Chapter 3: Reader test
The harsh fluorescent hum of the Prefects’ Bathroom was a distant memory, replaced by the muffled silence of Hogwarts’ ancient stone corridors at night. Harry came to groggily, his head pounding, his entire body a symphony of aches. He was slumped in an uncomfortable armchair, not on cold tiles. Disorientation washed over him. The last thing he remembered was the blinding agony-pleasure of the chrome cock buried deep in his arse and Hermione’s merciless hand milking him dry until oblivion claimed him. Now, he was… elsewhere.
He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the window. Bookcases crammed to bursting. Neat stacks of parchment on a sturdy oak desk. The faint, familiar scent of parchment, ink, and dried herbs. Hermione’s dorm room. He tried to move, and fire shot through his lower back and arse. A low groan escaped him.
"Awake?" Her voice was calm, detached. She stood by the window, silhouetted against the moonlit grounds, wearing only a thin, worn cotton robe loosely tied. Her bushy hair was a wild halo. On her pillow, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight, lay the cucumber. Dark green. Plump. Obscene. A stark reminder of the bathroom floor, of the violation preceding his own.
Harry shifted painfully. "How…?"
"Levitation Charm," she said simply, turning. Her eyes held none of the predatory fire from the bathroom. They were shadowed, distant. "You were… incapacitated. Couldn’t leave you there." She approached the bed, her movements fluid but lacking their usual purpose. She picked up the cucumber, her fingers tracing its length almost absently. "Filch would have had kittens."
He watched her, a confusing mix of shame, residual anger, and that persistent, unwelcome thrum of need coiling in his gut. The memory of her power, her control, both terrified and aroused him. The cool air on his bare skin – he realized with a jolt he was naked except for a thin blanket draped haphazardly over his lap. His cock, traitorously, began to stir despite the deep ache in his muscles. "What… what are you doing with that?"
Hermione didn't answer immediately. She climbed onto the bed, settling back against the headboard, her legs spread slightly. The robe parted, revealing the dark thatch of curls between her thighs. She held the cucumber, positioning its blunt end against her glistening cunt lips. "What does it look like?" Her voice was flat, but her eyes met his, challenging. "I need something." She pushed the thick vegetable inside herself with a soft, wet sound. Her head fell back against the headboard, eyes fluttering closed. "Fuck… needed this..."
Harry watched, transfixed, as she began to fuck herself slowly with the cucumber.Out. Her hips rocked gently. A soft sigh escaped her lips. The obscene intimacy of it, here in her sanctuary of books and order, was almost more shocking than the brutality of the bathroom. He could see the slickness coating the green skin each time it emerged.
"See?" she murmured, her eyes slitting open to look at him. She withdrew the cucumber completely, holding it up. It glistened thickly under the moonlight, coated in her arousal. "Empty again. Always fucking empty." There was a raw edge of despair in her whisper.
Without breaking eye contact, she lowered the slick end to her mouth. Her pink tongue darted out, licking her own juices from the cool vegetable. A shudder ran through her. She took the head into her mouth, sucking deeply, cleaning it, her cheeks hollowing. The sight was profoundly filthy, a self-contained debauchery that sent a jolt straight to Harry’s cock. The blanket tented.
She pulled the cucumber from her lips with a soft pop, a string of saliva and her own slick connecting it to her mouth. She extended it towards him, her gaze unwavering. "Taste it," she commanded, her voice low and husky now, the detachment cracking. "Taste how fucking wet I am. How empty I feel."
A wave of heat surged through Harry, obliterating pain and shame. He lurched forward from the chair, ignoring the protests from his body, stumbling to his knees beside the bed. He grabbed the offered end of the cucumber, still warm from her mouth and cunt. He brought it to his lips, his tongue mimicking hers, licking along the length where her juices coated the cool skin. Her taste flooded his mouth – musky, tangy, deeply female. He groaned, sucking hard, desperate for more, tasting her essence mixed with the faint, clean bitterness of the vegetable. His free hand fumbled under the blanket, gripping his hardening cock, stroking roughly.
"Yes," Hermione breathed, watching him devour the evidence of her arousal. "That’s it. Taste me. Taste your fucking mess." She spread her legs wider, her fingers dipping between her folds, spreading her glistening lips apart for him to see the pink, swollen flesh. "Look at me while you do it. See what you did."
Harry looked up, his mouth still working on the cucumber, his eyes locking onto her exposed cunt. His strokes on his cock grew frantic. He could smell her, stronger now, pungent and intoxicating. He dropped the cucumber onto the bed, his need overwhelming. He lunged forward, burying his face between her thighs, his tongue thrusting deep into her wet heat. He lapped at her hungrily, circling her clit, sucking the swollen bud hard between his lips.
"FUCK!" Hermione cried out, her hips bucking off the bed. Her hands tangled in his unruly hair, pulling him closer, grinding her cunt against his mouth. "Eat it! Eat my fucking cunt! Make me come! Oh God, Harry, yes! Fucking lick me!"
He obeyed, his tongue a relentless instrument, probing, flicking, sucking. He could feel her inner muscles fluttering, feel her thighs trembling around his head. He slid two fingers into her tight channel, curling them upwards, finding that rough spot inside her. He rubbed firmly as he sucked her clit.
"THERE! FUCK! RIGHT FUCKING THERE!" she screamed, her body arching violently. "DON'T STOP! I'M GONNA—"
Her words dissolved into a guttural cry as her orgasm ripped through her. Her cunt clamped down on his fingers like a vice. A hot flood of liquid gushed over his chin, soaking his face, dripping onto the sheets beneath her. Hermione squirted, hard and uncontrollable, drenching him. He kept licking, kept sucking, drinking her in as she convulsed, her screams echoing off the stone walls. The sheer volume, the force of it, was shocking. He felt soaked, baptized in her desperate release.
She collapsed back onto the bed, gasping, her chest heaving. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused. Harry pulled back, wiping her juices from his face with the back of his hand, his own cock throbbing painfully, untouched now. He looked down at her, flushed, trembling, a puddle of her own fluid darkening the sheets between her legs. The emptiness in her eyes was momentarily replaced by a dazed satiation. It didn’t last.
Her gaze sharpened, focusing on his rigid cock bobbing near her hip. The hunger flooded back into her expression, fiercer than before. "My turn," she rasped, pushing herself up on her elbows. She grabbed his shoulders, her fingernails digging in. "Fuck me. Now.Hard. Fill me up."
She didn't wait for him to move. She yanked him forward, her legs hooking around his hips, pulling him down on top of her. Her wet cunt seared his cock as the head nudged her entrance. She lifted her hips, impaling herself on him in one swift, brutal motion. "AHHH!YES!" she shrieked, her inner walls clamping around his shaft like a molten fist. "FUCK ME! FUCK YOUR CUM RIGHT BACK INSIDE ME!"
Harry needed no further encouragement. The feel of her impossibly tight, drenched heat enveloping him, the memory of her taste, the sight of her desperation – it ignited a savage hunger. He pulled back and slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the small room, louder than any spell. He set a punishing pace, driving into her with deep, powerful strokes, his balls slapping against her slick arse. Her cunt gripped him, milking him with every thrust. She met him thrust for thrust, her heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper, harder.
"Harder! Fucking BREAK ME!" she screamed, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Fill my filthy cunt! Pump your fucking load into me! Mark me, Harry! COVER ME!"
Her obscene demands fueled his frenzy. He fucked her like he was trying to obliterate something, to bury the shame, the confusion, the darkness, deep inside her. Her tits bounced with each brutal thrust. Sweat slicked both their bodies. The scent of sex, sharp and animalistic, permeated the air. He could feel his climax building, a roaring pressure at the base of his spine, unstoppable.
He grabbed her hips, lifting her slightly, changing the angle. He pistoned into her with short, savage jabs, grinding his pubic bone against her clit with each drive forward. Hermione shrieked, her eyes rolling back, her mouth open in a silent scream as another orgasm tore through her, her cunt spasming wildly around his cock, triggering his own release.
"I’m coming!" Harry roared, his voice raw. "FUCK! HERMIONE!"
"INSIDE! FUCKING COME INSIDE ME!" she wailed, clawing at his back.
He buried himself to the root, every muscle locking as the eruption hit. Thick, hot ropes of semen jetted deep into her clutching channel. He groaned, a guttural, animal sound, pumping his seed into her with convulsive spurts. Hermione moaned beneath him, her body still trembling with aftershocks, her cunt greedily accepting every drop.
He collapsed onto her, spent, gasping, the sweat cooling rapidly on his skin. He was still buried deep inside her, softening slightly. Hermione lay panting beneath him, her eyes closed. For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing.
Then, slowly, she pushed him off. He rolled onto his back beside her, utterly drained. She sat up, looking down at her stomach, at the mess glistening between her thighs. His come seeped out of her, mixing with her own slick on her skin. Her expression wasn't one of satisfaction. It was… contemplative. Hungry.
She scooped up a glob of the viscous white fluid mixed with her own wetness from her lower belly with two fingers. She brought it to her lips, licking it off slowly, deliberately, her eyes fixed on his exhausted face. Then, she leaned over him. She didn't kiss his mouth. She lowered her messy cunt towards his face. "Open," she commanded, her voice rough.
Dazed, Harry obeyed, opening his mouth. Hermione positioned herself, grinding her slick, semen-coated folds against his lips and chin. She smeared the potent mixture across his face – her juices, his own come. She rubbed herself against him, coating his nose, his cheeks, his chin in the sticky mess. "Taste us," she hissed, grinding harder. "Taste what you fucking did. Taste how you fucking marked me."
She pulled back slightly, looking down at him. His face was a glistening, obscene canvas of their shared lust. She scooped another handful of the cooling semen from her stomach and belly. With deliberate, almost cruel slowness, she began to smear it across her own face. Over her cheeks, her chin, her forehead. She rubbed it into her skin, marking herself with him. Her bushy hair stuck to the streaks. She looked feral. Possessed. Utterly debased.
She stared down at him, her face dripping, her expression unreadable except for that bottomless, terrifying emptiness in her eyes, momentarily masked by the viscous white mask. "Still empty," she whispered, the sound barely audible. Her fingers dipped between her legs again, probing her own come-slicked opening, her gaze never leaving his besmirched face. "Always so fucking empty." The cucumber lay forgotten beside them on the rumpled, damp sheets.
The harsh fluorescent hum of the Prefects’ Bathroom was a distant memory, replaced by the muffled silence of Hogwarts’ ancient stone corridors at night. Harry came to groggily, his head pounding, his entire body a symphony of aches. He was slumped in an uncomfortable armchair, not on cold tiles.
Disorientation washed over him. The last thing he remembered was the blinding agony-pleasure of the chrome cock buried deep in his arse and Hermione’s merciless hand milking him dry until oblivion claimed him. Now, he was… elsewhere.
He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the window. Bookcases crammed to bursting. Neat stacks of parchment on a sturdy oak desk. The faint, familiar scent of parchment, ink, and dried herbs. Hermione’s dorm room. He tried to move, and fire shot through his lower back and arse. A low groan escaped him.
"Awake?" Her voice was calm, detached. She stood by the window, silhouetted against the moonlit grounds, wearing only a thin, worn cotton robe loosely tied. Her bushy hair was a wild halo. On her pillow, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight, lay the cucumber. Dark green. Plump. Obscene. A stark reminder of the bathroom floor, of the violation preceding his own.
Harry shifted painfully. "How…?"
"Levitation Charm," she said simply, turning. Her eyes held none of the predatory fire from the bathroom. They were shadowed, distant. "You were… incapacitated. Couldn’t leave you there." She approached the bed, her movements fluid but lacking their usual purpose. She picked up the cucumber, her fingers tracing its length almost absently. "Filch would have had kittens."
He watched her, a confusing mix of shame, residual anger, and that persistent, unwelcome thrum of need coiling in his gut. The memory of her power, her control, both terrified and aroused him. The cool air on his bare skin – he realized with a jolt he was naked except for a thin blanket draped haphazardly over his lap. His cock, traitorously, began to stir despite the deep ache in his muscles. "What… what are you doing with that?"
Hermione didn't answer immediately. She climbed onto the bed, settling back against the headboard, her legs spread slightly. The robe parted, revealing the dark thatch of curls between her thighs. She held the cucumber, positioning its blunt end against her glistening cunt lips. "What does it look like?" Her voice was flat, but her eyes met his, challenging. "I need something." She pushed the thick vegetable inside herself with a soft, wet sound. Her head fell back against the headboard, eyes fluttering closed. "Fuck… needed this..."
Harry watched, transfixed, as she began to fuck herself slowly with the cucumber. Out. Her hips rocked gently. A soft sigh escaped her lips. The obscene intimacy of it, here in her sanctuary of books and order, was almost more shocking than the brutality of the bathroom. He could see the slickness coating the green skin each time it emerged.
"See?" she murmured, her eyes slitting open to look at him. She withdrew the cucumber completely, holding it up. It glistened thickly under the moonlight, coated in her arousal. "Empty again. Always fucking empty." There was a raw edge of despair in her whisper.
Without breaking eye contact, she lowered the slick end to her mouth. Her pink tongue darted out, licking her own juices from the cool vegetable. A shudder ran through her. She took the head into her mouth, sucking deeply, cleaning it, her cheeks hollowing. The sight was profoundly filthy, a self-contained debauchery that sent a jolt straight to Harry’s cock. The blanket tented.
She pulled the cucumber from her lips with a soft pop, a string of saliva and her own slick connecting it to her mouth. She extended it towards him, her gaze unwavering. "Taste it," she commanded, her voice low and husky now, the detachment cracking. "Taste how fucking wet I am. How empty I feel."
A wave of heat surged through Harry, obliterating pain and shame. He lurched forward from the chair, ignoring the protests from his body, stumbling to his knees beside the bed. He grabbed the offered end of the cucumber, still warm from her mouth and cunt. He brought it to his lips, his tongue mimicking hers, licking along the length where her juices coated the cool skin. Her taste flooded his mouth – musky, tangy, deeply female. He groaned, sucking hard, desperate for more, tasting her essence mixed with the faint, clean bitterness of the vegetable. His free hand fumbled under the blanket, gripping his hardening cock, stroking roughly.
"Yes," Hermione breathed, watching him devour the evidence of her arousal. "That’s it. Taste me. Taste your fucking mess." She spread her legs wider, her fingers dipping between her folds, spreading her glistening lips apart for him to see the pink, swollen flesh. "Look at me while you do it. See what you did."
Harry looked up, his mouth still working on the cucumber, his eyes locking onto her exposed cunt. His strokes on his cock grew frantic. He could smell her, stronger now, pungent and intoxicating. He dropped the cucumber onto the bed, his need overwhelming. He lunged forward, burying his face between her thighs, his tongue thrusting deep into her wet heat. He lapped at her hungrily, circling her clit, sucking the swollen bud hard between his lips.
"FUCK!" Hermione cried out, her hips bucking off the bed. Her hands tangled in his unruly hair, pulling him closer, grinding her cunt against his mouth. "Eat it! Eat my fucking cunt! Make me come! Oh God, Harry, yes! Fucking lick me!"
He obeyed, his tongue a relentless instrument, probing, flicking, sucking. He could feel her inner muscles fluttering, feel her thighs trembling around his head. He slid two fingers into her tight channel, curling them upwards, finding that rough spot inside her. He rubbed firmly as he sucked her clit.
"THERE! FUCK! RIGHT FUCKING THERE!" she screamed, her body arching violently. "DON'T STOP! I'M GONNA—"
Her words dissolved into a guttural cry as her orgasm ripped through her. Her cunt clamped down on his fingers like a vice. A hot flood of liquid gushed over his chin, soaking his face, dripping onto the sheets beneath her. Hermione squirted, hard and uncontrollable, drenching him. He kept licking, kept sucking, drinking her in as she convulsed, her screams echoing off the stone walls. The sheer volume, the force of it, was shocking. He felt soaked, baptized in her desperate release.
She collapsed back onto the bed, gasping, her chest heaving. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused. Harry pulled back, wiping her juices from his face with the back of his hand, his own cock throbbing painfully, untouched now. He looked down at her, flushed, trembling, a puddle of her own fluid darkening the sheets between her legs. The emptiness in her eyes was momentarily replaced by a dazed satiation. It didn’t last.
Her gaze sharpened, focusing on his rigid cock bobbing near her hip. The hunger flooded back into her expression, fiercer than before. "My turn," she rasped, pushing herself up on her elbows. She grabbed his shoulders, her fingernails digging in. "Fuck me. Now.Hard. Fill me up."
She didn't wait for him to move. She yanked him forward, her legs hooking around his hips, pulling him down on top of her. Her wet cunt seared his cock as the head nudged her entrance. She lifted her hips, impaling herself on him in one swift, brutal motion. "AHHH!YES!" she shrieked, her inner walls clamping around his shaft like a molten fist. "FUCK ME! FUCK YOUR CUM RIGHT BACK INSIDE ME!"
Harry needed no further encouragement. The feel of her impossibly tight, drenched heat enveloping him, the memory of her taste, the sight of her desperation – it ignited a savage hunger. He pulled back and slammed into her, burying himself to the hilt. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the small room, louder than any spell. He set a punishing pace, driving into her with deep, powerful strokes, his balls slapping against her slick arse. Her cunt gripped him, milking him with every thrust. She met him thrust for thrust, her heels digging into his lower back, urging him deeper, harder.
"Harder! Fucking BREAK ME!" she screamed, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Fill my filthy cunt! Pump your fucking load into me! Mark me, Harry! COVER ME!"
Her obscene demands fueled his frenzy. He fucked her like he was trying to obliterate something, to bury the shame, the confusion, the darkness, deep inside her. Her tits bounced with each brutal thrust. Sweat slicked both their bodies. The scent of sex, sharp and animalistic, permeated the air. He could feel his climax building, a roaring pressure at the base of his spine, unstoppable.
He grabbed her hips, lifting her slightly, changing the angle. He pistoned into her with short, savage jabs, grinding his pubic bone against her clit with each drive forward. Hermione shrieked, her eyes rolling back, her mouth open in a silent scream as another orgasm tore through her, her cunt spasming wildly around his cock, triggering his own release.
"I’m coming!" Harry roared, his voice raw. "FUCK! HERMIONE!"
"INSIDE! FUCKING COME INSIDE ME!" she wailed, clawing at his back.
He buried himself to the root, every muscle locking as the eruption hit. Thick, hot ropes of semen jetted deep into her clutching channel. He groaned, a guttural, animal sound, pumping his seed into her with convulsive spurts. Hermione moaned beneath him, her body still trembling with aftershocks, her cunt greedily accepting every drop.
He collapsed onto her, spent, gasping, the sweat cooling rapidly on his skin. He was still buried deep inside her, softening slightly. Hermione lay panting beneath him, her eyes closed. For a moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing.
Then, slowly, she pushed him off. He rolled onto his back beside her, utterly drained. She sat up, looking down at her stomach, at the mess glistening between her thighs. His come seeped out of her, mixing with her own slick on her skin. Her expression wasn't one of satisfaction. It was… contemplative. Hungry.
She scooped up a glob of the viscous white fluid mixed with her own wetness from her lower belly with two fingers. She brought it to her lips, licking it off slowly, deliberately, her eyes fixed on his exhausted face. Then, she leaned over him. She didn't kiss his mouth. She lowered her messy cunt towards his face. "Open," she commanded, her voice rough.
Dazed, Harry obeyed, opening his mouth. Hermione positioned herself, grinding her slick, semen-coated folds against his lips and chin. She smeared the potent mixture across his face – her juices, his own come. She rubbed herself against him, coating his nose, his cheeks, his chin in the sticky mess. "Taste us," she hissed, grinding harder. "Taste what you fucking did. Taste how you fucking marked me."
She pulled back slightly, looking down at him. His face was a glistening, obscene canvas of their shared lust. She scooped another handful of the cooling semen from her stomach and belly. With deliberate, almost cruel slowness, she began to smear it across her own face. Over her cheeks, her chin, her forehead. She rubbed it into her skin, marking herself with him. Her bushy hair stuck to the streaks. She looked feral. Possessed. Utterly debased.
She stared down at him, her face dripping, her expression unreadable except for that bottomless, terrifying emptiness in her eyes, momentarily masked by the viscous white mask. "Still empty," she whispered, the sound barely audible. Her fingers dipped between her legs again, probing her own come-slicked opening, her gaze never leaving his besmirched face. "Always so fucking empty." The cucumber lay forgotten beside them on the rumpled, damp sheets.
A quiet click of the door latch broke the heavy silence. Both froze, Harry’s heart hammering against his ribs, Hermione’s smeared face snapping towards the entrance. Fleur Delacour stood framed in the doorway, her silver-blonde hair catching the moonlight, her expression inscrutable. Her sharp blue eyes swept the scene: Harry prone and painted in their mingled fluids, Hermione kneeling over him like a daubed savage, the room reeking of sweat and sex.
"Mon dieu," Fleur breathed, her voice a low, melodic ripple in the charged air. She didn’t recoil. Instead, she stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. Her gaze lingered on the streaks of semen on Hermione’s face, the glistening mess on Harry’s. "You are filthy beasts." The words held no real reproach, only a kind of detached fascination.
Hermione didn’t move, didn’t speak. She watched Fleur approach, her eyes narrowed, calculating. Fleur moved with feline grace, her silk robe whispering against her legs. She stopped beside the bed, looking down at them. A slow, knowing smile touched her perfect lips. "Such a mess," she murmured. "It requires... attention." She let her robe fall open, revealing flawless skin and the subtle curve of her breasts beneath a thin chemise. She knelt on the bed beside Harry, the mattress dipping under her weight.
Without preamble, Fleur lowered her head towards Harry’s face. Her tongue, impossibly soft and warm, flicked out, tracing the sticky trail of semen along his jawline. Harry gasped at the contact, the heat, the sheer unexpected intimacy. Fleur hummed softly, a low vibration that seemed to resonate through Harry’s bones. "Salty," she murmured against his skin, her breath warm. Her tongue lapped deliberately, cleaning the mess from his cheek, his chin, gathering the potent mixture with unhurried swipes. She moved lower, her tongue tracing the sticky path down his neck to his collarbone, her hair brushing his skin like spun silk.
Hermione watched, her breath coming faster, her fingers still pressed shallowly inside herself. Fleur’s proximity, the deliberate slowness of her actions, the sheer obscenity of the Veela cleaning Harry like a favoured pet, ignited a fresh, fierce heat low in Hermione’s belly. Fleur shifted her attention, turning towards Hermione. Her blue eyes locked onto Hermione’s cum-streaked face. She leaned in, her expression serene. Her tongue darted out, catching a thick droplet sliding down Hermione’s cheekbone. She licked it clean, her eyes never leaving Hermione’s. The touch was electric, charged with Fleur's innate allure.
"Mmm," Fleur purred, savoring the taste. "Intense." She continued, her tongue moving with meticulous care over Hermione’s forehead, her other cheek, the corner of her mouth. Hermione shuddered, closing her eyes momentarily, submitting to the strangely hypnotic cleansing. Fleur’s tongue probed gently, insistently, gathering the sticky residue, her breath warm and sweet against Hermione’s skin. The scent of Fleur – jasmine and something indefinably exotic – mingled with the musk of sex.
Fleur pulled back slightly, her own lips now glistening faintly. Her gaze dropped to the mess between Hermione’s thighs, the drying streaks on her stomach. "All of it," Fleur stated, her voice low and commanding. She nudged Hermione’s legs wider. Hermione complied, spreading herself, her cunt still swollen and glistening, leaking Harry’s seed. Fleur lowered her head again, her silver-blonde hair falling like a curtain. Her tongue, broad and warm, swept firmly through Hermione’s slick folds, lapping up the combined fluids pooling there. She cleaned Hermione with the same unhurried, thorough intensity she’d shown Harry, her tongue delving deep to gather the semen trickling out, swirling around her clit, then flattening to lick broad stripes over her belly and thighs. Hermione whimpered, her hips shifting involuntarily.
Satisfied Hermione was clean, Fleur turned her attention back to the cucumber lying discarded on the rumpled sheets. She picked it up, its surface still slightly tacky. She held it out, her blue eyes meeting Hermione’s, then flicking to Harry. "Up," she commanded softly, gesturing with the vegetable. "Both of you."
They moved as if bewitched