Hogwarts Adventure

Chapter 26

McGonagall’s monotone voice filled the room, and every word about the intricacies of inanimate-to-inanimate transfiguration drifted across Harry’s consciousness like fog. He wasn’t paying attention to the lecture, the scratching of quills, or to the stifled yawns around him. His focus was entirely on the girl sitting at his side.

Hermione sat attentively at her desk with perfect posture. Her thick brown hair tumbled over her shoulder, and her eyes were locked on the blackboard with the intensity of someone who would rather die than miss a single one of McGonagall’s instructions. But the appearance of studiousness was spoiled somewhat by her skirt, which had ridden high on her thighs. The hem barely covered the tops of her black, knee-high stockings, leaving a scandalous expanse of pale, flawless skin exposed. From Harry’s angle, he could see almost the full length of her smooth thigh. The urge to touch it was overwhelming.

He glanced around. Everyone was arranged in neat rows, and nobody seemed to be paying attention to him. Not even McGonagall, who’d long ago given up trying to police Harry’s naughty behavior in class. To his left, Hermione’s face was lit up with scholarly focus, and to her left, Daphne sat with her arms folded and her gaze fixed in bored protest at the blackboard. The way her arms were folded pressed her tits harder together, exposing a glorious amount of cleavage. As always, not a single guy paid any attention to her scandalous attire. Harry smirked, then reached beneath the table and rested his hand, ever-so-casually, on Hermione’s exposed thigh.

Suddenly startled, she jumped slightly, then shot him a glare. Hermione certainly didn’t mind being touched by him, but anything that kept her from paying full attention to her lesson was usually off limits. However, she usually gave Harry a free pass. He squeezed gently, moving his thumb in small, feather-light circles over the silky skin. He could feel the warmth of her body and the quiver of her muscles when his fingers applied just enough pressure. The sensation was addictive. Her skin was impossibly soft, like the finest silk imaginable. He slid his hand a little higher. Hermione’s breath hitched, and she shot him a warning look, but she didn’t move his hand away. Instead, she straightened her back and pressed her knees together, trapping Harry’s hand between her thighs.

For a few seconds, Hermione kept her legs tightly shut. McGonagall’s lecture droned on, but Harry had already forgotten what the lesson was supposed to be about. The only things on his mind were the warmth of Hermione’s thighs pressed around his hand, the faint tremor of her leg muscles, and the flush rapidly blooming on her fiercely studious face.

Then, to his surprise, Hermione shifted in her seat and relaxed her knees just a bit. The invitation could not have been clearer if she’d shouted it. Harry slid his palm further up her thigh, until his fingertips slipped beneath the edge of her skirt. She was wearing the softest cotton panties, and he let the pads of his fingers drift over the fabric, feeling the delicate, feminine shape of her pussy and the heat radiating from beneath. Hermione’s posture didn’t waver, but a bead of sweat appeared at her temple, and her handwriting, which was normally pristine, began to wobble on the parchment.

Harry massaged her inner thigh, working her tender flesh just above the edge of her panties. Hermione’s hand trembled as she copied McGonagall’s instructions, and her lips pursed tight to suppress any sound. Harry continued squeezing, kneading, and watching her reactions with a cheeky smirk on his handsome face. After a minute or two, she rewarded him with a soft, involuntary exhale. He felt the heat of her arousal through the thin barrier of cotton, and it spurred him on. He pressed his fingers against her covered slit and stroked up and down, applying enough pressure to make the friction irresistible.

Hermione’s thighs tensed, then they parted ever-so-slightly. She shifted in her seat again, granting him better access. He felt her hips tilt forward, as if she was subconsciously offering her body to him. Her normally pale cheeks were flushed a furious crimson, and she ducked her head to hide behind a curtain of her hair. She didn’t want McGonagall to know that she was being pleasured during her lesson. Harry leaned in, and he quietly spoke into her ear.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, sounding very amused.

“I’m fine,” Hermione hissed through clenched teeth, but she did nothing to stop him. If anything, she angled her hips forward a few centimeters more, silently demanding that he not stop. Harry’s fingertips found a damp spot on the fabric, and he let his thumb brush over it in slow, torturous circles. Each time he stroked her, the wet patch grew larger, and the friction softened the cotton until it perfectly clung to the shape of her pussy. Now he could feel every bump, every fold, and every needy throb. The heat radiating from between her legs was amazing.

Beside Hermione, Daphne glanced over with a smirk, and her eyes gleamed with amusement. She leaned in just enough to catch Harry’s attention, then whispered, “Careful, Harry. McGonagall’s got eyes in the back of her head.” Daphne then covered her mouth and let out a near-silent giggle. Harry smiled at her, then redoubled his efforts on Hermione’s thigh, pressing harder until the base of his palm ground against the mound of her pussy.

Hermione’s control began to unravel. She abandoned her notes, clutched the edge of her desk, and bit down hard on her lower lip. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, and Harry could practically hear her heart hammering in her chest. He could feel the heat and slickness of her pussy beneath the thin fabric, and he could hear the barely-contained desperation in her labored breathing. He let his fingers dance along the edge of her panties and occasionally dipped beneath to tease her bare skin. When he pulled them out, he pressed the soaked fabric into her folds. Each time he did this, her legs twitched, and her jaw clenched in silent pleasure.

He wanted to see just how far he could take her. He wanted to see if she’d lose it right there in front of everyone.

McGonagall’s voice suddenly boomed out. “Miss Granger, could you please repeat the last point?” Hermione stiffened with flaming cheeks, but she somehow managed to answer with only the slightest tremor in her voice. The words were correct, but Harry could hear the strain in every syllable. The professor nodded and moved on, blissfully unaware of what was unfolding in front of her.

As soon as the focus shifted, Harry slipped his hand beneath Hermione’s panties and caressed her slippery skin. She was scorching hot and soaking wet, and he felt her entire body shudder in response. He ran his middle finger along her slit, gathered the wetness, then circled her clit with teasing strokes. Hermione gripped his wrist and bucked her hips. Her head bowed until her forehead almost touched the desk, and her breath came out in rapid, shallow bursts. Harry stroked her slowly and relentlessly, but he kept his movements subtle so as not to draw attention to them.

Daphne leaned forward, and her voice was full of amusement. “Don’t make her cum in class, Harry. At least wait until after lunch,” she quietly whispered. Hermione let out a strangled sound, and Harry had to bite his own lip to keep from snorting.

Harry didn’t take her advice. He pressed two fingers into Hermione, feeling her clench and quiver around them. He pumped slowly, and he felt how each twitch and spasm grew more intense. Within seconds, his entire hand was coated in her wetness. All the while, Hermione fought valiantly to keep her composure, but her entire body trembled with need. At last, she gripped the desk so hard her knuckles turned white, and bit down on her own fist to stifle a moan.

Harry kept working her until her orgasm peaked in a silent, shattering wave of pleasure. Hermione’s body went rigid before she was rocked with a full-body spasm that lasted nearly an entire minute. When it was over,  she sagged in her seat, totally spent.

He withdrew his hand, and her pussy made a suction sound as his fingers were pulled free of her vice-like grip. Harry then hit her with a crooked, victorious smile. Hermione glared at him. She was mortified at doing this in her most holy of places, but she was also deeply satisfied from the intense orgasm. She straightened her skirt, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and shot Harry a look that promised vengeance as soon as they were alone.

Daphne snickered, then pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and tossed it into Harry’s lap. He caught it, cleaned his hand, and grinned at both girls. Daphne quietly giggled while Hermione huffed and fluffed her hair.

The rest of the lesson passed in a haze. Harry listened to McGonagall’s voice and even scribbled down a few notes. When it was over, Hermione was the first one out of her seat, but she lingered at the door, waiting for Harry and Daphne to catch up. As he passed her, she gave him a swift smack on the shoulder. The two girls then each took an arm and marched him down the corridor.

Hogwarts Adventure

The only reason Pansy Parkinson stayed awake in Transfiguration was that she was sick of being put in detention. McGonagall’s voice was like a tranquilizer, and the Slytherin boys seated near her were even duller. They paid her no attention, and none of them were even worth a halfhearted wank. Blaise sat beside her with his half-lidded stare and lazy smirk. While he was handsome, he was just as useless as any other guy.

She was sitting in the third row, idly doodling snakes eating lions in her notebook, when she caught the movement from the Gryffindor side. The bookworm Hermione Granger was sitting primly at her desk. But the effect was ruined by the Gryffindor slouched next to her with his hand hidden beneath the table. Pansy let her eyes slide down. Granger’s knees were pressed tightly together, but her skirt was hiked up high enough to expose most of her thigh. Potter’s hand was resting just above her knee.

It could have been innocent. Potter could have been a wet rag like the rest of the guys at Hogwarts, but then Granger’s hand stilled on her quill, her shoulders tensed, and Potter grinned like a cat. His fingers started moving, and Granger’s breathing intensified. Pansy had good ears, and she picked up the whorish sounds the bookworm was making.

Pansy ignored McGonagall entirely. She zeroed in on the tremble of Granger’s lower lip with every careful, grinding rub of Potter’s fingers under the table. The desperation in Granger’s eyes was obvious. She was on the verge of losing herself while McGonagall droned on about elemental conversion.

Pansy clenched her thighs together, more out of reflex than embarrassment. She had, of course, heard the rumors that Potter had a cock like a Quidditch bat, but Pansy had always taken them for what they were … just rumors. She figured they had been started by some dumb Gryffindor girl who was trying to make the girls in the other houses jealous. Pansy just assumed that Potter was just as useless as every other guy. Now, she was starting to think otherwise. In fact, Potter was the only guy she had ever seen who appeared to be interested in the female body. The way he was toying with Granger only proved it.

Pansy bit the end of her quill and watched. Granger managed to choke out McGonagall’s answer when called upon, but her cheeks were red, her hands were trembling, and Potter’s hand never left her pussy. When Granger finally came, she shuddered so hard she nearly slipped out of her chair. Potter grinned like it was nothing.

Pansy’s pussy throbbed so hard she thought she’d have to excuse herself. There was no subtlety in her attraction. It wasn’t even jealousy. Pansy didn’t want to be Granger. She wanted to take Potter for herself and make him forget every other witch at Hogwarts. House lines be damned.

As soon as the lesson ended, Potter sauntered out with Granger and that whore, Daphne Greengrass. The two girls each hooked an arm through his and paraded him through the corridor, like he was some prize-winning animal at the market. Pansy didn’t even pretend to hide her stare. She watched the way he moved, the way his jeans bulged at the crotch, and the way Granger kept glancing at him with gratitude.

Pansy waited for the corridor to clear, then stalked off to her own dorm. She didn’t bother with dinner. Tomorrow was the weekend, and she had plans.

Hogwarts Adventure

Saturday morning arrived, and Pansy woke up to the loud bustle of girls getting ready for Hogsmeade. Pansy took her time in the shower, lathering her legs with hair removal paste until they were as smooth as silk. She then did the area under her arms and, when she finished with her pussy, she ran her hand over the mound to make sure there wasn’t a single stubble. She spent a few minutes stroking her own slit, imagining Potter’s fingers working her over until she cried out.

She dressed to make a statement. She slipped on a white shirt that was cut off at the bottom of her breasts and tied into a knot right under her tits. The neckline was very open, exposing most of her upper chest. Her skirt was pink, pleated, and so short it would flash her ass with every step. She considered wearing panties, but decided they’d only get in the way. Instead, she spritzed her thighs with perfume, let her nipples poke through the cotton, and admired the way her breasts threatened to spill out of the top and bottom of her shirt.

She checked herself in the mirror and smirked. The girl staring back at her was ready to take on the world. Her black hair fell over her shoulders in dark, shiny waves. Her lips were glossy pink, and her nails were painted a deep, shiny red.

Pansy ran her tongue over her teeth and thought about her plan. She’d find Potter, tease him until he broke, then let him ruin her in any way he wanted. House points, detentions, and her parents’ old-fashioned warnings could all go fuck themselves. She was going to get what she wanted.

She checked the time. Potter was probably in the Great Hall, shamelessly flirting with every girl at his table. In a few minutes' time, everyone would start making their way to the gate, ready for a fun day at Hogsmeade. Remembering that it was probably very cold outside, Pansy quickly placed a Warming Charm on herself.

Pansy did a final check. Her reflection was perfect, her pussy was wet enough that it would start dripping down her thighs if she wasn’t careful, and her hair framed her face in a way that made her look very fuckable. She stashed her wand in her bag and set off for the gate.

She walked out of the Slytherin dorm with a strut that turned every female head. They knew she meant business. Unfortunately, when she passed the table where Malfoy and Zabini were playing Wizard Chess, neither of them paid her any mind. She wrinkled her nose and sniffed at them before sashaying right past like they were invisible. There was obviously something seriously wrong with them if a sex kitten like her couldn’t even garner a glance from them. ‘Their loss,’ Pansy snidely thought as she made her way out of the common room. She had bigger fish to fry.

Hogwarts Adventure

Harry was already waiting at the gates, leaning with his back against the cold iron. His arms were crossed, and his posture radiated the kind of cocky self-assurance that came only from knowing you were the center of attention. Harry was indeed the center of attention. Most of the females around him were shooting glances his way, hoping he would notice them. The wintry air bit at his cheeks, but he didn’t bother with a scarf or hat. His Warming Charm would do fine. The crowd behind him was excited for the first trip into Hogsmeade since the start of the second term. Harry scanned the line and couldn’t help but rate the talent. There was a group of Ravenclaws in slutty outfits and too much makeup, a group of Gryffindors with their skirts fluttering, and, most notably, Susan Bones.

Susan stood out in any crowd. Her thick mane of red hair made even the dullest dress pop. Today, she wore a sleeveless light blue dress that left her shoulders bare despite the chill. The neckline plunged lower than any Hogwarts dress code would allow, showcasing two immense tits that seemed to defy both gravity and modesty. Each time the wind gusted, Susan’s skirt ballooned and fluttered, producing tantalizing glimpses of thick, creamy thighs and the pale purple fabric of her panties. She saw Harry watching. She grinned and pretended to shiver, hugging herself for warmth, but really she was just squeezing her tits together for his benefit. Harry returned the favor with a raised eyebrow and a slow, appreciative whistle, and Susan’s cheeks turned the same color as her hair.

But it was Pansy Parkinson who commanded his attention above all others. She didn’t just walk toward the gate … she strutted with her chin held high and her hips rolling. Every step was calibrated to make her pink pleated skirt swing high enough to flash some naked ass. Her dark hair perfectly contrasted against her pale skin, and her glossy lipstick made him think about how her lips would feel wrapped around his cock. Her tight white top was knotted under her breasts, exposing her taut, bare stomach and the faintest shadow of her areolas through the thin cotton. Harry felt a familiar stir in his jeans just watching her.

Pansy knew how to grab his attention. She locked eyes with him, smiled naughtily, and flicked her eyes down to his crotch, where the effect of her entrance was plainly visible. She let her tongue wet her lips before she even spoke.

“Looking good, Parkinson,” Harry called out as she neared. He caught a whiff of her perfume, and it made his cock even harder.

Pansy stopped and pivoted on her white, strappy heels to face him. “I know,” she purred, and took a step closer. Her skirt flounced so high that Harry could see the smooth, hairless curve of her pussy. She leaned in as if to whisper, but instead, she spoke loud enough for every girl around them to hear.

“Is that a wand in your pocket, Potter, or are you just happy to see me?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Harry grinned and decided to play her little game of cat and mouse. “Why don’t you come over here and find out?”

Pansy flipped her hair. “Be careful what you wish for.” She brushed past him, letting her shoulder graze his chest, and the scent of her perfume hung in the air after her.

He watched her move ahead and weave through the crowd, making every girl glare. Pansy knew how to attract attention. Harry respected that.

He let his mind wander to what exactly she had planned for the afternoon. He knew that she’d forgone subtlety with a purpose, and he suspected she’d engineered this entire public display for his benefit. He had a sneaking suspicion that she wanted more than his attention. It promised to be an interesting day.

Hogwarts Adventure

Pansy arrived in Hogsmeade, but she refused to linger with her housemates. She only had one goal for the day, and she didn’t want to risk being distracted by pathetic Slytherin drama or the endless backbiting of jealous girls. She slipped into Honeydukes, pretended to peruse some sweets, and loitered by the window, searching the street for black hair and broad shoulders. It didn’t take long for Harry to appear. He didn’t seem to notice or care about the whispers from the other girls or the way they pointed, giggled, or tried to arrange themselves in his line of sight. Harry was immune to the chorus of female attention. That made him all the more irresistible to Pansy.

She waited until he was almost directly in front of her before making her move. She burst out of the shop with an exaggerated squeal. “Oh no, my bag!” she yelped, sending the contents of her purse cascading onto the slushy road. She bent at the hips with her knees locked, so that her skirt lifted up over her shapely hips. The cold was instant and merciless. Pansy’s entire lower half was exposed to the street, and she felt the bite of the January air on her skin. Her skills at Warming Charms were subpar, which left her colder than she would have liked. She made a show of fumbling for her wand, and she made sure to arch her back and flash her pussy to any onlooker with a functional set of eyes.

She heard Harry’s voice cut through the crowd. “Are you trying to drum up customers for Honeydukes, Parkinson? Because I’d buy whatever you’re selling,” he said in an amused voice.

Pansy straightened and turned. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. “Are you implying that I have no shame?” A gust of wind made her shiver.

He smiled with his hands in his pockets, and he looked her up and down. “If you’re cold, you could have at least worn underwear.”

“I don’t like panty lines,” she shot back. “And for your information, yes, I’m freezing.”

“Maybe you should let someone warm you up,” Harry said, moving closer. He reached over and, with a blatant disregard for decency, brushed a stray hair from her face. He then let his hand linger on her cheek while his thumb stroked her jaw. It was bold, but not nearly as bold as what he did next. He trailed his hand down the side of her neck until it rested lightly at the base of her throat. He lightly stroked her pulse point with his thumb. Pansy’s breath caught, and her pussy tingled.

She was aware of every set of eyes trained on them, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She leaned into his hand and said, “If you’re offering, I’m interested.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled, and he steered her away from the main street and up a narrow alley lined with snowbanks. For a moment, she thought he would pin her to the wall and fuck her right then and there, but he just led her into the back entrance of the Three Broomsticks. They ducked into a hallway and walked up a narrow staircase. Harry stopped at a door, pulled a key from his pocket, and let them in.

“Is this some kind of private party?” Pansy asked with her eyebrows raised.

“Don’t act surprised,” Harry said. “You basically had a neon sign on your ass.”

She laughed and let herself be pushed against the door as he closed it behind them, and she immediately felt his hands on her hips. Harry wasted no time. He cupped her ass and kneaded her bare flesh. He then slid both hands along her ribs and up to her tits. She shuddered from his touch.

Pansy dropped her bag and let her arms fall to her sides. Harry then pulled at the knot holding her shirt together. It slipped open, exposing her bare breasts. She could barely keep her head straight as Harry’s hands worked her over. He squeezed and pulled her nipples until she gasped, then he bent down and took one in his mouth, biting just hard enough to make her knees buckle. She reached up, grabbed the back of his head, and ground her chest into his face until he was smothered in her tits.

“Jeez, Pansy. You’re eager,” Harry said. His voice was muffled by her tits.

“So are you,” Pansy managed. “Or you wouldn’t have dragged me up here.”

Harry chuckled as he picked her up by the waist and tossed her onto the bed. Pansy bounced on the mattress and squealed, caught off guard by the ease with which he manhandled her.

Harry yanked her skirt up to her waist and spread her legs open while climbing between them. He bent down and kissed the inside of her thigh, making her gasp. Harry then licked her from the inside of her knee, all the way up to her pussy. Pansy moaned and arched her back while clutching the sheets. She was soaked, and she knew he could see it.

Harry grinned and ran his fingers through her slit before lazily rubbing her clit. She gasped and tried to buck against his hand, but he held her hips down. “You’re drenched,” he said, as he looked at his arousal-coated fingers.

Pansy’s eyes fluttered, and her hips bucked. “Maybe if you spent less time talking and more time fucking me, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled as he smirked. “Is that what you want?”

She barely had time to nod before he slid two fingers into her. He pressed his thumb to her clit and started pumping. Pansy’s whole body vibrated with pleasure. She could feel the orgasm winding up before it even started. Hell, she had been close to cumming just from their flirting by the gate. Harry leaned over, sucked her nipple into his mouth, and lightly bit down again.

Pansy’s vision blurred, and she came hard while whimpering and clutching his hair. She was faintly aware of the way he watched her face as she lost all control. He kept going, even as her thighs trembled, and she tried to wriggle away from the overstimulation.

“Harry!” she squealed. “It’s too much!”

“Hang in there until you cum again,” Harry chuckled, and he resumed working her clit with an almost merciless rhythm. Pansy let out a choked scream and bucked up off the bed, and her legs clamped around his wrist. She came again, and this time it was so hard that her hips left the mattress.

Harry only let up once she slapped his shoulder in surrender. He held his fingers to her lips, and Pansy dutifully sucked them clean.

“Bloody hell, Potter,” she panted. “You’re an animal.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Harry replied as he stood up and began taking off his clothes.