A Coven of Prefects - Harmony Version
Disclaimer: Not my Characters, No money being made, etc., etc.
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Chapter Two : So Now that You're a Coven Member
The first thirty minutes of the Coven's initiation ceremony involved ritual dancing, as the four initiates stood blindfolded in the center of a large circle. At first, Hermione focused on the chanting, her mind uncharacteristically began to drift, and she pondered how life within the Coven might influence her sexual attitudes and potential sexual experiences.
Not that there was anything firm enough to influence.
Simply put, Hermione Granger didn't know if she was gay, straight, or somewhere in between, and it was beginning to frustrate her. She had read that sexual fantasies were a reliable indicator of sexual preference, but Hermione's imaginary sex life had been muddled from the start (a start which began, like most things for her, with a book).
One day during the summer between Second and Third Year, Hermione's mum packed her into the car and took her on a trip to Hermione's favorite muggle bookstore. The young teen was confused…it was her father who shared her love of books, not her mother. The explanation came when her mother took her by the hand and parked her daughter in front of the "Relationships/Sexuality" section that had heretofore been forbidden territory.
After a few eye-opening minutes spent skimming the titles, they purchased the latest edition of Our Bodies, Ourselves, and a guidebook on teen-aged relationships. The next day, Hermione rode her bicycle to the bookstore and sucked up the courage to purchase a third book that she didn't dare ask her mum to buy for her...a primer on female solo orgasm.
That night, Hermione began to read and review the practical lessons offered in the newest purchase. She approached the task as if she was learning a new spell…left hand holding the opened book, while the right hand practiced the correct motions. Although the primer suggested that the neophyte practice with their eyes closed, so that the mind could focus on a fantasy lover, Hermione kept her eyes wide-opened. How else would she be able to evaluate her technique against the book's instructional illustrations?
And so it was, that Hermione's first orgasm was attained while her opened eyes focused on a pen-and-ink drawing of a reclining woman's fingers buried in her engorged vulva.
Now, you might think that having mastered the finger movements for a "lie on your back in bed" orgasm that she would stick with that for a while, and replace the book with some naughty images running through her brain. But not our Hermione…no ma'am. There were seventeen different positions described within the pages, and she was hell-bent on mastering all of them with book in hand.
The binding on her beloved primer became thoroughly broken-in that summer, as she studied illustrations of women masturbating in different positions. On their stomach…on their stomach with a pillow underneath…on their side…on their side with one leg-crossed…in the lavatory with a hand-held shower head (a transparent plastic bag kept the book dry as Hermione practiced that last one).
This frequent practice produced a predictable conditioned response…when she eventually decided that she was competent enough to ditch the book and close her eyes, it wasn't flesh-colored bums and bits that she saw, but those same black-and-white book illustrations.
Hermione adopted a rational attitude towards this situation. The fact that she focused on pictures of female bits when she diddled didn't necessarily mean that she was a lesbian. The pictures were focal points of concentration… total abstractions. And since she had no interest in moving from self-love to a physical relationship (with someone of either gender), it just didn't matter.
This adopted style of detached sexuality worked for Hermione through most of her Third Year. She didn't think about boys (or girls)…she thought about her studies. And when those studies got stressful, she had her curtained bed, a killer silencing spell, and the book to help her out.
But then she straddled Buckbeak, and flew through a moonlit night with Harry's bum pressed firmly against her bits, and her breasts pressed firmly against his back. It was the highlight of her year…and since that was the year that she mastered use of a time turner without breeching the time-space continuum, that's saying something.
It was the first time that she had reached orgasm without the book, without her fingers, and without the black-and-white images in mind. She would have liked to think that she did it without Harry knowing, but that may have been too much to expect. The noise of the wind may have masked her friction-induced moans, but Harry had to have felt her involuntary thigh contractions, or her bullet nipples that strained against the several layers of fabric between them. Her only hope was that Harry was clueless when it came to these clues, and that the erection her hand grazed against (when Buckbeak banked hard to the left) wasn't a reaction to her reaction.
Harry didn't say anything about it afterwards, and Hermione was too embarrassed to broach the topic herself. And so, the only thing that changed was Hermione's focal point…no longer static, black-and-white, and feminine, it flew by in vivid colors, and was decidedly masculine.
The summer between Third and Fourth Year brought more changes for the muggleborn witch. Her parents took her on their usual holiday in the South of France, and Hermione took along a two-piece string bikini. It covered all of the right places with room to spare, but left uncovered her new self-identification as a young woman. She paid far more attention to what the other beachgoers were wearing (or not wearing) than in years past, and these observations fueled night-time fantasies involving a raven-haired friend dressed in a thin Speedo. The dreams progressed over time…from innocent playing on the beach, to rubbing sunscreen on each other, to hands that just rubbed, in places where the sun couldn't reach.
When Hermione returned from France to spend time at the Burrow, she shared a room with Ginny, who either didn't know how to cast a silencing spell, or didn't care if Hermione heard her rub through her flannel nightgown. Hermione found this more annoying than arousing, giving support to the idea that she fancied boys (or, more specifically, a certain boy). But then school started up. Hermione loved all of the time spent with Harry researching the Tasks, but given the risks involved, did far more worrying over him than wanking.
And then Lavender and Parvati started to share a bed, and loudly share each other (at least until Hermione eventually taught them a proper silencing spell). Hermione might have seemed annoyed, but instead found the sounds of bumping bits very thought provoking. She tried not to over-analyze as she got off on the guttural groans, and gasps, and whispered endearments. But when she did think about it, she realized that for every night she dreamed about sharing a bed with another witch, she dreamed of a night in a certain wizard's arms. So it was still an open question…a question that got no closer to resolution with Viktor Krum and the Yule Ball. She had befriended the Bulgarian Champion in the library, and played the role of gallant knight when he asked her to the Yule Ball. She wished Harry had asked, but he didn't…and Viktor needed her help fending off the cloying fan-girls. And if being asked by an eighteen-year-old International Quidditch star stroked her ego and boosted her self-image, so much the better.
Of course, Fourth Year had ended terribly, and the kiss on the cheek that she'd given Harry at King's Cross was supposed to convey warmth, and caring. Hermione felt guilty when memories of that kiss morphed into something much more sexually charged, but not so guilty as to avoid using them as effective nighttime catalysts.
She had hoped to suck up the nerve to ask Harry if a kiss could mean more than friendship for him too. There should have been opportunity to ask at Grimmauld Place, once Harry arrived from his relatives. But there was the dementor attack, and the trial, and the supervised doxie disposals, and did she mention that Molly Weasley hovered something terribly?
Ginny was almost as bad…quite insistent that Harry and Hermione never be left alone in a room. And again, there was the annoyance of sharing a bedroom with Ginny, complete with her flannel fumbling and thrashing about. Ron the git was no different. How disappointed she was in how he'd treated her over the year…Hey, Hermione…you're a girl…Ginny claimed that he fancied her, but Hermione couldn't see how, and certainly didn't feel that way about him. It took all of her very best acting skills to appear pleased that Ron had been made prefect, rather than Harry.
"Well at least I now know who mucked that one up," Hermione thought, as she stood within the circle.
The fifth-year prefect was about to shift her mental focus from Harry to the Headmaster when the initiation ceremony's focus shifted from the circle's perimeter inward. The blood letting was more than enough to bring her mind to the present, as was the magical strength behind the vows that she spoke. When a warm tingling flowed up her arm from where she'd cut her own finger, she was told that the ceremony was complete, and that Hermione could remove her blindfold.
The Gryffindor prefect found herself facing a beautiful middle-aged witch, whose intense stare unnerved her.
The Fifth-Year made a beeline towards the row of silk dressing gowns that hung from hooks along a wall. She quickly slipped into a gown, closed it tightly across her front, and tied the attached sash with a double knot. It was only then, once she was completely covered, that she let out a held breath and turned back towards the room.
"Why so quick to cover up?" Padma asked, as the Ravenclaw walked towards the robes at a far more relaxed pace.
Hermione looked at the light-brown skinned beauty and shook her head. "I've got more reason to be modest," she replied, giving Padma's ample breasts and curvy hips a review.
"Yeah, right," Padma replied, as she reached for a robe and covered herself. "You're a very attractive girl, no matter what you might think."
The Gryffindor raised an eyebrow, considered a snarky response tinged with innuendo, but held her tongue. Things were weird enough without learning if your female friend fancied you.
"So how did your bits get to be as brown as mine, girl?" Padma asked with a smile. "Tanning salve, or a potion?"
Hermione shook her head. "Nope, I did it the muggle way…good old-fashioned sunshine."
Padma's eyes danced in delight. "Why you little witch…sitting out in the open without any clothes on…."
"Hey, I was wearing a thong…I've still got tan lines…"
"Yeah, that's all they are girl…lines…so you must tell me all about it."
Hermione glanced around the room, wondering if she could talk without being overheard by anyone they knew.
"Alright," she replied. "My parents took me to France over hols."
"France?" asked Padma. "So it's normal for French muggles to walk about wearing bits of strings and patches of fabric?"
Hermione shrugged. "It is on the beaches, at least," she replied. "Actually, some of the beaches were clothing-optional, and I would have fit in completely starkers."
"Oh my, how scandalous," said Padma. "So did you?"
"No," said Hermione. "Thought I was being daring enough going topless with my dad and other men within sight of me."
"And you were wearing some kind of stringy knickers?"
Hermione nodded. "All of the girls were wearing thongs. Didn't care for them at first…having a string wedged up my cheeks, and needing to shave every day…"
"So that's the reason," Padma said with a grin. "When you stripped off your knickers in the other room I thought you might have been hit by a hair-loss hex."
"Hush," Hermione admonished.
"Not that some of our new sisters couldn't stand a good depilatory charm," Padma snarked.
The fifth-year Gryffindor slapped Padma's arm for her cheek. But even as she did so, she was forced to admit that her friend had a point. The amount of body hair on display was significant. Most of the Coven hadn't bothered with covering themselves as they broke into small groups and engaged in small talk. And many of the witches who had taken robes down from the hooks hadn't bothered to tie them, leaving wide, continuous swaths of exposed flesh down their fronts.
"Well," Hermione said in assessment, "they all look pretty good to me, even if they don't shave…especially considering how old some of them are." She nodded towards a grey-haired witch and added, "I can only hope my arse is that firm when I'm her age."
Padma grinned. "You still are a babe in the woods, aren't you luv? Magic is the cure-all for saggy breasts and cellulite."
Hermione sighed, and look down towards her chest. "So why, then, isn't there a potion to grow tits?"
The Ravenclaw prefect giggled." Again with the poor self-esteem…they look fine, Hermione," she said in reassurance. "Besides, would you trust Snape to brew that potion for you?"
Hermione smiled, and admitted that she would not.
"It's kind of nice talking with you about something other than classes," she stated.
"Yeah, I think so too," Padma replied with a grin, reaching out for Hermione's hand. The Ravenclaw immediately pulled back at first contact, though, afraid that the innocent gesture of friendship might be misinterpreted.
"Sorry," Padma said quickly. "Didn't mean to…"
"Mean to what…make me wonder if you share your sister's interest in girls?" Hermione asked with a grin.
"Well…"
Hermione laughed and grabbed Padma's hand tightly. "No worries, Padma…Parvati told me last year that sexual orientation isn't something that identical twins always share…not that there's anything wrong with that…"
Padma snorted. "No, of course not…if we thought there was, we wouldn't be here, would we?" She then took a risk and asked, "So, Hermione, are you a gay-friendly het, too?"
Hermione shook her head and sighed. "I'm more like a gay-friendly harrysexual."
The lilting laughter that came from Padma's lips floated across the room.
"Harrysexual…I like it," she told Hermione. "And I daresay that you aren't the only one of those in the room right now."
Hermione pursed her lips as she looked towards a certain witch that she'd spotted earlier. The edges of those lips turned downward as she once again took in the perfect nude form of an older Ravenclaw who was chatting with Pomona Sprout (whose form was only perfect if your perspective was Reubian).
"Cho Bloody Chang," she hissed. "Of course she has no need for robes…there ought to be a law against tits that big on a frame that small."
"Oh, jealousy doesn't become you, sweetheart," Padma said sympathetically. "Even if Cho does make a play for him."
"So there really was something behind her stares during the feast?" Hermione asked.
Padma shrugged her shoulders. "I overheard Cho talking with her fried…she wants to meet with Harry for sure, but maybe…maybe it's about Cedric?"
Hermione nodded. "Those two were close last year, weren't they?" She paused, then quietly…"makes you wonder how many of our new sisters are true lesbians."
Padma snorted. "Care to make a formal survey?"
"Yeah, like that loaded question wouldn't be misinterpreted."
There was a lull in the conversation, as the two prefects decided to make their way towards a table set with refreshments. With cups of punch in hand, they turned around and completed another visual survey. Hermione startled when she spied the who had stared her down during the ceremony. The middle-aged witch was chatting quietly with the new Slytherin Prefect.
"So, who's the blonde that Pansy's talking with?" asked Hermione.
"Don't know," replied Padma, following her companion's gaze. "My family is clearly not a part of her social circle."
The black-haired witch then looked beyond Pansy and smiled. Hannah Abbott had also forgone the immediate benefits of covered bits, and gone straight to Becky, the seventh-year prefect. Only a few words of reassurance appeared necessary for the two Hufflepuff witches to lock themselves into a tight embrace.
"Well that's nice to see," said Padma, as she pointed the couple out to Hermione.
"Yeah, but how much more will they show us if they keep at that?" asked Hermione.
The Ravenclaw giggled. "At least they're amongst friends."
Hermione nodded in agreement. Hannah and Becky weren't the only witches who were using very public displays of affection.
"Now," Padma snarked, "if we could only convince some of the witches who should be covering themselves to wear their robes…."
"Padma!"
"Am I wrong?"
Hermione sighed, but was forced to agree when she spied Minerva McGonagall approaching.
"Not when it comes to my Head of House," she muttered behind a pasted-on smile.
The Ravenclaw Prefect followed Hermione's gaze and smirked.
"Nice pussy."
"Padma!"
"What? I was talking about her tattoo."
Hermione did her best not to roll her eyes at the double entendre… her open-robed Head of House did indeed have a magically-animated tattoo...a crotch-level tabby cat, who was perched on top of the Professor's unruly triangular mound of hair.
Hermione almost died when the small cat pounced, and swatted at a few stray pubes as if they were a ball of yarn.
She really almost died when she looked up and realized that McGonagall had caught her staring.
The Transfiguration smiled slyly, as she closed the distance between them and closed the front of her robes.
"Hermione, I trust, for propriety's sake, that you were admiring my tabby tattoo?"
"Erm…yes, of course, Professor," Hermione stammered, as she inspected the condition of her own toenails.
"None of that formality here, if you please," the Professor stated. "Coven members use their sister's given names…at least when it is safe to do so."
"Yes, Profess…erm, Minerva."
"That's better," the Gryffindor head said. "Now, would you allow this old witch the honor of welcoming you into the coven with a hug?"
Hermione smiled, and nodded (after she reassured herself that her robes were appropriately concealing).
"You too, Padma," the Transfiguration Professor declared, pulling the Ravenclaw into a separate embrace.
"Oh, there's so much to talk about...but we'll have plenty of time for that. I should introduce you to the alumnae before we sneak them back out of the castle."
"Sneak them out, Profess..erm, Minerva?" Hermione asked.
Her Head of House nodded. "It wouldn't do for the Headmaster to wonder why fifty witches descend upon the castle on the first day of school each year."
"So…where are we?" Padma asked, taking a good look around the room.
"The Coven's Lounge," McGonagall replied. "When we aren't performing initiations it serves as your female prefect's lounge, protected by Male-Repelling Wards that affect anyone with a penis."
"So that includes the Headmaster, then?" Padma asked.
"Do you think that I'd really be in a position to know?" the Assistant Headmistress teased.
"Erm, no…not really."
"Well I strongly suspect that he does, in any event," Minerva replied. "But even if he didn't...there's the castle to fall back on."
"The Castle?"
Minerva nodded. "Over the years the Coven has enlisted the help of Hogwarts herself to keep the Coven's secrets."
"Hogwarts, herself?" asked Hermione. "As in, the castle is sentient, Hogwarts, herself?"
Minerva smiled. "Yes…it is semi-sentient, at least. The castle serves the Headmaster, just like the portraits in his office. They can commune, or at least Albus claims that they commune, on matters affecting the castle's security and its wards."
"But it keeps quiet about the Coven, and this room?"
The Transfiguration Professor smiled. "At the time of its construction, each of the Four Founders sacrificed a small part of their own souls to make Hogwarts come alive. And since one of the female Founders loved to lick cauldrons..."
"Really?" asked Hermione. "Which one?"
Minerva patted her young charge on the shoulder and nodded towards a bank of bookshelves." You'll find the answer within the Coven's library, Hermione," she said with a smile. "There's enough there to support a hundred Masteries in Witch's Studies, were the Ministry ever to recognize the value of such a course of study."
Hermione's eyes began to glaze over as she gravitated towards the rows of ancient tomes.
"Down, girl!" said Padma, pulling on Hermione's arm as if it were a leash.
"Yes, Padma," Hermione sighed.
"Later, Hermione...plenty of time later," added her Head of House. The older witch then led the two towards their first introductions...an ancient witch who said that she expected great things from Padma and Hermione when she returned at the end of the school year to proctor their O.W.L.s. From there they moved onto a Chaser that played for the Harpies, then to the Matriarch of the House of Cadwell. These interactions spanned the next ninety minutes of time, and involved all four of the new initiates, with Professor Vector shepherding Hannah and Pansy around the room.
It was, Hermione later reflected, a rather eclectic group…not just in terms of professions, or social status, but with respect to "Light" and "Dark." The latter was no more starkly illustrated by the last two to be introduced by the Assistant Headmistress.
"Padma, Hermione," Minerva said, "allow me to introduce you to Amelia Bones and Narcissa Malfoy."
Hermione Granger was startled to discover that the blonde-haired which who'd been flirting with her eyes from circle's edge was the mother of Draco Malfoy. She shook her head, and gathered her wits, relieved to note that Narcissa looked more bemused by Hermione's stare than angry.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Hermione," purred the Malfoy Matriarch, as she gave the younger witch's hand a firm squeeze, and caressed the back of the hand with her thumb.
"I'm sorry, Narcissa, but I didn't realize that we had met before," Hermione replied.
The taller witch smiled and pulled the sides of her opened robe tightly against her chest. Adopting a dismissive expression that looked as if something foul-smelling was perched under her nose, she then asked, "Perhaps this might refresh your memory?"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Of course...you were in the boxes at the Quidditch World Cup last year."
When Mrs. Malfoy gave a confirmatory nod, Hermione added, "But you look so different that way, so much more..."
"Haughty and irritated?"
"Erm, well..."
Narcissa smiled and dropped the grip on her robes, which allowed both her warm expression and her magnificent breasts to return to view.
"I'm afraid that I always look irritated when I'm within twenty yards of my husband."
"Oh...really?" asked Hermione. "Does that mean that..."
Narcissa shot her hand out and stopped Hermione mid-question with a firm grasp of her arm. "In a moment, dear," she told the younger witch. She then turned to the Assistant Headmistress, who'd watch the exchange with great interest, and asked, "Have you finished bringing these two lovely witches around for introductions, Minnie?"
The Gryffindor Head of House snorted when Hermione gasped at the familiarity of Narcissa's question.
"I have indeed, Cissy."
"Then would you allow me to steal your young charge away for a few moments? I'd be more than happy to give Hermione the complete tour of our little lair."
Minerva's eyes narrowed as she quietly assessed Narcissa's intentions.
Amelia Bones had been exchanging a greeting with Padma, even as she monitored the exchange between Narcissa and Hermione.
"Excuse me for a moment dear," she asked the Ravenclaw. Amelia then turned towards the Assistant Headmistress and said, "I'll be more than happy to stay by Cissy's side as she completes Padma's and Hermione's tour."
McGonagall frowned, turned towards Hermione, and reluctantly replied, "I'll leave it to them to decide."
Hermione bit her lower lip. There was some heady politics at play here, and she didn't like feeling as if she were a piece in a chess match.
"So now I know how Harry must feel at times," she thought to herself.
Amelia tried to expedite the decision by stepping forward and whispering into Hermione's ear. The younger witch was only mildly distracted by the fact that this act placed the naked breasts of the most powerful witch within the Ministry of Magic against her arm.
"There is much more to Cissy than her status as the Lady Malfoy," stated Amelia. "She and I both need to talk with you privately before we leave tonight, and the tour will present the perfect place to speak."
Hermione squinted in confusion. She turned her head so that she could whisper a response into the older witch's ear. "Why are we whispering? Can't you just cast a privacy or silencing charm?"
Amelia's eyes sparkled, and nudged Hermione's cheek with her nose so that she could whisper back. "If you haven't already noticed, I've no place to store my wand."
Hermione glanced down at the MLE Director's nude body and snorted as the older witch finished her whispered sales pitch.
"Hermione, I promise you that you and Padma will be safe, and that you can trust Narcissa."
Hermione frowned, and pulled the older witch into a whisper-friendly hug. "Why do you trust the wife of Lucius Malfoy, Director Bones?"
Amelia nodded and smiled. Deciding that her reply was worthy of sharing, she took a step back. Speaking quietly enough for only their little group to hear, she replied, "Because even though Cissy knows where I sleep at night, the only thing that she's ever attacked me with is her tongue."
The look of surprise on the faces of the two younger witches was surpassed only by the Assistant Headmistress's gobsmacked expression. "Amelia? You and...You and Cissy?" Minerva stammered.
The MLE Director turned towards the Lady Malfoy, shrugged her shoulders, and reached out her hand. "We knew that this might be necessary, luv."
Mrs. Malfoy snorted. "Yes, but as long as it is necessary, I'm not going to settle for just holding hands…"
As the blonde witch moved closer to kiss her monocle-wearing secret lover, Amelia kept her distance.
"Save it for later, sweetheart…no need to get reckless."
The Lady Malfoy pouted. "Alright, but you owe me a tongue lashing later on."
"Which I'll happily provide, dear," Amelia said in quiet reply.
Hermione Granger had followed this back-and-forth risking the entrance of nargles into her opened mouth. She was forced to close it when the secret lovers both turned towards her.
"Well?" asked Narcissa.
Hermione paused, then turned towards Padma. When the Ravenclaw shrugged and nodded her head, Hermione turned back towards the Headmistress and said, "We'll be fine…go ahead, Prof….Minerva. Or is it Minnie?"
The Transfiguration Professor snorted. "Don't push your luck, Hermione."
With one more questioning glance towards Amelia Bones (that was answered by a head nod), the Head of Gryffindor House hugged the two young witches and retired for the night.
"Right, then," said Narcissa firmly, as she grabbed Hermione's hand. "Let's give you two the grand tour."
As Amelia took Padma's hand and followed closely behind, the Lady Malfoy pulled Hermione forward at a very brisk pace. "So, we're presently in the Coven's Lair...this main area will ordinarily be set up like a common room, with desks and comfy chairs. Moving on, this is the lavatory..."
Hermione tried to peak into the lav as the older witch pushed its door open, but was prevented by the tug on her arm and Narcissa's strident pace.
"So that's the lavatory, and here's the last part of the tour...the Private Dining Room."
Draco's mother turned the gold handle that was mounted on the green door and pushed in, dragging Hermione into a space that looked, smelled, and sounding nothing at all like the Great Hall at dinnertime.
The large, low-ceilinged room was dark, and illuminated by only a handful of scented candles. Instead of tables and chairs, there were plush carpets and soft pillows. Instead of uniformed students sorted by house, there were naked witches sorted only by orientation. And instead of forks and knives, there were...well, from Hermione's standpoint there were no equivalents of forks and knives, since the kind of eating that was taking place in the room didn't require utensils (unless you labeled the toys some were using on each other as such).
"So, ladies, this is our Private Dining Room," said a leering Narcissa to the two new Coven members. "The Room has rules and traditions to be followed, just like the Great Hall...although the rules themselves are quite dissimilar."
"Why am I not surprised?" Hermione asked, as she tried hard not to stare at the threesome writhing closest to the door.
"The first rule is...what happens in the Dining Room, stays in the Dining Room...it's part of the secrecy vows you took earlier tonight.
"Does that include unintentional disclosures, say from use of Veritaserum or a Legimens attack?" Padma asked.
"Yes," replied Amelia Bones. "Don't worry, you'll be given Occlumancy lessons over the next few weeks, and until that time the wards on the door we passed through will reinforce your vows."
"Second rule," Narcissa stated. "Abandon clothing, all ye who are about to enter." The Malfoy matriarch backed up her statement by shrugging off her opened robe and letting it drop to the ground.
"No need to delay, ladies," the blonde witch stated, gesturing towards the closed robes that still covered Hermione and Padma.
The two younger witches looked at each other. They both then looked towards the MLE Director, who gave the two witches a reassuring nod. With that in hand, they untied their robes and let them fall to their feet.
"Lovely, just lovely," Narcissa said with a wide grin.
"What's lovely?" Hermione quipped. "Our compliance with the rules, or the sight of our naked bodies?"
"Must I make a choice?" the Malfoy matriarch replied brightly, her eyes darting back and forth between the two students as if there were more than one choice to be made.
"Hem-hem," interrupted Amelia, using her best imitation of her least-favorite Wizengamot colleague.
"Must you remind me of that loathsome toad?" Narcissa asked.
"The third and final rule, Cissy?" asked Amelia.
"Yes, yes...the third and final rule of the Dining Room involves common courtesy...no gawkers allowed."
"That makes sense," Hermione said. "So that's the tour then?"
"Not just yet, dear," Cissy replied. "We need to talk."
"But if we do that here, won't it look like we're voyeurs?"
"Yes."
"So..."
"So we should pair up, or form a group of four, and continue our conversation."
Hermione nervously asked, "Is this really necessary?"
"What?" asked Narcissa. "Are you telling me that you're going to pass on the chance to join in the fun as I whisper the Dark Lord's secrets into your ear?"
"Oh, you make it sound so romantic," snarked Amelia. She stepped in between Narcissa and the two younger witches. "Can't you see that they aren't interested in playing with two old hags like us?"
"No, no, it's not that," said Hermione, afraid that she'd offended a couple of very powerful witches. "I'm sure that…if I fancied witches…it'd be a tempting offer."
Amelia laughed. "Of course, Hermione." The monocle-wearing witch looked into the room, then towards the exit.
"Everything we're saying now is protected by the room's wards," she stated. "If Cissy and I took turns holding you two in loose embraces, and pretended to snog where we stand now…we could talk without raising suspicions."
"Spoiled sport," hissed Cissy. But she sorted through her priorities and agreed to the plan.
Hermione realized that Cissy had agreed to the plan only after the older witch grabbed her bum and pushed her hard up against the wall.
"Mrs. Malfoy…"
"Please dear, it's Cissy…"
"Do we need to be this close to pretend?" Hermione asked, as she clamped her legs together to keep Narcissa's knee from parting them.
"Need to be convincing, dear," said Draco's mum, as she smashed her breasts against Hermione's breasts and buried her face in Hermione's hair.
Coven sister or not, Hermione was pissed-off at how the Lady Malfoy was manhandling her. Deciding that two could play the game, she pushed a hand in between their bellies then turned it down in between Cissy's legs.
"Feels like you don't want to pretend, Hermione," Cissy cooed triumphantly. But her tune changed abruptly when the fingers that had snaked their way into the Lady Malfoy's pubic hair clamped together and pulled upwards.
Hard.
"Ouch!" yelped Narcissa, as she was held by her short and curlies.
"Now, now, Cissy…you like to play rough, don't you?" Hermione whispered sharply.
"Not quite that rough," the witch hissed.
Hermione relaxed her grip just enough to take the edge off of the pain. "You've got thirty seconds to talk before I yank with all my muggleborn might."
"Okay, okay," the older witch hissed. "I hate my husband...always have...forced into an arranged marriage…about only time I get laid is during these Coven meetings…I want out of my marriage, and the Head of the House of Black is the only one that can help."
"What's that got to do with me?"
"Don't be coy, child…I have it on good authority that either you or your friend Potter have met with him this summer."
"How?"
"Doesn't matter…pass the word along that Cissy needs help. He'll understand."
"Why should I help a Malfoy?"
"Because it's the right thing to do, and once I'm released from my marriage vows I'll be released from the bonds that keep me from spilling Lucius's dirty little secrets."
"Anything else?"
"Not now."
Hermione nodded and released her grip. Giving Cissy a fake smile she pushed her back and said, "Now, then, that wasn't too hard, was it?"
Draco's MILF of a mum shook her head in wonder.
"Hope that the Coven knows what it's in for with you."
"I hope so too," Hermione replied brightly. She then looked to her side, where Padma and Amelia were watching with wide-eyed interest and a loose embrace more appropriate for waltzing than snogging.
Turning back to Narcissa, she asked, "Now, can I trust you for a few seconds with my friend?"
The Lady Malfoy shuddered and laid a protective hand over her mound.
"Yes, Hermione," she replied, as she walked towards the young Ravenclaw and kept her distance.
The exchange of words with the MLE Director was much more cordial, and far less physical.
"So, very quickly, Hermione...Dolores Umbridge is a complete bitch, but also a very dangerous witch. She's so far inside Fudge's pocket that she could deep-throat his house keys."
"Now there's a disturbing image," said Hermione. "Though I'd rather think of her in Fudge's pants rather than inside this room."
Amelia shuddered. "Talk about nasty imagery…not that she ever had a chance to be a Prefect.
"Too much a stickler for the pure blood agenda and the rules?"
"Too stupid," Amelia replied. "Doesn't matter whom you fancy when you can only manage three O.W.L.s."
Hermione snorted. "So why tell me?"
"Because I need to know what's going on inside the castle, and I need to know that I'll be called on when help is needed."
"Why not just ask your niece?"
"Susan's a wonderful girl…could trust her completely…but she's afraid that she'd stick out in her house if she reached out for my help. And even though she's got the worst kind of crush on your best friend, she doesn't really know him."
"You mean Ron Weasley?"
"No, silly…Harry Potter."
Hermione compartmentalized the knowledge that Susan Bones wanted to jump Harry's bones for later processing.
"Why do you need someone close to Harry?"
"Because Umbridge is making a run at him this year. Already has, actually, and wants to finish the job here."
"Well that's not good," Hermione said. "So you want me to be your eyes and ears in the castle?"
"Yes...I don't trust the Headmaster."
"But what about Minerva?"
"Too closely watched...she thinks Dumbledore's starting to cotton onto the Coven, and needs to keep her head low so that she can help when and where she can."
"So she's not going to make waves for fear of being sacked?"
"Correct.
"But how will I contact you?"
"The Prefect's badge that Minnie sent you is charmed for two way communication with my Auror's badge," Amelia replied. "Ask Minerva when you're wearing it."
Hermione paused to look down, only to silently berate herself…of course she wasn't wearing her Prefect's badge.
"Okay, I will," Hermione promised. "So is there anything else, Amelia?"
"Nothing that can't wait."
Hermione smiled, and gave the MLE Director's hip a squeeze. "Thanks for wanting to help Harry…and thanks for your help at the trial…he said that you were more than fair."
"Glad that I was in a position to help, dear," Amelia replied with a smile. She pushed back and asked, "Is there anything else that I can answer for you?"
Hermione snorted. With a glance towards the interior of the room, then towards the Lady Malfoy, she shook her head.
"Cissy said this is just about the only night of the year that she's gets laid," she told the MLE Director. "Far be it for me to keep her from that."
"Careful, Hermione," Amelia said with a smile, "Your low opinion of my occasional lover just might be improving."
"Perhaps," the young witch said with a smile, as she took Amelia by the hand and led her to the other two.
"Switch?" she asked.
Cissy Malfoy smiled. "Yes, I think I will…it was a pleasure meeting you again, Hermione…and a pleasure meeting you as well, Padma. I look forward to seeing you again."
Hermione nodded. "So long as it involves seeing me in more than I wearing right now, that's fine."
The older witches laughed as they said their good-byes and walked hand-in-hand deeper into the room.
Hermione looked at Padma.
"So…quite a night, huh?"
"That's for sure."
With a glance over her shoulder, she asked, "Ready to call it a night?"
Padma nodded as she reached for her robes.
"Not that there's anything wrong with that," she said, motioning towards a pile of naked witches.
"Of course not,"
"But if you wanted to stay, Hermione…I mean…"
"Thanks, but I'm ready to leave," the Gryffindor replied, as she wrapped her own robe around her body.
"Besides," she said, as they walked towards the door, "I'd be able to see the same sort of thing from the comfort of my own bed, if I wanted to."
Padma frowned. "Please, Hermione…it's one thing to know that your sister is gay…doesn't mean that I want to know the details behind it."
Hermione snorted. "Are you sure?"
Padma looked past Hermione back into the room. She spotted Amelia Bones on her hands and knees, moaning as Cissy Malfoy licked her bum and pinched her hanging nipples. The thought of her doing that to another witch, or her sister doing that to Lavender Brown, caused the Ravenclaw prefect to shudder.
"Yes, Hermione," she firmly replied. "Even after tonight, I'm quite sure."