession? Draco feels his penis bloat with the arousal of his imagination. He considers more indignities to heap on Pansy to make it throb. "Now I said I'd play, but what are we playing?" Hermione giggles as Ron leads her blindfolded. He is not as clever as he thinks, she thinks as her feet feel the smooth wood of the common room. Spinning her disoriented her, but she does have ways of discovering where she is. She feels the coarse knap of the veranda's rug. She shivers a bit with excitement. She was allowed to dress and felt almost normal, but for the lingering regret of her trespass. They had gotten through supper so jolly that even Harry was giving them questioning looks. Then Ron wished to play a game and Hermione was eager for the first indication that things had returned to normal. She stripped off and allowed him to blindfold her. Now she feels the warm air flow over her body and is struck by the uncertainty of not knowing who might be lurking and witnessing Ron's game. "We're playing naked bitch in Paradise," Ron announces as he pulls her arm up and she feels the ropes wind around her wrist. As he attaches the other, putting her in the position where she so recently feared he might strap her, Hermione feels the same fear kick her heart into frenzied beating. He pulls off the blindfold and Hermione sees only his face before her, grinning at her. In her doubt she can't discern his mood. "Oh, don't shake so," Ron says tenderly when placing his hand on her buttock makes her jerk away. "I mean this for sport." "Are you going to beat me?" Hermione asks timidly. "Only a little," Ron teases at first, his hand tracing the curve of one buttock and then the other. "You see, you did make me quite randy all naked and helpless, but I was hardly in the mood." He moves to stand behind her and she feels his erect penis seek out the cleft between the hillocks. His hands slide up her ribs to gather up her breasts. "As we've been able to put that behind us, I fancied a bit of a return to it," Ron says, "I find I quite like the idea of being behind you." Hermione experiences a boomerang of emotions as relief floods over her at Ron's gentle intentions and then draws back as she is confronted with her helplessness. Despite Ron's less than brutal intentions, she is still bound naked and at his mercy. A tingle of doubt creeps back in. "You mean to take me from behind, not bugger me?" Hermione asks, it coming out more shrilly than she thought. Ron pauses a moment, but can't bring himself to joke so cruelly. "No," he says, "I mean from behind, but you can fear it if you wish." Hermione finds his words puzzling. Not that she doesn't work them out, but that she feels a strange disappointment he is being kind. Being buggered is of no interest to her, and she is confused to her reaction that she won't be forced to endure it. She has time to wonder. Ron is letting her stand exposed and helpless while he leisurely explores. His hand slides down her belly to the arch of her thighs and his fingers explore the furry patch that so interested Ginny. Hermione shifts in response but finds herself frustratingly, but interestingly restrained by the ropes around her wrists. She can move in a limited manner against the stiffness of Ron's penis between her buttocks, but she can no more than entice and cannot forbid anything with her hands bound. Frustrating and arousing, she thinks again. She can want and not prevent and she can want, but not compel. She can agree, but that has as little use. Hermione believes she is understanding the joy of being at Ron's mercy when she feels his penis lower and tease along her labia. She is hardly more vulnerable to this bound, she considers. He can evade easier, but she feels the same need as ever. Wriggling her arse shamelessly to make him take her is only slightly more outrageous and that because her surrender is more obvious when she is in ropes. She is not prepared for the need that wells up as Ron pushes into her. Then her inability to respond is made real to her. She can only be receptive like a mare in a breeding stall. At this point, this seems to be the height of erotic bliss. She can only make herself more available and this surrender is making Hermione feel like she is sex itself. As Ron thrusts into her, Hermione lets the ropes around her wrists support her, pulling on them, depending on them as she tries to reach out with her bottom to encourage Ron. She is pulling back from her wrists, thrusting out with her bottom, trying to meet Ron's strokes with a complete disregard for dignity. She senses there is more. She is overwhelmed, her heart pounds, she can hardly draw breath for panting and her insides convulse, but she feels there is more. As Ron thrusts into her she jerks in orgasm and calls out. "Bugger me!" she pleads. Ron is too shocked to reply. He only continues to thrust by reflex as he is confounded by her request. "Why?" he asks. He is content, more than content, pleased as much as he thinks he can be by Hermione's avid response. It is so intense he is resolved to enjoy it as much as he can and is doing his best to restrain himself as he can while thrusting steadily into her. His question waits for a reply as Hermione finds breath enough to speak. "It's more!" Hermione gasps out, cryptically to Ron. "Please!" Hermione is in quite a state. Perhaps she's gone mad and doesn't know what she's saying. Perhaps she is as desperate as she sounds and it is kindness to do as she bids. Ron must decide. It is sure she is passionate about it. He tests her with his thumb, pressing into the tight pucker just above where his penis plunges into her waggling rear. Hermione groans. "Yes!" she hisses. Then that's done, Ron thinks as he goes back to the pleasure of having Hermione dance on his thrusts. She is more active as he moves his thumb in her arsehole. "Now bugger me!" Hermione insists as he settles in. Well timed, Hermione, that is if it's what you really want. Ron is having trouble keeping focus on how pleasurable it might be to go on in the face of how much his testicles want to explode. Her plea comes as a solution to his struggle. If he pulls out it might delay him. Then he can plunge back in. It is more this merely mechanical process than clear thought that makes Ron withdraw penis and thumb and push his erection at Hermione's anus. She is frantic without him in her. Her arse searches for him and dislodges his first attempt. In his own frustration, Ron clamps her hips in his hands and aims again. Hermione pulls at her ropes. This is nothing she could anticipate or dream. Ron is ripping her apart, splitting her down her centre. And in the midst of her fear and pain and bewilderment, she is glad. All the rest is terrible, but Ron is driving into her. She is the mare, the bitch, receiving him. With the pain, the tearing, the discomfort in place, she is still having the thing she craved. "Yes! Have me!" she cries out as loud as her emptied lungs can manage. It is as tight as to be painful to Ron as well. But he is infected by her enthusiasm. Her rear comes up in acceptance. All the desire and need he felt from her is there. He wants her as he ever has, but now he feels he has her in a way he never has before. Of course, if we were Harry, attracted by the noise and peering wide- eyed at them having it off on the veranda, we might snicker. Harry quickly pulls back, embarrassed to intrude, but we might remark that of course it's a way you never have before, being the first time. But it's not that clear and rational for either Ron or Hermione and it's not that simple either. It's not being in her arse for Ron. It's that he senses what Hermione is giving. It is also the same for her. It's not pleasant for Hermione, not at all, yet the very sacrifice is what makes her climax. Yes, climax in the midst of pain and turmoil because of the emotion of giving herself. "Take it out now... please?" Hermione asks timidly some time later. Ron is quick to comply. He was pausing mostly in confusion about what has happened. He was caught in the passion as well and was less than three thrusts in her arse before ejaculating as he felt her shake in her own orgasm. It is hard to remember it beyond the wild swirl of emotions. "You okay?" Ron asks tentatively. "I think," Hermione says. "No, don't. Not yet," she says as she feels Ron cause the ropes to slither away. He restores them without question, but much wonder. "I think I need to be here to understand," Hermione says. Ron is glad she has hopes of that. He is sure he never will understand unless she can explain it to him. Even without understanding, however, he knows something portentous has happened. "Now please," she says some minutes later. "Are you going to explain?" Ron asks when they return to their room and Hermione has yet to speak. She looks at him, puzzled. It is as if she didn't consider his confusion. She was working it out for herself. "I'm not sure about you," she admits. "I only think I was needing to prove myself to you. I wanted to give you everything so you wouldn't fear I was false." Ron nods slowly. "I felt that I had you as I never had before," he reports. Hermione snickers. She can see the humour we saw at the time now that she's away from it. "That's for certain," she says, but becomes serious as she says, "but I know what you mean. It's a good way to put it. And now we are each other's." Happy to have it solved, Ron is eager to be away from the mood. He draws a breath and spits it out. "I guess it isn't as solved as we thought," he says with rare insight. "Solved but not over," Hermione proposes. "Are you going to want it in the bum now?" Ron asks with his usual non-sequiter. Hermione snorts. "Perhaps," she allows, "now that we have done. But not for some time. I fear I'll need time to heal." She stops Ron's apology by saying, "I asked, demanded really. I don't think I knew what I asked for, but that's not your fault. And as it was from some guilty need, I say well done." "Not as bad as being beaten though?" Ron cottons on. Hermione adjusts herself gingerly. "Not quite, I think," she says. "But it's still to be seen." "Now Draco, come here, boy, there's no need for a long face," Mr. Parkinson is exhorting Draco. There seems to be no need. No one else looks as unhappy as Draco. Pansy is beaming with a professional smile. The professional photographer perhaps prompts the smile. They are having pictures made. It is an important event. The Parkinsons and the Malfoys are going to be merged in marriage. Draco slopes into the group with the enthusiasm of a man climbing the gallows. He scowls at Pansy, who returns the bright smile. Let him bugger me out of this, Pansy thinks smugly. Mrs. Draco Malfoy, see if he wants his chums having her. At first impeded in her revenge by desiring Draco and seeing no way to destroy him, that being the case, Pansy hit upon her revenge naturally. What better than having her wish at the expense of Draco's? Her dream faded slowly over the abuse, but finally died. She realized Draco would never want her almost at the time she knew she no longer wanted him. But that left torment. There was no better reason to have any of the others. And she is enjoying her revenge so, that it might be quite pleasant to continue it- forever. She looks at Draco and sees he is suitable miserable. If she can't evoke love, then she can bring misery. It is a happy thought. Not, perhaps, as happy as love, but she cannot compare. She's never been loved. Mrs. Weasley is quite as peeved as she was on their departure on their return. Snorts and grumbles serve for welcome as she tries to pretend they are still absent. "She'll cool," Ginny assures Harry. "She won't be able to restrain herself long. She'll have to undo the freedom we might have tasted." "But how can she undo what we've seen?" Harry asks slyly. Ginny nudges him with a sharp elbow. Despite the lotion she is perilously close to the shade of her hair all over. There was a day when they ignored her skin and lingered too long. Ron and Hermione are less interested. They troop to Ron's room to unpack. They sit on Ron's bed, strangely at rest in the face of a place and opportunity to shag. "Mum'll have quite a job convincing me it was wrong to go," Ron professes. "Oh? Did you find the naked women that interesting?" Hermione prods him. "Oh yeah," Ron says. "One of them anyway." Hermione hugs him and put her head on his shoulder. "Mind you, the others weren't like torture," Ron says. ###