Chapter 3: Kreacher Comforts Part 3
The next morning, Hermione sat in the library of 12 Grimmauld Place, her favorite book open and floating in the air in front of her, although she could hardly concentrate enough to read it. It was hard to predict exactly when Kreacher would wake up from her sleeping charm but it likely wouldn’t last long past dawn, which had broken about twenty-minutes ago and she was on edge, waiting to see what would happen. She was sure that, deep down, Kreacher yearned for freedom the same way Dobby had. All thinking creatures wanted and deserved freedom, house-elves were just trapped by centuries of tradition and indoctrination, something that went double for an elf as old as Kreacher. Once he took the clothes and had a chance to experience freedom, she hoped that he would be happy and grateful enough that they might have a chance to start over as friends rather than master and servant. ...But she was also aware that it was entirely possible that Kreacher’s anger and foul mood might be too deeply ingrained for that. Once freed, Kreacher might just take it as an opportunity to outright attack her or, even worse, he might decide to head straight to the nearest Death Eaters and tell them everything. Which is why she had her wand on her lap, ready to apparate away instantly at the first sign of danger. The wards on 12 Grimmauld Place wouldn’t allow the Death Eaters to appear inside or trap her, they’d have no choice but to break in directly, giving her plenty of time to escape. If Harry and Ron had still been staying here then she would have considered the risk unacceptable...but they clearly had no intention to return to the place, so what did it matter if it became compromised? It would give her an excuse to meet up with them at Shell Cottage and she’d be able to leave Kreacher behind with a clear conscience. Her eyes scanned the page in front of her for the third time, not taking in any of the words as she fought to stay still. To calm her nerves, she floated a cup of warm tea into her waiting hand and sipped it, relaxing as the liquid heat spread through her chest and stomach. The steam licked at her eyelashes and the familiar aroma helped calm and focus her mind. That calm broke almost instantly when the library door creaked open. The fingers of one hand tightly gripped her wand, while the other gripped the handle of her teacup, but no pack of Death Eaters swarmed into the room. Instead, she could hear the wheezing breath and light footfall of Kreacher. From her current position, one of the library sofas blocked her view of the bottom half of the door, making it impossible to lay eyes directly on Kreacher from this angle. But if he had intended to attack or harass her, then he would have certainly made a more stealthy approach. The hand on her wand relaxed and she forced herself to take another calming sip of tea. Her plan must have worked and now he was coming to speak to her. Any minute now he would walk around the edge of the couch dressed in the red and gold clothes she had knitted for him. Hermione nearly choked on her tea when Kreacher strode into view, completely nude. She coughed and spat tea across the pages of her book before both book and tea clattered to the floor as she lost focus on the spells holding them aloft. She had never imagined that Kreacher would do something like this and for a moment she was too stunned to think. For his part, Kreacher didn’t even spare her a glance as she struggled to reorganize her thoughts. He strode over to a rubbish bin in the corner and began to pick through it, tossing aside broken pencils and discarded wrappers before pulling out several wads of crumpled up papers, including a few copies of the Daily Prophet. Several of the photos made shocked faces, averting their eyes from Kreacher’s nudity. “Kreacher?!” Hermione finally managed to choke a few words out, pulling her hair down to cover her bright red face. “What on Earth do you think you’re doing?!” “What is Kreacher doing?” Kreacher sneered at Hermione over his shoulder. He turned around, showing her the handfuls of crumpled paper “Is Mistress too stupid to see? Kreacher’s awful Mistress punished him, stole Kreacher’s bed out from under him and burnt it all to ash, she did. Now Kreacher has to make a new bed out of trash. Poor, Poor Kreacher.” “That’s not what I mean!” Hermione squeaked, still covering her eyes. “I left you clothes to wear! Why are you walking around, like…” She trailed off as she dared a peek through the curly brown strands of her hair. Her eyes widened and her mouth worked wordlessly up and down. Kreacher didn’t seem to notice her surprise and sniffed disdainfully. “House-elves can’t have clothes, does stupid Mistress not even know that?” Hermione didn’t have a sharp-tongued retort, because she was too busy staring in shock between Kreacher’s legs. How on Earth was he hiding that in the potato sack he was wearing before? Did he wrap it around his waist? The subject of Hermione’s horrified fascination hung between Kreacher’s legs. To say that the house-elf was disproportionately endowed was an understatement of the highest order. The veiny cock that hung between his legs was over a third of his height and probably a significant portion of his entire body weight. Its impressive length and girth were in stark contrast to Kreacher’s skinny, hunched build, posture that might be explained by the weight of his cock and the two testicles the size of avocados. She had somehow missed it when he had first walked into view, too shocked by his unexpected nudity to take in the details...even one as big as this. She found she couldn’t take her eyes off it, the swaying of its bulbous tip capturing her gaze just as effectively as a hypnotist’s watch. “Does Mistress want Kreacher to sleep on cold ground?” He stepped closer, causing the interior of Hermione’s clothes to grow several degrees warmer, holding up the crumpled papers. “Maybe Kreacher’s awful Mistress wants to burn his new bed as well?” “K-kreacher! I’m ordering you to take those clothes!” Hermione’s conviction to respect Kreacher’s free will was rapidly melting beneath the blue-white blowtorch flame of embarrassment. Besides, she had already decided to free him, whether he liked it or not. Kreacher rolled his eyes. “Stupid, fat-headed Mistress. Can’t order house-elf to not take orders!” “I said do it! Put some clothes on!” “Won’t do it!” “Kreacher, I’m telling you to do it!” “Won’t! Won’t! Won’t!” “Why? You hate me so much, why not be rid of me?!” Silence hung between them for a moment and Hermione finally managed to pull her gaze away from Kreacher’s penis and staring at the ceiling. Kreacher heaved a big sigh and when he responded his voice was unusually level and thoughtful. “Kreacher...Kreacher is old. Kreacher has been house-elf for more than six-hundred years…will not live to seven hundred.” It was a flat, matter-of-fact statement. Kreacher’s gaze dropped to the floor and he clutched the wadded paper tightly to his chest. “If Kreacher has no Mistress, then Kreacher is not a house-elf any more..but Kreacher does not know how to be anything else...and Kreacher does not have time to learn.” Hermione’s embarrassment faded a bit, although she still didn’t dare look directly at Kreacher for fear of being caught by that hypnotic swaying once more. For the first time, she considered how old Kreacher really was...how many generations of wizards and witches he had served. Could conditioning that deep-set be broken...did she have the right to do that to him? She sighed and, being careful not to look directly at Kreacher’s endowments (although she couldn’t help a few sideways glances), she reached into her beaded handbag and pulled out a large, fluffy pillow. She hurriedly yanked the pillowcase off, which was patterned with cartoon bunnies. “Here.” She held it out to Kreacher. Kreacher narrowed his eyes, peering suspiciously at the item as though it might turn into a sock at any moment. “Don’t worry...it’s just a pillowcase. I promise. Take it. So you can make yourself something to wear.” “Kreacher is fine, Kreacher does not feel the cold.” Despite his words he still approached, head tilted. The temperature of Hermione’s undergarments seemed to increase by another degree or two as he came closer, close enough that she could have reached out and touched his enormous cock. She felt a twinge between her legs as she imagined how heavy it would feel in her hand, the warmth of skin against skin… “P-please!” She finally managed, blushing furiously. “Just take it, alright?!” “...” Kreacher reached out and took the fabric, running it through his fingers. “If that is what Kreacher’s awful mistress wants...then Kreacher must obey.” “It is!” Hermione’s voice cracked into a squeak. “And I’ve got some sheets that belong to me, they’re in the closet of my bedroom, upstairs. You can use them for bedding.” Kreacher, still making no move to cover himself, tossed the crumpled paper into the air, his magic making them float across the room and back into the bin where they belonged. Although Hermione was still trying not to let her eyes snap back to his crotch, she still felt a tiny bit of surprise...that was possibly the first time she had seen Kreacher actually tidy something. “Does terrible mud-blood mistress have any other orders for Kreacher?” He was still examining the pillowcase, sniffing it slightly as though he thought it might smell foul...but then again, Kreacher always had a face that looked like he had smelled something foul. “N-no!” For a moment, Hermione considered protesting that she wasn’t ordering him...but Kreacher’s insistent and intimidating nudity was too mortifying. If compromising her morals on the subject of house-elf ownership was what it took to get Kreacher to cover himself, then it was worth it. “Just please...make yourself new clothes quickly, okay?” “As you wish.” Kreacher threw the pillowcase over his shoulder (still leaving his massive penis on full display) and turned to walk out of the room the way he came. She watched him go, confused why he didn’t just apparate away like he normally did. As though drawn by a magnetism charm her eyes were drawn downwards once more. Below the wrinkled crevice of the house-elf’s buttocks, she could easily see his massive cock, swinging slightly to and fro from Kreacher’s hunched gait. Unable to tear her gaze away, Hermione pressed the now-bare pillow over her face, blocking out the hypnotic sight. A few moments later, she could hear the door swinging shut and she lowered the pillow to confirm that she was alone once more. She shook her head, still recovering from the shock of the encounter, and ran one trembling hand through her frizzy hair. “That…” She took a deep breath to calm herself. “That did not go like I was expecting it to…”
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Hermione made a groggy noise of confusion as she turned over in her bed, staring up at the ceiling in mild confusion. It didn’t look like the ceiling back at her house...or the familiar rafters of Hogwarts. Her half-sleeping brain struggled to process the unfamiliar surroundings. It didn’t take long for her mind to catch back up to the present, replaying the events of the last few months and her long stay at 12 Grimmauld Place. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and pulled a few strands of hair that had gotten stuck to her lips. She glanced over at the clock...it was 5:30 and it took her another moment to register that it was PM rather than AM. She’d had no sleep the night before, arranging the attempted liberation of Kreacher and then waiting to see what he did with his freedom had kept her too jittery to sleep. So, once she and Kreacher had reached what appeared to be an armistice, the exhaustion had caught up with her and she had retired to her chosen bedroom in the Black residence. The overdue, mid-day sleep was much needed, but it had left her disoriented and groggy. There was a slight pinching sensation in her chest and she realized that her left breast had slipped free of her bra as she tossed and turned in bed. She had been too tired to bother with pajamas, just stripping down to her bra and panties (both plain white) before collapsing into bed. She slipped the bra back into place and tried to adjust it to a more comfortable fit. During the last year or so she’d had a bit of a growth spurt...or at least her chest and waist had, she didn’t seem to gain a scant inch in height. It made her underwear somewhat awkward and uncomfortable but there hadn’t exactly been a lot of opportunities for casual shopping as she and her friends had evaded the Death Eaters and the Ministry of Magic. Even if there had, she would have been embarrassed to bring up the issue to Harry and Ron. She had made a few attempts to modify them with magic, but it seemed that elastic and polyester were much trickier to work with than the simple knitting charms she used to make house-elf clothes. After accidentally enlarging one pair of underwear to gigantic proportions and being forced to put one of her bras down before it escaped and rampaged through the house, she had decided to forgo any further experiments, lest she run out of underwear entirely. I bet Kreacher would know how to adjust them. She considered this, wondering if they were now on equitable enough terms for her to ask him for a favor like that...probably not. She could order him to take care of it, of course, but even with last night’s moral compromise, she wasn’t ready to start commanding him to mend her undergarments. One thing she had decided was that it was time to start using her authority to keep his behavior under control. His stunt earlier had really clinched it...Kreacher needed someone to keep him in check, the way Harry had (before he got fed up, at least). Once he had properly dressed himself, she was going to lay down some ground rules...the first of which would definitely be ordering him to keep his giant willie covered. Then she would be able to go to Shell Cottage, meet with Ron and Harry and tell them that Kreacher wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She wasn’t thrilled at the idea of swallowing her pride and admitting that she finally had to start ordering him around. Ron would probably be insufferable about it...but at least she’d be able to rejoin the team and find out what the two of them had been up to for the last few weeks. And if Ron wasn’t too much of a prick about things then maybe they could make up for a bit of lost time. Reading Walburga’s books the night before had made her realize how much she needed a release. Ron was clumsy and awkward in bed but it was still fun, especially when he was smart enough to follow Hermione’s lead and do as he was told. Thinking about it now was making it hard to concentrate on anything else and her body was filling with a pleasant, eager warmth. Her mind drifted back to the books she had glanced at in Walburga’s library, regretting that she hadn’t had the opportunity to filch one for her own personal use right now. She considered trying to call one with the summoning charm...but she couldn’t form a clear mental image and didn’t want to risk attracting Kreacher’s attention. She kicked the bedsheets off as the warmth started to suffuse her body and she allowed one hand to drift over the swell of her right breast, fingers slowly tracing the firm bump of her nipple beneath the soft fabric. The sensation was delicious, sending tiny, electric tingles over the surface of her skin. She placed her other hand on the smooth skin of her stomach before moving slowly downward. She ran her fingers languidly over the fabric of her underwear, tracing the contours of her body beneath it. She was eager and impatient, but she forced herself to go slowly...it’d be a waste to spend all of her pent-up sexual energy in a few minutes of aggressive masturbation. She kept her hands outside of her underwear, pinching and teasing her nipple even as her fingertips found the soft groove of her vulva outlined by the fabric of her panties. She arched her back when her fingers found her clitoris, letting out a small gasp at the intense, erotic pulse that traveled through her body as she rubbed the soft white cotton over it. She could already feel a warm patch of spreading dampness between her legs, soaking quickly into her underwear. She pressed her clit again, harder this time, and felt her body tighten once more as pleasure jolted along her spine. After a few moments of teasing, she couldn’t wait any longer. Still rubbing her fingers in tight circles between her legs, she reached out with her other hand and slipped her wand out of her bag. “ Denudo,” she whispered, waving the wand over her body, too impatient to slip herself out of her own clothes. The experience was more intense than she had expected. the clasp on her bra popped open, sending it flying into the air and her breasts bounced up and down, suddenly freed from its too-tight embrace. Her legs were pulled up into the air and her panties were quickly, but not violently, yanked off her body in one swift motion. It was oddly exhilarating, like she was being stripped by an eager lover who couldn’t wait to bare her body. As both articles of clothing drifted gently to the ground, Hermione waved her wand again. “ Vibrato.” The room filled with a soft buzzing noise as the tip of the wand began to vibrate. Still trying to draw out her pleasure, she let the tip of the wand wander over her bare body, not quite touching her skin so that only the soft trembling of the air around the wand could be felt. First, she passed it over her chest, goosebumps forming as the chill air quivered against her hot skin, slicking away beads of sweat. Her nipples tightened every time the tip of the wand passed over them, eliciting a small, happy noise and an echoing tightness between her legs. Then she let the wand buzz its way across the soft skin of her stomach, tickling and exciting her as it came closer and closer to its final goal. Knowing how wild her hair could grow, Hermione made sure to apply regular shaving charms to her pubic hair, leaving it tidy and short, but not completely bare. She could feel those short, stiff hairs prickling as the shivering air passed over them, intensifying the sweet, throbbing ache in her pussy. Her inner thighs were already slick with arousal and she felt like she might come the moment she touched the tip of the wand to her pulsating clit. She bit her bottom lip as she let the tip creep closer, fondling her left breast with her free hand as she felt those intense vibrations scant centimeters away from her skin. Her eyes snapped open at the sound of old, brass hinges squeaking. She immediately rolled over, free hand covering her chest and the still quivering wand pointed at the door, ready to blast whoever was intruding, stranger or otherwise. Her chest was heaving against her palm in a mixture of arousal and fear and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. To her surprise, the door was firmly closed. She could even see that the sliding lock was still firmly in place. After a moment of dumbfounded confusion, she scanned the room, searching for the source of the noise. That was when her eyes alighted on the slightly ajar door of her closet and a terrible certainty grew in her mind. Grabbing her blankets and wrapping them around her naked body, she rapped her wand on the bedpost to stop the vibration spell and pointed it at the closet door. “ Alohomora!!” She shouted, putting enough rage into the spell that the doors flew open and nearly cracked against the wall on either side. Past the door of the large closet, she could see two beady eyes and a hunched shape as the figure inside retreated deeper into the shadows. It hissed like a feral cat, baring its teeth as Hermione’s angry glare burned into it. “KREACHER!!” She shouted, causing the house-elf to press itself against the wall. “You awful, weasel-faced little bastard!! Alarte Ascendare! ” A flash of blue-white light snaked out of the tip of Hermione’s wand and caught Kreacher around the leg, yanking him out of the closet and sending him flying into the air. Hardly finished, Hermione tracked the flying elf with her wand before unleashing another incantation. “ Everte Statum! ” The charm caught Kreacher full in the chest, smacking him into the ceiling before he landed on the ground with a loud, hollow thud. For anything less durable than a house-elf, Hermione might have been worried that her anger had caused some kind of serious injury. In Kreacher’s case, she was certain the injury wasn’t nearly serious enough yet. “You maggot-faced piece of shi-” Her invective was cut off at the sight in front of her. Kreacher had landed flat on his back, leaving his spindly limbs splayed out in four different directions...and his erect cock pointing straight up like a flagpole. He had crafted a loincloth from the pillowcase she had given him, made faintly ridiculous by the bunny pattern, but it seemed like he had slipped his penis through a gap in the fabric while he watched her from the closet and it now stood fully erect. Hermione stared at it, gaping openly in awe, completely forgetting the tirade that had been forming in her mind. This morning had been quite the shock, but Hermione had assumed that there was no way it could grow much further than its original length...she had been wrong. Fully erect, Kreacher’s cock was easily the length of her forearm and its glossy tip was roughly the size and shape of a large toadstool. How in the world is that supposed to fit in something the size of a female house-elf? I don’t even know if that would fit inside me! Hermione almost choked as that thought brought an unexpectedly vivid visual image to mind. Her shock at her own imagination was interrupted when Kreacher shook his head like a dog, recovering from the violent blast of magic. It took quite a bit of effort for Kreacher to pull himself upright, the massive length of his cock seeming to cause him significant difficulty in balancing once knocked onto his back. Hermione glared, indignation and anger overcoming her shock at Kreacher’s endowment. She climbed out of bed, holding a bedsheet over herself with one hand in a vain attempt to provide some modesty. The other hand kept her wand firmly pointed at Kreacher. “Kreacher…” She was breathing heavily, making the flimsy concealment of the sheet even less effective, but her voice was cold and steady. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blast your wrinkled little head off!” Kreacher glared back at her, the defiance and hatred in his eyes mixed with a tiny bit of fear. He was fully upright now, making the ridiculous length of his cock even more apparent as it jutted away from his tiny body like a tree branch. “Kreacher only does what he is told. Now awful mistress wants to punish him for that? Poor, poor, Kr-” “ Diffindo!” A flash of yellow light and a sharp crack interrupted Kreacher’s familiar whine. The house-elf’s eyes went wide as the trash bin behind him split into two clean halves. Two wispy white hairs floated to the ground, neatly shaved from one of Kreacher’s many warts. If Hermione’s aim had been a half-inch lower then her severing spell would have split the house-elf clean in two. Her cold eyes told him that she wouldn’t be merciful twice. “Don’t you dare try and give me that smarmy double-talk, Kreacher, or the next one is going to cut your warty old prick off! ” Hermione pointed her wand a bit lower and smiled as Kreacher took a worried step backwards, although there was no sign of droop in his erection. “And don’t even pretend this has anything to do with your status. Anyone, house elf or otherwise, who creeps on me like that gets treated the same!” Kreacher held up his palms in a placating gesture. “Mistress told Kreacher to sleep in her closet! Mistress did! Kreacher just doing as Kreacher was told.” “I did no such thi-” Hermione cut herself off, replaying the earlier conversation in her mind...she had thought her instructions had been quite clear, but it was possible the ancient house-elf had misunderstood. “Fine. Maybe I can see how you might have...misinterpreted what I said. But how do you explain that?” Hermione gestured with the tip of her wand, although there could have been little doubt what she was referring to. The movement caused the sheet she was covering herself with to become slightly disarrayed, baring most of her chest once more. Kreacher’s eyes flicked between the threatening point of her wand and the soft, pink tips of her nipples peeking around the sheet, causing his erection to quiver slightly. “Kreacher…Kreacher saw.” He stammered at first, but some of the old scorn was starting to creep back into his voice. “Kreacher saw what mudblood mistress was doing, all the dirty things. Kreacher couldn’t help it.” “ Bombarda!” Hermione flicked her wand, sending the spell to the base of Kreacher’s feet. The resulting blast of smoke and magic sent Kreacher bouncing painfully across the floor. “Now is not a good time to use that word, Kreacher.” Kreacher climbed back to his feet, still glaring but also hunched defensively, like a dog waiting to be kicked. “What will happen to Kreacher now? Will he go on the wall with all the other elves?” Hermione hesitated before answering Kreacher’s question. Honestly, she didn’t know herself...she was certainly angry at Kreacher. Furious, in fact. But she had to admit that for all of her aggressive posturing she didn’t have it in her to kill the awful little house-elf, especially knowing that Kreacher was utterly helpless to defend himself against his “mistress”. But there was no way that she was going to let him get away with this either. “This is the last straw, Kreacher...I want you to listen very closely, because these are all commands from your owner .” Right now, Hermione was ready to take the S.P.E.W. pamphlets she had made and toss them into a fire. “You are going to put that disgusting willie of yours back in your pants and you are not allowed to wank yourself off. Then you are going to go back to your nasty little den in the basement and stay there until I call for you. Understood?” “But..but if Kreacher does not take care of things…” The house-elf gestured at his oversized member with a look of wide-eyed distress. “Then Kreacher’s balls will be blue-” “I said no wanking! I don’t care how blue your balls get, you hear? I’m not having you wanking off to me, you hear?!” “...Yes, Mistress.” Kreacher’s face wrinkled. He wrapped both hands around the shaft of his cartoonishly large cock and, with an audible grunt of exertion, he pulled it straight upwards, nearly smacking himself in the nose with it. Hermione couldn’t help but watch with horrified fascination as it somehow slid downward, like a ladder sliding down a hole, into Kreacher’s small, bunny-patterned loincloth. Within moments, the whole thing was completely out of sight, although its unseen girth was apparently causing Kreacher some difficulty as he waddled unsteadily. “Good.” Hermione lowered her wand and finally noticed how much skin she was still showing and hurried to re-arrange the sheets to fully conceal her nakedness once more. She would have blushed, but her cheeks were already bright-red from anger. “Now, go down to the basement and don’t show your face until I call for you.” Kreacher nodded sullenly and snapped his fingers, disapparating with the sound of a whip-crack, leaving Hermione alone in her room once more. With a quick spell, she repaired the trash bin she had sliced in half and cleaned up the scorch marks from the floor, followed by a good scouring spell on every surface Kreacher had touched. Finally, she flounced down onto the bed, still fuming. Her pelvis ached unpleasantly from the unreleased sexual tension she had built up. It was enough that she almost wished that she had at least finished herself off before catching Kreacher...at least then she would have had a nice orgasm. Hermione toyed with the tip of her wand, pondering whether or not she should try to get back in the mood and finish what she started. She closed her eyes and gently stroked her fingers over the lips of her pussy. They were still flushed, moist and over-sensitized, begging for more stimulation. Circling her fingers over the firm bump of her clitoris, she allowed her mind to drift, trying to regain the state of arousal she had achieved earlier. She tried to think about Ron, the last time they were together...but then, unbidden, her mind strayed and the image of Kreacher popped into her head..in particular the image of that massive, donkey-like cock on that tiny, wizened body. To her horror, this did not have the effect of immediately derailing her arousal. As a matter-of-fact, the image made her pussy clench tightly, triggering a spike of pleasure as her fingers flicked over her clit. The feeling was strong enough that her fingers kept moving on their own, massaging at the nubbin of her clitoris and bringing her closer and closer to orgasm. Her mind was just as out-of-control, spinning perverse fantasies about how the house-elf’s cock might feel in her hand, against her skin, its wide, glistening tip pressing against the lips of her- No! No! Teetering on the verge of orgasm, Hermione yanked her hand away and yanked fistfuls of hair over her face. She kicked her bare legs in frustration, tangling them in the bedsheets, and silently cursed the miserable little house-elf Harry had saddled her with. He’s going to pay for this, the knob-nosed little bastard. Hermione promised, burying her face in the pillow. She felt a headache coming on, flowing from the thick knots of tension in her neck and shoulders. Ugh...this sucks. Maybe I could run myself a bath and have a nice long soak. Hermione’s head perked up, remembering something that she had hitherto forgotten. A way to relax...and make Kreacher miserable. It was perfect.
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